
The Beguiled movie review: horror of manners
If Jane Austen wrote a horror movie. An almost serene sinisterness infuses female-gazey carnal intrigue… but it could be even more feminist than it is.

If Jane Austen wrote a horror movie. An almost serene sinisterness infuses female-gazey carnal intrigue… but it could be even more feminist than it is.

Poignant and hilarious and wise, a melancholy ode to a moment when when the world was changing for women (and men)… and how it still and always is.

Commits the cardinal sin of cinema: it’s boring. Feels like two hours of highlights from a 20-episode miniseries that only hint at a rich story tapestry.
Moonlight leads, with seven awards…

There’s a fine line between baroque and grotesque… and The Boxtrolls crosses it. Here is a film that actively makes you want to look away.

Please leave your desire for a well-rounded story in the lockers provided, and keep your arms and legs inside the ride while it is in motion.
Too white, too thin, too interchangeable: the traditional cover featuring young talent on the rise always comes under massive scrutiny, and the ritual is now in full swing…

Is it weird that the overwhelming feeling I’m left with after Super 8 is one of a nostalgic melancholy?
You already know the score — duh da-duh-da-duh! duh da-duh-da-duh! — but in case you’ve forgotten, The Nutcracker in 3D will attempt to mainline it into your brain, fuel-injecting sugar-plum fairy juice into your festivus lobe at the drop of, um, a sugar plum. If you think that’s a horrendously mixed metaphor, it’s got nothing on this polar-express train wreck…
“A sound like someone trying not to make a sound.” Four-year-old Ruth (Elle Fanning: Daddy Day Care) isn’t describing the shushed fury consuming the adults around her, but she might well be. Her parents’ marriage is collapsing, quietly and at long last, the strain of life-altering tragedy finally catching up to them, but they barely … more…