It is a proud product of the ‘80s, yes, but in an era grappling with toxic masculinity and male loneliness, there is something enduring in this story about a young man resisting the temptation to abandon empathy in pursuit of a belonging built on cruelty.
Their legacy is one of pushing punk rock to fulfill its promise, creating space for people of every gender and identity to push back against a world determined to keep them down.
We may only spend a short part of our lives with our childhood playthings, but this movie argues that they leave a lasting mark in ways tech cannot—helping build the unique parts of our personalities that stay with us long after we leave childhood behind.
The director seems intent to make a plea to the world that feels as personal as "The Fabelmans": If we want humanity to get out of the mess we’ve made for ourselves, first we have to face the truth together.
In a world where the future of film can feel increasingly uncertain, the role of criticism feels just as unsettled. Kael’s work continues to be a testament for what film writing has to offer, asking you to engage with her, agree with her, argue with her—just as long as you keep reading her.
That spirit of exploration is at the core of film festivals like the Berkshire International Film Festival, which returns to The Triplex for its landmark 20th year this weekend.
Richard Finkelstein’s work is a beautiful reminder that there is still plenty of life to be lived at the movies—and of what stands to be lost when communities lose their cinemas.
With autobiographical movies like "Blue Heron," Romvari and her fellow filmmakers create universal works by focusing on deeply personal stories. In the process, they remind us that our recollections of the past never tell the whole story—even when we are the ones shaping the narrative.
While we may not actually know what the animals in our lives are saying, these movies remind us that talking to animals can lead to some of the most meaningful conversations of our lives.
We often think of movies as comfort food, full of predictable beats that make the viewer feel safe. Soderberghesque cinema offers a counterpoint: The most fun you can have at the movies is when you have no idea what will happen next.
The drama in "The Drama" ensues when Charlie realizes that committing to someone means living with their darkness, too—and that all the advantages of his life have left him without the tools to do so.
These kinds of hard decisions are exactly what you want at the Oscars: nominees so strong that you may be disappointed when something loses, but you won’t be mad about anything winning.
Built from newly rediscovered and restored concert footage, along with an in-depth interview with Presley reflecting on his life, Luhrmann crafts a concert film-documentary hybrid that pairs Presley’s trademark spectacle with moments of surprising introspection.
