I am by no means a reviewer, but I have experienced betrayal. My 26-year marriage ended with it, with subsequent lies and deceits still surfacing layers of betrayal. I am interested in exploring the topic and want to know if art imitates life, and more importantly, if it can make sense of it.
When it came time to find just the right voice for Papa Smurf, Raja Gosnell and Jordan Kerner were admittedly feeling a little blue. Why for? Because the casting department at Sony Pictures Animation kept coming up short.
Most real men aren't heroic global fugitives, any more than are most women. So why do they get the fantasy, and we not? Maybe if more women wrote and directed movies we'd have more interesting women doing more interesting things onscreen.
Something Mike Nichols chose to do when directing the final moments of Harold Pinter's Betrayal annoyed me so I had to remind myself that up until then, the revered director had brought unusual insight and vitality to the nine-scene intermissionless play.
I'd like to say that the central action of this play is the adultery between Emma and Jerry, but it really isn't. Pinter is hard on actors: It's dangerous to try to play him with passion, or at least any passions other than fear, or cruelty. The affair between Emma and Jerry is more depressing than sympathetic or titillating.
British movie star Daniel Craig is accustomed to difficult situations. He plays James Bond, the suave and shrewd British spy who manages to escape from one impossible scenario after another.
You've clocked two months of solid work since Christmas break and it's time for another escape.
"SHE'S a bang bang boogie!" said Jamie Foxx, the dynamite star of Django Unchained, of the one and only Beyonce. We'd already written our accolade to...
Nancy Wake, the former WWII spy called "The White Mouse" by the Germans for her ability to evade capture, died last year at 98. She received so many medals for service, "she lived out her old age on the proceeds from their sale." If only this were true of other women spies of WWII.
As a successful photographer and music video director for several decades, Matthew Rolston has worked with the nation's top -- and most attractive -- entertainers
It could be argued that one cannot be a true English gentleman without a stiff upper lip and a suit from Savile Row. Built between 1731 and 1735 this ...
What's bugging our still handsome hunk is pure and simple middle-aged angst about losing his edge. Chalk up one more boomer whose investment is yielding diminishing returns. The man is slipping.
We now live in a changing world, one where a pudgy Korean guy can be an American and global phenomenon and James Bond isn't just the coolest man in the world, he's also one of the hottest.
If Casino Royale outed Bond's omnisexual tartiness, Skyfall outs the queerness of the Bond villain, someone who was often implicitly coded as queer. After all those decades of coding, Bardem's openly flirtatious, swishy villainy seems exhilirating.
The overwhelming stench of nostalgia, regret, decay and desuetude in Skyfall -- perfectly symbolized by that grim Scottish manse -- made me wonder if this was supposed to be a eulogy. I hadn't come to bury Bond, but to cheer him on.
Necessity is the mother of invention and smaller budgets almost always beget more interesting films. For MGM and its fortunes going forward, Skyfall is the comeback it needed, the ultimate symbol of its recovery. Resurrection