If I wasn’t living in such a self-absorbed, self-regarding bubble I would have grabbed my camera last night and taken several photos of the Endeavour as it crawled through those mildly unappealing areas of Los Angeles (near Inglewood City Hall and the L.A. Forum and down Crenshaw Blvd. and Martin Luther King Jr. Blvd.). I had all night to do it — the journey from LAX to the California Science Center still hadn’t arrived as of noon today — and I crapped out. Shameful, no excuse.
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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