Dose of a Ghost: Feig Delivers Funny, Feminized Franchise Entry
Overshadowed by the ill will of an alarmingly misogynist fanboy culture since its initial inception,...
Looking towards the Lido, we’re just over three months away before the fourth quarter Fall Festival circuit kick off, and the final prestigious competition...
Don’t They Know?: Dolan Delivers a Dud with Familial Drama
Though no stranger to working with French stars, Quebecois filmmaker Xavier Dolan makes his first...
Milk of Sorrow: Motherhood and Metaphors Structure Vitkova’s Somber Debut
Using intergenerational familial dilemmas to convey significant historical upheaval is certainly nothing new to fiction...
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.