Twenty years after Independence Day ramped up cinema’s obsession with mass destruction, its sequel ricochets between repetition and semi-clever subversion. Lond...
Since any New York cinephile has a nearly suffocating wealth of theatrical options, we figured it’d be best to compile some of the more worthwhile repertory...
In cinema, differentiating it from most other mediums, one has the ability to give life to drama: time to flesh out characters, fill an unfolding story with int...
The sun is shining on a pristine, secluded beach -- a kind of cove consisting of white sand, a coral reef, and an outlying island that looks like a woman in rep...
Excepting the chance that some very obvious parallels went over a critic’s head, there's nary a review of Thomas Bidegain’s Les Cowboys that lacks mention of Jo...
I admittedly didn't think too much on The Phenom after watching its trailer. There was a good cast, its look behind the curtain of fame seemed intriguing, and t...
Inside Out notwithstanding, it’s been awhile since cinema attempted to make clowns scary again, or at least use them as the central focus of a horror piece. Che...
“It’s very dirty, and I know dirty.” Near the end of Brian De Palma’s oneiric exercise in sleaze, Dressed To Kill, high-class prostitute Liz Blake (Nancy Allen) recounts a recurring dream where she strips in front of a phantom intruder before he puts a razor blade to her neck....
Inside a darkened bedroom in Colombia, a son (Edison Raigosa) gasps for air. His family is surrounding his fragile frame, looking on in anguish as he lets out c...