While I’d love to hold out that hope, Firefly: Still Flying doesn’t really do anything to assure me that the publication is anything more than an oddly timed fan tease.
Jarman’s response to a restrictive culture that denies gay sexuality is, in his films and his writings, to be open, to be honest and forthright and at times outright confrontational.
McDonagh goes to town pointing out the many ways that one can appreciate and even find meaning in Argento’s fragmented images.
Roth makes clear the ways in which this predominant conception of female non-sexuality and general passivity is shown to have enormously devastating effects.
Given this background and now-familiar mold for thinking about film, it’s nice to see a famed novelist speak so highly of movies.
It’s not all cold-blooded murder and nihilistic despair. After all, this is a comic adventure, even if the comedy often reeks with the stink of death.
Purdy’s feeling for the patterns of individual speech, often expressed in first-person narration, tends to surprise the reader with an unforeseen potency.
Don’t know where to go for your Wire jones, now that you’ve lost the connect?
Brian Kellow is nicely attuned to the soft/tough dichotomy in Merman. Here was a woman capable of sympathizing with her friend Judy Garland’s illness, yet blind to her own daughter’s needs.
Whether writing tight “Talk of the Town” pieces or mammoth features, Ross places her subject’s quirks and obsessions in the context of his or her industry.
David Lynch’s voice has a diminutive, nasal inflection. You can hear the Pacific Northwest’s gentility and echoes of a woodland youth.
It’s become an industry workhorse not because he was any sort of Luddite, but because he thought the Steadicam encouraged lazy filmmaking.