This year’s crop of Original Score nominees hits all the markers that we’ve come to expect.
I’m so thankful I moved in time to take in the indelible shot of Sandra Bullock floating in an embryonic state.
The work must be partially faulted for being almost completely irrespective of cinema as a medium-specific mode of expression.
A self-described “down-east liberal,” Stoehr is all too aware of the irony that the foreword to Ride, Boldly, Ride was written by Eastwood.
Most filmgoers who see Lee’s magical-realist marine life, from bioluminescent jellyfish to migrating trout that fly, will be quick to dub the film the Visual Effects frontrunner.
The film has limited mass appeal, and what Clint Eastwood brings this time out is more a deft shepherding of others’ talents than a showcasing of his own.
As evidenced by Dreams from My Father, talking about race comes naturally and forcefully to Obama.
To call Van Sant’s seminal film trashy or backward—or simply a “time capsule”—is to ignore the insights into gay life it still holds today.
Amazingly, this movie has been embraced by some of the country’s most prominent critics.
The financial success of Brokeback Mountain undeniably represents a sea change in mainstream acceptance of homosexuality.
Where to begin?
Alonso Duralde is the arts and entertainment editor of The Advocate, a longtime friend, and one my favorite people to argue with.
The New World is a new watermark.
Also check out Armond White’s column, in which he beats down Woody Allen.