“But Fight Club was never a fairytale. It’s a painful howl into a night that probably isn’t listening and that is more a cry of pain than a drive to hurt. When a bunch of confused, angry, and sad men bond together, first to fight one another, then to indiscriminately terrorize an entire city, we are meant to feel uncomfortable. We are also meant to feel uncomfortable by the fact that, for a little while, Tyler Durden’s diatribes did seem interesting and seductive.”
“Since 2006, as the surgeries (salivary, thyroid cancer) have robbed from Roger (speech, voice, food), I’ve found him hard to view. I hated my weakness. Today, I don’t blink. Gauze scarfs what remains of his chin, jaw, throat—anatomy so essential it’s hard to make a face without it Childhood flashback: an industrious boy flinging newspapers. On screen, I see University of Illinois for the first time. I never visited a college. I never partied in a dorm; rarely did I party.”
The Rumpus Review of Life Itself by Joanna Novak!
“Mood Indigo is like watching the death of imagination through the colorful lens of a fast-paced, surreal love story.”
The Rumpus Review of Mood Indigo by N. David Pastor
“Spoiler alert: nothing really happens, and as a viewer conditioned by the tropes of Hollywood pomp, it felt like the coming-of-age conversion never truly came. Episodic progressions bleed from one to the next, and music seems to be used mostly to indicate how time and culture have progressed. Early Coldplay (“Yellow”), Britney Spears (“Oops! I Did It Again”), Gnarls Barkley (“Crazy”), Soulja Boy (“Crank That”), and Gotye (“Somebody That I Used to Know”) all make the cut.”
The Rumpus Review Of Boyhood by Kenny Ng.
“The “Lady Neurotic,” as I affectionately dub her, is having a major moment in pop culture, and many people have a hard time conceptualizing any twenty-something female character that isn’t on the brink of falling apart. We see this character throughout Lena Dunham’s Girls, where a slew of narcissistic young women guzzle too much alcohol and make a living telling self-deprecating jokes about their lady parts and lady feelings. We see her on The New Girl, where the simultaneously loved and reviled Zooey Deschanel cries her way into a new apartment. We see her in the film Bridesmaids, where Kristen Wiig’s character Annie has lackluster sex with a boyfriend who treats her like dirt.”
The Rumpus Review of Obvious Child by Arielle Bernstein.


“The editing is purposefully choppy and usually serves its purpose in making a pretty film look more raw and less burnished. At times, though, especially during the soccer scenes, navigating the conversations of various groups of characters leads to their placement in the physical space coming across as unintentionally stagey. “Let’s get out of here,” in at least two scenes seems to be addressed to the editor rather than the characters.”
The Rumpus Review of Palo Alto by Joe Sacksteder.
“The film does not ask you to suspend disbelief but to believe—as Jep does, as a child would—without skepticism, ironic distance, or fear. Sorrentino’s disconcerting cuts and slippery narrative give the whole film a dreamlike composition; the rules of his world differ from that of ours. Thus stripped from the context of reality, the incredible turns credible. You, too, begin to believe in the waves Jep sees breaking across his ceiling, in the magic of a disappearing giraffe, in a 104-year-old saint and the flamingos that flock around her.”

The Last Movie I Loved: The Great Beauty by Emma Winsor Wood.

A great essay about a great movie.

But I have to admit: I was also worried when I first heard about Spring Breakers. In March 2012 I wrote about my worries of Korine working for the first time within the Hollywood system, in an essay titled, ”Flavor Flav is a Classically Trained Pianist, Tom Petty has a Dirty Fish Tank, and Selena Gomez is Starring in Harmony Korine’s New Flick.” However, in spite of my worries, I concluded that essay by expressing my faith that Korine—an avant-garde Frankenstein of a filmmaker known for creating beautifully grotesque monsters such as Gummo (1997), Julian Donkey-Boy (1999), and Trash Humpers (2009)—would melt his Spring Breakers cast of wholesome Disney toys down and then re-form (or maybe reform?) them into decadent sex toys so that America’s youth could witness the dark perversions of this country’s psyche. But that’s not what happened. The dark perversions that America’s youth witnessed in Spring Breakers didn’t belong to this country’s psyche…they belonged to their own.
Spring Break Is Over, Bitches by Christopher Forsley
“There is something sexy about the type of languid decay we see throughout Only Lovers Left Alive, the latest Jim Jarmusch film that is more about intimacy than vampires. Vampires have always been the sexiest of demon creatures, precisely because the bonds that connect them trigger every fear we have of connecting with another person—of bodily fluids and contamination, of physical bonding, of either perishing or being irreparably transformed.”