This wavering, intermittently smart story of daring to think differently flattens its narrative into formula.
Robert Redford nimbly dramatizes a historical moment that’s politically relevant without being explicitly preachy.
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.
Robert Zemeckis is as committed to motion-capture CG animation as Ebenezer Scrooge is to pinching pennies.
Kevin Macdonald can’t begin to approach the paranoid genre mastery seen in the films of John Frankenheimer and Alan Pakula.
Generally, the film is a compelling portrait of Hollywood egoism, though it suffers from this very egoism itself.
Hounddog deserves to be known as The Dakota Fanning Rape Movie.
What is Robert Zemeckis up to, anyway?
The film caters to two of the most basic, primal fantasies of hetero adolescent males: slaying a dragon and bedding Angelina Jolie.
Lacking the commentaries and home-video footage that graced previous DVD releases, this pedestrian set hardly excites.
A film of remarkable forwardness, honesty, and humor, built, like all fairy tales, around one message, summed up late in the script.
The pitch meeting must have been frightening: Caché for fans of Chocolat.
Breaking and Entering plays out like a softer, more cuddly version of Michael Haneke’s Caché.
To simply label Sorry, Haters misguided or preposterous is to undersell its out-of-its-gourd daffiness.
A bad movie is worst when you can sense the meaningful intentions of its creators.
Sorry, pervs, but Colin Farrell’s penis has stayed on the cutting room floor.
Independent cinema has fallen hard and it can’t get up.
Wouldn’t it have made more sense for Paramount to put Erika Christensen’s Wuthering Heights on the DVD for Beyond Borders instead?
The Singing Detective is tedious to sit through mostly because its every moment feels so painfully misguided.