If the movie has the ring of a high school or college reunion, that’s because that’s pretty much what it’s like.
It’s difficult to believe Ryder’s gullibility, if not willingness to be caught in his uncle’s strange web of provocations.
The film conveys an engagingly low-key atmosphere, pervasive with wayward souls haunted by poor choices.
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.
The near-imperceptible finesse of Abby’s characterization reflects writer-director Stacie Passon’s effortless, interesting mix of richness and economy.
Stacie Passon approaches Concussion’s subject matter provocatively though never exploitatively.
The show depicts human beings as they are—scatterbrained, selfish, myopic, sometimes viciously cruel.
Deadwood has never shied away from theatrical flourishes that make metaphors concrete.
The episode feels like a summation of the show’s thoughts on what it means to be mortal.
The story of the Ellsworth/Alma/Bullock love triangle is being told almost entirely in subtle looks and body language.
As suggested by one of Hearst’s own self-descriptors (“It mistakes my nature absolutely.”) Milch has a keen eye for his actors’ untapped resources.