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.