Horror Actressing: Sheila Vand in "A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night"

by Jason Adams

Watching A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night one's immediate thought might be of a shark, of a Jaws fin splitting the surface, as The Girl (Sheila Vand) skateboards down the inky Iranian streets of Bad Town, her chador trailing behind her like a nighttime tidal-wave no one can escape. A bit of Mephisto in Murnau's Faust too, whose sky-wide wings blot out the sun above that small smoky German village, rooftops only ankle-high, cartoonish and akimbo. There's Caligari brushed over this Bad Town -- the smokestacks and power stations, train cars, flat as a painted flap of cardboard. Sin City Expressionism against which our ageless hunter swerves, preys on all manner of beast, man, fat cat alike. 

But there's so much more to The Girl and how Vand brilliantly paints her -- she might be an Instant Icon of Neo-Western Horror but she's also kind of just a girl, standing in front of a boy...

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Almost There: River Phoenix in "My Own Private Idaho"

This article is dedicated to Mark, one of our subscribers (thank you!), who requested a piece on River Phoenix -Editor.

by Cláudio Alves

It's difficult to write, it's difficult to think, about River Phoenix without the tragedy of his premature death casting a dark shadow over all other considerations. His acting is often talked about in terms of wasted potential, another facet of the same mythos that James Dean inhabits in the public consciousness. Sure, his film work is important, but only as far as it adds to the narrative of a flame that burned too bright and died out too soon. That can be a blessing to one's legacy, a promise of cultural immortality. However, it's also a curse that makes a young actor's amazing career into a footnote of a Hollywood tale of doom and gloom. River Phoenix was and is more than the protagonist of a real-life story about dying young. He's a great actor, one whose performances still have the power to amaze and impress, to enlighten and hurt.

This piece is about such a feat of acting, one that takes my breath away every time I gaze upon its magnificence. It's about River Phoenix in Gus van Sant's My Own Private Idaho…

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The New Classics: Bridesmaids

By Michael Cusumano 

 

Scene: Food Poisoning
Okay, let’s talk poop jokes.

If I’m hesitant it’s not because I’m squeamish, but because I’ve found dissecting jokes to see how they work to be one of life’s less rewarding endeavors. On the other hand, I’ve noticed Bridesmaids’ uproarious food poisoning sequence seldom gets the respect it deserves. Often it’s acknowledged with some glib and subtly condescending remark along the lines of, “Ladies can be just as gross as the boys!” and I think that significantly undersells the scene. I mean, If we absolutely must make sweeping generalizations along gender lines, we would have to conclude Bridesmaids proves ladies do gross-out with infinitely more wit and sophistication than the boys... 

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The Tea

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Review: The Old Guard

by Lynn Lee

In my more fanciful moments, I have a pet theory that Charlize Theron is a reincarnated ancient goddess.  I’m not just talking about her statuesque beauty, effortless glamour, or seeming immunity to aging.  No, I mean her superhuman ability to batter, dirty up, strip down and sometimes strip away that beauty in service of a role…only to reemerge in the same state of impossible physical perfection as before, as if nothing had happened.

Who better, then, to play a female warrior who never dies or grows old and whose wounds heal without a trace?  While Theron’s played a lot of certifiable badasses in recent years, she hasn’t often been cast as a bona fide superhero, and the results have been mixed when she has (Aeon Flux is the last that comes to mind, unless you count Hancock).  I’m happy to report she finds a good fit with The Old Guard, Netflix’s latest attempt to make us all forget we ever needed to go to a movie theater...

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