Taxi Driver (Scorsese, 1976)
Given that admission, there's no real upside to admitting that Taxi Driver doesn't float my boat.
Given that admission, there's no real upside to admitting that Taxi Driver doesn't float my boat.
Making a horror movie must be a little like writing a sonnet. The form is so familiar that even non-fans have been exposed to a lot of them. The (relative) simplicity of the form in conjunction with that exposure makes it attractive to creators: I can do that! It also makes it a challenge for creators and consumers alike: We've seen that!
About thirty-five to forty minutes into The Great Gatsby, I started wondering if I was going crazy, or if the film did have more cuts than usual.
I did not intentionally watch Iceberg Slim on the week in which a man of one color would be found not guilty of murdering a teenager of another color, sparking another of the seemingly endless waves of grating, chattering babble about race in this country. I'm glad I did, though, because it was a reminder (if I needed one), that nothing is as subjective in this world as what people of different backgrounds consider "normal."
I can't say I wasn't warned.
I haven't been this depressed after a movie since An Inconvenient Truth.
The editor of Faith and Spirituality in Masters of World Cinema Volume I (Cambridge Scholars Press, 2008) and Volume II (Cambridge Scholars Press, 2011) seeks proposals for previously unpublished essays to appear in a third volume of this series.
I'll probably never win over the skeptics, and that's okay, but ten years later, Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl is still my favorite film from 2003.
An oddly engaging but ultimately unsatisfying endeavor, Some Girl(s) is best described as a cross between Nick Hornby's High Fidelity and David Mamet's Oleanna.
One of the more unfortunate side-effects of the polarization and politicization of American discourse is that we've seriously devalued the word "persecution."