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.
Like a guest at a potlatch, laughing to see his host's worldly goods go up in flames, I roared at The Matrix--roared and at the same time was humbled, knowing Warner Bros.
Like the telephone before it, television has been an instrument for overcoming American loneliness.
My friend Dennis Paoli says there are two kinds of horror movies, and since his screenwriting credits include Re-Animator, I treat his categories with respect.
Monday: Screening of Garry Marshall's The Other Sister, which seems to be about a goldfish.
It's characteristic of Erick Zonca's extraordinary first feature, The Dreamlife of Angels, that we never learn how Isa got that scar across her right eyebrow.
Although the producers of the Academy Awards ceremony like to boast that a billion people watch their broadcast, I take comfort in knowing that another 5 billion do not.
A man locks his daughters in a one-room house for their first twelve years. The girls--twins--don't attend school; they don't play with other kids. They're never even given a bath.
Said the comic gangster in Payback, misquoting an old saw, "Don't shit where you eat. Or, I mean, where you live. That's it.
When a young woman in high school frets about the folks in Mogadishu--when, for that matter, she can spell "Mogadishu"--American moviegoers know she needs a fashion makeover, a boyfriend and an
Nobody asked me to spend my weekend watching movies about alien invasions--so for all I know, I might have been acting on promptings from an otherworldly force.