more by M. Faust
David Cronenberg is not the worst model for a filmmaker looking to make a mark on a limited budget: Cronenberg’s own early features used their limitations to amplify a sense of nameless dread in the midst of seemingly ordinary situations.
It’s fair to say that many, maybe even most filmgoers who are looking forward to The Irishman, Martin Scorsese’s epic return to the gangster genre, have one question in mind: will it be another GoodFellas?
In devising Anya, a contemporary drama about a couple who encounter an unsuspected genetic wall when they try to have a child, filmmakers Jacob Akira Okada and Carylanna Taylor were concerned that the scientific aspects of the story be presented as accurately as possible.
Buffalonian William Kemmler was an illiterate drunkard who made a living selling vegetables from a cart in the 1880s.
It’s no secret that the cult of Judy Garland fans were drawn to her suffering as much as to her abilities as a performer.
In an era when the political scene brings new outrages with the regularity of a ticking clock, it’s worth remembering—or, if you’re young enough, learning—that this behavior isn’t exactly new. There’s just so much more of it, conducted with shameless brazenness.
The market for books and movies about the Mafia has never much diminished, but it got a shot in the arm in 2006 with the publication of Gomorrah, Roberto Saviano’s expose of the Camorra, Naples’ answer to the Mafia.
What it is, it’s the return of the Ludovico Technique.