I wonder if I am one of thousands, maybe millions, who have had this thought. Isn’t that the point, though? Wondering if the joke’s on us?
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You’d probably want to avoid modeling almost anything in your life after anything in “Lucky Hank” except maybe some writing tips.
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It was good to hear someone else say it, and doubly good that it was Albert Brooks. Also, I highly recommend “Defending My Life.”
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Late in every year and early into the next are reminders or anniversaries of things previously unimaginable.
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“The Good Place” always gets me through rough patches. Even Tuesdays, which as you may know, are a funky part of Jeremy Bearimy.
Read More...A scene in “Mad Men” (“Dark Shadows,” Season 5, ep. 8) delights me in how it illustrates that language changes from generation to generation.
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The Albuquerque Journal did a story on Jimmy McGill in Season 1 of “Better Call Saul.” It’s hard to believe he wouldn’t be back on the paper’s radar in Season 5.
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Published October 23, 2017
I thought we were gonna get television. The truth is, television is gonna get us.
Over the weekend, I watched the 1994 film “Quiz Show” again. Like a lot of movies, books, short stories, TV shows, documentaries and news stories I’ve revisited in the past year or so, it unexpectedly spoke to the ugly realities of this point in time.
As “Mad Men” fans await the series finale Sunday, I’ve reflected on seven seasons’ worth of powerful moments. After the dust has settled following the final episode, I’ll have more to say about a lightning-bolt moment for me in “Severance,” the eighth episode of Season 7, but today I wanted to flash back to a scene from the 10th episode, “The Forecast.”
After taking Sally and her friends to dinner, Don drops them off at the Greyhound bus station. As soon as the images in this screen shot appeared on my TV, I was floored by immediately being able to smell the scene, diesel fuel and all. This was unexpected, and it derailed my seamless viewing of the show so much that I had to play back everything from that scene forward once I regained my sense of the present. In that moment, I’d been transported back to every Greyhound bus I’d ever ridden on, and every bus station, in some sort of visually provoked compressed composite memory. Or did one particular bus ride or depot become exhumed, rushing to the fore from some deep trench in my mind’s archives because of that visual stimulation? I didn’t know.