“Maybe I don’t want to meet someone who shares my interests. I hate my interests.” Steve Buscemi speaks for us all.
Clowes talks, among other things, the treacherous straits of adapting from page to screen.
Craig Johnson’s film lurches from poignant melancholy to cartoonish slapstick, unable to settle on a consistent tone.
This is a satisfying survey of the artists who’re still actively turning the graphic novel into a new kind of literature.
These days, any comic by Daniel Clowes or Seth unmistakably belongs to each man—in the style of their lines, the speech of their characters, and the mood of their fictional worlds.
Dan Clowes is experimenting with ways to not just listen to his characters’ inner monologues, but to look at how they remember and fantasize.
The film uses copious dramatic recreation-and-cartoon-graphic gimmickry to mask his vacuously celebratory POV.
The inside covers of the books are marked with a pair of maps, essentially bookending history with cartography.
Daniel Clowes showcases the boundless formalistic possibilities of telling stories through comics.
Given the nature of the film, the image and audio is almost too good, but the film’s laughs still resonate through the spic-and-span treatment.
The matter-of-fact filmmaking style is made up for by the vitality of the all-around fantastic performances.
Ghost World is a beautiful evocation of the ghostly nature of love, loss, and ultimately memory itself.