An American in Paris
John Singer Sargent was was destined for greatness – and scandal
The good, the bad and the ugly in books, exhibitions, cinema, TV, dance, music, podcasts and theatre.
John Singer Sargent was was destined for greatness – and scandal
Hank Hill continues to age well
The show has become a shitlib parody of itself
She didn’t flee oppression; she fled embarrassment
Ari Aster’s new film gives Covid a mythic air
The musician-comedian spread like herpes, rather than Ebola
America loves a wiseass, not a smartass
There will never be another Ozzy
If Dunham was, once, the voice of her generation, that that torch has long since passed to other, more interesting talents
Hollywood could use a little anarchy
It’s easy to forget that there was nothing inevitable about the film’s long-lasting success
The art historian’s memoir is no feminist treatise
We need art that keeps our collective imagination and sense of tradition alive
Why is it so hard to warm to him?
Spending a few days with the artist famous for his brooding ‘black paintings’ was not something I was sure I’d enjoy
What explains the studio’s latest flop?
He avoided the most-serious charges, but his image will never recover
This looks to be one of the most clueless and misjudged attempts at romantic comedy-drama ever put on screen
When the aliens land in thousands of years, or sometime around Christmas of this year, we want them to think: these were their gods
The singer changed her album cover that suggested ‘I like being roughed up in the bedroom’
Be prepared to forget virtually everything apart from the sheer sensation of being in an F1 race car traveling very, very fast indeed
America is better for having largely abandoned television
In a summer full of witless, unnecessary sequels and remakes, 28 Years Later is the real thing
The ceremony went two steps forward and one step backwards
The hues she’s employed are bodily, yet transcend into a surreal haze
Kecia Lewis called LuPone’s noise complaint a ‘racial microaggression’
There is something truly pathological about the taboo given that Irish art is awash with politics
An irreverent musical about the ‘life’ of a mysterious dead body forces us to confront death
You’re moderately engaged by the characters’ awfulness, but it is only a passing diversion