Hollywood follows the mass audience and the mass audience follows Hollywood; there is no leader. The worst of the past is preserved with new dust. How many films that we…
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Robert Ryan, Woman on the Beach, Jean Renoir, 1947 In the absence of much original blog content (busy, busy week, filled with outside concerns), I thought I'd commend you to…
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"Death and my cock are the world."—Jim Morrison, I think In his review of the inventive enfant-terrible indie Bellflower for The A/V Club, Keith Phipps hits on something crucial about the…
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Survival For about a year I've been saying that people aren't stupid, that there has to be something new about this music, and of course there is—it Americanizes Led Zeppelin with…
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Tokyo, or something like it, in Solaris, Andrei Tarkovsky, 1972 Aside from being a bit of a dick about it on Twitter, because being a bit of a dick about…
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Felicia Farr's character espouses her idol/ideal in Kiss Me, Stupid. Over at her blog, the thoroughly delightful Self-Styled Siren muses on ten movies she should, in theory, adore, but does…
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