The Incomer is about being isolated for so long that you forget how to want things.
This relentlessly cruel rejiggering makes every Evil Dead film before seem like Sunday school.
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Poignantly, McElwee wrestles with the perils of personal documentary filmmaking.
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Barrio Triste relies on a mood of disaffected melancholy, if without a clear direction.
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There’s a warmth to the film that cuts through its disillusion with the industry that created it.
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The Leeds junglist tells a story in the wrong order, in the right way.
The album sees the singer-songwriter moving in a different direction.
The album doesn’t see the rapper experimenting with his skull-rattling sound very much.
McElwee discusses, among other things, his new film and staring down the loss of his son.
These films are generous reminders that cinema isn’t always about diagnosing global problems.
The show has trouble leaning into kick-ass naughtiness for more than a few minutes at a time.
The show is at its best when it examines the questions that Susanna Kaysen did in her memoir.
The common refrain this season has been one of despair, of theatrical death by dearth.