Southside with You: Lee Instills Relevance to Third Franchise Chapter
Clearly, there are more pressing issues than the consistent lack of acknowledgement for black artists...
Begin Again: Edwards’ Satisfying Sophomore Film Utilizes Walken
Thanks to the overwhelming trend of quirk, cliché, or contrivance evident in most American indie offerings (whether...
In 2012, French director Sylvie Verheyde mounted an ambitious, English language adaptation of Alfred de Musset’s controversial 1836 autobiographical novel Confession of a Child...
One of the most pleasurable discoveries out of the 2014 Cannes Film Festival was Ukrainian director Miroslav Slaboshpitsky’s debut The Tribe, which won three...
Let’s Be Bad Cops: McDonagh’s U.S. Visit an Overworked Episode
Director John Michael McDonagh makes his first foray to the US with third feature, War...
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.