Life as a young horror fan must be tough. If you can’t convince your parents to get you in to see “Midsommar” or “Us,” you end up watching something like “Countdown”: a beige, textureless, PG-13-rated horror movie that looks like it emerged from the pages of a JCPenney clothing catalogue.
Is it possible to enjoy an infinitely stylish, infinitely original, infinitely well performed film even if it’s not clear what’s actually going on onscreen?
Mansky’s opus deserves a look from anyone even passingly curious about how the other half lives.
Here’s something rare: a film that shows wit without glibness, precision without contrivance and warmth without sentimentality.
“The Return” is recommended for committed Russophiles and misery-addicts only.
This is another one of those movies that takes an array of marvelous ingredients — a rich and thought-provoking premise, two legendary actors, a beautiful setting (the Sistine Chapel!) — and combines them into something merely okay.
Don’t you hate it when your boss calls you up on your day off and asks you to kill someone?
If “Joker” has become the world’s first billion-dollar R-rated film, it rests mainly on the shoulders of Joaquin Phoenix.
Loose, tensionless dialogue and flat cinematography reminiscent of a TV documentary turn “Diamond Island” into a tepid experience.
What would Jesus do? Rarely has a film asked this so earnestly.