
Drunktown’s Finest movie review: native voices
Infuses a familiar tale of small-town life and youthful disaffection with a crisp sense of hope teased out of Navajo tradition.

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

A festering pile of fatphobic, homophobic, sexist, grossout garbage in which men are manipulative liars but women are worse.

This mysteriously misbegotten flick should be a gritty 10-hour miniseries so it would have time to explore its ideas and potentially fascinating characters.

Weirdly funny and weirdly sad, one woman’s slo-mo nervous breakdown becomes an exercise in pathos that is unforgettably poignant.

A pensive and unsettling film that defies genre description and keeps you wondering just what the heck sort of film you’re watching.

This is not a nature documentary, though there are some beautiful scenes of wild spaces. This is war journalism, tense and upsetting.

The angry grandeur of its despair over how ordinary people get screwed by the powerful may be uniquely Russian, but it will hit home everywhere.

Slaps an honest emotional sincerity and a dry, almost humorous pragmatism in the face of macho posturing and identity tribalism.

A harrowing yet also inspiring portrait of the American pop music icon as he copes with the rapid deterioration of Alzheimer’s.

An almost unbearably heartbreaking documentary rehumanizes the LGBT icon… and makes him newly tragic all over again.