Dark City takes many of the same premises as The Matrix but follows them into territory that is far more literary, examining themes of memory, character, and fate.
Thirty-five years and seven versions later, it’s time we learned to live in Blade Runner's ambiguity.
Brian De Palma’s Femme Fatale, a free-floating head trip of a movie, scrambles time to create an operatic, disorienting experience.
On The Truman Show, Jake Paul, and the increasingly blurred lines between the performed and private self.
Andrei Tarkovsky's Stalker, unlike most films, is not an escape.
Parodies, sketches, and jokes ensured that The Crying Game secured a place in the national conversation, but that conversation was often rife with ignorance and misunderstanding.
Women aren’t the stories you think their bodies tell you.
We’re all watching people watching other people to feel alive.
Alejandro Jodorowsky's Santa Sangre is more conventionally structured than his previous films, but is still filled with all the sentiment and poetry of his more surreal works.
A quartet of true "Acid Westerns" (El Topo, Zachariah, Greaser's Palace, and Dead Man) wrestle with and adapt religious traditions, synthesizing the spirit of the Wild West with the spirit of 1960s psychedelic culture.
The Fountain risks passionate earnestness, deep sincerity, and cathartic awe—offering countless opportunities for cynics to giggle or roll their eyes, but offering searchers and sufferers a way forward.
In the future of Blade Runner 2049, moving on is still impossible. Love, or the dream of being loved, however brief or generic or misremembered, still has the sole power to move us irrevocably.
