It’s an occasionally amusing and insightful beltway satire that’s ultimately undone by its conventional mise-en-scène and predictable plot.
As a filmmaker, Landais is trying to run before he’s even figured out how to walk.
The film’s derivatively stylish cinematography laboriously hints at un-broached turmoil and passion.
Michelangelo Antonioni’s film is an inquiry into the modernist concern of what art is and how it affects life.
The piercing supplements manage to contextualize an essential film without smothering it with over-explanation.
Of Bennett Miller’s many directorial feats, his canniest is his depiction of the precariousness of bonds, and how those bonds can shift, drastically yet almost imperceptibly.
With the film, Lee Daniels quietly pushes his talent for hashing out visceral, violent emotions into unexpected dramatic terrain.
Part end-of-life romance, part grossly manipulative mush, the film tries to stare grief and mortality in the face while practically shitting rainbows.
This more-than-game Sherlock Holmes pastiche makes its high-definition debut on Blu-ray sporting a solid transfer and accompanied by a spanking-new interview with writer Nicholas Meyer.
It almost seems like the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences is trying to pull one over on us—or, at the very least, sneak one past us while we’re not looking.
So it is that the one year we didn’t stick to our frilliest-always-wins guns here, allowing ourselves to be blinded by the sheen of Keira Knightley’s emerald green dress from Atonement, we came up short.
It shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone who truly understands how the Oscars work that the still above isn’t from Asghar Farhadi’s A Separation.
Roland Emmerich’s film is an interesting case in that it may very well be its director’s best work; however, a better director is the one thing it surely needed.