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Michael Sarnoski’s The Death of Robin Hood is the latest attempt to reinvent England’s most enduring outlaw.
We’ve had the iconic swashbuckler, the historical epic, the gritty origin story. Ridley Scott’s Robin Hood and Otto Bathurst’s version with Taron Egerton at least preserved the sense that beneath the grime remained a fundamentally heroic figure.…
WARNING: Some spoilers for a 3,000-year-old epic poem
Christopher Nolan has spent much of his career telling stories about men trying to find their way home.
Cobb in Inception, Cooper in Interstellar, even Oppenheimer, in a moral rather than geographical sense, are all attempting to return to something they have lost: family, certainty, themselves.…
Dante begins The Divine Comedy lost in a dark wood. Julian Schnabel’s In the Hand of Dante invites us to follow him there.
Adapted from Nick Tosches’ notoriously unfilmable novel, Schnabel’s first feature since At Eternity’s Gate is part literary mystery, part gangster thriller, part historical epic, part theological meditation.…
Formerly titled Bear Country, Derrick Borte’s The Get Out arrives with a premise that sounds deceptively simple: a nightclub owner decides he has had enough and decides to get out of the business.…
Richard Linklater’s Blue Moon opens on a note so unexpectedly forlorn that it reverberates through everything that follows.
A classic lounge number drifts over a rain-sheened alley. Into this slumps a diminutive man — hat slipping, thinning combover exposed, body folding like a cigarette collapsing in ash.…
Though, to be cynical, it probably helps in getting a film made.
Anemone is Ronan Day-Lewis’s first film, co-written with his father Daniel Day-Lewis, who also stars — returning to the screen after eight years.…
It’s peaceful, almost banal. Then a phone rings, a jarring note in a chiaroscuro frame. Light flickers. Shadows thicken.…
Rupert Russell’s The Last Sacrifice starts inside that bucolic dream — and then slashes it open.
On Valentine’s Day, 1945, on Meon Hill, Warwickshire, elderly farm labourer Charles Walton was found murdered with his own tools; pinned to the earth with a pitchfork, his neck slashed by a billhook.…
It is about the pathological difficulty of taking collective action in a society of hyper-individualization and self-obsession.
The camera begins in an ordinary London house on an ordinary London street.…
Every frame glows with painterly attention: the flicker of candlelight on stitched flesh, a crimson-lacquered angel, a rider frozen mid-gallop in a snowbound tableau. It’s as if Del Toro has built an anatomical model of Frankenstein – every bone polished, every vein visible – but forgotten to breathe full life into it.…
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