Corneliu Porumboiu’s The Second Game is a fine example of an impulse toward meta-narrative that has recently reinvigorated the nonfiction form.
There’s a great line in Jules and Jim about fictions that “revel in vice to preach virtue.”
To shove the elephant out of the room right off the bat, two actually relevant things are working against Woody Allen’s chances for a win here.
By shifting the questions to stakes of claims rather than just an affirmation of positive or negative images, Nishime moves toward a progressive politics of the mediated imaging of multiracial Asians.
These Academy members possess an elementary school understanding of art, where films operate in a purely denotative register.
Kat Coiro’s film is a frustrating case of a great opportunity blown.
Epstein provides only a cursory understanding of Marvin as cultural icon.
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.
Adjmi keeps his audience on its toes by constantly demonstrating how hysterical laughter can signal trauma.
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.
The show’s powerfully invasive aesthetic conveys the idea of our moral and political consciousness struggling to free itself from inaction.
Chocolate-covered scallops, anyone?
The primary tactic in Snyder’s repertoire is decontextualization.
Milo Burke’s America isn’t in the throes of environmental or theocratic chaos, just a long, slow slide into mediocrity.
Cruising is not nearly as ambiguous as William Friedkin thinks.
Ted Koppel’s post-Nightline career has barely started, and already it’s shaping up to be as valuable as the one he left behind.
The credit card company and the bank should have been a Marx Brothers routine.