King shrewdly connects Hodges’s torment, the stuff of formula cop movies, to larger American feelings of rootlessness and economic despair.
This is a satisfying survey of the artists who’re still actively turning the graphic novel into a new kind of literature.
Aside from expected essays on film adaptations, there are a number of pieces that roam free from these constraints.
The book is more a corroboration for the initiated than inquest for the infidels.
That multitude, with regard to films, is rather restricted to a specific kind of cinephilia, primarily an overt emphasis on Classical Hollywood.
Herbert’s strongest work comes via his explanation for the physical layout of various stores and how each utilizes the space in order to cater to a specific type of consumer.
That lack of scope—and subject specificity—makes itself apparent in a small detail: McGowan’s failure to refer to Lee’s films as “joints” at any point, a label which all films but a few documentaries have carried.
A book insufficiently framed by either strong historical or theoretical parameters is bound to flounder quickly and Davis’s work is no exception.
His extensive definition of “exile” draws on the likes of theorists Theodor Adorno, Edward Said, and Salman Rushdie to explain how complex self-expression can become when displaced from one’s homeland.
In concerning himself more with facts than historiographic elucidation, Isenberg embraces the biographic over the critical dimensions entailed in his chosen methodological approach.
By shifting the questions to stakes of claims rather than just an affirmation of positive or negative images, Nishime moves toward a progressive politics of the mediated imaging of multiracial Asians.
In order to comprehend Godard’s cinema, Witt claims, it’s first necessary to understand precisely how Godard defines the cinema.
While many academic monographs take a single director, time period, or genre as their field for analysis, Andrews is juggling at least half a dozen at once.
Fisher’s smart questions elicit both useful and humorous responses from Petzold throughout.
Several major university presses such as Duke, Texas, California, and Indiana continue to set the benchmark for scholarly film studies.
Brode structures the book into two parts, one dealing with politics, the other religion.
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.
Perhaps the weakest points of the biography are McGilligan’s basic treatment of the films proper.
Throughout, Del Toro’s book obliterates repugnant notions of "high art" and "low art."
Seitz coaxes perception-altering sentiments out of Anderson by pointedly playing right into his persona of the wounded naïf intellectual.