Review
If you’re the kind of person who coveted every word and wild-man gesture of inebriated Hunter S. Thompson, The Beach Bum could be your movie.
“ignorance about those who have disappeared/ undermines the reality of the world.” — Zbigniew Herbert
This consistently interesting novel adds an unforgettable dimension to an historical event about which we thought we knew all there was to know.
My mind is busy considering the presence of two distinctly engrossing thrillers of sex and violence set within the adult film industry, one a vividly romantic neo-giallo fairy tale, the other a discomfiting, tragicomic spiral into murder and depravity.
What elevates these ordinary lives is director Kent Jones’s elegiac distance; the narrative has the feel of a memory piece.
These satanists are far less concerned with organizing decadent ceremonies (though there is a fair bit of that, and it’s thrilling to behold) than they are with exposing corruption and hypocrisy.
Shrill picks up narrative strength once we see Annie slowly come to terms with the yawning gap between who she is and who she has been told to be by her family, her friends, and society at large.
This album does an excellent job of recapturing some of the glory of the original Miles Davis recordings.
The new Broadway revival of Kiss Me, Kate removes much of the objectionable material — and a lot of the fun
Not Medea is a stirring character portrait, a detailed examination of the ruthless demands society makes — and has always made — on women.
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