
Dreamcatcher documentary review: how to get off the streets
An extraordinarily personal story about prostitution, one with a gentle but undeniable humanist force for hopeful understanding.

An extraordinarily personal story about prostitution, one with a gentle but undeniable humanist force for hopeful understanding.

A beautiful film, and a mysterious one. I don’t quite know what to make of it, but I have been seduced by its evasive intrigue.

Smart and passionate, this is one of the ultimate Hollywood fantasies: an adult romance performed by gorgeous actors with palpable onscreen chemistry.

A lurid meatgrinder of a movie in which the young-woman protagonist is reduced to a passive object of male rage, greed, and possessiveness.

Wait. Really? Horror movies are still doing the punishing-girls-for-having-sex thing? Ah, but this is 80s retro, so it’s “okay,” then.

There’s not much of a story, just a chance to spend more time with the gang of classy sexy randy oldsters. And that’s just fine.

Reaches beyond ordinary laughable movie nonsense to create a moment — only one, alas — that will reign in the annals of cheesy cinematic history.

Quite hilarious in a deeply disturbing way that you won’t want to look straight on at, lest it forever ruin you as a lover of movies.

With an irrepressible heroine full of life and joy and humor, this is an ancient Japanese folktale fresh with immediacy and relevance.

Infuses a familiar tale of small-town life and youthful disaffection with a crisp sense of hope teased out of Navajo tradition.