How many readers have heard of Atlântida Cinematográfica?
Don’t Go Breaking My Heart isn’t simply a house of mirrors reflecting the soullessness of our internet age.
Bruno Dumont’s Outside Satan isn’t alive to nature’s movement.
Che, a New Man presents Che’s revolutions as an effort to love the rest of the world.
Hanezu might seem like a very different film from Jeanne, but the two films actually seem to come from similar impulses.
The Dream of Eleuteria is the sort of film that one expects to discover at the Viennale.
Charli XCX’s new single could be subtitled “Love in the Time of Radiation.”
Aleksandr Mindadze’s Innocent Saturday ultimately adds up to a lot of nasty hysteria.
One country’s classics are another’s unknowns.
The latest film by Jean-Pierre and Luc Dardenne left me speechless.
Is that Coke or a 40 dangling from Charlize’s fingers? What might a Pomeranian have to do with all this?
I suspect the biggest reason Barry Lyndon is overlooked is because of its slow, deliberate, drawn-out pace and, this is crucial, its lack of a signature moment.
If Pearl Jam Twenty suffers from straining to account for various points of view, then it excels as an account of personal idealism.
Szamanka drifts between horror and humor, and thus is not for everyone.
No film this year is poised to collect more Academy Award nominations than Michel Hazanavicius’s silent movie about the silent era.
Contagion is the (cough, cough) feel-bad movie (cough, cough) of the fall.
Part Coen brothers and part James L. Brooks, Alexander Payne makes comedies about serious stuff like abortion and midlife crises.
With The Artist, Michel Hazanavicius stretches a feather-light gimmick to feature-length.
Phantogram continues to evolve their sound, this time in a more straightforward pop direction.
It’s ironic that the talking-heads interviews in Alex Stapleton’s documentary feel so self-conscious.