Woo’s most riotous American film receives a solid upgrade to UHD.
The film’s flashbacks, which are either too clipped or excessively scored, effectively step on the actors’ toes.
It defers to a familiar, nondescript urgency to work through its particular depiction of a troubled but no less honorable civil institution.
There’s a sort of unwritten rule in comedy: don’t be longer than 90-minutes.
Daniel Waters’s pseudo-rom-com ultimately dies a slow death.
The Hawk Is Dying’s central object may live to be airborne, but this dud never once manages to fly.
The Wire’s landscape is thick with men almost desperate to reach back and snatch some kid from the vortex.
Carver is one several cops and ex-cops taking an extracurricular interest in individual kids on the street.
“Change the course” often means more of the same, only more of it.
Carcetti is keen to meddle, but knows what to leave be.
Allying with rivals to thwart a third party is the cold calculus of the city’s politicians as well.
The dealers know the kids, and the kids know the cops.
Like Michael, Detective Lester Freamon bumps up against the larger forces of an organization.
Its opening credits are not an ordinary credits sequence, but a series of four short films that distill each season’s themes, goals, and motifs.
The slippery slope of civilization is already in place on The Wire and Simon is just out to document how each and every person survives.
Varied as the street characters are, their African-American counterparts in the police department are just as individualized.
Corn figures prominently in Richard Squires’s Crazy Like a Fox.
Todd Solondz is sensitive to criticism, a fear he hypocritically lays bare throughout Storytelling.