Tenet is the ultimate expression of Christopher Nolan’s decades-spanning project of capturing subjectivity on screen, conjuring a twilight world where the nature of reality, God, time, right and wrong, and free will, are left in the trenches of ambiguity.
If Time Bandits is a child's polemic against greed and selfishness that ultimately ends in the reveal of the truth of the universe, then The Fisher King is a movie in which our hero steals the truth about himself back from the cold hands of the universe and an uncaring God.
Rififi was Dassin’s comeback film, his revenge fantasy film, a revenge not only on foes across the pond but on capitalism itself. And what better way to represent militant class struggle than by depicting a team effort to expropriate the ruling class’s most ostentatious emblem: diamonds?
Sneakers is a film about a lot of things: ever-advancing modern technology, personal privacy in the earliest days of the digital age, still-frosty international relations of the post-Cold War era, guys being dudes, and the ways in which the American government—to put it broadly—sucks.
This is the first of many subversions in Sexy Beast (2000), Jonathan Glazer’s debut. This is the place where another heist film would end: the comfortable paradise—the idyllic retreat to a luxurious retirement—staked upon the ill-gotten gains earned from a life of theft.
While Bonnie and Clyde appropriates the contours and beats of its historical figures’ actual lives, the film uses techniques of elision and abstraction to create a starkly erotic Pop portrait of doomed lovers—and the infinite, tender tension that holds them together.
Your mission, if you choose to accept it: we’re talking across Mission: Impossible – Dead Reckoning Part One (2023), Mission: Impossible – Fallout (2018), and Mission: Impossible (1996) with the brilliant Vulture/New York Magazine film critic, Bilge Ebiri.
John Boorman's Point Blank is inexplicably intricate and enigmatic, cool and cryptic, a relentlessly modern film about a relentlessly brutal man with single-minded ambitions—actually, "ambitions'' feels too fancy a word for that body-sized fist known as Lee Marvin.
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.
Michael Mann’s Thief, like its protagonist, elides the romance in favor of efficiency. Frank’s me-against-the-world attitude is both armor and weapon in a one-man crusade to fund his American dream.