The film dwells in a murky middle ground where everything is overblown but meant to be taken at face value.
The series suggests the failure of U.S. intelligence in the years before 9/11 was one of imagination.
In terms of scale and narrative ingenuity, Wormwood is as staggering as any Errol Morris film before it.
Pablo Larraín’s film bluntly hammers home the notion that history is framed by perception rather than reality.
The films at this year’s festival offered plenty examples of legacies lived up to and not—neglected and obsessed over.
The film never surrenders to the abandon of its action, and as such never feels like it shifts out of first gear.
Aesthetically, the film cunningly suggests life that exists solely within an academic experiment, closed off from chaos that isn’t manufactured.
The film is a lightly dramatized case file that’s structurally averse to world-building and psychological portraiture.
It’s best appreciated as a tragicomic profile of a man whose extraordinary talent was undermined by the political reality in which he was enmeshed.
Most disheartening is how the female leads aren’t given ample space to develop as dynamic characters beyond the most urgent confines of the script’s scenarios.