Watching The Comeback in 2024, ten years after the conclusion of its second and final season, the overtly misogynistic cruelty of this set-up still achieves an infuriating, resonant tenor.
PositionFrequent Contributor
JoinedJuly 2, 2020
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Catherine Ellsberg is a writer and teacher based in Paris.
At its heart, The Truffle Hunters is a profound, poetic reflection on man’s friendship with animals, the evils of corruption and capitalism (which they would argue are inseparable), and our tenuous place on a warming planet.
Brazen and radical, Romy and Michele’s High School Reunion offers not only a beautiful story of friendship, but also forces each of us to journey back to those hallowed grounds of high school, and to reexamine the years since.
My Best Friend’s Wedding takes an archetype and strays, all while revving up our expectations. It’s enough to make us wonder what film universe we’ve stepped into: is this even a romantic comedy, or have we wandered into a Greek tragedy?
We can’t help but look and listen. Yet what if it were not a burden, but even a call for self-reflection and an incitement to change?
The Remains of the Day is a prolonged and aching rumination on what could have been—what might have been—at another time, or at least in another Britain. If you can name another film that personifies so astutely those feelings of regret and melancholy, guilt and repentance, I’ll eat my top hat.
After 15+ years of nearly daily screenings of Curb Your Enthusiasm, I can safely say that I know the on-screen Larry David better than I know myself.
There is much to say about Chariots of Fire—much about class and social order, about overcoming both religious prejudice and Anglo-Saxon snobbery, about stuffy British parlors and antiquated politics—but much of this, much of one’s experience of the film, is dominated by its music.
I have watched The Memory of Justice dozens of times, devoting countless hours to taking notes and rewinding key moments and sleeping and dreaming and eating and waking, all while inundated—saturated, really—by my own memories of justice.