And it’s too bad you can’t see it on a big screen.
Hugh Jackman plays Hart as an excruciatingly limited man, unable to rise to the occasion when his infidelities are exposed.
He has a difficult job — to portray a teenager whose best option is to reveal nothing of himself.
This might be their bleakest work of all, and one of their richest.
If you’re immune to this music, I don’t want to know you. If you’re immune to Rami Malek, there’s no hope for you.
Including Annihilation, Black Panther, The Rider, and The Death of Stalin.
It’s a gas.
It takes everything deliriously surreal in the original and lumbers it with German history, gender studies, and cloddish dance/performance art
Call Me By Your Name wasn’t a fluke.
Zoe Kazan co-wrote the adaptation of Richard Ford’s novel with Paul Dano, and it’s brilliant.
David Gordon Green and Jamie Lee Curtis take memorable images from Carpenter’s Halloween and turns them on their heads.
Michael Shannon and Hilary Swank are superb in Elizabeth Chomko’s debut feature film as stressed-out siblings watching their mother’s memory dissolve.
What’s missing from Bad Times at the El Royale is a sense of urgency. Is this a story that needs to be told or a self-conscious and labored exercise?
First Man might be the most grounded space movie ever made.
It’s Tom Hardy, whose amiable mugging makes a nice change from his recent manly, mush-mouthed stoicism.
In the new Halloween, she’s the one hunting Michael Myers. Welcome to the age of big-box-office post-trauma horror.
I have zero doubts about the first half — it couldn’t be more charming.
It centers on the sort of self-absorbed man who’d drive her usual heroines to the brink.
In Barry Jenkins’s work, loss is a given. He lyricizes it and sometimes seems to wallow in it.
It throws enough at you to keep you distracted from seeing all the marks it’s not quite hitting.