The Golden Age of Television Drama is dead. Long live the Golden Age of Television Comedy.
But seriously folks, for all intents and purposes, the era we once knew as the Golden Age of Television is over. The epoch of dark, morally complex television with cinema-grade filmmaking driven by a series of often closely-examined masculine antiheroes ended with the series finale of Mad Men after attracting so much attention and love and reexamination of television as an artistic medium.
Continue reading Crazy Ex-Girlfriend is the heir to Breaking Bad (and the best show you’re not watching)
Is authenticity, or at least audacity, the enemy of commercial art? And is authenticity just a moment away from selling out, as soon as someone asks it to?
I’m not quite sure of what I’d have to say myself, but I’m curious as hell what Popstar: Never Stop Never Stopping thinks, because it seems to have made one of the most authentic…or audacious rappers out there into its ostensible antagonist.
Continue reading Why is Tyler the Creator the villain of Popstar?
Before we get into what you’re all eagerly anticipating based on the title, let’s get into a few ground rules about what my new column, Broadway Beginner, will be.
For starters, it’s a bit of a misnomer. I’ve heard a few recordings here and there and I’ve seen a few film versions of the most popular shows. I’ve listened to Hamilton enough at this point to join in a sing-along of “My Shot” with the best of them. I know enough to pick up on the basics.
But calling me an expert is absolutely wrong as most of what I know are basics that pretty much anyone could recite from living in American society. But, thanks to Hamilton, I’ve become interested in it as a storytelling medium and as a mode of artistic expression. So, thanks to a library card and the need to give my opinion on things, I’ve decided to plunge in and talk about some of the great (and not-so-great) Broadway musicals of our time.
Continue reading Broadway Beginner reviews American Psycho: The Musical
I may never recover from the muscle damage done by Sing Street. Seriously, smiling for over two hours straight at director John Carney’s latest ode to the power of one person and their guitar made kind of a Joker-rictus thing set in, as I’m still grinning ear to ear while I write this review.
Continue reading Sing Street is all infectious joy