Now that the nominees have been announced, the Oscar discussion shifts to predicting winners.
And the hits just keep on coming.
One of the year's most controversial films is, in my opinion, also its best.
This week we begin our annual look at the movies likely to compete for best picture at the Oscars, as well as the actors who might take home a statue. Studios use the award season as low-cost publicity, so this series also serves as a winter preview since some of these films will hopefully make it to area theaters over the next month or two.
Fans of crime writer Lee Child (pen name of Jim Grant) were livid when they heard Tom Cruise would be cast as Jack Reacher in the movie adaptation, and rightly so.
Quentin Tarantino. The name inspires a wild mixture of reactions.
Confession is good for the soul, so here goes. I do not like the musical "Les Misérables."
"This Is 40" is among the worst movies bearing the name of writer/director Judd Apatow. And that is really saying something.
"The Impossible" doesn't exactly pull off the impossible (a pun which many reviewers will surely use), but it is an astonishing piece of work.
With the arrival of Peter Jackson's "The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey," another epic adventure begins.
"Hyde Park on Hudson" might be the strangest movie I recommend all year.
"Anna Karenina" is nearly a great film.
I'm the kind of person for whom the phrase "feel-good movie" is a negative term. I like to feel good, and I especially like to feel good by the time a movie's end credits roll.
"Smashed" is an example of many things I love about independent film.
"Wreck-It Ralph" demolished my defenses. I went into this movie with the same mixture of skepticism and hope with which I approach everything I review, but by the end I was pummeled into happy submission. I became a fan, just sitting there loving a movie.
Subversive films are rarely as polite and amusing as "Tim's Vermeer," an amicable little documentary about Tim Jenison's quest to "paint a Vermeer."
It's that time of year again, when for one night Americans remember that a place called Hollywood still exists and bask in the irresistible glow of the most glamorous show on Earth.
Harold Ramis died Monday at the age of 69, and I have to admit I am a bit surprised by the volume and intensity of grief about his death.
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