Reviews

While the logic is unclear, the core concept seems to involve a killer who uses technology to infiltrate minds and make murders appear like natural causes. The execution is passable, and the idea itself is intriguing enough to sustain interest.

The film leaves too much unexplained. It’s never clear why the entity stops killing after encountering the protagonist, nor do we understand its origin or how its powers work.

Framing cartel violence through a child’s eyes is a bold idea that also hints at a broader social commentary. While the concept is compelling, the storytelling feels fragmented. A few moments stand out visually, and the production design evokes a post-apocalyptic vibe typical of Mexican cinema on a tight budget. The sequences involving the children are particularly intriguing, though frustratingly underexplored.

The director’s erratic pacing and overly minimalist approach prevent the film’s allegorical intentions from fully taking shape. Disjointed scenes and an awkward rhythm blur the narrative focus, while excessive ambiguity drains the plot of weight and coherence. The improvisational acting by non-professionals also undercuts the film’s emotional impact.

For all its polish, the film can feel tedious—the soundstage sets lack variety, the songs are unremarkable, and the dialogue is overly padded, making its 150 minutes feel long. The standout is the opening number, whose fluid choreography both delights the eye and reveals character.

At two and a half hours, it's not draggy thanks to Frank Loesser’s charming melodies and Michael Kidd’s vibrant choreography, which draw you into the characters’ world. Marlon Brando and Jean Simmons may not be singers, yet their imperfect voices make them all the more endearing.

It’s remarkable that Dario Argento’s first feature is this accomplished, with a clear trail of clues that pulls you in until the killer’s reveal, which delivers a genuine jolt. The pacing drags at times and can feel overly long today, yet the nighttime street chases add a grounded sense of tension and menace.

Dario Argento’s debut is also a stylish breakthrough that feels like a tribute to Hitchcock’s mastery of suspense. With Ennio Morricone’s evocative score and a final plot twist that is genuinely surprising, it’s a striking introduction to a work from a master of Italian horror.

The female lead is unforgettable, embodying reason, strength, sensitivity, and composure under pressure. Her presence rivals any trained soldier, yet her moments of breakdown make her profoundly human. That emotional depth makes her one of the most vivid characters in the film.

This installment offers inventive touches, with the intelligent zombie Bub as a clear highlight. Unlike its predecessors, it explores how zombies can be controlled—and succeeds. The makeup, props, and performance are all improved, creating a heightened sense of authenticity.

Spanning over seven hours, with stark black-and-white imagery, deliberate pacing, and a heavy atmosphere, the film is poetic in its language—whether in dialogue, narration, or monologue—and philosophical in tone, leaving space for reflection as well as narrative engagement.

At 450 minutes and famed for its long takes, this film is deeply engaging from start to finish. Every extended shot is meaningful and suspenseful, often revealing crucial information. Even static frames build anticipation for the following events when paired with music.

Few films based on true crimes reach this level of precision. Rather than slavishly reconstructing events, the director leaves space for the audience, pairing it with an unsettling score that taps directly into primal fear. The ending lingers, showing humanity utterly abandoned.

Few films based on true crimes reach this level of precision. Rather than slavishly reconstructing events, the director leaves space for audience interpretation, pairing it with an unsettling score that taps directly into our primal fear. The ending lingers in our minds, showing that humanity is utterly abandoned.

The storytelling here is a mess, with tangled relationships and little payoff. Its attempt to show the fate of ordinary people in a vast conflict falls flat, and the extended depictions of war’s horrors add nothing to either the plot or the characters’ inner lives.

Having seen all of Oliver Stone’s work, I can say this is one of his most unusual. As a political film, it’s rare in its unflinching look at how different factions impact a single region, and that grounded perspective is invaluable.

The film is a stark reminder of how profoundly a family shapes its children. One eccentric person might be by chance, but when all three brothers veer far from society’s norms, the responsibility clearly lies with the parents.

Crumb is the rare artist unafraid to let the camera document his darkness, shaped by a troubled childhood and an emptiness in his soul. This rare biography is as unsettling as it is revealing, and his willingness to expose himself is what makes it extraordinary.

A huge improvement over the flat third entry, this thrives on the chemistry between Bones, Kirk, and Spock, as well as the entire crew’s distinct personalities. The story cleverly uses a rescue mission from the future to explore harmony with nature and the protection of endangered species.

More than three decades on, this film still holds its charm. Special effects may look outdated, but a good story and strong ideas endure the test of time. True science fiction isn’t just about ships and phasers, it’s about charting the progress of technology and the evolution of human thought.