Comfortably unchallenging French romantic drama, though it does Freudian-slip into implying that the engineer was only inspired to erect his soaring tower when an old flame reawakened his, er, heart.
A portrait of Diana’s depiction in the press that is incendiary, incisive, and transfixing. A litany of horror, in retrospect, and an incredibly valuable look at how public stories are shaped by media.
This 60-year-old story of pursuing a dream with resolute kindness could not feel more fresh in its knowing class clash. Lesley Manville is an absolute treasure, her command of comedic pathos supreme.
One of the most beautiful movies I’ve ever seen. It is impossibly small, and emotionally immense, full of the most bittersweet of pathos that the coming-of-age genre offers. A treasure, and a gift.
An intense, intimate tale of historical illegal abortion, with a central performance of focused terror; a harrowing body horror that looms again. I cannot overstate the absolute urgency of this film.
Steady your heart palpitations: it’s the same old era for the nicest feudal hangover. The delusional reactionary fantasy of wealth and privilege for some, cheerful servitude for others remains intact.
Stiflingly literal mounting of the classic feminist tale. Flat and stilted, with no cultural context and no visceral insight into its protagonist’s plight, and emptiness where there should be empathy.
Peter Dinklage is wonderful, but this feels like a suggestion of a movie, not an actual one. It’s not romantic; there’s no humor, no absurdity. Its unpleasantness is as puzzling as it is inescapable.
This should be salacious! We should revel in the seething jealousy and simmering resentments! But there’s not much suspense or engagement in waiting for someone to die, nor in finding out whodunnit.
A loving appreciation, but never a blinkered one, of the punk philosopher, a woman ahead of her time and still timely: iconoclastic, creative, ever-searching, a cultural observer who saw deep and far.