Richard Ford writes the way Robert Altman directs: meandering, wavering, opaque and loose but not unfocused or ADHD-hyper, long sentences like long takes zooming in and pulling back and fluttering like passing daydreams.
This is Greil Marcus: he views the end of the ’60s and the start of the ’70s through the changing aesthetics of the Rolling Stones, and offers his most tender response when asked about, in this case, Elvis. But when asked about himself, he just shuts down.
I picked up this book with tears of joy streaming down my face, thanking the cosmos that someone finally wrote an exhaustive book for horror fans. But my tears of joy turned to tears of anguish, my fists clenched strands of hair wrenched from my head.
At her best, Pauline Kael was everything a film critic should be: passionate, knowledgable, in love with the movies and writing about them, willing to defend her reviews, and vicious. She was also everything movie goers despise in a critic: well-educated, argumentative, stubborn, and vicious.
ERAAS doesn’t so much sound like the score to a film never made, but rather it evokes the sense of a long-lost film, a celluloid soul trying to renter the world and regain relevancy -- the ghost of a film about ghosts.