Katie Holmes’s film is more earnest than remarkable, but with its heart in the right place.
At once wonderfully complex and weirdly reductive—a formula, though, that seems as sound an embodiment of the human brain as any other.
Throughout, Helen Hunt obsequiously tends to her character’s evolution as a parent through a flagrant indulgence of sitcom-ish scenarios.
Whatever your foreknowledge of low-budget Brooklyn dramedies, it’s impossible that Gillian Robespierre’s film won’t lob you at least a few curveballs.
The film is reduced to a series of unfunny mockery laid out so Garlin can display his trademark deadpan reaction.
Sopranos director Allen Coulter gives us a taste of what the darker Luck many of us had been wishing for might have been like.
There’s no getting around the fact that this week’s episode of Luck was overstuffed with exposition.
After the emotional high points reached in last week’s installment of Luck, it’s only natural that this week’s episode feels a bit like a come-down.
Milch-speak, as it’s referred to, is made more impenetrable in Luck than it is in his period-accurate Deadwood.
In Luck, the majestic thoroughbreds shine as they stand backlit by the sun.
The movie is notable for its aggressive miserablism, but also for its stellar photography, which this great transfer dutifully reveres.
Are the Coens jokers who tread on despair, or tragedians with a penchant for death’s-head humor?
The Wild is too slipshod to even decide on the level of its animals’ anthropomorphism.
