Spanish auteur Pedro Almodóvar crafts another deeply moving soap opera dedicated to the many ways love makes us behave strangely, this time focusing on the male point of view rather than his usual female subjects.
Fine performances and Anthony Minghella’s stunning photography don’t breathe any much-needed life into this pointless, overlong thriller.
It’s hard to imagine a movie about a repressed British writer and an oversexed French teen could be as interesting as it is, but thanks to Charlotte Rampling’s spot-on performance and Francois Ozon’s thoughtful direction, ‘Pool’ is a refreshing treat in a summer of overblown blockbusters.
Woody Allen’s labor of love about fictional jazz guitarist Emmet Ray is a delightful surprise with fine performances by Sean Penn and Samantha Morton.
Good old-fashioned cops-and-robbers nonsense about an elite group formed within L.A.’s S.W.A.T. team is remarkable only for its lack of anything surprising whatsoever.
Morgan Spurlock is no Michael Moore – in fact, it would not have been nearly as interesting if Moore had gained 26 pounds by eating nothing but McDonalds for 30 days – but while his ode to America’s eating habits lacks a much-needed satirical bite, it is still a fascinating view into this fast food nation.
It’s another Tom Clancy potboiler, this time with Ben Affleck adding little weight to the proceedings as Clancy’s ever-youthful alter ego, Jack Ryan. In light of recent events, the film seems frivolous and insensitive; taken on its own merits, it’s still not as good as ‘The Hunt for Red October.’
David Lynch, off all people, creates a thoughtful, G-rated tale based on the true story of Alvin Straight – the man who drove his lawnmower 300 miles to see his ailing brother – which features a flawless performance by Richard Farnsworth. Like his prized John Deere, it’s slow-moving, but moving none the less.
‘Stir of Echoes’ would beg comparison to other films even if it didn’t come out in such unfortunate proximity to ‘The Sixth Sense.’
Even though it always seems to be raining, the people of Pittsburgh should write director Rupert Wainwright a letter of thanks.
