Jonathan Christian

Regrettably, the documentary is too oblique for the casual viewer, too rudimentary for the film savvy, and unfortunately proves that style cannot supplant substance for a project with too little to say.

If Waddington’s fairy tale harbored any substance to counterbalance its external beauty, it might have established itself as a pleasingly subversive piece of pop art. Yet, despite its commendable goals, Paradise Hills will likely be lost to time.

It is an old-fashioned case of vision overstepping budget constraints and unchecked creativity exceeding much-needed limitations.

Leto sadly feels more like the conclusion of summer than the start of the year’s brightest season, and is too devoid of energy to warrant a recommendation to anyone other than diehard fans of Serebrennikov’s prior work.

Beyond a commendable amount of love and effort, there’s nothing substantial to take away from The Disappearance of My Mother.

Similar to the cringeworthy performance art that wraps itself around the core of the film, This Is Not Berlin is emotionally hollow, more than a bit confused, and regrettably forgettable.

The meandering narrative flow leapfrogs without any sense of rhythm, almost as if the collection of scenes was augmented by a haywire randomizer.

In a Relationship lays out the director’s talents (working with actors and crafting tone) while also showcasing the areas where improvements can be made.

You might not feel the need to attend church this Sunday after the credits roll, but don’t be surprised if you find yourself praying for your time back.

The Plagiarists is a fantastic idea that is irredeemably marred by poor execution. There is a genuine sensation of effort on screen and a select few of the ideas the film touches upon are outright brilliant, but the product still falls remarkably flat.