The story begins with a girl. She looks, casts one glance in the mirror and is gone no sooner than she arrives, her voice but a whisper echoing down the street, leaving the hero alone in the cold night wearing an old pair of boots, a Spanish knife in his pocket, a beat-up guitar strapped …
The Disgruntled Critic or: ‘The Fallacy in Film Criticism’
Casablanca and Citizen Kane: a story of an un-review by G.T. Phillips Part I I always prefer to sleep on my sofa. At least these days. It keeps me feeling mobile. On the move. Never settled. All these thoughts swarm and scurry through my brain at two in the morning as I lie awake in …
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