Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid frustrates me like family.
PositionStaff Writer
JoinedOctober 9, 2019
Articles13
Frank Falisi is a writer and actor from Freehold, New Jersey. He wrote for Tiny Mix Tapes and is currently working on an MFA in creative writing at Florida Atlantic University. He loves his dog very much.
I am thinking of films as haunted houses. I am thinking of Orson Welles’ The Magnificent Ambersons.
Are you humming the four bars of choonka-CHOONKAs that form the first measures of “Get Back” right now? It’s always in the air. It’s always waiting to be remembered.
When I recommend Hubie Halloween to you rabidly and over-zealously, when I hum with the sweet shocked shout of an Almond Joy with two almonds, what I mean is: at our most puerile and sensitive and fearful we are just as deserving of care as anybody else. Will you remember that?
The History of the Seattle Mariners is the first cultural object I’ve encountered that painstakingly constructs a specific, relatable history—that of a single baseball team—only to use that construct to then gesture towards the futility of completion and the locks storytelling puts on our collective subconscious.
The most erotic scene I’ve ever witnessed in a television show takes place in the Reptile House of the Bronx Zoo.
The principal Homeric venture of Blue Water, White Death is that there is still worth in seeing the unseen things in the world. There is still worth in testifying to the idiot spirit of human inquiry.
Bugs and Daffy aren’t all that opposite; Bugs and Daffy just want to be bodies. When collided, they have tremendous chemistry: one unflappable and unflappably committed to mischief, the other subject to seismic outcry at the first whiff of mischief, equally committed to dishing it back in full.
To be bold, to dare to be stupid: this single frame in The Great Dictator is the most essential frame occurring in Charles Chaplin’s filmography. It is the most elegant and achy navigation out of comedy, straight through tragedy, and into something like the human struggle ever captured by camera.
Gore Verbinski’s Pirates of the Caribbean trilogy is a startling experience in how incomprehension, grief, and love can reshape the world.
“Deep listening” to Malick is valuable, but only so much in that it reminds us that artists are just humans doing their best to be in the world with other humans.
Hot Rod is an activist text. It is not escapist; its weirdness calls attention to the flaws of our world instead of distracting from them.
