It’s no secret that I’m not shy about criticizing other critics. In the last few days, however, I’m starting to feel more sympathy than annoyance.
By Maureen
Here’s what I know: I saw Brave on its opening night and enjoyed the hell out of it. My boyfriend and I were in a theater full to the max with a good mix of children and their parents and groups of people both our age (27 and 29, respectively) and teenagers. We had a great time. Everyone was a-buzz leaving the theater, both about the film and about other Disney/Pixar endeavors.
Here’s what I don’t know: why everyone on the Internet suddenly seems to have issues with this adorable film. (more…)
By Paul Casey
When I saw Takashi Miike’s Audition, I did not know that the sub-genre of “torture porn” existed in horror. As such I did not approach it as an exercise in sadomasochism. (It is not, anyway). As I became aware of creators like Eli Roth, and a rather embarrassing discussion on how he had GONE TOO FAR (!!!! etc.), it was clear that there was still a burgeoning market for transgressive horror pictures. The Last House on the Left, I Spit On Your Grave, The Hitcher, the work of Lucio Fulci all caused similar bother upon their release. Some of the above were innovative, exciting examples of the independent creative spirit existent in 1970s American cinema. Others were not.
By Charlie M.
They say you always remember your first.
I certainly do.
I mean (of course) the first adult-rated film a person watches, be it at home, creeping downstairs to the TV, at a friend’s house with a DVD purloined from an older sibling, or even sneaking into a dark cinema when you’re under the age of 18. In my case, it was Bram Stoker’s Dracula, or, as the movie moguls described it, Francis Ford Coppola’s Dracula. Or, as in my underage head, Gary Oldman’s Dracula. Who knows what it is about teenage girls and their erotic fascination with vampires? It’s an equation where even the innuendos have been bled dry (apologies).
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By now, you’ve probably heard about Ridley Scott’s latest sci-fi epic, Prometheus, and possibly even seen it. Hopefully, you have not based your enjoyment of the film on what critics are saying. Although there are several who have embraced Prometheus, flaws and all (Roger Ebert, The Guardian, HuffPo, The New Yorker, Screen Rant, and David Chen from /Film), there seems to be an overwhelming majority who are trashing every aspect of the movie.
By Maureen
Two things most people figure out about me very soon after meeting me are that I love classic rock music and I love musicals. So, naturally, when I started seeing teaser trailers and leaked studio stills from a big-screen adaptation of Rock Of Ages, I was theoretically psyched. Guns ‘N Roses, Poison, Bon Jovi, and more, streaming out of the big screen? Sign me up!
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By J Howell
What follows is a true story.
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By Kai Shuart
OK now, I’m gonna spout off about something very, very near and dear to my heart. Since I was about thirteen, I have loved guitars. I own a few. I play them. I find them sexy. You want to really see me geek out? Get me in a Guitar Center. I’ve been told I drool. Yet, while I have worshiped guitars from a very early age, there has been something I don’t worship: Guitar culture.
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By Lisa Anderson
As fan of comic book movies and of Joss Whedon, this is a great summer for me. I’m thoroughly enjoying all the buzz over The Avengers, which opens in the US at midnight tonight. Every once in a while though, I’ll come across something that I can’t get on board with, even though it’s essentially positive. A recent piece by Bill Gibron at Pop Matters is a good example.
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By Maureen
Everyone has their favorite holiday classics to sing along to while trimming a tree, wrapping gifts, baking cookies, or traveling to be with loved ones. But has anyone ever stopped to think about what’s actually behind most holiday songs?
One in particular has always struck me as incredibly confusing. “Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer” is heard all over the world in many different iterations, but the gist is always the same. This is the least-festive holiday song ever! Someone’s grandmother is killed in a freak accident, and their first question is what to do about her presents?! It’s like the Asshole National Anthem. (more…)