A better-than-average horror anthology from two of horror’s reigning masters, Body Bags benefits considerably from an HD upgrade that’s been fleshed out with some salient supplements by Shout! Factory.
Far more frustrating than the film’s banally conventional plot structure is its characters’ lack of depth.
Grassroots seems interested in nothing so much as the struggles of Richard McIver. Cogswell in finding his middle-class self.
Madea’s Witness Protection is the funniest Madea film yet.
Knockdown reduces the American film noir to its singularly least appealing characteristic: macho self-pity.
As Romy and Michele proved, a good female-driven comedy need not aspire to more than dancing on a rooftop.
Dax Shepard delivers an I’m Still Here-style mockumentary of staggering incompetence with Brother’s Justice.
The Skeptic awkwardly suggests Poltergeist as a 12-step self-help program.
There’s a certain lurid fascination at play in Damian Harris’s fictional account of the abduction and sexual abuse of an eight-year-old girl.
Though based on a true story, this severely corny tale is, in fact, largely fiction save for its basic narrative outline.
Though based upon a specific true story, Pride most closely resembles virtually every other inspirational Hollywood melodrama.
This is the type of well-intentioned home movie-ish endeavor that should only be viewed by its cast’s friends and family.
Cinematic happy endings are enjoyable so long as they’re earned.
Soul Plane isn’t even good if you’re high, but Mo’Nique sure is funny.
As idiotic as it is immature, Soul Plane’s infatuation with playa culture will likely have most reaching for the barf bag.
For die-hard Jet Li and DMX fans only.
Cradle 2 the Grave is little more than a bad bar joke with no apparent punchline.