A very pretty, sometimes funny, sometimes adorable, sometimes boring Wes Anderson doghouse. Dollhouse, that is. But with dogs. Lots of dogs.
In which Marvel gets trippy.
Prepare to be lightly amused.
Revisiting this low-key sort-of thriller from way, way back in the aughts.
Snowpiercer’s failing is that it’s simultaneously overwritten and underwritten. It’s a blatant political allegory whose obvious points are muddled and vague. If you can imagine such a thing. And yet…
There are few real artists left, suggests Jarmusch. And they are mostly vampires.
The Grand Budapest Hotel is not set in Hungary. It’s set in the imaginary European Republic of Zubrowka. More exactly, it’s set in the little dollhouse of Wes Anderson’s head.