Jeff Nichols takes a turn for the supernatural in Midnight Special, a sci-fi drama about a young boy, whose eyes and ears seem to be hypersensitive receivers for radio and satellite signals, as well as perhaps more otherworldly communications.
Mammal won’t offer its viewers any sense of satisfying progression or closure, but it will make for deliciously sensory, beautiful and emotive viewing.
Dheepan develops into a determined character study of the survivors of war and explores these familiar cinematic themes through the fresh eyes of non-white, non-western protagonists.
With Allegiant, the first of a two-part finale, the Divergent series limps toward the finish-line in an embarrassing display.of franchise fatigue.
Its somewhat objectionable focus on and treatment of the (often bound) female body aside, particularly in its earlier stages, this is a well-executed, scary piece of filmmaking of certain ingenuity.
Radical folk musician and poet Narayan (Sathidar) is charged with abatement of suicide after a sewage worker is found dead just days after he gave a performance in which it is alleged he encouraged sewage workers to kill themselves.
“I’m not a loser; I’m a quitter!” – Bill Murray’s only decent line in the execrable Rock The Kasbah
With Sing Street Carney expertly blends treacly yet heartwarming storytelling with a bare knuckle portrayal of Ireland in 1985.
Ben Wheatley’s High-Rise, like the JG Ballard novel of which it is an adaptation, has all the superficial qualities of a political allegory, centred around a single, high-rise apartment building.
British director Ben Wheatley discusses his new adaption of JG Ballard’s classic dystopian novel High-Rise.
The Forest is the latest in a long and burgeoning line of horror films that confuse horror with things jumping up on screen accompanied by a loud noise.
Triple Nine fails massively as a feature because its writers operate under the greedy and erroneous assumption that more equals better.
How To Be Single: A lonely experience.
The Finest Hours is a throwback to Hollywood of times past, when action movies could be about a simple honest rescue mission, with no grittiness in sight, and spectacle could co-exist with honest charm.
They’re not Native Americans, they’re (Native American) Troglodytes! That’s the somewhat cursory explanation and, after a bit of abstraction, justification, racially-speaking, for the basic narrative premise of Western-cum-horror Bone Tomahawk.
Concussion is a dramatisation of the eruption of controversy caused by Pittsburgh pathologist Dr. Bennet Omalu (Smith) who, beginning in 2002, tied the damaged brains of several deceased ex-pros to the injuries they sustained on the field as part of normal play.
Deadpool is a film that unashamedly and unapologetically dedicates itself to being ‘one for the fans.’ The result is a manic mess of a film that blunders its way through a fan-pleasing checklist with scant regard for consistent tone or competent filmmaking.
The decision to basically ignore the women around which the story is supposed to revolve causes the bottom to fall out of this film, sapping the story of its impact.