film criticism by maryann johanson | since 1997
Writer, director, and star Rupert Everett’s labor of cinematic love, about the last years of Oscar Wilde, is a small wonder of contradictions: nightmarish yet sanguine, a bit sordid yet full of grace.
This stilted, utterly implausible film manages the astonishing feat of being both histrionic and monotonous at the same time, trolling us with absurd clichés, yet doing so with a quiet solemnity.
Diane Keaton, Jane Fonda, Candice Bergen, and Mary Steenburgen read a book.
Saoirse Ronan has trouble on her honeymoon; Laetitia Dosch has trouble with everything; plus, documentaries about women navigating personal and political strife.
Documentaries by Andrea Luka Zimmerman and Jen Randall, a drama by Saila Kariat, and more.
A good primer on the rapid unraveling of Harvey Weinstein, with hints of how much more story there may still be to tell.
Lots of movies to chose from, but most are playing on only a very few screens.
Save us from male artists who think they are dangerously, uniquely innovative. This stew of toxic masculinity and CGI-cartoon violence is nothing but tediously mundane.
A shamefully miscalculated tale of whimsy and come-to-Jesus inspiration with a bizarrely inappropriate haze of Norman Rockwell-esque nostalgia.
The women in this story spend their time worrying and picking up the pieces while men are off discovering themselves and getting into trouble along the way.
