by Richard von Busack
A synthespian made completely out of Black Angus beef, Sam Worthington has an irreplaceable acting talent, and he demonstrates it Clash of the Titans. What those little chemical packets in shipping crates …

By Richard von Busack
THE SUBJECT of the 75-minute animated film The Secret of Kells is Christendom’s greatest illuminated manuscript. It was, said one chronicler, the work of angels disguised as men. The Book of Kells …

by Richard von Busack
It’s not clear what holds the new André Téchiné film together besides craft and velocity. The Girl On the Train is about a pretty, shallow young girl and the national scandal she …

by Richard von Busack
Despite the opening shot—a splotch of menstrual blood on a hot San Fernando Valley pavement—in The Runaways, director Floria Sigismondi cuts back on the blood, sweat and tears of rock & roll. …

by Richard von Busack
Aiming to pound away resistance to the Iraq War movie, Green Zone is Paul Greengrass’ most visually lucid, yet dully scripted, film. He intends to hook an audience sick of the war …

by Richard von Busack
ON THE SUBJECT of the political fix and a priceless collection of art, The Art of the Steal is the post–Errol Morris documentary at its technical best and ideological worst. The film …

By Richard von Busack
WILDLY AMBITIOUS and thoroughly brutal—I mean, Saw-level brutal—the Red Riding trilogy gets in there and hits spots that Shutter Island could only acknowledge by homage. The three films—Red Riding: 1974, Red Riding: …

by Richard von Busack
LOWING foghorns and a ferryboat plowing through misty waters: we’re in Boston harbor in 1954, and then what materializes ahead is apparently Skull Island. Kong, however, is not at home; this Alcatraz …

by Richard von Busack
THEY WERE called the Pentagon Papers: a 7,000-page document compiled by the RAND Corporation. They were meant to provide a euphemism-free account of how America got entangled in Vietnam’s civil war. The …

by Richard von Busack
ONE NEEDED Werner Herzog for North Face; one got Philipp Stölzl, a former music-video director whose next effort is titled Goethe! (The exclamation point doesn’t bode well.) Stölzl has to subject this …