Author: M.V. Moorhead
For all the faults of his movies, even for all the supposed great faults of his character, I’ve always had a soft spot for director Brian De Palma.
The Angry Birds franchise began in 2009 as a video game, the object of which was to launch roly-poly little birds from a slingshot at little green pigs.
With the weather finally tolerable and the gift-giving season looming large, the Tempe Arts Festival is a jolly way to spend a few hours (and some money).
There are countless well-loved Christmas movies, but Thanksgiving movies are a rarity.
Sometimes it’s a talking white rabbit, sometimes it’s a disaster victim. When you’re a costume designer, you can just never be sure who you’ll be asked to dress next.
The Martian — As in 1964’s excellent Robinson Crusoe on Mars, Ridley Scott’s latest maroons an American astronaut on the Red Planet and lets him figure out how to stay alive.
A trip to India—or, as E M. Forster would have called it, a passage to India—is an expensive proposition for most of us.
Two faces gaze down from the WANTED poster on the side of the Radatat Tattoo bus at Ray and McClintock. On the left is the face of a nice-looking young man with a pleasant expression, politely tipping his cowboy hat. On the right, perched above a jaunty bandana, is the face of a slightly perplexed but eager-to-please boxer.