Kleeman has an astute eye for pop culture, and her postmodern send-up of consumerism will remind readers of White Noise.
It may be centered around a dead man and the past, but at its heart it’s a book more concerned with the pain the living carry and the future it has shaped.
At 80 years of age, the iconoclast evinces the same passion that has animated his provocative work up to this point.
This time, Anderson comes to play from the outset, with a sense of openness, and of shared intimacy with Seitz, that might be somewhat misleading, but is nevertheless revealing.
The likelihood of finishing so quickly only enhances the resonance: The text itself becomes a moment that can pass.
The pleasure of writing, of pairing words with another to create a distinct or lingeringly atmospheric or poetic effect, seems beyond King’s concern these days.
Maureen Corrigan's deconstruction of the novel in the context of noir, or “hard-boiled” detective fiction, offers a refreshing perspective.
At 221 pages, it’s a tightly knit piece of fiction, an elegant examination of a complicated problem.
The novel suggests a print fusion of the filmmaker’s early, grungy, bluntly metaphorical work with the subtler, formally refined, classical elder-statesman films of his most recent period.
The narrator is not an aloof artist, but someone absurdly tied-up in the daily neuroses of the modern world.
Mizruchi provides analysis that’s offered a bit too much as objective fact.
Besides a number of instances of clunky, clichéd writing, Pascale has a tendency to summarize and explain every movie and episode she references.
Palin’s depiction of Hamish Melville, the impossibly ethical activist against which Mabbut compares himself, is handled unexpectedly.
The book takes a subtle stylistic turn in its second half that might bear quasi-meta significance.
Split Screen Korea exemplifies a kind of necessary scholarly monograph that will never go out of style.
Nicholson astutely connects Eyes Wide Shut back to Interview with the Vampire through their intentionally strained eroticism, which serves to acknowledge the films’ respective true theme of the capitalist power that lingers under the superficial sexual roleplay.
Friendship may read to many, especially those unfamiliar with New York, as one giant inside joke without a punchline.
Rakoff acknowledges that it takes a lot to make people care.
King shrewdly connects Hodges’s torment, the stuff of formula cop movies, to larger American feelings of rootlessness and economic despair.