In the nine consecutive years I’ve attended the Toronto International Film Festival, it remains an elusive monstrosity of an event. With its hundreds of...
Closer to the Gods: Cult Author Meets Cult Director in Wheatley’s Latest Dish
Destined to be overlooked as a visually impressive but significant creative failure,...
Scavenger’s Song: Johnson’s Chilling, Stylized Sophomore Feature
Opening with a brooding, atmospheric ambience as we drift through a throbbing drug bust set to an...
The thrill of meeting Marjane Satrapi reminded me of being 6 years old at Disney Land when I met the living, breathing Cinderella. Except Cinderella was an actress with a blond wig and Marjane is the real woman behind her autobiographical graphic novel, turned movie, “Persepolis”. The distinctive mole on her nose and her dark sultry eyes rose off the page and appeared in front of me, smoking and speaking with a French accent.