Some people drink beer. Other people don’t. Lots of people drink coffee. Pivot to coffee.
10 years after release, the source of “Inglourious Basterds'” enduring relevance isn’t Nazis; it’s Quentin Tarantino’s abiding love of the movies.
The odd case where I feel like I am, by own disappointment, disappointing the people whose art I’m critiquing.
I nearly wrote my fingers to death typing the title of this movie for this article, so I damn well expect your clicks in exchange for my writerly suffering.
What do you do when the tide creeps in and washes away your sand castle? Make another one. Then make an album with your sibling about growing up on the Isle of Man.
Instead of gazing at one’s shoes, one should gaze at their personal past. That’s a way better source of songwriting inspiration.
Lying about your grandma’s mortality seems like a bad idea, except when the bad idea ends up forming the basis of a really good movie.
A movie about the most vengeful bird of all! Also, genocide and sexual violence.