
Frank the Bastard movie rating: red light
Dreary New England noir soap about a woman uncovering family secrets is like a would-be supernatural thriller that forgot the magic and the chills.

Dreary New England noir soap about a woman uncovering family secrets is like a would-be supernatural thriller that forgot the magic and the chills.

For once, a movie based on a Nicholas Sparks book is populated by relatively realistic people dealing with relationship conflict in realistic ways.

When movies like this star the likes of Liam Neeson, they open on 3,000 screens. It’s difficult not to see racism and sexism in the disparity.

An immense film, looming in tragedy, an infuriating portrait of how celebrity warps artistry and how wealth warps love and how suffering trumps everything.

Hooray for movies about sex and love that aren’t about teenagers trying to get laid but adults still trying to figure it all out.

Strange and wonderful and unclassifiable in the best way, this is an unexpectedly touching and oddly funny platonic romance. Sort of.

There are no cartoon Mean Girls here; instead, we get striking portraits of girls in pain, desperately grasping for coping mechanisms.

A sort of miracle. A black comedy about a not-well woman saving herself is a savage satire on a not-well world that doesn’t realize anything’s wrong.

No one has done a musical like this before, keeping an uneasy beat to craft a dark replica of scared community spirit in the wake of a shocking crime.

A cold, sterile film, bereft of the spirit and danger Gustave Flaubert’s groundbreaking novel demands.