There is, to me, a kind of warm-bath comfort in the fact of Al Pacino appearing in some current or upcoming film (i.e., one that has a kind of substance) and surging on the oats of raging septugenarian hormones and looking like some kind of incorrigible sartorial dog.
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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