Twin Peaks Season 3: David Lynch Is Not Your Bitch
Twin Peaks is back, and it’s exactly as unlike it used to be as it ever was.
Twin Peaks is back, and it’s exactly as unlike it used to be as it ever was.
Cruise futilely through Netflix listings no more! Waste no more evenings watching films that deliver naught but aggravation and maybe an exploding school bus. Visit our newly rejiggered I Like to Watch list and be wise beyond your years.
In the future, all scientists will be stupid.
We’ve waited twenty-five years, Lynch, just like you asked us to. What’s next?
Can a character absent from his own life carry a movie?
In which the Disney Corporation destroys yet another cherished childhood memory.
In which we take a look at Nacho Vigalondo’s latest, and lament about half of it.
No single acceptable filmmaking decision led us here. The vast tower of bad choices became something else: a history, a promise.
They are—these characters and these films—an incantation designed to bring about the age of stupid.
It’s the My Dinner With Andre of movie gunfights.
Forget Zapruder and the rest; here is the real mystery of one of last century’s apex political events.
Next up: Lucas adds his famous, unfilmed Ron Howard alien abduction scene into American Graffiti. All original negatives will be burned.
If you like Logan, it’s because Wolverine finally gets to kill a lot of people.
Disasters or unique works of outsider art? Your guess is as good as mine.