The Toronto International Film Festival have unveiled the heavy-hitters populating their Gala and Special Presentations sections making what sounds like an alluring line-up for...
Divorce of Force: Bell Peddles Puppets in Congested Ghost Story
“Separate’s always better when there’s feelings involved,” per Outkast’s 2003 track Hey Ya!, and one...
The Hand That Mocks the Cradle: van der Oest Overwhelms in Overstuffed Trauma Drama
Some inherent problems with adapting complex or labyrinthine novels into film...
As far as serial killer iconicity goes, Thomas Harris’ fictional villain Hannibal Lecter has permeated the pop zeitgeist more than his most famous real-life...
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.