Even as it carefully and thoughtfully breaks down celebrity idolatry, Todd Haynes' Velvet Goldmine never underestimates the power or seductive appeal of being a fan.
When I was about nine years old, my grandparents came to watch my siblings and I for a long weekend...
Side A If you saw James Gunn’s Guardians of the Galaxy last year—and, judging by the numbers, you probably did—what do...
Every Christmas Eve, my family gathers at my aunt’s house. As is customary in Portugal, we eat bacalhau, or codfish,...
Biopics annoy me, especially ones about musicians. Even those that are largely lauded, like Control (2007), tend to cover too much...
“Music melts all the separate parts of our bodies together.” — Anaïs Nin few weeks ago, my wife and I...
Whether you like it or not, Moulin Rouge! is a huge Bohemian undertaking; it’s a sloppy, over-the-top, fantastical mess of a film with a daring soundtrack.
David Lynch uses diegetic music in unsettling, absurd ways, amplifying horror by usurping it.
Robert Altman's Nashville is a musical as well as a disaster movie.
My father cries at parades. Especially at the small town variety in which scouts march behind banners made of top sheets and a junior high school band goes by in a clatter of excessive snare drums. At these events there is usually a moment, at least once, when you can catch him wiping away a few tears, grinning.
“The best show in town was the crowd outside the Casa Rosada crying ‘Eva Peron!’” Film rhythm is something one...
We are punks! I am punk rock! I am mad at you about how that boy in the dog collar likes...