You’re Gonna Get In To Get Out
The horror that is white people.
The horror that is white people.
The Birth of a Nation is the sort of film one — politically — feels he or she should support but which, well, one doesn’t due to its unignorable flaws. In that way, it is a lot like Nate Parker himself.
In which we note the breathtaking cinematography of Sergey Urusevsky in two damn fine films.
John Wick returns to ask if, at long last, you would please be so kind as to hold on to these bullets with your face.
Today, even though it doesn’t seem like it, there is hope.
This is Farhadi’s special genius. He invites you into lives unfamiliar only to spin around the mirror in the last moments so you can see your own surprised face.
Come inside and share my doubt.
Jim Jarmusch has another poem to read you.
Know both the electric excitement of what might have been and the solemn beauty of what is.
In which we discover, much too late in life, that the best Christmas movie ever made has been hiding in plain sight, waiting to be found and adored.
This whole “color movies” thing is just a fad anyhow.
In which Disney’s latest re-tooled Star Wars toy arrives already opened, bent, and missing pieces.
Stars. Wars. Etc.
But you will see it. Because I insist that you do.