Imagine the song “Black Myself.” Imagine me, a white guy, singing “Black Myself” with the windows rolled down. Imagine me rolling the windows up because I feel like I don’t deserve to sing “Black Myself.” Anyways, good song.
Nothing to mend a marriage like a vampire bite and a mounting pile of corpses.
Not the kind you eat. In fact I’m still not 100% sure what melons have to do with [redacted] at all.
Weird, it almost feels like we’re reliving the same day over and over again as I talk about this movie over and over again.
He wouldn’t say that “Shriek of the Mutilated” is beautiful, per se, but he loves it anyway.
Hearts Town, like the Shire, sounds like a truly great realm. If only I could live there.
I think Peter Steele said it best when he sang “Everything Dies.”
Appropriately enough, here I am talking about “Palm Springs” again…and again…and again.
It isn’t Juneteenth anymore, but that doesn’t mean you can’t or shouldn’t enjoy this movie, and also enjoy this conversation with its author.
A conversation with one of the great, enigmatic American filmmakers? Shirley you jest.
Rooms tend to be pretty big, after all, so making space for other people doesn’t seem all that hard, does it?
Andy is writing about food now, which makes so much sense that it’s shocking he hasn’t gotten into that market before now.
For the record, “Selah and the Spades” would be a totally awesome name for a rock ‘n roll band.
My second piece about “First Cow.” You could call it: “Second ‘First Cow’ Piece.”
The director of one of the best movies of the year was kind enough to talk to me about making a “timely” movie that’s actually timeless.
Handsome, clever, rich, and also so unpleasant in such fundamental ways that the person portraying her doesn’t even like her.
And now, a moment to acknowledge the uglier side of making music in Nashville when you’re a woman: Sexism. Good thing no one’s having it anymore.
More goodness from Nashville, delivered right into your face!
In which Trey and Andy go for the turkey and talk about Trey’s third movie. Never let it be said that critics don’t have their favorites.
Andy dips his toes into the world of sex work, and also books, the former a subject of new, genuine interest, the latter a constant struggle in time management, which is kinda funny because…Andy is a writer.