Ms. Purple is the kind of low-budget film, with inexpensive-looking slo-mo effects and an overwhelming score (the filmmakers anticipate any and all requests that the violins be cued) one usually sees only in local film festivals.

An adaptation not firing on all cylinders.

It all adds up to a fine, funny exercise in disheveled self-deprecation: a self-portrait of a guy who can't control a major portion of his life. Which, when you get right down to it, could describe almost any of us.

When Ross gets serious and grasps for allegorical import, Pleasantville bogs down in mixed ambitions.

He (Aronofsky) has put together a phantasmagoria of self-destructive obsession that is so visually astounding it becomes its own saving grace. Otherwise, we might not be able to bear it.

Quietly unsettling.

The film's minimal story line, propelled by hope but dampened with heartbreak, provides the excuse for a first-rate lineup of bands spanning misty folk rock, crunchy alt-pop and thrashing Persian rap.

The most daring thing that Jonze and Eggers have done is make a children's film that might not really be for kids.

It's hard to follow, the characters are ill-defined, and the wide-angle shots used by Wong's perennial cinematographer, Christopher Doyle, are deliberately unflattering.

This day-after-tomorrow fantasy, made before anybody had even heard of COVID-19, is touchingly romantic and emotionally credible. It’s an escape that resembles our current locked-down lives, with feelings as relatable as they are fictionally heightened.

An ideal vehicle for Aubrey Plaza, in that it taps into everything we know she can do and challenges her to do other things that she hasn’t done before.

Ultimately, “The Breaking Ice” turns inward, to the characters’ emotional landscapes, similarly filled with craggy formations and lush periods of calm.

Dull and unilluminating.

Ginsburg herself is determined to last. Several scenes show her working out with a trainer. Her goal is to live long enough for a Democratic president to appoint her successor.

A brilliant piece of construction, and talking too much about its specifics would only spoil the overall experience.

It's a passionate, beautifully mounted film -- but the agenda she sets for herself is too large and the conflicts she portrays too complicated to be illustrated in a single drama.

A wonderful French offering whose jumping-off point is a bullfight.

Harrowing but compassionate.

Pretentious but absorbing.

Dafoe never reverts to campy, movie-monster gestures but seems liberated, consumed by his character, inspired to give a performance that's intuitive and otherworldly.

Collateral is a good idea for a movie, backed up by expert execution... It's straight-up entertainment, not something to see and then talk about a month later, but definitely something to enjoy.

What we have here is a small, delicate mini-masterpiece, and bright new talent behind the camera.

There's a dignity about it, and it's only later that we come to realize that this dignity is misplaced, born of a fatal reserve and a lack of complete investment.

A moving but flawed premiere feature.

Clockers has the strengths of Lee's best work (passion, humor, terrific acting) without the preachiness, self-importance and gimmicky camera moves of his weakest.

A fascinating guide to its subject and her work, but the emotional wall Kusama lives behind remains unbroken. She is a loner and a mystery.

Manhattan Murder Mystery is splendid good fun, and especially gratifying for those of us who've missed the harmonious Allen-Keaton combo. [20 Aug 1993, p.C1]

It’s best to accept Don’t Breathe as simply a piece of lowdown fun — connoisseurs of creepy and sometimes brutal chills will have a good time.