For every debut feature I review, particularly those funded from the smallest and most independent of production companies, there should be an assumption, if

When The Painted Bird ends, there’s such a corrupted feeling about everything for a few moments, as if we don’t deserve the privilege of

Recent Australian films have a knack of falling into two distinct categories. The first is picturesque dramedies that really only amount tourism ads with a story.

Richmond Virginia, like so many other cities and towns before and since, is home to a jail. The host of those awaiting trials and

1917 isn’t a gimmick. It’s not Sam Mendes and Roger Deakins deciding that making a film look like one continuous shot would be a