Fantasia 2021: #BLUE_WHALE Review
#Blue_Whale is a refreshingly grounded approach to the screenlife film that terrifies due to its credible inventiveness.
#Blue_Whale is a refreshingly grounded approach to the screenlife film that terrifies due to its credible inventiveness.
Wonderful Paradise throws everything at the wall, and even what doesn’t stick is still bizarrely fascinating.
Junk Head is a momentous labor of love and a meticulously designed vision of a post-apocalyptic future.
Shunji Iwai’s pseudo-kaiju film proves we still have yet to crack the enigma and nuances of pandemic filmmaking.
Satoshi Kon: The Illusionist offers an informed and affectionate tribute to one of anime’s overlooked masters.
Undine is a moving romance that puts a fresh spin on a classic fairytale.
For all the familiar notes it hits, you can’t fault Blast Beat for it’s full-throated earnestness.
A title like The Killing of Two Lovers is more than just a punchy hook to draw in a receptive audience who aren’t looking for any surprises; it is a promise of payoff that will loom over the plot and threaten to
The Virtuoso is a flaccid thriller that fatally mistakes meticulousness for depth.
With About Endlessness, writer-director Roy Andersson continues finding success with his unique brand of introspective cinema.
At Night Comes Wolves tries to be many things but never finds solid footing with any of them.
A rare film like Language Lessons demonstrates that the Zoom call structure has potential for honest, effective drama and comedy, even when restricted to a desktop.
The Spine of Night is the type of film that proudly wears its obvious inspirations on its sleeve and plays out like a pastiche for an audience that is very much in the know for what it is going for. Philip Gelatt
A recent trend in the realm of horror documentaries has seen directors preferring to “go long” on their subjects, resulting in extended, daunting runtimes. Recent examples, such as Never Sleep Again: The Elm Street Legacy (3 hours, 59 mins.), In Search of
If anything, the taut psychological thriller Here Before serves as yet another feather in the cap of Andrea Riseborough and her ability to elevate most anything with her presence alone. Playing a grieving mother teetering on the precipice of madness when her
Nick Gillespie’s ultra-violent satire is like if Joel Schumacher’s controversial Falling Down was updated for the generation that was raised on British talent shows like X-Factor and Britain’s Got Talent. Centering on one eccentric idealist who is pushed over the proverbial edge