Ben Kenigsberg

Director Kirby Dick (Derrida) shapes the movie in such a way as to leave everyone flummoxed.

Lighthearted foray into the world of competitive eating.

If some of the plot seems familiar, the intelligence with which Mr. Clarke dissects the flaws of Britain’s “borstal” system is not. [15 Jun 2017]

In keeping with his apparent ambition to play each character more berserk than the last, Pacino can't discuss wine choice without sounding on the brink of aneurysm.

The movie finally undermines all pretensions of satire with its geeky eagerness to subvert expectations.

Those looking for a refresher course on the workings of the food chain should be in heaven. All others may yearn for a sushi break.

Not as radically stylized as Polanki’s violent Macbeth, Tess is literature rendered in consummately classical terms.

Outside of the Jordan inner circle, this family-versus-business parable comes across as slight, familiar, and in dire need of seasoning.

First-time writer-director Richard Ledes's mystical tone and pervasive swipes from David Lynch tend to suffocate his satire, and stunt casting doesn't help.

Throughout, first-time director Teona Strugar Mitevska (the sibling of the lead actress) demonstrates a keen eye for off-center compositions, a striking visual depiction of a world out of balance.

Private never reconciles its conflicting impulses, and consequently, the human impact of the struggle--so powerfully explored in "Paradise Now" and "The Syrian Bride" --never acquires the emotional weight it should. The semi-absurdist closer amounts to little more than a knee-jerk declaration of hopelessness.

Adults will be restless as stabled bucks, but even children may need unusually high Ritalin doses to slog through the visual and dramatic indifference on display.

To be fair, Craig is still the best Bond since Connery, and a Man Who Knew Too Much–style set piece at a Vienna opera house momentarily offers the fleetness and wit the rest of the film lacks.

The scariest thing in the movie is a cameo by Scott Baio.

While honesty dictates that this movie, directed by Banmei Takahashi, be classified first and foremost as erotica, it is erotica that finds room for real sweetness and intellectual pretensions along with its kink.

Develops into a lively but simpleminded valentine to liberal tolerance.

Not quite a romance by numbers, Prime is nevertheless a movie we need like a hole in the head.

Feels motivated by envy more than anything else-it's a sour, petty act of mockery that values its own ineptitude over genuine cleverness, travestying Quentin Tarantino and others simply for dreaming up gimmicks that worked.

An honorable but dull attempt to translate a neglected literary source to the screen.

Often has the feel of a film-school exercise in which the object is to wring maximum suspense from rudimentary tools.

Whether it's the guitar-strum soundtrack, "lyrical" cornfield shots, or arrhythmic performances, Steal Me has at least one indie-film cliché too many.