Culture Snob As someone who has made the “slippery slope” argument on the implications of legalized gay marriage, it was refreshing to see my friend Dahlia pick it apart.
House of Sand and Fog features one shooting, one murder (distinct from the shooting), one suicide, two failed suicide attempts, one hostage situation, an aborted arson, one incident of physical domestic violence, one incident of verbal domestic abuse bordering on physical, and an affair. And the amazing thing is that the portrayals are convincing enough that all this feels only a touch silly.
I don’t expect many people to actually read through this entire list, let alone try to find patterns or analyze it. But it’s an interesting ongoing exercise for me, listening to the collection album by album, song by song, and figuring out which ones I like best.
I don’t expect many people to actually read through this entire list, let alone try to find patterns or analyze it. But it’s an interesting ongoing exercise for me, listening to the collection album by album, song by song, and figuring out which ones I like best.
Nick Clooney hit upon an interesting idea when he was approached about doing a book about film: that movies sometimes should be looked at outside the realm of entertainment.
As proof for my recent assertion about the failing health of Roger Ebert’s weekly film criticism, I offer his review of Super Size Me, which belongs in the food or health section instead of entertainment and can barely be bothered with discussing the movie.
I agree with Roger Ebert’s assessment of Errol Morris’ Gates of Heaven as “bottomless,” with the disclaimer that it’s as much a function of the movie’s open-ended nature as its depth. The filmmaker’s debut has no clearly articulated subject or thesis, and it’s so wide-ranging, with so little guidance from Morris, that its effect and meaning will depend a lot on who watches it and where they are in life. Plus: People I Know and Invincible.
Errol Morris and Werner Herzog sat together in the back of the auditorium, watching Morris’ first movie, Gates of Heaven, with 1,600 other people. Al Pacino joined us by phone, the day before his 64th birthday. American Movie’s lovably clueless protagonists, Mark Borchardt and Mike Schank, were introduced just minutes before Herzog. This was our April 24 immersion in the sixth annual Ebertfest, also known as Roger Ebert’s Overlooked Film Festival.
On paper, Shattered Glass sounds like an earnest bore. It’s the now-familiar story of Stephen Glass, a writer for The New Republic who in the late 1990s made a bunch of shit up in his articles. Oh, the stuff of great cinema! Yet the film is amazingly peppy, smart, and light. It might be the most fun you’ll ever have watching a movie that’s good for you.
I’m not a big fan of the online magazine Salon – it’s so knee-jerk liberal that it’s offensive to thoughtful people, preachy to the choir of loyal leftists, and easily dismissed by conservatives. But today’s edition includes three interesting pieces.
