In which Charles Willeford’s steamy Floridian art-noir is moved to Italy. Hm.
At one time Greer thought he saw something different but he was mistaken. What he saw was exactly the same as what he had been seeing. He thought that it was smaller but then he realized that it was exactly the same size as everything else.
Come on in, and let’s watch the geek bite the head off this chicken…
An unusual case study of two movies based on the same book, each trying to be faithful in its own way.
Gilliam writes a memoir from beyond the grave. The grave which he is not in. Because he’s still alive. Or so he would have us believe.
Andy Summers tells tales of life in The Police.
In which I plunge into the obscene depths of the most outrageous autobiography ever written.
In which I suffer the slings and arrows of John Carter, Disney’s ludicrous adaptation of Edgar Rice Burroughs’s A Princess of Mars, for your amusement and edification.
It’s a fight to the death! Ishiguro vs. Ivory. Who will dance victoriously over the broken corpse of their enemy?
There have been all too few films that have addressed the utterly alien in a way that’s even vaguely adequate.
In which three versions of the same history shed light on the story-tellers behind them.
Woe to thee who dares view this broken down turd of a movie.
King still thinks the movie is cold, distancing, misogynistic, not about the characters he invented, poorly directed, and not scary.
Nobody ever told me about Getting Away With It, a ’99 book in which Steven Soderbergh interviews Richard Lester, director of such movies as A Hard Day’s Night, Help!, Petulia, […]