Apes in revolt, planets seriously out of alignment, silent stars, cowboys, and aliens.

What does it mean that the world ends again and again onscreen?

Curse you, Meryl Streep! You’ve won again.

Ralph Fiennes’s Coriolanus gets at the heart of the play and adds cinematic bloodshed.

The fourth Twilight film is—like a lot of weddings and births—an unexpectedly primal experience.

The guy who paved paradise and put up a parking lot? It’s George Clooney, in The Descendants.

The Rum Diary is watered-down Hunter Thompson; Tower Heist stands tall.

The most infectious love story in decades. Plus: Anonymous deserves to be lost to history.

Margin Call inadvertently becomes the film of this financial moment.

With The Skin I Live In, Almodóvar focuses again on live flesh—yet somehow, it’s lost that rosy glow.