I wrote about Bojack Horseman’s new season (and the whole of the show really) for a recent piece on The Verge. I discuss something that has fascinated me about the show for a long time now: how it reflects on its own impact and the morals of storytelling.
Reviewed for the Digital Fix
Directorial debuts often provide clues as to what that artist has to offer in their future movies, but it’s rare to find debuts as captivating as The Last Black Man in San Francisco. Joe Talbot’s first feature film establishes a strong visual style for the director from the get-go, as he crafts a San Francisco that feels real and bustling with life.
As the next entry in my (admittedly sporadic) series for Film Inquiry, Mental Illness In The Movies, I discussed The End of Evangelion and its depiction of depression.
Be warned: there are hell of a lot of spoilers if you haven’t had the opportunity to watch the show or the movie yet.
I wrote about the Nigerian student with a physique like a “Giacometti sculpture” who suited up to play the iconic creature for Little White Lies, explaining just why he was a perfect fit for H.R. Giger’s monster.
It’s hard to imagine, but seven years ago Marvel Studios’ cinematic universe was far from a sure bet. Iron Man was a gamble, but hoping that characters connected to the outlandish concepts of Thor or the flag-wearing Captain America was one step further into the unknown. Connecting all these stories in one blockbuster, The Avengers, seemed like a gargantuan and foolhardy task, even with the ensemble-wrangling Joss Whedon at the helm.
Not only did it pull it off in a satisfying way, breaking box office records and emboldening the studio to extend their experiment into a dozen more productions, but it managed to pull off the impossible and give each character a reason to be involved. Part of this comes from the intuitive decision to centre a movie of disparate franchises coming together about disparate people struggling to come together. But not everything survived intact.