
In Darkness We Fall (aka La cueva) movie review (London Film Festival)
An effective mood of claustrophobia cannot overcome the fact that you’ve seen this all before, and better.

An effective mood of claustrophobia cannot overcome the fact that you’ve seen this all before, and better.

LFF is a veritable orgy of cinema, and I love it. It’s exhausting, but I love it.

Terry Gilliam descends into near self-parody with this mess of a mind-frak about a mathematical formula for the meaning of life that has little to say.

French drama about nuclear workers is riveting when it focuses on the dangers of the job, less so when it devolves into a sexy working-class soap opera.

Two compelling documentaries about famed competitive cyclists and the corrupted sport that chewed them up.
I want to crawl inside this movie and curl up in its lap and stay there forever. This movie is so languid and so uncoerced. I want to keep it a secret and let everyone know about it at the same time.

Romantic in the grandest sense, a visceral and hypnotic experience of idealistic aspirations set against the desolate beauty and danger of the Outback.

We say things like, “Oh, I’d watch that guy read the phone book,” and this is almost that. Except it really is absolutely riveting, and that’s no joke.

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 painfully funny odyssey of personal ineffectualness that is bitterly wonderful in how it revels in the decrepit horror of the everyday world.