The show’s second season exudes even more of the breezy freshness of a back-to-basics TV series than the first.
The film interrogates both the state of our world and the lines between fiction and document.
The film captures the textures of a life that’s not defined solely by anti-trans oppression.
Like Petite Maman itself, Criterion’s Blu-ray is deceptively simple but packed with riches.
The film invites us to read between the lines, to infer story from indirect signifiers.
Afire captures complex human interactions with a clear-minded sobriety.
The film carries the almost exotic interest of its milieu as well as deeply personal overtones.
The film affectingly captures the uniquely American ennui provoked by the lost utopia of youth.
The film counters the comic absurdity of its premise with a discomfiting sense of atmosphere.
The film establishes how connections forged in our past take new forms as we change with time.
The Survival of Kindness makes up in visual power and moral clarity what it lacks in subtext.
The fatal flaw of the film is that it genuinely believes in the discreet charm of the bourgeoisie.
Melting Ink’s abstract image of the past is in the present, where the currents of history converge.
Magazine Dreams melds the alluring and the horrific in an unsettling mixture suited to its account of the peril of pursuing physical perfection.
The film suggests that there’s a way to reconcile oneself with the ghosts of cinema past.
Rachel Lambert’s film is an imperfect but affecting portrait of social isolation.
The film could aim with a bit more precision at the price of its characters’ evident comfort.
The film has a rather perfunctory feel, as if it were unwilling to go all in on its ludicrous concept.
By stripping the gameplay out of a game that’s fleshed out by televisual tropes, the series ends up as mostly just the latter.
Operation Fortune proceeds as a rote run-through of stock spy-film scenarios.