by David Guglielmo Available to Purchase at Insight Editions Let’s get one thing out of the way: I’m a dyed-in-the-wool Tarantino fanatic. When PULP FICTION hit theaters in 1994, the noise was loud enough to reach even my seven-year-old ears. Tarantino was a punk rock provocateur who blurred the lines between low and high art, comedy and violence, and had a predilection for cheekily breaking the rules. While I had no idea which conventions needed subverting, I desperately wan

by David Guglielmo I was recently on The Bret Easton Ellis Podcast, where we discussed Best Picture winner ONE BATTLE AFTER ANOTHER. We both found it politically convenient, though I argued that its perceived ideology didn’t diminish its cinematic pleasures, likening it in a spur-of-the-moment comparison to THE GOOD, THE BAD AND THE UGLY. Having since rewatched Anderson’s film, I find it aging well, especially when separated from the awards chatter and political discourse sur

by David Guglielmo THE DEVILS’ ADVOCATE Ken Russell’s controversial classic THE DEVILS is back in theaters. But does it still have the power to shock? Originally cut against his wishes, THE DEVILS (1971) has been restored in 4K, with its picture and sound refurbished and long-excised footage reinstated under the new title “KEN RUSSELL’S THE DEVILS.” It arrives courtesy of Clockwork, Warner Bros.’ new specialty label. An unexpected way to launch a label: put an older title bac

DIGGER review by David Guglielmo While watching DIGGER, you might, like me, seesaw between loving and hating it — a surprisingly rare feeling these days, when modern movies more often act like they are on a first date with their audience, desperate for us to like them. DIGGER dares to be grating, at times insufferably self-satisfied, and it’s a scold to boot. Iñárritu has always directed with a sledgehammer. Someone must have told him the loudest director wins. With DIGGER, h

Review by David Guglielmo If I believed in guilty pleasures, I might call THE LOVE HYPOTHESIS one. Its setup—a female doctoral student and male professor fake a romantic relationship, he to get his contract renewed and she to push her best friend toward the guy she originally liked—sounds like the recipe for a classic screwball comedy of the sexes. Never mind that the central conceit makes little sense (apparently, having a girlfriend is enough to convince the university boar

by David Guglielmo TEENAGE SEX AND DEATH AT CAMP MIASMA uses B-movie aesthetics to flex its high-mindedness, whereas RESIDENT EVIL has no intellectual ambition to speak of. You might come away wishing they could borrow from one another: MIASMA could use some of EVIL’s set pieces and suspense, of which it has none without a postmodern wink, while Cregger, the director of EVIL, could benefit from some of the thematic filmmaking on display in MIASMA. MIASMA’s ambitions are more