Oppenheimer, like its namesake J. Robert Oppenheimer, is a noble failure—but I've continued to revisit it in my mind’s eye, wondering if it worked on me or if it was merely evocative—and to what degree “evocativeness” is a measure of quality.
The Green Knight seeks not simply to retell or reimagine the poem’s story, but to interrogate or cross-examine the poem itself: to cast a shadow of postmodern skepticism over the original telling, and indeed all of Arthuriana.
After a long and stressful weekend, I went to go see Hell Or High Water by myself, and it absolutely gutted me.
The Finnish auteur’s latest comedy charts the interwoven experiences of two men from drastically different backgrounds, each looking to improve their lots in life.
It's hard to watch Annihilation in a Chicago winter and not feel it on a molecular level.
Once Upon a Time...in Hollywood, a melancholy elegy with a fairy tale at its core, is a work of surprises, from an unconventional structure to stylistic flourishes to a cartoonishly outrageous denouement.
Denis Villeneuve’s Dune is a self-fulfilling prophecy that undoes itself in the telling, an ouroboros regurgitating its own tail rather than eating it.
Ethan Hunt has been engineered as Cruise’s go-to export, the slippage between character and actor deliberate; Hunt is the closest an audience gets to seeing Cruise act like a normal person.
Crafted as though from everyday observation and fantastic dream, About Endlessness marries the magical and mercurial, the simple and surreal.
Claire Simon's Our Body is not only a fascinating look into the modern healthcare system, but is also, as with any documentary worth its weight, a peek into the ordinariness of extraordinary things.
It seems weird to have to defend laughing, but that’s where we’re at.
It would be natural to assume it’s impossible to recreate Harold Pinter’s effects on-screen. What cinematic setting could ever replicate the feeling of an ordinary space that simultaneously exists in a howling metaphysical void?
