I’m sorry for anyone who’s been told they have only a few months or a couple of years to live, or who’s back on crack or has attempted suicide, or both. I feel sorry for anyone who claims to enjoy watching dogs try to chew each other to death. I feel nothing but loathing for the guy who took snaps of poor Dennis Hooper as he fell to the ground. (And yes, I’ve read the accompanying article.) The tabs are pure ugliness, pure hallucinatory nowhere-ville. They’re worse now than they’ve ever been.
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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