Wendy Lesser

Wendy Lesser is the founding editor of The Threepenny Review and writes regularly on film
for the Prospect. She is the author of The Amateur and several other books of non-fiction.

Recent Articles

In Dreams Begin Responsibilities

Many people will love Mulholland Drive, I am sure; and the fact that my admiration is mingled with profound annoyance perhaps says more about me than about the movie. It is David Lynch's best film since The Elephant Man (which remains, for me, the pinnacle of his achievement). It is better than the goofy Eraserhead and the creepy Blue Velvet, and far, far better than Lynch's terminally confused TV show Twin Peaks. It is so good that it raises unbelievably high expectations, which it then dashes to the ground in a display of bravura narcissism. "What? Me fulfill expectations? Who do you think I am?" it seems to say.

Robots and Actors

Steven Spielberg's A.I. is neither the worst
nor the best movie he has ever made, but it is certainly the strangest. Our
initial tendency is to attribute this to the involvement of Stanley Kubrick, who
collaborated with Spielberg on the project for many years (though when he was
given complete control after Kubrick's death, Spielberg rewrote the entire script
and directed it on his own). But I think the strangeness comes from somewhere
else: specifically, from deep inside Steven Spielberg. A.I. is a much more
disturbing movie than anything this silly has a right to be, and I think that's
because Spielberg has used it--unwittingly, I suspect--to reveal the darkest

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