No Country for Black Men: Ross Reforms the Cinema with Distinctive Adaptation
In many ways, Nickel Boys, the narrative debut from director RaMell Ross,...
Snack Attack: Kraven The Hunter Is More Empty Calorie Superhero Slop
The existential fear among creatives is that one day, artificial intelligence will become so...
Grandma Scamma: Margolin Steals a Win with Squibb
Although there’s a prodigious sub-genre of kooky comedies featuring elderly resilient women (though more often in European...
Dial V for Voyeur: Wright Waxes Hitchcockian in Enjoyable Neo Noir
“Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery,” said Oscar Wilde, “that mediocrity can pay...
Hermes’ Hermits: Greengrass Finds Humanity in the Crevices of Revisionist Western
Home is where the hope is, rather than the heart, and there’s nary much...
It’s Easier for a Camel…: Meyers and Moverman Craft Serviceable, Familiar Remake
Although it pulls no punches in its re-working of Paolo Virzi’s 2013 title...
Grade A Time Capsule: Bo Burnham’s Offers Torturous Last Week of Middle School.
Eighth Grade is literally eighth grade in hyphenate-comedian Bo Burnham’s resonant directorial...
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.