
Regression movie review: no thanks for the memories
Amenábar aims for a noirish X-Files vibe, but preposterousness rules this inert trudge that does absolutely no justice to a terrible real-life phenomenon.

Amenábar aims for a noirish X-Files vibe, but preposterousness rules this inert trudge that does absolutely no justice to a terrible real-life phenomenon.

“A Girl in the River” masterfully portrays a culture that justifies killing women, its rage subsumed by a dispiriting account of how its customs are perpetuated.

Dubious police procedures, by-the-numbers buddy-cop-comedy shenanigans, and characters who hate one another, none of which is as fun as it sounds.

Inexcusably self-indulgent. Tarantino gratifies his enormous self-love and his amusement at his own genius at the expense of all else.

So inept a film, so bland and monotonous, that it fails even to serve as the blatant ad for the certain Christian motivational book it would appear to be.

A solid execution of a familiar tale, crammed with a likable, watchable cast. But it doesn’t have anything new to say about why men do despicable things.

The best of the bunch in this anthology of vaguely interconnected shorts are the outrageous and uproarious genre pastiches “Friday the 31st” and “Bad Seed.”

An earnest and passionate film, based on a true story that is enraging yet inspiring, that is essential viewing for anyone concerned with women’s rights.

If this were Law & Order: Black Magic, which it almost seems like it wants to be, it’d be a helluva lot more interesting than it is.

A horror story of today’s economy, of America’s heartless culture in which maximizing profit is all. Michael Shannon brings his usual terrifying intensity.