I am aware that the demented, racist President said even more demented, racist things last night, and that he wants to make banks freeze accounts of people who can't show their papers. I am aware that Pete Hegseth wants unrestrained AI to drop nuclear bombs on anyone, anywhere,
I remember almost nothing except for isolated moments of a Vincente Minnelli film called The Cobweb about the battle over the design of some draperies in a psychiatric hospital, and a 2am Tupperware promotional short from 1965 featuring Anita Bryant before she lost her mind with hate for gays. (Fun
My mother did not want any arthouse shit. "La Belle Noiseuse," I said. "It's French." "Subtitles? Ehhhhhhh." "It's also four hours." "No." This was the early 90s, by the way. And this was not a simple
Paul told Margy, who told me and Alonso. When she said what it was, we said, "We will try this and probably like it." I had never heard of it, which is weird because if it's processed and against the law in Europe, I've
It begins with a very horny public execution. Don't remember that from the book? It's fine, that's why Emerald Fennell's film adaptation of Emily Brontë's novel Wuthering Heights is called "Wuthering Heights." Swaddled in quotation marks, it does
2006, I worked for a website that was owned by Disney, later by NBC/Universal, someone else in the middle of all that, I forget who. It started out fine and by the time I quit it was no longer fine. (I know, hilarious, that anyone would quit a journalism
There are spoilers ahead. Stop reading if that sort of thing matters to you. The Moment, a punchy, successful, anxiety-fantasy starring Charli XCX, features a thematically relevant amount of cocaine use. Ms. XCX references the drug in song lyrics, of course, with a casual approach that reminds me of
The waffle is not about anything. It's just a picture I took of a waffle I made. It was very good. I had no other photos that would sum up my scattered thoughts. According to the nurse at Kaiser this morning, my blood pressure is slightly better than
You wake up every morning to more horrific news. You think, "How do I write about culture when all this shit is happening?" Then you watch the trailer for Brett Ratner's new documentary, Melania. And by "you," of course, I don't mean
I opened my email this morning to a message from a tea company I've ordered from before. They wanted to remind me to buy some more matcha. I appreciate these little reminders. I am indeed about to run out of matcha, after all. The title of this post
"Tell Dave White the next time he makes you dinner: 'Make me the Ina Garten roast chicken, you bow-legged bitch.'" Love it when my friends talk about me. The directive came from a friend in New York, instructing local friend and neighbor Gary Cotti as
Former employers used to pay me to make year-end film lists. I disliked it. I enjoy reading other critics' year-end lists. I just don't want to make my own. It's a lot of needless pressure and people end up internet-yelling at you.