Writer-director Justin Lin’s incisive, cautionary look at a group of Asian-American over-achieving teenagers plays like “Goodfellas” for the high school set when their extra-curricular activities turn criminal.
The ‘Spinal Tap’ ensemble is at it again, this time setting their satirical sights on Dog shows, with some genuinely humorous results.
Despite wild implausibilities throughout, director John Moore’s attempt at an old fashioned war flag-waver holds together thanks to Owen Wilson’s unique presence and, of course, the always-reliable Gene Hackman.
In the middle of a plague of copycat, apocalyptic thrillers, it’s refreshing to see a movie which literally takes you where no one has gone before: inside the head of actor John Malkovich.
The life of John Forbes Nash, Jr., the brilliant Nobel Prize winning mathematician and schizophrenic is vividly brought to life by Russell Crowe and director Ron Howard, both working at the height of their respective games. Yes, it is slightly revisionist and it begs for tears once too often, but it’s an otherwise beautiful film.
Rapper-turned-actor Ice Cube ably provides the emotional core in this story of a neighborhood barbershop and its assortment of colorful inhabitants, which is a cut above standard hip-hop cinematic fare. And while I respect his attempt to support the ancient Aristotelian Unity of Time (along with his “Friday” series and his popular song “It was a good day”), the film could have trimmed of couple of the obviously padded, Altman-esque subplots.
“Ghost World” director Terry Zwigoff and Billy Bob Thornton team up to create the most gloriously profane – and hilarious – anti-Christmas movie ever put to film (hopefully).
From lesbians and transvestites to homosexuals and transvestites, Pedro Almodóvar explores the aftermath of pedophilia in the priesthood. Working within the film noir style, the usually estrogen-heavy storyteller generates less than his usual emotion, but that comes with the genre.
Over-long, over-blown, underwhelming sequel to the 1995 buddy movie which looks quaint by comparison. Martin Lawrence generates a few genuine laughs, but bombastic director Michael Bay oughta have his artistic license revoked.
That rare occasion when the homage actually makes the original better, Mario van Peebles’ tribute to his father’s pioneering independent film is as touching and polished as the original was raw and gritty.
