Anderson’s strident, often uproarious, satire takes on a lot more than just the National Health.
The film modestly embraces its inherent minimalism and finds the emotions underlying even the most schematic of scenarios.
A disappointing slog from the artist formerly known as Martin Scorsese gets a predictably perfect high-def standing ovation.
There’s nothing strange—or in any way extraordinary—about this dim-witted bore.
An unadorned but felicitous release of one of the wittiest films of the 1980s.
As with its predecessors, Deathly Hallows’s narrative is driven by gobbledygook devices.
The film is a salvo of social disgust filled uneasily with self-deprecating doubt.
This holiday adventure has a big central concept and next to no desire to follow through on reasonably—much less fully—exploiting it.
Theoretically and visually, Equus is a dense monster of a play.
Richard Attenborough’s polished, thoroughly safe veneration of the great political and spiritual Indian leader has no room for contradiction.
A deluxe anniversary reissue is the best way to revisit an Oscar-winning ’80s dinosaur.
Looking at the poster for Venus, one could be forgiven for thinking that the end was near.
Venus is a cleverly written but somewhat muffled paean to sensual appetite.
The heavy lifting is left mainly to the performers, who virtually all make the grade.
It’s all very interesting, but it still feels like a cut-and-dry homework assignment…or a Paula Abdul song.
As far as stuffy Oxford dramas go, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone has them all beat.