A Fraction of All That’s Wrong With Star Wars: The Force Awakens
In which our weary correspondent asks questions he wishes certain writers had asked before him.
In which our weary correspondent asks questions he wishes certain writers had asked before him.
Let Vader strike you down; it matters not.
I know, but hear me out–it’s a REALLY BIG Death Star, right? It’s just so, so, so BIG this time. You see? No way it blows up again. I promise.
That’s right: because of Star Wars.
Plunge into an eastern European rabbit-hole, don’t forget your enchanted pearl, and watch out for chickens, priests, and polecats.
At long last, the Alamo Drafthouse arrives in San Francisco to show us some movies.
A sad, sad story of an artist eaten alive.
Spotlight is not nearly as thrilling as watching four people doing research and scribbling on wood-pulp paper can be.
What if the impact that made The Good Dinosaur a great film narrowly missed Earth?
A cinematic ode to a movie director’s ode to a movie director.
Rocky’s past comes back to be trained. Boxing ensues.
A profound cinematic meditation 30,000+ feet above the Earth. Part 2.
Whooooo are you? Who-who? Who-who?
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.