
London photo: shill de France
Spectactors waiting along the race route are a captive audience to sell crap to. (No one was biting near me, though.)

Spectactors waiting along the race route are a captive audience to sell crap to. (No one was biting near me, though.)

An audacious coming-of-age tale unique in the history of cinema; deeply moving and beautifully authentic.

I bet that guy’s view of the Tour de France is incredible.

Hauntingly grim, full of appalling ironies and awful truths. This is most definitely not the feel-good movie of the summer.

No bikes allowed!

A riveting BBC political thriller offering one of the most trenchant explorations yet of the sick symbiosis between big government and big business.

I, for one, welcome our adorable tiny cartoon rabbit overlords.

Arthouse martial-arts action that’s incredibly dull even when it’s being pornographic about its extreme bloody violence.

A meditative contemplation of the boredom of overprivileged, under-aspiring, shallow, spoiled kids. As you’ve been dying to see.

I waited for two hours this afternoon — sometimes in the rain — and this was what it looked like when the cyclists finally zipped by.