
Maps to the Stars movie review: kill it with fire
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.

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.

There’s nothing fresh or even usefully true in its cartoonish dichotomy about men, but this pseudo-SF flick will expound upon it with pretentious tedium.

Thinks it’s hitting notes of subconscious dread, but it’s just swinging a sledgehammer of tropes and hoping one of them sticks. (Spoiler: None do.)

An absolutely hilarious mockumentary combination of utter silliness, social satire, pop-culture cramdown, and heartfelt pathos. And vampires.

A social-realist werewolf fantasy in which burgeoning womanhood is a thing terrifying to many a man, particularly if a woman simply will not be tamed.

Found footage has come to be an excuse for storytellers to completely bypass drama, character development, and plot in an attempt to be “authentic.”

Noirish 1950s cynicism meets nasty 1970s Corman-esque exploitation in a thriller that is uncomfortable, unpleasant, unforgiving, and pretty darn brilliant.

Utterly empty. It’s aware of the tropes of the new mythos of alien abductions, but makes no attempt to find anything even the slightest bit fresh in them.

Genuinely horrific and deeply scary in a way that draws on the most primal of emotions. A horror flick with rare emotional and psychological resonance.

A solid action fantasy more elemental and visceral than I expected, thanks to the potent presence of Luke Evans.