Movie Criticism

Beneath the stylized violence and thrilling car crashes, the Mad Max films consider universal questions about the nature of human life, order and anarchy, justice and moral responsibility, society and technology, and ultimately, human redemption. In Mad Max and Philosophy, a diverse team of political scientists, historians, and philosophers investigates the underlying themes of the blockbuster movie franchise, following Max as he attempts to rebuild himself and the world.

In this wholly original work of film criticism, David Thomson, celebrated author of The Biographical Dictionary of Film, probes the many ways in which sexuality has shaped the movies - and the ways in which the movies have shaped sexuality.

The story of two outsiders and obsessives whose collision prompted an evangelistic alliance on the furthest frontiers of underground music. Steve Davis first met Kavus Torabi - guitarist with Gong, Guapo, Cardiacs and Knifeworld - in the mid-2000s at a gig by French underground rock legends Magma. Over the next few years, this unlikely duo's shared affinity for visionary psychedelic music would become the foundation of not only a firm friendship, but also the most infectiously inclusive broadcasting style since the much-mourned death of John Peel.

Online Film Critic David Keyes is back with a savage look at some of the worst films of the 21st century! This anthology of essays dissects 150 of the most notorious terrible pictures -- some famous, some relatively unknown, all sure to leave a bad taste in your mouth.

A Thousand Cuts is a candid exploration of one of America's strangest and most quickly vanishing subcultures. It is about the death of physical film in the digital era and about a paranoid, secretive, eccentric, and sometimes obsessive group of film-mad collectors who made movies and their projection a private religion in the time before DVDs and Blu-rays.

Today, more than 70 years after it premiered, Sunset Boulevard remains the finest ever movie made about the pathology of fame: those who lose it, those who abuse it, and those who never attain it at all. By exploring the history of Sunset Boulevard in time for the movie’s 75th anniversary, from its inception to its making to its present-day legacy, Ready for My Closeup breathes life into a beloved masterpiece of American cinema.

When Brian DePalma's operatically violent and profane Scarface debuted in 1983, the film drew almost as much fire as the relentless gunfire in the film itself. The movie was a remake of 1932's Scarface—revamped for a new era of drugs, sex, and graphic violence. Attacked as both a celebration of cocaine-fueled excess and a condemnation of it, the film's reputation only grew as the years went by. But the real story of its success started nearly a century ago—when Hollywood first fell in love with the American gangster....

Owen Gleiberman has spent his life watching movies-first at the drive-in, where his parents took him to see wildly inappropriate adult fare like Rosemary's Baby when he was a wide-eyed 9 year old, then as a possessed cinemaniac who became a film critic right out of college. In Movie Freak, his enthrallingly candid, funny, and eye-opening memoir, Gleiberman captures what it's like to live life through the movies, existing in thrall to a virtual reality that becomes, over time, more real than reality itself.

What did President Ronald Reagan think of Rocky IV? How did the Matthew Broderick film WarGames inform America's missile defense system? What Michael J. Fox movie made such an impression on President Reagan that he felt compelled to mention it in a speech to the Joint Session of Congress? Over the course of eight years, Mark Weinberg travelled to Camp David each weekend with Ronald and Nancy Reagan.

An examination of African American imagery and participation in American movies includes a timeline of important African American events in film history and discusses the achievements of noted celebrities.

The Towering Inferno (1974) was the crowning achievement of über-producer Irwin Allen, the self-proclaimed “Master of disaster.” Crafted from two best-selling books and with a budget-busting cast headed by two mega-stars, it took two studios to bring it to the screen. In celebration of the 50th anniversary of The Towering Inferno, biographer-historian Nat Segaloff (who was a member of the film’s special publicity unit) writes about the production, its innovative marketing campaign, and the goings-on before, during, and after its box office success.

Between 1934 and 1968, no Hollywood studio could make a movie without the permission of, and a seal of approval from, the Production Code Administration. Formed in 1930 but not enforced until 1934, the Production Code was Hollywood’s official censorship system. Screenplays, books, plays, costumes, and even story ideas and song lyrics had to be cleared by the Code before they could be filmed, and Code staffers watched at every stage of the production process to ensure compliance.

With the success of the Wonder Woman movies and the results following the outcry of the #MeToo movement, now is the time to highlight the female influences in film history previously left unheard!

In the summer of 1970, legendary but self-destructive director Orson Welles returned to Hollywood from years of self-imposed exile in Europe and decided it was time to make a comeback movie. It was about a legendary self-destructive director who returns to Hollywood from years of self-imposed exile in Europe. Welles swore it wasn't autobiographical.

In It's Only a Movie, the incomparable Mark Kermode took us into the weird world of a film critic's life lived in widescreen. Now, The Good, The Bad and the Multiplex takes us into the belly of the beast to ask: 'What’s wrong with the modern movie business – and how can we make it right?'

Greg Mitchell's The Beginning or the End chronicles the first efforts of American media and culture to process the Atomic Age. A movie that began as a cautionary tale inspired by atomic scientists aiming to warn the world against a nuclear arms race would be drained of all impact due to revisions and retakes ordered by President Truman and the military.

The movies were flying blind in 1980. “New Hollywood” was over and the era of auteur-driven, personal films that had defined moviemaking since the late ‘60s came to a symbolic end with Heaven’s Gate (1980), replaced by a new world of multiplex blockbusters supported by massive marketing campaigns. But beyond the high-school comedies and hardbody action films came a new wave of cinematic excitement—an era defined by Ferris Bueller's Day Off, Purple Rain, When Harry Met Sally, E.T., and Top Gun, each of which are now classics for a new generation of nostalgic movie lovers.

As any actor, producer, director, or screenwriter can attest, working in the movie business isn't easy. After Jack Nicholson filmed his first screen test for Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, studio mogul Louis B. Mayer politely told him afterwards: "I don't know what we can use you for, but if we ever do need you, we'll need you real bad.” In the late 1960s, Paul, John, George, and Ringo–better known as The Beatles–were set to star in a movie version of J.R.R. Tolkien’s epic fantasy novel, The Lord of the Rings, until Tolkien objected over the loudness of their music.

The study of classic and contemporary films can provide a powerful avenue to understand the experience of mental illness. In Madness at the Movies, James Charney, MD, a practicing psychiatrist and long-time cinephile, examines films that delve deeply into characters’ inner worlds, and he analyzes moments that help define their particular mental illness.

Paul Newman, the Oscar-winning actor with the legendary blue eyes, achieved superstar status by playing charismatic renegades, broken heroes, and winsome antiheroes in such revered films as The Hustler, Cool Hand Luke, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, The Verdict, The Color of Money, and Nobody’s Fool. But Newman was also an oddity in Hollywood: the rare box-office titan who cared about the craft of acting, the sexy leading man known for the staying power of his marriage, and the humble celebrity who made philanthropy his calling card long before it was cool.