Those of us who were, and still are, magazine fans remember fondly the glory days of the turn of the century, when magazines were still king (and queen).
When newsstands were plentiful, and there were so many titles to choose from. When being on the cover was a big deal. When articles would drive conversations. When editors had celebrity status. When budgets were loose, and the parties were big, must-attend, publicity-garnering events. When certain issues (ahem, September) would drop with the weight of a phone book, thanks largely to all the advertisements.
This was before the Internet drove everyone online. Before social media gave everyone their own publishing platform. Back then, print magazines mattered. I miss those days.
By now, you’ve probably heard about what happened at this year’s BAFTA Awards ceremony. But if not, here’s a quick summary: John Davidson, who has Tourette’s Syndrome, had an involuntary, raw, verbal outburst and yelled the n-word while Sinners stars Michael B. Jordan and Delroy Lindo were on stage presenting an award. The clip quickly went viral.
Davidson was in the audience that night because I Swear, a movie about his life, was nominated for six awards. The film would end up winning half of those, but all anyone seemed to want to talk about was that outburst — and the fact that the film’s star, Robert Aramayo, had beaten out Jordan and Marty Supreme’s Timothée Chalamet for Best Actor, considering everyone (in the U.S., anyway) expected one of those two men to take home the Oscar weeks later, mostly because I Swear hadn’t yet made its way stateside, so it wasn’t on anyone’s radar yet.
With Aramayo’s movie finally hitting American movie theaters this week, what happened at the BAFTAs is back in the conversation. But chances are good that, once people over here actually see the film, the controversy and second-guessing that has followed the ceremony will end.
There’s an oft-repeated line that goes something like this: If you want to know Lorne Michaels, you should watch Saturday Night Live.
Indeed, for most of the last 51 years, the creator of NBC’s late-night institution has largely remained an enigma, choosing to let the show speak for him. Sure, he’s done interviews, but they’ve generally been about the show and his plans for it. And yes, there was a biography about him published last year. But hearing Lorne talk about Lorne? That’s rare.
With Morgan Neville’s new documentary — simply titled Lorne — that changes. SNL’s creator is finally, reluctantly, letting us inside and giving us a look at the man behind the show.
The end of August is typically one of the “remainder bin” periods on the movie release calendar, the time when studios dump their least-likely-to-succeed films after a summer of more likely blockbusters. But in 2019, Searchlight Pictures released a movie that upended that tradition.
Ready or Not starred Samara Weaving (the niece of Hugo Weaving, from The Matrix and Lord of the Rings films) as Grace, a just-married bride trying to survive the night before her new in-laws, the Le Domas family, find her in a killer game of hide and seek. The film was very funny and very dark, featuring a cast of expert scenery-chewers and one delightful surprise after another. It may not have been award-worthy, but it was an absolutely great time. Given the lack of competition, the film was a hit — and it made my list of favorite films from that year.
Thankfully, there’s a sequel, Ready or Not 2: Here I Come — though, unfortunately, it has the opposite release-date luck: It’s hitting theaters the same weekend as Project Hail Mary, a film that’s sure to swallow up all the box office money for the foreseeable future. It’s a shame, because, while it’s not as good as its predecessor or the Ryan Gosling flick, Here I Come is another good time. For now, it’s worthy “counter-programming” if Project Hail Mary is sold out. And it’ll play well on streaming long after that.
(For the record, I’m sure it’s just a coincidence that Project Hail Mary and Here I Come both feature a lead character named Grace.)
At a time when everything here on Earth is just a little too much, the new movie Project Hail Mary arrives as pure, unapologetic escapism.
And not the empty kind, either. The smart kind.
The kind where the stakes are enormous, the science is weirdly fascinating (though not always accurate), and the jokes land hard enough that you forget for two-and-a-half hours that the news exists.
The kind that’s literally and figuratively out of this world.
There’s something almost admirable about The Bride! — a movie so aggressively weird that you can’t accuse it of playing things safe. Unfortunately, admiration isn’t the same thing as enjoyment.
Maggie Gyllenhaal’s Frankenstein riff definitely shows vision. And Jessie Buckley once again proves she’s one of the most interesting actors working today. But the movie itself? It’s a chaotic, overcooked take that’s ultimately more exhausting than entertaining.
Between Everybody Wants Some!!, Top Gun: Maverick, and Hit Man — okay, fine, and Twisters, too — it seemed like Glen Powell was finally, deservedly, breaking through with mainstream audiences, and a bright future lay ahead for him.
Alas, between last year’s The Running Man and the new How to Make a Killing, it’s looking like the actor’s star may have already burned out.
Just in time for Valentine’s Day, the new “Wuthering Heights” adaptation comes in like a cold wind off the moors so strong that it immediately rips your shirt or bodice wide open. Writer/director Emerald Fennell’s adaptation of Emily Brontë’s classic novel is a hottake on a story that has always been about obsession, repression, and desire curdling into something feral, only now it’s a bit more dangerous.
In other words, if you’ve ever read the novel and thought, “I wish this story was hornier,” congratulations: This movie is for you.
Last year, when I spent all that time in Florida, I didn’t eat as much. And when I did eat, I generally ate better. Smaller portions. Healthier foods. I also got a little bit more exercise, just from walking more and having lots of nervous energy. As a result, when I weighed myself at the end of 2024, I’d lost about 20 pounds. I looked better. I felt better. (All things considered, of course.)
So, I decided to conduct a small experiment: On January 1, I began documenting my weight at the start of every month, just to see if I could keep it off.
Suffice it to say, things went in the opposite direction. And, if I’m being totally honest, not only did I put all the weight I lost back on, I actually gained a little more, too.