By: Toby Ferris
The business of memory is mostly to forget.
By: Marc Weidenbaum
I keep the subtitles on at night.
By: Mike Watt
when I crossed willoughby, I got the weirdest shake or shiver trippy feeling
By: Crystal Durant
You could close your eyes and pretty much imagine everything that happens…
By: Brian Berger
“I’m not a highbrow, I’m not a lowbrow, I’m something worse — I’m something new, I’m a nobrow!”
By: Gordon Dahlquist
I can’t get enough of the ensemble players gliding through subtle variations.
By: Kio Stark
I am struck by the formal oddity of where the dramatic stories end.
By: Douglas Rushkoff
Jackie Gleason and Art Carney may as well have been Vladimir and Estragon.
By: Sarah Weinman
NAKED CITY knew it would be a time capsule of an ever-changing New York City.
By: Elizabeth Foy Larsen
Did I understand that Miss Kitty was a madam? Not exactly.
By: Annie Nocenti
“Emma Peel and John Steed would rather quip, flirt, and drink than sleuth.”
By: Greg Rowland
The cosmic sheen of his perfect bald pate radiated a sublime dialectics.
By: Erik Davis
Paladin is an icon of neoliberal postwar American power.
By: Adam McGovern
An interstitial reality of anonymous, overgrown stretches of road.
By: Dan Reines
Children spoke like Lutheran elders, not least because they were voiced by middle-aged adults.