I Guess I'll Write About Movies Now

I miss Johnny Carson. I miss the freewheeling, booze-soaked, and nicotine-stained party he created. As a kid, watching him late at night felt so transgressive, like I was getting a glimpse into an adult world I wasn't supposed to see. Late Night with the Devil  takes that idea and runs absolutely wild with it. From writer/director duo Cameron Cairnes and Colin Cairnes, Late Night with the Devil  has more story frames than Roshomon  and winds up being just as unreliable in its take on the truth. The conceit is that we're watching a documentary about a Satanic cult from the 1970s, and part of that documentary is a long-lost late night TV broadcast from a Halloween episode that included a demonic possession, and part of that  TV show footage is realtime behind-the-scenes footage of the studio during commercial breaks. The broadcast/BTS footage drops us into the frenetic and exciting world of live television in a very real and grounded way (once you get past the idea tha...

In 1997, Liar, Liar  showed us just how much of human existence is predicated on our ability to avoid the truth. Lies help us spare the feelings of loved ones and strangers. They give us hope. They keep us from getting fired every time we open our mouths within earshot of a manager. Lies give us comfort. But, at the same time, when we start to buy into those lies—getting high on our own supply, as it were—then those very same lies cripple us. When we meet Thelonious "Monk" Ellison at the beginning of American Fiction , he is crippled by fiction. He's an author and educator who has woven a story about who he is, how he fits into the world, and what he wants out of it, and by the end of the first scene, we see that it's falling down—hilariously—around his head. Monk isn't alone, of course. His entire familial existence is built on fictions they've been willing to tell each other and to believe, to varying degrees, for decades. Watching the film deconstruct these...

The "Demon Core" was a small sphere of plutonium. It wasn't much to look at, just a round, smooth lump of metal. But when handled improperly, it became lethal, killing two men in two separate incidents during the Manhattan Project. It's funny how such a seemingly anodyne thing can harbor such danger and power. I found Oppenheimer , much like the Demon Core, to be surprisingly powerful, and I am grateful that I was able to see it on the big screen. I will admit to a certain indifference toward Christopher Nolan's films. While they are always a thrilling ride, he has a tendency toward pedantry that makes repeated viewings something of a chore. Once you've seen Inception , for instance, all the scenes of patient explanation of the technology are kind of boring. His films are often built around intricate, thrilling plots within the narrative, and while they provide great tension and dynamism, the holes can become distracting once you re-visit the films. However, O...

I remember the 1990s fondly. We'd just defeated international communism and turned Russia into a thriving democracy, internet tech stocks were going to make us all rich forever, and Mel Gibson wasn't problematic. Is it any wonder that the 90s have been plundered by starry-eyed nostalgia prospectors, eager to find joyful nuggets of pop-culture to take the edge off of modern life? Like Weezer dressing up in 50s sock-hop chic and singing about Buddy Holly with 'The Fonz,' there's always value to be found in the past. Drive-Away Dolls  finds some of that joy, which is not at all surprising considering that it was co-written and co-directed Ethan Co-en. Sorry, that should be "Ethan Coen." That name might be familiar to people who watched movies in the 1990s, as he was responsible for some big flicks of the time, perhaps the most notable and durable being the one-two punch of Fargo  (1996) and The Big Lebowski  (1998). Now, I'll admit that it's unsettlin...

When I was in undergrad, I managed the distance learning technology for a capstone class in Liberal Studies (I think). It struck me that the class was full of adults. And not college adults, but actual  adults with careers and mortgages and informed opinions. They weren't taking this class to fulfill a credit. They were taking it because it mattered . There was something important here, something worth them giving up a semester of Friday nights and Saturday mornings to learn. They spent the entire semester studying the novel  Dune . I'd never read it before. In fact, I don't think I'd yet made it through David Lynch's version in one sitting. I just knew it was one of those doorstop books that nerds think are essential pieces of literature. It is. Despite Herbert's utter lack of restraint when it comes to word count, the original Dune  novel is a masterclass in management dos and don'ts, in exploiting people and events, and the endless value in being able to ...