This year was the prototype of what’s probably the best that can be expected of the Academy Awards.
A flood, you say? More like a flood of ass-kicking.
The Academy Awards grow ever more inconsequential. At least there will be no "we saw your boobs" ditty this year, though.
When you buy a ticket to a movie called Pompeii, expecting art or even brains would be fatuous; what you want is a good time. Sue me for confessing I had one.
Here’s Jimmy Fallon, the first late-night host too young to have worshipped Carson.
Dean Starkman's The Watchdog That Didn't Bark and the failures of the media during the financial crash.
Honestly, who on earth thought George Clooney's The Monuments Men was a good idea for a movie?
Do America’s current challenges in the Middle East trace back to Harry Truman’s 1948 missteps?
"Mitt" reminds us that seeing a candidate's "true" self is impossible, no matter who he is.
How Stevie Wonder and Coretta Scott King worked in perfect harmony to beat Jesse Helms and create a national holiday.
It’s a dark place.
Ronan and Mia Farrow took to Twitter to express their outrage after the director was honored at Sunday's Golden Globes, but why hasn't he gotten more grief from the film-world establishment?
Thinking about Otto Preminger's film 50 years later in the context of Pope Francis.
A CIA memoir whose emptiness is something to contemplate
It was imbecilic but gorgeous—just like America.