
Being Ginger review: caught redhaired
A smartly perceptive and very brave personal documentary diary of one man’s attempts to come to terms with being an oft-derided and bullied redhead.

A smartly perceptive and very brave personal documentary diary of one man’s attempts to come to terms with being an oft-derided and bullied redhead.

Kelly Reichardt cements her reputation as one of the most provocative American indie filmmakers with this quiet, tense thriller of morality and motive.

It’s almost a little too precious to be taken as an honest exploration artistically genuine lives. Or else that’s where it finds a lost romance.

Deceptively simple and deeply cutting. A remarkable little film, a marvel of American indie filmmaking and of stories typically overlooked.

This too gentle mockumentary barely even takes aim at its easiest potential targets, but the appealing cast is game and manages a few cogent hits.

Oh what a lovely film! As romance and history, this is by turns funny and tragic, suspenseful and celebratory, and never less than solidly entertaining.

A teeth-grindingly, blood-boilingly infuriating cinematic trial that’s like an art school film project gone horribly awry.

The few outright scares are curiously circumspect, but the old-fashioned Hammer Horror atmosphere is appealingly spooky.

Scarlett Johansson is an alien serial killer who sexes men to death in a misogynist fanboy wet dream that also fails to satisfy as science fiction.

Builds up a good momentum of suspense only to throw it away on a rushed, unsatisfying ending, rendering all its preposterousness suddenly unforgivable.