It appears to have been made from the inside, not only of the characters but of the historical situation in which they struggle.

While the result is visually brilliant, it's oddly disjointed and packs less emotional force than Richard Price's novel.

On the upside, the action is consistently quick and breezy, and New York City looks te rrific through the loving lens of Carlo DiPalma's camera. On the downside, the jokes are more bemusing than hilarious, earning smiles rather than full-fledged laughs despite the efforts of the energetic cast. Also unfortunate is a nastiness toward women that creeps into some of the gags. There's at least one scene of classic brilliance, though, involving five tape recorders and a telephone; and the stars get solid support from Alan Alda as the couple's best friend and Anjelica Huston as a poker-playing nove list. Allen directed the picture, and wrote the screenplay with his old-time collaborator Marshall Brickman. [20 Aug 1993, p.12]

Elba is one of those actors who radiates his own force field even if he’s sitting still, or just tying his shoe. His no-nonsense performance helps to eradicate some of Sorkin’s nonsense.

In some ways the movie's straightforward style is more appropriate to the horror than a more souped-up approach would have been. With material this strong, sometimes the best thing a filmmaker can do is to stay out of the way.

Berlinger is after more than a true crime recounting here – the film attempts to explain, often lucidly, sometimes laboriously, how deeply entrenched Bulger was with the FBI and the police.

Although I Am Big Bird is no great shakes as a piece of filmmaking, and skews into treacly inspirational terrain, it’s still worth seeing to make the acquaintance of a man who, although he would probably be the last to say so, is an artist of the first rank. And a nice guy, too. What a rare combo.

A major treat for the eyes.

Like its star, it's quietly sincere and compulsively watchable.

The footage of Gehry's work, notably the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao and the Walt Disney Concert Hall in Los Angeles, is often startlingly beautiful, and Gehry is forthcoming about how he achieved his effects. But too much of the film is taken up with gushy self-serving talking-head testimonials.

Linklater keeps it lively with imaginative camerawork and razor-sharp editing.

The action is nonstop and often harrowing and well staged. But van Houten, while a charmer, doesn't adequately convey the disgust (and connivance) that her character would inevitably feel in such a situation.

The movie is small, sincere, and riveting from start to finish. [06 Jan 1995, p.10]

Florence Foster Jenkins isn’t really about how passion trumps art. It’s about how life is more important than art.

Sokurov is a playful philosopher. If his playfulness is sometimes juvenile – as in those Napoleon scenes, or, worse, in the scenes of an actress playing Marianne, the spirit of France, exhorting, “Freedom, Equality, Brotherhood” – at least he’s not stuffy.

Highly uneven, but at least it doesn’t glamorize Hawking’s life or turn it into a paean to endurance.

Excellent acting, and a plot that combines suspense, whimsy, and political resonance make this Palestinian comedy-drama an unusual treat.

What have the Yes Men actually accomplished with their japery? Their film is an inadvertent reminder that activist antics are not the same thing as reform.

Jeffs is an unusually gifted director, but her screenplay (based on Kirsty Gunn's novel) never quite gets a firm grip or a fresh perspective on its coming-of-age subject matter.

The filmmaking is uninspired and Fiennes inexplicably plays three different characters with exactly the same acting style.

There is no law requiring a biopic to make “nice” with its subject, but Get On Up, which presents Brown almost entirely unflatteringly except as a performer, makes you wonder why the filmmakers (including Mick Jagger, one of its producers) took the trouble.

Marvelously enjoyable.

The film’s most joyous performer is the bagpiper Cristina Pato, known as “the Jimi Hendrix of Galicia,” who is such a powerhouse that she could probably upstage the Rolling Stones (in their prime).

Entertaining documentary about stuntwomen who do risky business for a living.

For all its pretensions and intermittent power, is essentially high-grade claptrap.

The conceit of the movie is that everyone is obsessed by something and never really tunes into anybody else.

Logue's magnetic performance is the movie's main virtue, supported by a good secondary cast and a sharply written screenplay.

The acting is passionate, but the film would be more effective if it presented a more thoroughgoing lesson in the raging horrors that swept through European culture during the era of the French Revolution.