This Friday, just like the first weekend of every May since 2007, a new movie based on a Marvel comic book will open in thousands of theaters across the country, will make all the money, and will serve as the official starter pistol for summer movie season. And for many a seasoned moviegoer, that’s a cue for despair; after all, summer has become synonymous with big, bloated, stupid blockbusters of the Transformers school. And make no mistake, there’s plenty of those on the runway this season (how ya doin’, Terminator Genisys, it’s pretty funny that you’re actually going with that spelling). But don’t go into cinematic hibernation just yet; there’s also a steady stream of first-rate indie-flick counterprogramming on the runway, and some of the big movies actually sound pretty good. So, as a public service to you, the discerning moviegoer, we’ve assembled a month-by-month look at what might actually be worth your time and …Read More
In the first non-stand-up scene of the fifth season of Louie, our hero Louis C.K. is opening up to his therapist. “I’m not that good anymore about navigating between the good and the bad times,” he tells him. “I just don’t know how to live a life anymore.” And as he goes on, explaining what is clearly an oncoming depression, he realizes that the therapist is nodding off. It’s a moment of realization for him: “I’m a boring asshole now!” he exclaims, and leaves. It’s a funny little scene — the kind of neurotic psychiatry-based humor that Woody Allen birthed a career from — but it’s also, in pretty clear terms, an acknowledgment of the criticisms of the show’s previous season.
Mariel Hemingway’s Disturbing Woody Allen Story Highlights the Importance of Bystanders in Rape Culture
There’s a scene towards the end of the 2009 film An Education in which Carey Mulligan’s heroine — who has dropped out of school to marry an older man who turns out to be an already-married fraud — talks with her parents. She’s remonstrating them for encouraging her in every step of the relationship, for being as floored as she was by her suitor. “Silly schoolgirls are always getting seduced by glamorous older men,” she says. “What about you two?” In other words: How could you let me do this?
On the day before Josh Tillman’s 2013 wedding in Big Sur, the 33-year-old folk-rock troubadour — aka Father John Misty — took his bride, Emma, for a long hike before they climbed into an oak tree overlooking the Pacific. Years earlier — long before he’d met Emma in a store parking lot in Laurel Canyon and they’d traveled the world side by side — Tillman had tripped hard after meeting a shaman and ended up, naked, hallucinating in this same tree.
It’s been easy for me to say “let’s listen to Dylan Farrow and Bill Cosby’s accusers without discounting these men’s previous important body of work” up until now, since neither of them has made anything critically acclaimed in the few years since Blue Jasmine.
Frankly, I’ve been relieved every time Woody Allen’s new play or film has been declared forgettable at best, because it gets me off the hook. Bad reviews mean I don’t have to choose between my appetite for art and my feminist ideology. I had the same reaction to the cancellation of Cosby’s upcoming show.