I say this with love: My father is a master of rhetoric. He is a master of rhetoric without, by his own admission, ever having mastered anything to do with rhetoric.
The Dead Pool plays like a greatest-hits collection of Dirty Harry movie elements.
The sequel to Steve Gordon’s Arthur wears its intentions on its sleeve.
The premise is so preposterous and shaky, it simply needs to be swept under the rug as soon as the film begins.
It’s been part of the film canon for so long that it’s valuable to remind audiences how gloriously alive and just plain fun it is.
Greven’s analysis is fluid and detailed, while excavating exhilarating thematic linkages between all filmmakers.
Can Malick’s dream-like film grammar resonate when set in the modern world?
What’s left to say of the film critic who haunts all others?
Sex isn’t just a setting here the way that, say, ballet is just the setting of Black Swan.
Viewership is by nature bisexual.
Now honestly: Does this whole post already sound a little blah blah blah?
Chaw rages against the Hollywood machine’s depictions of class, gender and race, puncturing political correctness.
Cheshire was open to discussing how the changing times broadened his interests in film and filmmaking.
There aren’t many people hiking on this particular trail.
It’s a shame not to be able to hear such a strong critic week in and week out.
Munich isn’t simply about vengeance, the whole eye-for-an-eye thing, though that’s certainly topic “A.”