There’s an enigmatic quality to the role of Nolan in the current filmmaking landscape.
In the new issue of Shock Cinema, House contributor Jeremiah Kipp interviews unconventional leading man Ron Perlman.
There’s little of substance here beyond a slightly pleasurable twinge of recognition.
Laura is routinely seen as a prime slice of film noir, though Preminger scarcely delved into the furious paranoia that always was the genre’s bread and butter.
Scuttlebutt has it that this year’s edition of the New York Film Festival is one of the richest in the festival’s 44-year history.
Saul Levine’s edge is his elation and his constant pricks at our consciousness bring about a sort of revelatory catharsis.
Hell, the mood was so sedate that Sean Penn and Russell Crowe were even chipper, the latter happily chatting up fans in the street.
De Palma’s oeuvre owes at least some part of its brash vitality to the destructivism his critics sparked in the director’s bruised ego.
Argentina, which has emerged as one of the most prolific national cinemas of the new millennium, dominated the Latinbeat program last year.
Happy birthday, MTV. You’re 25. A little old to be playing with 12 year olds, doncha think?
How does one follow-up an Oscar-nominated documentary about sexual abuse perpetrated by members of the Catholic Church?
Fronted by diminutive twin sisters Emily and Susan Hsu, Exit Clov formed, as so many groups do, from the wreckage of previous bands.
She looked a lot like Lady Kier’s little sister during her one-night stand at the Maritime Hotel’s Hiro Ballroom in New York City.
Frank Tashlin fashioned a blend of joyous abandon and trenchant nihilism that continually undercut laughter with despair.
There’s something of an ill-fated air surrounding the films of the Russian directors Elem Klimov and Larisa Shepitko.
In person, Oliver Stone turns out to be a lot like you’d expect from watching his movies.
If you wish to revolutionize your life, hop on the back of a motorcycle and hit the road.
What Sleater-Kinney could not do was control the equatorial heat afflicting the city like an incurable disease.
There are no floral patterns here. Pallett’s music contains ideas—and they’re worth paying attention to.
I dare you to tell Rahzel Brown that beatboxing is a thing of the past.
In case her new album’s title hasn’t tipped you off yet, Pink wants you to know she’s not dead.