Feeding and clothing your children are not nearly as important as driving them all over town every day.
I've got nothing against sports films that exult in good sportsmanship and the triumph of the underdog. But I'm more inclined towards films like The Damned United that scrape past the noble veneer of sports.
The Saw franchise may be more efficient in logging a body count, but The House of the Devil is the kind of film that reminds you how cool it is to settle back and just let the dread soak in.
The Golden Globes are always unpredictable and entertaining. The show will likely continue the trend next Sunday, when Ricky Gervais hosts. First prediction: he'll kill. Now here's the rest.
Director Florent-Emilio Sari definitely has a knack for playing the audience. He makes the most of his Moroccan locations, finding an eerie beauty in the barren landscape.
A TV writer tries his hand at a feature film. His friend reads the script, thinks it's an ungodly mess of muddled symbolism and Freud 101 anxieties. "Be honest," the writer says.
What's wrong in paradise this week? Riley hasn't changed her Facebook status to "engaged" and Jonah is devastated. Time for another misunderstanding that will irrationally culminate in a huge fight.
Michael Almereyda is no stranger to toying with film form. His latest documentary, the deceptively free-form Paradise, is an affecting -- dare I say, paradisiacal -- experience.
Seasons can't go on forever, and "Beyond Here Lies' Nothin'" sends True Blood out in style.
I can forgive my favorite shows when they have a bad episode or two. And I'll definitely have to forgive True Blood for this week's installment, "Frenzy." It's pretty much a disaster.
Could it just be coincidence? Could it just be that, by some random alignment of the planets, we have two films about the conflict in Northern Ireland opening on the same weekend?
What can I say? I wasn't feeling it tonight. "I Will Rise Up" has a few Sucker Punches, but it mostly functions as a placeholder.
Recall that the Reverend Wright debacle necessitated a solution that only Obama could create. It is the same thing now.
Iximng ti pu. See what I did there? I took the phrase "mixing it up," and I mixed it up. That's because True Blood episode 2.8, "Timebomb," mixes up the meaning of two central metaphors. (I know, right? I'm so clever!)
Cultural overlays about gender and hetero and homo couplings do some funky stuff to people and block their ability to have perfectly healthy, joyful and whole partnerships.
Are you serious, True Blood? Are you really going to spring Godric on me in the last moment of Episode 7 ("Release Me") and then cut to the credits? D
There are so many sucker-punchy scenes in this installment that I could get carpal tunnel syndrome writing about them all.
A conversation with director Max Mayer on his debut movie Adam.
Almost all the characters are weakened in some way, which creates a queasily exciting energy: We can sense a bomb's about to drop, but we can't quite tell where it's going to fall.
Los Bastardos is a spare and brutal survey of the suburban wasteland.
Welcome to Sucker Punch, the only blog post that ranks the gaudiest moments on this week's episode of True Blood.
And now back to the important question: When does "Keep This Party Going" go the furthest over the top?
The series, created by Six Feet Under and American Beauty's Alan Ball, pulses with such reckless, lusty energy that I cannot wait for each new episode.
Odd News and a new play: watch the preparatory video for Strauss at Midnight by Jeff Dorchen.
The critical consensus is as strong as I've ever seen at Cannes: the best film of the Festival is Une Prophete. Mind you, that doesn't mean the jury will pick it.
