handcrafted by maryann johanson (human) | 100% free of AIs and algorithms
tl;dr: Finally able to step back from my year of hell and take a deep breath, all I see is pandemic denial, the world on fire, and fascists getting bolder and bolder. I feel so hopeless, and so helpless.
The pandemic will be twitterized…
I have little energy and almost no focus. I’m not sure how much, if anything, I’m going to be able to offer you in the next days and weeks — hopefully not weeks!
A “critique” of misogyny that is outright misogynist, even before it goes down a gorefest rabbit hole of infuriating contempt for women. What the hell is going on with this would-be-mythic mishmash?
What are you looking for in film criticism now… and are you finding it? Do critics still matter, and if so, in what ways?
This should be salacious! We should revel in the seething jealousy and simmering resentments! But there’s not much suspense or engagement in waiting for someone to die, nor in finding out whodunnit.
Absolutely hilarious Icelandic sendup of action buddy cop movies. Knowing, sneaky, and deliciously deadpan, upending toxic masculinity and elevating the usual subtext of the genre to the overt text.
In the era of COVID and Brexit, much of this overstuffed adventure feels redundant, farcical, inconsequential, and desperate. But Ana de Armas and Lashana Lynch show us the way to a future for 007.
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