Mesrine is a pretend epic just enjoyable enough to make you wish that Cassel would get a real one.
Black Swan is maddening, uneven, often bonkers, but it’s also often strangely beautiful.
The film is either an insane, almost entirely unquestioning celebration of all crime movie clichés or a chilling subversion of them.
Part of the reason I’m drunk on Black Sawn while still struggling to identify its taste has something to do with the film’s hallucination-filled narrative.
Black Swan is Showgirls stripped bare of its camp affections, Suspiria with a pretense to realism, Repulsion for our J-horror-addled times.
Mesrine is a Don Juan and he will not be denied his pink taco.
Vincent Cassel deserves better scenery to devour.
Gangster movies usually come in one of three flavors.
The movie dramatizes Cronenberg’s preoccupations more, well, organically than his his other collaboration with Viggo Mortensen.
David Cronenberg’s contemplation of codes of masculine honor is deliciously transgressive.
To call the Ocean’s films frivolous would be kind, implying that these arduous concoctions are somehow light on their proverbial feet.
Derailed has its suspenseful locomotive force disrupted by the clumsy plotting of Stuart Beattie’s script.
Throughout, Paul McGuigan paints around the narrative substance with vacant symbolism.
The skin tones on this disc are so accurate they’re almost ethereal.
Gaspar Noé positions Irréversible as a structuralist countdown, but a structuralist wank job is more like it.
Brotherhood of the Wolf was popular enough to merit more than the deleted scenes sequence included here.
At first glance, the evidence tying Hitchcock to Audiard’s Read My Lips seems purely circumstantial.
Christophe Gans’s The Brotherhood of the Wolf has artifice working shamelessly to and against its favor.