Reviews

A brilliant indictment of the American financial and insurance system, a primal scream against the 1%, and a hell of a good time with some inventive gore and lots of uncomfortable laughs.

The two leads here, Yeun and Weaving, should already be superstars and household names. Their rapport is fantastic, and Yeun proves that his popularity on The Walking Dead was not a fluke.

The movie is directed by Joe Lynch with a surplus of style, with the movie capturing the same manic energy in certain Scorsese films like The Wolf of Wall Street and Bringing Out the Dead.

Though the story is contained primarily to a single high-rise office building, Lynch smartly mapped his landscape early on so when the chaos starts, the audience already knows where the important players are and how they have to travel.

Though I'm glad it was picked up by Shudder, it does seem like the kind of movie that would have a long and happy cult movie life popping up on cable. I hope that it finds its long-term audience and becomes a favorite of the horror-comedy-commentary arena like its predecessor Battle Royale.

Yorgos Lanthimos is one of the most exciting and dangerous filmmakers currently making theatrical films. Many people don't like his work, and others love him for his deadpan absurdity and darkness. His work is challenging, both to understand and sometimes to enjoy.

But he is never less than compelling in anything he does, and Killing is no exception. The film has a seemingly more mainstream framework than his other films, with two big name leads and a vague thriller framework. It might be his most disturbing work, though, a wolf in sheep's clothing meant to draw in theater crowds who don't know any better and put them through this absurdist version of a Saw film in which parents are charged with saving one child by possibly sacrificing another.

Brutal, precise, funny, and impeccably assembled, this movie is a shock to the system in every way possible, good and bad. And that's worth its weight in gold in a movie environment full of films asking you to understand and appreciate them.

The tragedies and heartbreak that children can endure through the power of imagination and friendship is almost immeasurable, and this film tracks many of them from the perspective of one of those durable but sometimes broken hearts.

This film was stunning in its honesty, in the realness of the "performances" (I almost don't want to call them that), and in the quiet beauty it finds in many of the unconventional spots hidden from the eyes of the tourists a few miles away.

It was shot mere miles from my house, and seeing something you drive past everyday made into part childhood fantasy and part neorealism is jarring. To say I look at my commute home differently now is something of an understatement.

Willem Dafoe is somehow a revelation of subtlety, even after decades of brilliance, and the mother-daughter performers are so good it doesn't seem possible these scenes were planned.

It's The Blair Witch Project, but with lovelier cinematography. It's The Descent, but with more testosterone and open spaces. It's The Wicker Man, except the revelation at the end isn't wicker, and it sure as hell isn't a man.

This movie is a wonderfully cast, taut supernatural thriller that is so effortlessly effective that viewers might not realize how tricky the tone and balance of the film really is. Monster movies can fall over the line into bad very easily, and director Bruckner strikes the perfect tone, allowing the characters to have humor but never the story itself.

The effects are beautiful and haunting, the lead performances give us everything we need to know about the struggles of a certain kind of masculinity in crisis, and the cross-cutting in the final act smartly reminds us what is actually at stake here. An excellent piece of work.

This film is impressive for so many reasons. It's not just that director Flanagan found a way to make a riveting story that essentially takes place in a single room over a couple of days, with our protagonist handcuffed to a bedpost. It's not just that it is an adaptation of a Stephen King novel, a work that is notoriously complex, dense, and hard to translate to the silver screen. It's not just that the majority of what made the book work was almost entirely internal, and didn't seem like it would even be filmable, let alone entertaining.

Ultimately, what makes it a great film is that none of the above things popped into my mind while watching the film. Flanagan makes the hard work of good filmic exposition look easy. He weaves themes artfully, creates character through iconic, tiny moments, and lets the audience do as much of the work as the filmmakers themselves did in understanding and interpreting the story.

Mike Flanagan is without a doubt one of the visionary horror filmmakers of our age, along with Jordan Peele, James Wan, and a small handful of others who learned from the past, incorporated that past into their psyche, and allowed their deeply unique and specific visions to spill out unfettered on-screen. This film may have come from a Stephen King novel, but it is a Mike Flanagan movie.

This short, punchy little crime drama is a smart film that has fun toying with the conventions of the car crime subgenre while allowing the always watchable Grillo to add a heart to the muscle he's accustomed to playing.

He almost never leaves the car, and that makes for a pleasurably contained story in which we only see and hear what he sees and hears, effectively putting us in his shoes. A fantastic role from Garrett Dillahunt, on screen for less than ten minutes, is instantly memorable for his performance as well as the way he "leaves."

A fun drive worth taking, and not too long a ride, either.

I believe this to be the best Star Wars film in existence. I think it is as close to a perfect film as a Star Wars film will get. The nuance of the storytelling, the challenge it serves to the fans and the characters shows the kind of maturity you don't normally expect from blockbuster films.

A lot has been made of the online arguments about the film. They are worthless distractions, ultimately. Johnson created an epic of intimate betrayals, a space opera reminder of the painful truth that the people and things we love are not perfect and they will betray us simply by acting according to their nature. That the fans of the series didn't recognize the message and instead harangued the messenger, just shows that Johnson knew exactly what he was doing, and his point is well served by reality.

I don't consistently rewatch Star Wars films, but this is one that I will be revisiting many, many times over the coming years as other unchallenging, adequate, or mediocre entries from the Star Wars universe continue to be released.

There is not an ounce of fat on this movie. It operates like a shark, constantly moving forward and circling its prey (which just so happens to be us, the viewers).

Lynne Ramsey created a film that is almost entirely an open wound, a bleeding raw nerve of heartache and confusion embodied by the beautiful walking car wreck that is Joaquin Phoenix.

A simple narrative that hides deep complexities just underneath its surface, this movie could be watched five times with five different psychological reads on what transpires. Because of its short running time and meticulous construction, a five-time marathon doesn't even sound like a chore.

The last act of the film is intentionally frustrating in its determination to veer away from the tropes of the genre it has spent an hour convincing you it belongs to. It stands above simple genre classification, and it stands alone in execution and performance. It is a frighteningly good film that looks into dark places and doesn't make you feel any better about what you've seen.

The anger, intensity, the boldness, the humor, the fire and fury of everything Spike Lee has made in his career has culminated in this powder keg of true-life insanity that is as hilarious and entertaining as it is heartbreaking and painful.

Lee has never been a filmmaker to shy from confrontational subject matter, though I think he would argue that his work is less confrontational than it is simply honest. That unambiguous honesty, that directness in subject matter, opinion, and style serves this film well, as does the brilliant cast who fill every role with an energy and personality that raise it above a standard biopic in every way.

And lest anyone decide this should be lumped into the category of true life stories about people who solved racism a long time ago (looking at you, Green Book), Lee uses his final coda of the film to draw the parallels to now that we all felt while watching the previous two hours' worth of events.

He ends the film with an image of an upside-down flag, and the message is two-fold: first, that we are turned around, confused, lost in our direction. But there is a second meaning. Through history, during a battle for a castle, a marauding army would conquer it and then take the flag down, re-hoisting it upside down to show that the castle had been taken over. Lee reminds us in stark terms: our castle has been raided, and the enemy is in charge.

Powerful images to remind us of a dangerous reality.

Follow four men who walk the fine line between genius and obsession, and then occasionally dive headfirst over the line.

Of course Errol Morris directed this film about oddball eccentrics who nonetheless capture our interest and somehow convince us they're changing the world for the better.

The doc deftly cross-cuts between four talking head interviews, those four men doing their actual jobs, and classic black and white footage of old movie serials, and the montage effect spins us into a fervor and reminds us that everyone here is exploring the same thing: their own outer limitations.

It's a marvelous accomplishment, and perhaps if more people knew of it and shared it, the future of documentary storytelling would be very different and exciting.

This documentary is absolute magic. Unlike most people who would just stumble onto this film accidentally, I sought it out after I learned that a documentary existed which featured Ondar, the Tuvan throat singer who became (slightly) famous for being able to sing two notes at the same time by training his voice to do harmonics.

That was interesting enough to me on its own, but I was overjoyed to learn that the documentary was actually a delightful meeting of cultures and arts. A blind jazz musician from America discovers throat singing from hearing it on an obscure radio show, then teaches himself how to do it and eventually travels to Tannu Tuva, a tiny Mongolian country, to participate in the annual throat singing competition.

I had chills when he performed in the show, using the technique of throat singing but pairing it with his distinctive jazz and blues musical stylings. This movie did a brilliant job of showing the ways in which arts can help people communicate and find common ground even without a literal understand of each other's world and culture. It's a powerful message and worth seeking out.

Sports are not a primary area of interest. I don't watch real sports, and I don't generally watch sports films. However, there are occasionally movies so smart, surprising, uplifting, and clever that I enjoy them despite the fact that I know nothing of the subject matter. The movie reminds me that the journey is universal, as are the stakes and emotions, and it doesn't matter where it's happening, I just care that it is happening.

Battered Bastards of Baseball broke through at first because I heard Kurt Russell appeared in it. Smart move to start off with. But even without his presence, I would have been fully riveted by this ultimate underdog story that reminds us the way true heroes and leaders never look to join something, they look to start something.

Smart, irresistibly funny, and illuminating about the strange and complicated systems that rule professional American sports, this film is a great watch for anyone who wants to see a hero rise and a system get bucked.

This movie is something of a minor miracle, a story of one kind of artist (a technical genius) perhaps pulling back the curtain on a different kind of historical genius (an artistic one), and perhaps reminding us that the two kinds of genius aren't so far apart.

The Tim of the title is a man who believes he has discovered the secret behind painter Vermeer's ability to paint ultra-realistic images that are generally considered to be detailed beyond the standard human eye's ability to discern. What transpires is a years-long odyssey in which he decides that the only way to prove his point is to paint a Vermeer himself.

It somehow has the crackling tension of a heist film: what are the supplies he needs? Can he do it in a way that is period accurate? Will he make it to the end or grow too exhausted to reach? Will he redefine our understanding of what classical artists truly accomplished?

I can say this much: Tim changed my mind about what artists are, what they can do, and what we even consider art.

I am not a sporting man. I am also not a fan of sports films, generally. I don't run. However, I am a connoisseur of stories about obsessions, particularly unhealthy ones that could be detrimental to people's mental and physical well-being. And that makes this movie RIGHT down my alley.

The true story of a determinedly obscure marathon, one that has select entrants, an absurd level of endurance, and a strange way of keeping track of people's progress, it is clearly designed with the intent of only attracting the oddest of of endurance participants. It's both the total inverse and somehow the spiritual twin of the documentary Hands On a Hard Body, as both of them plumb the depths of seemingly normal people's endurance to understand their drives and motivations.

Does it answer that? Maybe, maybe not. But the journey is worth it regardless.

Without giving away the ultimate revelation of the film, I will just say that I wish more found footage movies found ways like this to continue to expand the storytelling possibilities of the subgenre.

Director Mueller takes a worn and tired premise (a couple staying in the isolated woods with just a camera) and uses it as a jumping off point for a fascinating exploration of art and it's creators, and juggles questions of what creators truly owe to their audiences. That he could do all that, get two excellent lead performances, an unlikely icon as a villain, and a really inventive take on a third act twist is all the more impressive.

This film isn't going to be everyone's taste, but for those who like their horror films with a dash of philosophical weirdness and genre deconstruction, this might be one that lights your fire.

This is the most difficult film I've ever loved this much. I've only ever watched this film one time, but so much of what Demme and the cast created is seared into my memory.

The film, a haunting post-slavery ghost story, never succumbs to the Hollywood tendency to make things pretty. Every step is a burden, every revelation a heartbreak. I came out of this film exhausted and fearful to watch it again.

Oprah Winfrey and Danny Glover reteam again here after The Color Purple, and their performances are subtle, tired, heavy; their characters have lived and survived a life I can't even imagine.

Newton's performance is a minor miracle of balance, showing shades of childlike innocence uncomfortably sharing the same space as otherworldly menace.

The cinematography is beautiful without becoming deceitful in its presentation of period reality. This movie deserved to be bigger at the time, and it deserves to be recognized as the masterpiece it still is.

This movie, Horror Noire, and another documentary called Reel Injun should be required viewing for writers, directors, producers, and casting agents.

These films tell an important story about the struggle for representation, the indignities and stereotypes suffered, and the heroic figures who persevered in the face of those problems.

Inspiring, illuminating, and infuriating in equal measure, this film tells the story of the Asian image in non-Asian film, and the journey has been a rough one. You owe it to yourself and the people who fought this battle to watch this movie and learn more about the darker side of cinema's past and present.

This movie is very frequently annoying and stupid. It is also a strangely challenging, unconventional piece of art that disguises itself as a dumb comedy in order to literally and figuratively test the boundaries.

Tom Green was, in his fleeting great moments, a possible successor to the confrontational absurdist comedy of Andy Kaufman. Mostly, he never fulfilled that promise, but this movie is a glimpse into the possibility. The movie is violent, childish, and insistent on destroying conventional plot elements, and it's not necessarily a film to be liked (though there are certainly some very funny scenes). It exists to remind us of how it feels when there are no training wheels or traffic lights in our entertainment, when there is no safety of recognition or the protection of clear intent or message. If you can enjoy a movie for that reason, you might enjoy this one.

This is a brilliant documentary and a fascinating study of a man who may be no more real than the forgeries he creates and gives away.

The movie cleverly begins as an investigative movie, leading us to believe it could be about the greatest art forger in modern history. While it remains about that person, it turns into something else as well: a keen observation of an individual building his identity from pieces of others.

The film explores his "artistic" process, but equally explores the psychological underpinnings of his behavior. By the end, you'll question if he is a brilliant and deceptive manipulator, or an emotionally stunted man-child who doesn't even fully understand the ramifications of his actions. It is powerful to realize that it could credibly be either (or both).

As a screenwriter who no longer has a single trace of the first five or six screenplays I wrote, I especially connect to this documentary about lost creations and hopes. The film follows several young female filmmakers and the odd grown man who attempted to help them bring their first film to life, only to vanish one day with all their hard work.

The journey of the girls to make the film, then learn to deal with its loss, and finally to have it come crashing back into their lives twenty years later (albeit in a transformed state) is moving and heartbreaking. It's almost a reverse heist film, or a heist film from the POV of the victims.

A powerful true story about a trio of brilliant young women whose dreams were deferred by a deceitful older man, it's a film that artists and art aficionados alike can appreciate. It's also filled with heart and humor that will capture nearly any audience.

Somehow a favorable review from Stephen King still hasn't provided this movie the cult fandom it deserves.

Though it was directed by two men, the story is from a female writer, and that shows in the film's excellent portrayal of the constant quiet threat of living in a big city as a single woman. The palpable tension in moments when harassment might become something worse builds a healthy paranoia in both the lead character and its viewers.

I say healthy paranoia because it is not ill-placed. By the end of the movie, we have been shown in unblinking detail exactly what there is to fear, and it is relentless and unforgiving. The power of the final act, though, only works because of the glacial pace of the first hour, making us froghtened and restless in various turns. Like life, the trouble comes at the point we're least ready.

You are really missing out if you don't watch this delightfully vicious chamber horror film that inverts the alien abduction scenario in clever and gory ways.

Touching on body horror in visceral ways, it also cleverly uses its disturbing trappings to comment on the trauma induced by assault and molestation. The film also smartly subverts masculine tropes, being an early film to touch on the concept of toxic masculinity before that phrase was part of the public conversation.

Ultimately, though, it's a fantastically tense housebound survival horror film with more than a fair share of shocking moments and clever reinventions of a well-trod genre.