Even if you could give two shits about X’s pedantry, and the movie’s interplay between form and content, it’s still possible to sit back and enjoy the sheer artistry — nay, majesty! — of its cinematic construction.

“Give the people what they paid for.” 

A steadfast rule of criticism, says prevailing wisdom:

It’s Oscars week! 

All My Friends Hate Me, or: when a title describes a universal fear.

Remember how I wondered if the obviousness of the thematic connection between Encanto and its preceding short film “Far From the Tree” made things too easy on the audience? 

Is Ryan Reynolds THE acteur of his generation?

What do The Matrix Resurrections, Spider-Man: No Way Home, West Side Story, Macbeth, Drive My Car, and the new Scream have in common?

Where were you when the title card dropped?