As in his stand-up, Pryor deftly mixes humor and tragedy throughout the film.
The ’80s haunted this year’s Polish Film Festival, which is billed by its organizers as one of the oldest film events in Europe.
This is a cerebral, 25-year-old film that follows the blueprint for today’s endless glut of superhero movies.
The Kid ’n Play rap number puts a visual representation on the film’s strongest asset: soundtrack-derived nostalgia.
Patrick Doyle’s wondrously bombastic score sounds as if Franz Waxman were scoring a slasher movie.
The ingrained self-hatred of its characters reflect outward toward those who remind them of themselves.
Men at Work is patient zero for the plague of Charlie Sheen movies that infected the 1990s.
It asks us to immediately bond with and root for these criminals as the good guys despite knowing almost nothing about their motivations.
In horror anthology movies, the probability runs high that one or more tales will be terrible.
A serious film this is not.
Dead Poets Society purports to be about the bravery of following one’s own path. This is a bright, shining lie.
The actors are so credible together that one forgives a lot in this movie.
Crossing Delancey is unafraid of its ethnicity and its New York City flavor.
My mother hates Charles Grodin, and not for something he did in real life.
The Dead Pool plays like a greatest-hits collection of Dirty Harry movie elements.
You gotta love Ralph Bellamy.
The poster for Call Me is full of sexy promises.
Fish-out-of-water comedies are a dime a dozen in Hollywood, but few are as well-constructed as this one.
Jack’s Back maintains a giddy storyteller’s glee from beginning to end.
Believe it or not, there’s an interesting idea lurking inside Dead Heat.