On Godard’s Breathless and Linklater’s Nouvelle Vague
In which we think anew upon an old film through the lens of a new one, and wonder at what’s missing from them both.
In which we think anew upon an old film through the lens of a new one, and wonder at what’s missing from them both.
Go ahead. You’ve earned it.
How could a two and a half hour chase scene be boring? Paul Thomas Anderson explains.
In which elder statesman David Cronenberg presents a number of rotting corpses for your consideration.
Believe what you will, but if something can’t hold up to questioning, there’s your answer.
Let’s catch up with Liam Neeson as he frolics with demons in the snow.
The finale nobody needed, delivered as nobody wanted
Indy and the aliens, once infuriating, now merely sigh-inducing.
We complained about Temple of Doom. This is the result. I hope we’ve learned our lesson.
Once hated, now–kinda loved! It’s the demonic cartoon you never knew you wanted.
Still good? Still good.
It’s the cinematic equivalent of shitting your guts out. But hey — maybe that sounds good to you?
The passionate story of the fatcat company destined to become still fatter, or: A capitalist love story between a number of rich men and a shoe.
In which the newest bestest movie of all time is thunk upon, as is the list what put it there.