Bonnie and Clyde (1967)

Ebert calls the film a milestone of truth and brilliance that reflects the full range of human life, including its cruelty, humor, and violence. He singles out the realistic, suffering deaths and strong ensemble performances, especially by Beatty, Dunaway, Pollard, Hackman, and Parsons, as making it a landmark of the 1960s.

The critic hails Arthur Penn's film as a revolutionary work that changed American cinema forever through its anti-hero focus, freewheeling style and graphic violence. He singles out the shocking, prolonged ambush death scene as one of the most memorable and realistic in film history.

The film is a landmark that shocked audiences with its blend of farce and brutality when it opened in London 40 years earlier, opening the floodgates for screen violence. It credits director Arthur Penn and the script's fusion of European influences with American outlaw mythology for its enduring impact and controversy.

The critic calls the film an outstanding achievement and a new peak for director Arthur Penn, praising its blend of black comedy and elegy, strong performances (especially Beatty and Dunaway), screenplay, and technical craft while noting its documentary-like period evocation and tasteful handling of violence.

The critic calls the film great, noting it successfully reclaims the American gangster movie after the French New Wave while treading a line between comic fairytale and brutal fact that captures the ambiguity of its real-life outlaw heroes. The weird landscape of dusty towns and verdant highways, shot in muted tones of green and gold, gives it the quality of folk legend.

Scott describes the film as a scandal and sensation that introduced a new kind of raw, choreographed violence to movies while becoming a touchstone of Hollywood and cultural history. He highlights its formal panache in mayhem scenes and its role as a parable of generational and cultural shifts.

The review describes the film as a cinematic revolution that brought American movies in line with European cinema, highlighting its stylistic mix of violence, romance, and social commentary while noting its self-absorbed romantic fatalism and the enduring appeal of its leads.

Gilliatt views the film as a piercing study of two real thieves who saw themselves as film stars and folk heroes, with their theatrical delusions and urge to be remembered making the violence harrowing rather than glamorous. She praises the performances, especially Dunaway and Beatty, the photography, and its thoughtful attitude toward violence.

The critic finds the film stylish and entertaining in its early parts with strong performances from Dunaway and Beatty, but notes that its once-shocking violence now feels tame, diminishing its impact for modern viewers.