The con artist tale “Focus” is witty, charming and so sexy it makes “Fifty Shades of Grey” feel like a two-hour cold shower.
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We’re not even two months into 2015, and the new year already has yielded its own subgenre of films: the Kevin Costner Doesn’t Understand Minorities movie.
Guys, here’s the best possible advice I could give you for your Valentine’s weekend moviegoing:
In “Jupiter Ascending,” humans are harvested like crops, one planet at a time, so their cells can be used to rejuvenate the members of an intergalactic ruling class, allowing them to measure their life spans in millennia.
It’s the prestige film the awards season forgot.
Toward the end of “The Boy Next Door,” the toddler behind me started getting fussy.
Chris Kyle doesn’t deserve a movie. He deserves a monument.
You don’t watch “Inherent Vice,” writer-director Paul Thomas Anderson’s hippie-noir take on that confusing maelstrom between the end of the ’60s and the start of the ’70s, so much as you let it wash over you like the smell of patchouli.
Universal first tried to tell Louie Zamperini’s incredible life story in 1957, with Tony Curtis in line to portray the Olympian- turned-war hero.
Thankfully, director Peter Jackson saved the best for last, because the greatest thing about the first two installments of his “Hobbit” trilogy was the menu they inspired at Denny’s.
I hate sounding like a literary snob, especially considering how infrequently I read. But when it comes to “Exodus: Gods and Kings,” which chronicles Moses’ leading 400,000 of his fellow Hebrews out of captivity, the book was better.
If any romanticized notions of frontier life survived this summer’s “A Million Ways to Die in the West,” they die with their boots on in “The Homesman.”
Even as a child, I knew the world contained a vast array of swear words, each with its own subtle nuance.
The latest chapter in the Katniss Everdeen saga is, by necessity, a very different movie from the first two installments. But much of “The Hunger Games: Mockingjay — Part 1” is so bleak, it makes the days when the blockbuster franchise was just about teens and tweens forced to slaughter each other seem positively carefree.
Gun to my head, I couldn’t tell you what Freddie Mercury was singing about in “Bohemian Rhapsody,” but I still like the song.
“Nightcrawler” may be the fall’s ultimate Rorschach test.
If there’s one criticism of “St. Vincent,” the dark comedy in which a timid 12-year-old boy (Jaeden Lieberher) strikes up an odd friendship with the curmudgeonly misanthrope (Bill Murray) who lives next door, it’s that anyone who’s ever seen a movie has a pretty good idea where it’s going to end up.
Is it fair to knock a movie for a flaw you didn’t realize was there?
Believe it or not, there are some unpleasantries involved in watching movies for a living.
Of all the books I’ve never read, I’m perhaps most glad to have avoided Gillian Flynn’s “Gone Girl.”
Was anyone out there clamoring for a remake of “The Equalizer”?
Growing up, I must have seen “High School U.S.A.” a half-dozen times.
“The Drop” will be remembered as the final onscreen appearance of the late, great James Gandolfini.
The world is a cold, cruel place for the women of “The November Man.”
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