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  • Song to Song

    Song to Song


    Hmmm... I guess I'd better rewatch Knight of Cups...

    The swooniest, Rooneyist movie since Carol.


  • I Don't Feel at Home in This World Anymore

    I Don't Feel at Home in This World Anymore


    An exemplary, stylish, Sundance-winning entertainment that heavily recalls both the ‘90s heyday of indie-film Tarantino knockoffs and the recent efforts of Jeremy Saulnier, for whom director Macon Blair has performed repeatedly. I’ve been a fan of Saulnier all along, but this trumps anything that that he has directed to date, more deftly seguing between gross-out violence, verbal humor and an emotional core that concerns a woman who has spent her life suffering small indignities and decides that enough is enough.…

  • Get Out

    Get Out


    Uneven direction (three song cues before the opening credits conclude, dream imagery that never meaningfully pays off, etc...) mars a rare horror film that makes its thinly veiled subtext much more frightening than its genre elements. Since those horror elements do surprisingly little to extend the film's racial critique, they ultimately come off as something of a distraction or a commercial consideration. Given the precision with which the film skewers American racial politics in its first half, one expects it…

  • Drowning by Numbers

    Drowning by Numbers


    First and foremost, a feast for psychoanalysts. The central conceit here, in which a series of numbers serve as literal signposts that guide viewers along the thrice-repeating narrative, at first comes across as a feat of directorial hubris, but obsessive-compulsive behavior is not only the film's approach but also its subject matter. Initially, Drowning seems to be conceiving of its female characters from a feminist angle, them offing their men out of acts of bored defiance, but as its male…

  • The Great Wall

    The Great Wall


    A bizarre mix of blunt politics, a ridiculous premise, hopeless performances, and dazzling color. Too confident to mock, yet too risible to consider as art.


  • I Am Not Your Negro

    I Am Not Your Negro


    Baldwin is more than a means to an end here, although at times he’s merely that, decontextualized and universalized in a way that prizes relevance over accuracy. Peck weaponizes this great outsider’s life story to offer one of cinema’s definitive statements on the cowardice and willful ignorance behind racism in America, which won’t come as news to anyone who’s ever thought about such things, yet still is stated here with such moral authority that the message takes on a new…

  • The Delta

    The Delta


    Sachs’ increasingly-engrossing debut feature is an immersion into the pleasures and tensions that accompany queer invisibility. It’s a provocative, assured film that doesn’t feel much like his others, indulging in narrative bait and switch tricks that the elder, more reserved Sachs would likely reject. One moment it’s a gritty observation of a Southern gay subculture, the next it’s a revisionist and beatific updating of Huckleberry Finn. Sachs, by keeping the film unknowable, does a great deal to allude to his…

  • Sue



    Kollek contrives such a sad downward trajectory for his titular character that Sue feels one-note at times, yet all the same I felt so many moments of recognition here… so many scenes where I felt like I’ve known this woman in real life… that I can’t help but applaud the effort.


  • Repo Man

    Repo Man


    It took the last two weeks to make me realize what a visionary masterpiece this is.


  • 31



    Not the most assured directorial effort by Zombie, but his bleakest. I’m almost thankful that it’s so haphazardly assembled, because its nihilistic national vision would otherwise be hard to shake right about now. This is outwardly a film about a crazed oligarchy running a Most Dangerous Game-style competition, which resonates, but there’s a darker theme here that haunts me post-Trump and it’s that unease that arises about looking a fellow American in the eye. The early gas station scene is…

  • Resident Evil: The Final Chapter

    Resident Evil: The Final Chapter


    For much of its runtime merely a perfunctory, if admirably lean, action movie, Resident Evil: The Final Chapter reveals additional ambition and resonance in its final act. Anderson begins splicing time itself as his six-film cycle spirals to a close, not only fragmenting action sequences until they are comprised largely of shots that last two or three frames long each, but also exploding chronology as characters look into the past and into the near future, a countdown timer ticking away…

  • Pack Up Your Troubles

    Pack Up Your Troubles


    Rather haphazard, this supposed war comedy spends more of its time obsessing over the fortunes of a young orphan. Perhaps that’s for the best, as the film’s lone battlefield set piece is both impressive in its mechanical aspirations and somewhat cringeworthy as you realize it’s mining laughs over people being run over by a tank. Like many Laurel & Hardy comedies, it too often mistakes loudness for humor.