Boyle’s addiction to the cinematic image is as unremitting as Renton’s love affair with the spike.
Liaison lacks an inventive approach or even a satisfying character-driven angle.
The film finds pitch-black humor, horror, tragedy, and violence in a series of asides and digressions.
The Vanishing seems truly troubled by its action violence in a way that many similar thrillers aren’t.
While the film’s perception of the politics of the jungle is often profound, the same cannot be said of its take on the human world.
Scott Cooper’s film moves at a funereal pace, implicitly celebrating its sluggishness as a mark of integrity.
Terence Davies’s talent for creating sensuous images conveniently masks how little of this feeling actually emerges from the plot these images illustrate.
Sunset Song is conventionally A-to-B, though it’s a strangely freeing framework within which Terence Davies achieves some gorgeously subtle effects.
The sheer wastefulness of Eran Creevy’s Welcome to the Punch is off-putting enough, but the film is also falsely painted-up as a crime epic.
The great expanse of time and episodic nature that partially defines the series format allows Campion to work at once ambitiously and confidently.
Fans should be pleased with the gorgeous transfer and generous smattering of extras.
A gorgeous transfer of another bracing Spielberg oddity.
This is a film of unimpeachable craft, even occasional lyricism, that somehow turns an amazing horse into a boring one.
Tyrannosaur is one mean movie, an aggressively harsh extension of Paddy Considine’s’s 2007 short Dog Altogether.
Time has been exceedingly kind to Boyle’s excellent breakthrough film and Lionsgate has done a great job preserving it on Blu-ray.
Vancouver International Film Festival 2011: Tyrannosaur, The Skin I Live In, The Day He Arrives, & More
Emphasis, as always, will be on the “Dragons and Tigers” program of over 40 features (plus compilations, mid-length films and shorts) from Asia.
Neds opens with the sort of celebratory moment that makes you think for a moment that things might be all right.
The brutality of Tyrannosaur isn’t so over the top as to make Paddy Considine’s sympathy for his flawed characters look like a sham.
Tyrannosaur never convincingly justifies its pessimistic gender-warfare worldview.
The Red Riding Trilogy proves that HBO has no monopoly on quality small-screen drama.