The Dinner is shrilly, luridly, dully, and unremittingly ugly, preaching to a choir that it also demonizes.
Writer-director Joseph Cedar charts Norman’s rise-and-fall arc with the attention to detail of a procedural.
In The Dinner, writer-director Oren Moverman wastes no time in establishing a tone of grandiose scabrousness.
Andrew Renzi treats unfettered wealth as a hyperbolic playground through which to explore masculine insecurity.
It’s good that we’re now able to see the film as originally intended, if only to recognize its thoroughly contemptible cultural sensibilities.
Like its predecessor, John Madden’s film is a charming example of what great actors can do with mediocre material.
The indie-movie artiness of Oren Moverman’s Time Out of Mind sometimes get in the way of its noble mission.
Fisher’s smart questions elicit both useful and humorous responses from Petzold throughout.
One major reason that Terrence Malick’s films are so divisive is that they’re so nakedly emotional, that he’s so blatantly aiming for the sublime.
In a word: balls.
A riot of heavy glances and portentous imagery, a near constant chorus of brooding strings and, in its latter, terminal stages, an excruciating program of narrative elongation that verges on the absurd.