What the hell? There’s a movie starring Terrance Stamp, John Hurt, and Tim Roth released in ’84, called The Hit? How had I never heard of this before? Wait, Tim Roth? What was he, like 12 when he made this?
Are we hardboiled or can you make us ache?
In which the original Godzilla and its Americanized Raymond Burr-ful recut version are considered.
At its core, Guardians of the Galaxy introduces us to a man who robs graves and happens upon an object of theological importance. That does not make it Raiders of the Lost Ark.
In which Douglas Sirk gets away with subversive, melodramatic murder. His victim: the ’50s.
Want to know about the latest Marvel movie? How about that one from two years ago? Or the one five years from now? We’ve got you covered.
Music so brilliant, a man so fascinating, maybe the next doc made about his life will be the good one.
All the while, there behind him, within him, is the cold flint of war scraping relentlessly for a spark.
A tightly wound, slow-burning spy flick, in which Philip Seymour Hoffman gives the kind of performance you wish like hell he was around to keep on giving.
It is not the scope of the filmmaking that makes Boyhood incredible. It is what that scope does to your brain.
The Zero Theorem may be one of Gilliam’s lesser successes, but it’s built on something, towards something — and that’s clearly better than nothing.
Everyone in The Abyss, everyone watching The Abyss should logically be dead.
Richard Linklater gathers up time and turns it into a movie you’re going to have to see.
In which, like the fabled groundhog, Woody Allen emerges to enact his yearly ritual: the presentation of a new movie.