I really want to read Robert Koehler‘s thoughts about the gradual dilution of The Artist Known As Terrence Malick, but I have to subscribe to Cineaste in order to do so. The short answer (which I’ve repeated ad infinitum on this site) is that Malick needs a Bert Schneider-type producer who will read him the riot act and slap him around when his flake tendencies go into overdrive, and instead he’s been enabled to death by producers who’ve never said boo.
Roughly two months ago a very early draft of Eric Roth‘s screenplay for Killers of the Flower Moon (dated 2.20.17,...
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Frances McDormand‘s Fern was strong but mule-stubborn and at the end of the day self-destructive, and this stunted psychology led...
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Can’t decide which performance is better, although I’ve always leaned toward Tina Vitale, her cynical New Jersey moll behind the...
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Two days ago (1.19) a Facebook tribute congratulated Tippi Hedren for having reached her 94th year (blow out the candles!)...
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A friend suggested a list of the Ten Best American Crime Flicks of the ‘70s. By which he meant films...
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I’ve never been able to give myself over to Sam Peckinpah’s Major Dundee, a 1965 Civil War–era western, and I’ve...
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