"A sinister cabal of superior writers."
Pat Padua bridges high-brow and low-brow to form a distinctive American pan-browism. He hears the voices cry out from the Western Canon to Justin Timberlake, and, with an arsenal of optical tools ranging from disposable message cameras to the sharpest Hassy glass, he coaxes out the voices with a visual acuity akin to shamanism. "A talented, if quirky, photographer," in the words of the Washington Post, Padua has exhibited his photographs in San Francisco and Baltimore, as well as in his home town of Washington DC. His astute criticism of music and cinema has appeared in the All Music Guide and Cinescene.com.
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Wide-ranging and generic, Tillmans is too cool for school, and takes the fun out of boring photos.
The first of a projected six EPs from the pop rocker, its music is not as inspired as its salesmanship.
An inconsistently entertaining set of Japanese horror movies that is more interesting as a cultural snapshot than as B-movie heaven.
I have seen a lot of bad Bigfoot movies, and this is one of the worst.
Lesser Rankin/Bas holiday specials, only one of which deserves the name.
There's a reason you've never heard of these three holiday specials.
A mirror of the times that suggests that struggles of love and philosophy never change.
A melancholy return to form for the former Everything but the Girl singer-songwriter.
Standout performances by Robert Ryan and Mel Ferrer can't rescue this curiously tepid melodrama.
A lousy rock and roll movie, but production values and camp value make it worth a look.
