Don't let the lack of theatrical output foul you. Adam Rapp is a man of many hats, alternating between novelist, playwright, television, guitarist, actor...
Hangdog Hangover: Formulaic Comedy Eschews Characterization for Product Placement
Director Jon Turteltaub, whose career is bolstered by a resume of unquestionably mainstream Hollywood fare, perhaps...
Psychobabble: Brazzale & Immesi Debut Fails to Spellbind
Despite its potentially intriguing title, Ritual: A Psychomagic Story, the debut of co-directors Giulia Brazzale and Luca...
Ape & Essence: Rose’s Latest Another Profound Tolstoy Exercise
Like Branagh’s penchant for bringing Shakespeare to celluloid, British director Bernard Rose has steadily amassed a...
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.