As story elements, the cauldron and the magical potion are almost overinvested with the history of Western literature and folklore. They stand out as props. Handling them clumsily will dissolve a horror story with staleness.
Manhattan, spring of 2001. The dotcom bubble has burst, but the Beanie Babies bubble has not.
The Flamethrowers delivers on the promise of its title; it’s full of destruction, misanthropy, and wanton nihilism. Guns are constantly going off, so the pyrotechnics aren’t merely linguistic.
What was once a nasty secret became an open secret and is now common knowledge: The middle class is being squeezed, mostly downward, out of existence.
In his too-brief career, he managed nothing less than to broaden the possibilities of how bodies can appear and of what kind of confrontations clothes can provoke.