Shane Acker’s 9 is a movie that succeeds in a lot of ways but fails in this simple notion.
Bored to Death isn’t a very good show unless you can’t get enough of the cast, in which case it’s more than good enough.
It’s a funny thing about repetition.
Despite the outrageous prices and rude patrons, I still prefer to watch movies where they were intended to be seen: in the movie theater.
It’s a prankster film that seems to have been made on the fly by Korine and a handful of his friends.
Among the certainties in the world of film criticism, there’s one that stands above all others.
Whatever his reasons, Khrzhanovsky directs his first (mostly) live-action feature, at age 69, as if it were his own last testament.
David Foster Wallace’s masterful prose doesn’t translate to cinematic language, and I doubt it would work in any context other than the page.
Watching Loren Cass is a little bit like getting punched in the face.
Lebanon is a good old-fashioned Sam Fuller war picture, all capital letters and tight close-ups.
I can forgive Corneliu Porumboiu’s film for its didacticism because it feels well-earned.
Florescent lights. Combination locks. Clueless parents. Clueless teachers. Clueless friends. Paranoia. Alienation. Hormones. Zits.
Understanding Screenwriting #32: Flame & Citron, Inglourious Basterds, District 9, & More
As screenwriters, here is why you should do your research.
Robert Wise’s oeuvre is a study in extreme contrasts.
My Son, My Son, What Have Ye Done works most intriguingly as a curious meeting between simpatico but ultimately incompatible artists.
Visions of demented lyricism giddily punch through Bad Lieutenant: Port of Call New Orleans’s hack-policier surface.
Von Trier is a compulsive button-pusher in the battle of the sexes, the battle of political correctness, the battle of cinema as playground of ideas.
Binoche has descended on Brooklyn’s Academy of Music with a full-blown, Renaissance woman vengeance.
The episode wants us to ponder the theme of parents and their children and the various ways both groups disappoint each other.
Robert Montgomery’s face was boyishly cute, even as he began to show his age in the early 40s, and his characters strategically used their cuteness.