What does it mean anymore to be a father? We still roughly know what it means to be a mother. Indeed, we rather know it in our bones.
Some of Hawks’s early films don’t have his distinctly dry personality, but Red Line is a helplessly personal movie about…impotence?
Films aren’t built on sexy motors alone.
Offices, three short comedies about the cubicle world, is about as fun as a day job.
It’s not beer, it’s not drugs, it’s just a film, and yet we leave elated, having been taken for a ride.
Steven Soderbergh merely grafts the wheeler-dealer movie industry he knows so well onto the sex biz and calls it a day.
God help you the second you start thinking about this film again.
This is probably one of the busiest blockbusters I have seen in a while.
When Jim Jarmusch met hard-boiled, irreverent Japanese filmmaker Seijun Suzuki, they spent an entire evening hanging out.
Every character has had multiple moments in the run of the show to pull back, to change course, to reverse the path they have headed down.
The film never leaves France, but it’s implicitly global.
Lost is a show fairly obsessed by notions of duality.
Metric’s instrumental members are pretty much impeccable.
So, yeah, this is me imploring Fox to not get rid of this show.
Franz Ferdinand seem to have conceived their third album with the express intent of annoying people.
Bart Mastronardi’s psychological horror film Vindication owes plenty to the complex mythologies of Clive Barker novels.
I’ve always been a trifle suspicious of my love for Andrew Bird.
If there’s one thing I find a touch annoying about Breaking Bad, it’s that the show will occasionally lean on a too-easy symbol or two.
Three screenwriters, four counting the original TV writer, but you can’t tell.
For once, bigger is better. And, in this case, oddly more personal.