Charlie Kaufman’s minimalist meditation on mortality is as hard to get through as it is oddly rewarding.
Philip Seymour Hoffman livened up Jan de Bont’s 1996 blockbuster — and probably made Jack Black’s career possible.
Try as he might, not even Philip Seymour Hoffman can’t quite spice up George Clooney’s warmed-over political drama.
Todd Solondz’s “Happiness” is a grimly comic film that swings for the fences, and is buoyed by Philip Seymour Hoffman’s compellingly repressed figure.
Kris Rey directs Gillian Jacobs in a lighthearted comedy about reliving the supposedly carefree college years.
Bennett Miller’s adaptation of Michael Lewis’ book is an overlong, overcrowded sports biopic partially redeemed by its cast.
A token of the aughts and a swan song for Mike Nichols, this 2007 drama runs on more hermetically sealed Aaron Sorkin writing to okay results.
1991’s Scent of a Woman remains one of the most baffling recipients of Oscar gold, a prep-school drama lifted only by an early Philip Seymour Hoffman turn.
A puzzle of a thriller, Sidney Lumet’s final film slides its script and performances together with ease.
It’s good, but Anthony Minghella’s 1999 adaptation really comes alive when Philip Seymour Hoffman’s scumbag enters the picture.
Dawn Porter offers up a heartfelt, accessible tribute to one of Congress’ most stalwart Civil Rights leaders.
Playing a creator who needs adoration, Philip Seymour Hoffman revels in the idiosyncrasies of famed author Truman Capote in Bennett Miller’s biopic.
The second doc about the disgraced lawyer in months makes the cardinal sin of avoiding its own viewpoints.
The director of Shirley talks about Elisabeth Moss, structuring scenes, and taking creative license with a real-life figure.
Craig Fairbrass’ textured mug can’t save this low-budget crime flick that tumbles headfirst into cliche.
Matt Wolf’s documentary about the ill-fated science project is a bizarrely perfect fit for our self-isolating times.
Despite a solid supporting cast, Clark Duke’s debut is a small-scale caper with that doesn’t have the attention span to ever truly work.
Neasa Hardiman’s low-budget Irish thriller is taut, claustrophobic, and evocative of the greats in all the right ways.