There’s an enigmatic quality to the role of Nolan in the current filmmaking landscape.
Benjamin Willen has an eerie, solemn presence, not depressed, but somehow blunted to any sense of a future.
Mama may have had more power if it had been a short film, the energy having no chance to dissipate as I felt it did here.
Despite the beauty of those dead snakes, the message therein was a bit too on the nose for me.
Õunpuu manages to portray the deep anxieties inherent in “climbing the ladder of success.”
With startling and memorable beauty, Sun Spots blends HD imagery with a slow sense of creeping terror.
A mysterious, handsome man lures women to their doom.
Chlanda discusses her process as an actress and her experience making Contact.
Robert Altman’s Nashville is one of those rare films that feels more timely, more relevant, the more time goes by.
The program turned out to be more or less a Loudon Wainwright show with the distinction of exemplary recent material.
We managed to track down the notorious RPG-rap pioneer for a few questions, as he walks us through his most coveted release to date.
Like The Flaming Lips, Andrew Bird’s a musical existentialist: Lyrics of doubt and worry against a reassuring musical backdrop.
Auteurist artistry and genre craftsmanship remain vital filmmaking avenues throughout the decade.
There’s a lot of controversy about how closely, if at all, From a Basement on the Hill mirrors Elliott Smith’s intentions for its final form.
The splendidly odd Neko Case has the looks of a pin-up girl and the voice of an “American Idol” champion.
Last year, for reasons I don’t entirely understand, Gucci Mane suddenly become a rap critic favorite.
Mellow’s name was a lie: Perfect Colors, their second (and seemingly final) album proper, is breathlessly sarcastic.
That something vital to pop discourse might be lost if full-length albums disappear should give pause as we dive headfirst into the 21st century’s gangly, awkward teenage years.
After Moon Safari, Air were (at least briefly) mandatory entry-level indie listening.
RJD2 eventually went in some poorly-reviewed direction or other I didn’t follow; apparently things got a lot whiter and clumsier.
Textbook blog-hype band: first album praised beyond (but only a little beyond) its merits, automatically slammed by same for their follow-up.