All Published Work

Looking for the sum total of my writing career till now? Then look no further. Ignoring my earlier student writing and a select few print-only pieces this is everything I've had published since graduation. You can even use the filter to navigate by publication.

Film Review: The End of Civilization: Three Films by Piotr Szulkin

In what's already been a great year for underappreciated Polish auteurs comes the latest box set from Radiance, The End of Civilization: Three Films by Piotr Szulkin. The three films collected here, all taken from Szulkin's loosely connected 1980s Apocalypse tetralogy, are science fiction at their most grimy and grounded, a distant cry from the fantastical whimsy of the post-Star Wars sci-fi boom occurring in contemporaneous America. And while the omission of the first entry in that tetralogy, Szulkin's feature debut Golem (1980), seems odd, this set still marks the best way to see Szulkin's unsettling visions of life under oppressive police state rule.

Feature: The Art of Leading a Witness in Anatomy of a Fall by Blaise Radley

What is a courtroom if not a staging ground for storytelling? Every aspect of a trial, be it criminal or corporate, hinges on two opposing sides laying claim to a particular version of events, each new witness and piece of evidence placed in a neat order to lead their audience, the jury, to a set conclusion. In the end, the victor will be the side that spins the most convincing yarn, regardless of any overriding “truth” of the matter. But what pushes a juror to ignore the ambiguities such duelling perspectives leave behind and choose one narrative over another? In French director Justine Triet’s latest film, the courtroom drama Anatomy of a Fall (2023), it’s not only the lawyers that are leading the witness but the formalised aspects of filmmaking craft.

Film Review: One False Move

There's a certain irony to be found in reviewing a home release of One False Move, given that the film in question was originally intended for the straight-to-video wastebin. Directed by Carl Franklin in his feature debut, at a time when Franklin was most known for his run as an actor on The A-Team, and premised on the kind of generic culture clash that bargain buckets are weighed down with—two sardonic LA cops get paired with a small town yokel police chief to solve a brutal series of drug-related murders—it's remarkable that it was successful in securing last-minute theatrical distribution. That it's also one of the finer examples of ‘90s neo-noir, lifted by its well-observed character moments and Franklin's deft touch behind the camera, is most remarkable of all.

Film Review: Tod Browning's Sideshow Shockers

In many ways, the circuses of the early 20th Century have a similar allure to pre-Code Hollywood cinema; lawless, illicit, and exotic in spite of their appearing on home soil. That sweet spot between the introduction of sound in 1927 and the enforcement of the Hays Code in 1934 (a self-imposed rule set that banned profanity, sexual innuendo, and interracial relationships, amongst many other bigoted moral edicts) runs firmly against perceptions of older American cinema as stuffy and tight-lipped.

Feature: A Star is Burns, or Homer vs. Film Criticism

Over the course of its (remarkably still ongoing) 34-season run, Matt Groening has only asked that his name be scrubbed from the credits of The Simpsons on one occasion. Let that sink in for a moment. When jerkass Homer refused to give poor old Abe his kidney not once, but twice, Groening’s name was there. When Homer got botched laser eye surgery and his eyes made that horrible sound as they crusted over, Groening’s name was there.

Feature: The (Ig)noble Sacrifice of the Author in Afire

Literary history is littered with so-called troubled geniuses, authors whose work is revered in spite of, and often even due to, their infamous tempers and tempestuous personal lives. One needn’t go far to find eyebrow-raising stories about Ernest Hemingway and his penchant for intoxicated brawling and adulterous womanising, or the abusive behaviour of reclusive drugged-out “mad doctor” Hunter S. Thompson.

Feature: Isn’t All Auteurism Vulgar?

Imagine, if you can, a film beyond the realms of reclamation. The photography neither symmetrical enough to appease “One Perfect Shot” fetishists nor consciously ugly enough to sate the ascetic wants of the avant-garde. The budget not low enough to be applauded as bootstrap-pulling nor high enough to be vouched for as unfairly disregarded. And, most importantly, featuring no ageing, esteemed director around whom die-hard fans can rally screaming "late style!"

Film Review: The Man on the Roof

Historically, Swedish cinema has been somewhat overlooked, save for a certain Mr. Bergman. With their latest rerelease, The Man on the Roof (1976), Radiance are bringing further attention to Bo Widerberg, a Swedish director, writer, and editor most known for his rigorous dramaturgy and sharp politics. In what was his first foray into the crime genre, the result is a robust if somewhat undaring slice of workmanlike police procedural.

Feature: In George A. Romero’s Martin, Even Existence Is a Compromise

In the brief seconds of black that open George A. Romero’s 1977 film Martin, a voice shouts out from the darkness. It’s not the screams of one of the eponymous pseudo-vampire’s victims or the bellows of an angry mob, fiery torches held aloft—though there are plenty of those to come. Instead, it’s the sound of a train guard barking a command: “All aboard!” It’s fitting that the film begins with an open entreaty to cross a threshold, given how concerned it is with the man-made mythology surrounding vampires.

Film Review: Take Out

By building its foundations on a hierarchical structure, the American dream is destined to fail. Sean Baker may have only broken through to mainstream audiences with Tangerine (2015), but that thesis has been at the heart of his work from the offset. Co-directed and written with Shih-Ching Tsou (who would go on to produce nearly all of his later films), his second feature Take Out (2004) digs deep into the inherent lie of the capitalist narrative, holding a social realist lens to the lives of immigrants living under the radar in the United States

Film Review: The Great Dictator

In 1939, Charlie Chaplin was at a professional crossroads. His most recent outing as his beloved bumbling vagrant the Tramp, Modern Times (1936), had been one of the top grossing films that year, but as a mostly silent picture that only used synchronised sound sparingly it was dramatically out of step with the influx of sound pictures. Worse, he’d received criticism for his incorporation of social commentary into what was otherwise a comedy—a rather pressing concern given that his new project was set to tackle the rise of fascism during World War II. The Tramp was out, talkies were in. Enter: Hynkel the dictator.
Load More