Criterion gives one of the most compulsively rewatchable movies of the last generation its most fully satisfying home-video edition to date.
When its tone slides firmly back into the murk, it’s hard not to see DC’s notion of heroism as borderline nihilistic.
Blade Runner 2049 is so terrified of disreputability that it renders itself dead from the waist down.
Wonder Woman’s Diana is ultimately an idealized abstraction more than a fully rounded character.
Baltasar Kormákur’s film is a tasteful, sweeping, carefully balanced reconciliation between the irrefutable authority of nature and mankind’s innate need to circumvent it.
It might hit you right in the feels, even as your eyes are rolling. To quote one of Forrest’s truest pieces of wisdom: Maybe both is happening at the same time.
As executed by writer-director Ari Folman, the concept is tidy, superficially clever, and almost defiantly irrelevant.
Anton Corbijn constructs a stifling world of shadowy surveillance and intersecting national interests, building on John Le Carré’s sense of moral and emotional exhaustion.
So deadly serious and yet so goofily unbound that, in some scenes, incest truly seems like it’s on the scandalous menu.
This is really nothing more than the story of girls running to and from their daddies, and no matter how you dress it up, it’s inherently retrograde.
A handsome Blu-ray presentation of a film that largely plays like one of those video game cutscenes you can’t skip.
Its dopey, privileged-set fantasy winds up as obvious as crawling through Keanu Reeves’s open window.