The Nation's film critic Stuart Klawans is author of the books Film Follies: The Cinema Out of Order (a finalist for the 1999 National Book Critics Circle Awards) and Left in the Dark: Film Reviews and Essays, 1988-2001. His film criticism and reviews for The Nation won the 2007 National Magazine Award. When not on deadline for The Nation, he contributes articles to the New York Times and other publications.
As celluloid guinea pig for the American left, I am perfectly willing to
report on the effects of exposure to this month's pop hit, Sin
The scene is Shanghai, or Busby Berkeley's dream of it: a Chinese city
of the 1930s, teeming on the outskirts with rickety tenement compounds,
bustling in its business district with clanging st
Like a melodrama or a political tract--genres it sometimes resembles, in an honorable way--Jonathan Nossiter's documentary Mondovino has a villain you can hiss at.
What might it mean to call a film indispensable? Perhaps not much. At base level, we'd merely be asserting that other films (maybe the vast majority) are candidates for the garbage heap.
About two-thirds of the speaking characters in Constantine are either demons or angels.
I've heard Argentines say that Buenos Aires is more densely populated by psychoanalysts than anyplace else in the world.
Half a century has passed since Manny Farber wrote in these pages about underground films, by which he meant the urban crime movies watched by male loiterers near the Greyhound station, in theate
The Chilean coup of 1973 was carried out with a Lone Ranger comic book, a bicycle and several cans of condensed milk.
Martin Scorsese's The Aviator overlays three legends, all of them made of celluloid.
Michelangelo and Ulysses came home from the war with knapsacks bulging, bearing the reward for hardships suffered and inflicted. "We promised you the world," the soldiers boasted to their wives.