The film feels lived-in despite its glaringly mannered dialogue and charmingly eccentric characterizations.
David Fincher’s film maintains a consistently bleak atmosphere that elevates it above its sloppy sequel.
The insensitivity of director Walter Hill’s The Assignment springs from an over-abundance of caution.
A Monster Calls is both governed and straitjacketed by director J.A. Bayona’s competent impersonality.
The film’s dialogue is entertainingly hard-boiled, and the performances knowing without ever being arch.
Compassionate and structurally intriguing, Ingrid Bergman: In Her Own Words is a stellar portrait of a great artist.
Comparisons to Steven Spielberg’s The BFG and Spike Jonze’s Where the Wild Things Are will be inevitable.
The film follows its predecessor in being broadly concerned with comforting notions of home and family.
It highlights the potent dichotomies that, combined with Bergman’s relatively unmediated beauty, made the actress luminescent both on and off screen.
Its exasperating atonality washes out any legitimate idea about identity, education, nature versus nurture, or artificial intelligence.
It doesn’t take long to realize that Ridley Scott’s adaptation is only aiming for certain forms of credibility, and callously eschewing others.
All of them have earned their right to be here, either by standing on the shoulders of giants or wildly impaling creatures of the night.
Its greatest act of public service is the outrageously comforting notion that honest and humane politicians might actually exist.
Geek is its own language, and Paul speaks it fluently.