Writer-director James Bai’s Puzzlehead which shows this week at the Two Boots Pioneer Theater, proves that ingenuity is currency.
Ridley Scott’s Gladiator aspires to be Spartacus by way of The Godfather.
In every Takamine film there’s a hazy quality that marks the filmmaker as an unapologetic sensualist.
From the get-go, fans of classic TV pegged The Sopranos as a series that owed plenty to English playwright and screenwriter Dennis Potter.
Matt Zoller Seitz’s Home is screening at this year’s RiverRun International Film Festival.
Among other things, Cassavetes hoped to offer young actors an alternative to the Method.
Talk about starting with a bang.
Depp strikes me as the sort of actor who always swings for the fences, even when a bunt would suffice.
I never knew Scott, so my sadness is a viewer’s sadness, purely selfish.
I’ll reserve sweeping qualitative pronouncements until the 12-episode arc has played out.
Consensus is not fixed. Shout loud enough and long enough, and you can change it.
The Oscar telecast was generally well paced and well judged.
David Milch’s Deadwood is spiritual kin to Presbyterian Church in McCabe & Mrs. Miller.
Welcome to Robert Altman Blog-a-thon Weekend, in which criticism and commentary sites band together to pay homage to Altman.
There are as many participants in this thing as there are characters in an Altman movie.
Home was shot in 2002 and 2003, edited and sound-mixed in 2004, and made its theatrical debut last year.
Amazingly, this movie has been embraced by some of the country’s most prominent critics.
These are the sorts of films New York Times critic A.O. Scott recently complained weren’t being made anymore.
Mark Twain once said, “I didn’t have time to write you a short letter, so I wrote you a long one instead.”
If I can’t have real bodies and artful photography, I’d rather watch The Cartoon Network.