Taylor and Burton’s physical awareness of each other is palpable, moment by moment. They calibrate their positions and postures to and against each other, playing off what each can anticipate the other will do.
No one thing pushed me over. I’d been on the brink for awhile.
Mike Nichols’ Wit puts death center stage and never pretends otherwise.
Angels in America belongs in a psalter—not because of its spiritual rambling, but because of its poetry.
Throughout Closer, we make eye contact with different characters, through mirrors, through cameras, through watching them watch others.
The Birdcage's script, direction, and performances afford a dignity and completeness to Albert and Armand’s relationship.
What’s so magical about Nichols and May is that they don’t have a straight man or a funny man. They’re both and they’re neither: they’re everything.
Mike Nichols spent a lifetime telling stories, in one form or another.
How can it be fun for you if I don’t want it?
Chris & Elizabeth Cantwell, discuss one of the most legendary films of the 1960s.