Hard not to feel let down after last week’s opener, sure, but hard to be surprised when “Kate” is in the title of the episode.
The pain in Tokyo Story is beautiful.
The thumbprint of Alan Ayckbourn seems firmly impressed into the pages of playwright Lucinda Coxon’s Happy Now?
Who said writing Romanian screenplays was easy?
Like The Flaming Lips, Andrew Bird’s a musical existentialist: Lyrics of doubt and worry against a reassuring musical backdrop.
Battlestar Galactica and Caprica’s creative force Ronald D. Moore takes the directing reins with this episode, and one can feel the dynamic really begining to jell.
True artistic discoveries—relatively secret revelations that unfold before one’s eyes—are few and far between.
Who is to blame? Everyone. Parents, religious leaders, social leaders, all let down the side, and with relentless vigor.
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.
It’s all falling into place in a lot of fun ways, most particularly with this new Locke, or as I am going to call him from here on, Dark Locke, after his Man-in-Black heritage.
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.
Last week’s Caprica pilot has been available to watch in one form or another for over a year, so its TV premiere felt a bit anticlimactic.
When a great director goes wrong, they usually don’t go wrong in a small way.
Andrea Arnold’s second feature is the heir to a long-standing British tradition of kitchen-sink realism
There’s a reason why superheroes were originally dismissed as naïve power fantasies for impotent men.
On Sunday and Monday, Noir City went gaga for blondes.
Somebody writing about Fellini in the ’60s said that he stole from everybody but left his thumbprints on it.
After Moon Safari, Air were (at least briefly) mandatory entry-level indie listening.