Like the way A.L.S. is revealed and examined without buckets of tears in The Theory of Everything, Julianne Moore, in the heartbreaking Still Alice, also follows the arc of a devastating illness without pulling out the stops and torturing you with self-pity.
Some reviews need to be written in silence. Others definitely need the inspiring power of AC/DC, Lita Ford or Cherie Currie to come to fruition.
Another week, another benign rock and roll romance. Always Woodstock is about a pretty career girl in New York, slaving away at a dead-end job with a record company while dreaming of being the next Joni Mitchell.
Not ready to purchase your Thanksgiving Day turkey? Already tired of the Christmas promotions in your local shopping mall?
Broadway in Chicago’s presentation of Amazing Grace, part of the exultant production’s pre-Broadway tour, offers up one of the most interesting spectacles of the fall season.
Even the most decent of souls will, occasionally, judge someone by their appearance or vocabulary or, even harsher, by the color of their skin.
An unrecognizable Michael Keaton seems to have aged 40 years since the last time he appeared on the screen, but he’s still the best (i.e., only) reason to suffer through a miserable load of deranged, deluded crap masquerading as a black comedy called Birdman.
