Just Don’t Call Me Late For Dinner
A sharp look at Dinner for Schmucks, its comedic talent, missed potential, and how it falls short of the darker, smarter films it tries to imitate.
Paul May Be Dead But This Film Is Boring
A mockumentary about Paul McCartney's alleged death lacks credibility, style, and Beatles music—resulting in a tedious, poorly made conspiracy slog.
My Pants
A delightfully absurd and bodily ode to milk, naps, and pants-filling—Ramone’s poem plays like a toddler’s chaotic diary set to rhyme.
I’m Good at Complaining
A chronicle of minor disasters, from soy-soaked dresses to collapsing glasses—one woman’s ode to the art of daily irritation and stylish survival.
How I Lost My Fear of Being White in Compton
A personal journey through LA's contrasts—from high art to Compton—challenges stereotypes and reveals the surprising warmth found in unexpected places.
Atom Egoyan’s Chloe is Creepy, Sexy… and Lousy
Egoyan’s Chloe aims for erotic thriller but stumbles with clumsy direction, weak performances, and a plot that devolves into absurd melodrama.