You may never taking the family on a ski trip again after watching Swedish director Ruben Östlund’s icily satiric study of a family’s breakdown after a near-disastrous avalanche.
Without its many steamy lesbian sex interludes tarting up what could otherwise be classified as a routine narrative, would “Blue is the Warmest Color” have garnered so many rave reviews and prizes?
Cocaine’s bleak and brilliant satire, lush and intoxicating prose, and sadistic playfulness remain as fresh and caustic as they were nine decades ago.
It may be only a movie, but in his book “Film after Film,” former Village Voice writer J. Hoberman proves he isn’t just a movie critic.
Despite “Middle C”’s relative cheeriness, the novel passes a tough sentence on the human race, so uncompromising that its protagonist has a hard time writing it down.