Netflix
MOVIE REVIEW
Frankenstein (2025)
Mary Shelley’s 1818 novel, “Frankenstein; or, The Modern Prometheus,” has inspired nearly 20 films, among them a few sequels and even a parody from Mel Brooks. Interestingly, the vast majority of them are modernized reimaginings. Up to this point, the most serious attempt at a straight adaption has been Kenneth Branagh’s 1994 “Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein,” a misguided disappointment on all accounts thanks to the director’s runaway ego.
Neon
MOVIE REVIEW
Infinity Pool (2023)
Brandon Cronenberg's previous film, "Possessor," had moments of gore and violence, while manipulating you mostly through drastic quiet unease about mind and body; a film in which Andrea Riseborough calmly stared at you while you were staring at her. "Infinity Pool" barges in and breaks the window and makes a mess on the floor; a film in which Mia Goth screams at you about your unease until you decide that maybe you don't feel so bad. Emboldened, reasonably enough, by the last film's success, Mr. Cronenberg now attacks on multiple fronts. In "Infinity Pool" there are clones and doubles and sleight of hand about which is which. There are rich white people going off the deep end into drug-fuelled violence in a country offensively poorer than Los Angeles. There's a bag of storytelling tactics, harsh editing and strobe lighting and subliminal glimpses of genitalia, the tool kit that gets called experimental – but really isn't because it isn't chasing a state of mind, just an instant of disorientation, not the same thing. All these flammable items go into the test tube, without catching fire.
Christian Geisnaes/Magnolia Pictures
MOVIE REVIEW
Nymphomaniac (2014)
Upholding the tradition by which Lars von Trier spooks the massed ranks of the tabloids with talk of pornography before then unveiling films that prove as arousing as a kick in the knee, the four-hour, two-volume “Nymphomaniac” is merciless and hilarious in close proximity. The story skips between an intellectual investigation of a woman’s insatiable libido and a stylized erotic farce, threatening to cast its vote against optimism altogether and decide that no peace between the sexes is possible or perhaps advisable. Along the way, Volume I — with its droll laughs at regular intervals — becomes Volume II, which plunges into darkness headfirst. Large themes are invoked; large genitalia are inspected. Large theories are inevitable.
Sorry. No data so far.