This world is black and white and simple. Tumbleweeds languish outside empty gas stations. Trucks rattle down the lonely road. There’s the street with the picture show, the diner, and the pool hall. There’s your car, parked alongside the curb. All empty and open and waiting.
There are a handful of shows I ask everyone if they have seen, but when I ask them if they love Friday Night Lights, what I mean is: Are you my kind of person? Are you all heart?
t a recent gig at a New York ad agency, I sat with a 26-year-old creative producer and a 45-year-old...
The July before my sixth-grade year—that strange ugly void between child and adolescent, discomfort and confidence, no and yes—my family...
Hot, early suburb, still as the wedding cake in the freezer given over to the dogs. A lot of cruelty...
On Frank Capra's Mr. Smith Goes to Washington
“In my room, the world is beyond my understanding; But when I walk I see that it consists of three...
Blue Velvet reminds us that we are almost never ready for the things that end up shaping us the most.
What Richard Linklater captures in Boyhood is not the story of a boy growing up, but boyhood as identity—the edification of one small American dream.