Collin Brennan

Feature-length films generally aren’t nimble enough to reflect the current zeitgeist with such uncanny accuracy, but Blair’s neo-noir-comedy-thriller is that rare story that seems to have come along at just the right time.

Too often Girlfriend’s Day feels like it’s making things up as it goes along, unafraid to introduce another contrived plot device because there are no real rules preventing it from doing so.

It isn’t the gritty, realistic portrayal of life on the streets that Caple might have been going for — he’s too poetic a filmmaker for that — but it lends shape and color to a truth that too many inner-city kids know too well: It doesn’t matter if you care about the future. The future doesn’t give a shit about you.

Furman’s film paints in various shades of gray as opposed to the blacks and whites typical to this genre, and for that he and Cranston deserve praise.

For a film that takes such pains to position itself within the feminist tradition, Belladonna of Sadness has a bad habit of lingering on the body of its protagonist, coming across as more pornographic than progressive, more exploitative than revolutionary.

The film’s most poignant moment comes in an interview that took place near the end of Zappa’s life. He’s asked how he wants to be remembered, and he responds, “I don’t care.” That doesn’t mean we don’t care, or that we aren’t allowed to care, but this isn’t the film to make us do it.

Tickled unfolds like a bad drug trip, starting off with giggles but quickly descending into surreal horror.

The Do-Over isn’t Sandler at his best, but it’s also not quite as putrid as what we’ve come to expect from him lately.

It’s a shame, given all of the film’s strengths, that Dheepan takes such a precipitous nosedive in its final act.

Louder Than Bombs is a ghost story disguised as a domestic drama.

This is that rare film that has the power to transform, to shake one’s belief system so thoroughly that one feels like a slightly different person walking out of the theater.