If you’re looking for a smart, scary new TV drama that will twist your mind and drop your jaw, you need to check out FOX’s The Following.
I have learned time and time again to never expect much from an awards show. This rings especially true for the Grammys, and I have reached the conclusion that their only redeeming quality is the occasionally spectacular performance by a well-seasoned or breakthrough pop artist.
The first time I ever saw a stylish girl — tall brown boots, straightened hair, fresh makeup and all — taking “selfies” in Club Clem I was astonished.
Tegan & Sara occupy a precarious niche in commercial music — they aren’t mainstream but neither are they alt, hipster, post-funk or any other of the slew of labels available to musicians today.
In the four years between Local Natives’ debut album Gorilla Manor and 2013’s Hummingbird, the band noticeably underwent a lot of growth, both musically and emotionally.
Valentine’s Day is the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup of Hallmark holidays. Some prefer the smooth layer of chocolate, while others dive in for a delectable rush of peanut butter, but there are always the naysayers who can’t handle any strain of the sugar rush.
Carleigh Nesbit, a fourth-year College student and Charlottesville native, has finally come of age in the local music scene.
I sometimes find it astounding that a few short minutes of deliberately placed melodic notes and well-chosen words can so easily capture emotions universal to mankind.
Zombie movies are overdone. You can only take a zombie premise so far, and lately this tired genre, like its antagonists, has been a largely brain-dead affair.
Few films grab my attention for a full two hours, but The Impossible accomplishes this feat with ease.
Once upon a time, musicals were the bread and butter of Hollywood filmmaking. With massive box-office figures and sturdy critical appeal, song-and-dance spectacles such as Anchors Aweigh and Kiss Me Kate lit up the big screen throughout the ‘40s and ‘50s. That said, when rock-and-roll music took over the airwaves and the so-called “New Hollywood era” of the late 1960s and ‘70s began, traditional movie musicals seemed outmoded and irrelevant.
After a full day of boutique hopping, I settled down in my friend’s trendy New York apartment, winding down while browsing the BBC on my laptop.
Until last Wednesday night, I thought I was the only one raised on Citizen Cope’s “Sideways.” It was the first track on the first mixed CD that my first boyfriend gave to me.
If you were expecting to hear new material — or even beloved classics — on Destiny’s Child’s 2013 compilation album, Love Songs, you will be sorely disappointed.
Every once in a while, a foreign art house film comes along and manages to break into the mainstream movie market.
As the opening half of Super Bowl XLVII dragged on, the only thing keeping me even mildly interested was Beyoncé’s looming halftime performance.
I don’t know what it is about USA’s Suits that makes me wish I had cable TV in my apartment. Is it the impeccable custom-made suits that Harvey and fellow lawyer, and once scrub, Mike wear that make my heart melt?
You’ve probably heard of Yo La Tengo. From the early ‘90s to the mid-2000s, the band’s name, if brought up by one of your Bohemian musicophile acquaintances, was always followed by the hackneyed hipster-ism “You’ve probably never heard of them.” You probably truly haven’t heard, however, that during the height of the band’s career, Yo La Tengo’s blend of noise-rock, lo-fi production, sensitively structured songs and occasional forays into whimsical pop repeatedly earned it the moniker of “quintessential critics band.” Nevertheless, the band’s performance at the Jefferson Theatre and the release of its January album Fade have given audiences the sense that the band’s heyday has passed and it has ceded its position in the sideshow spotlight that is the “Indie scene” to hipper and more hipster acts.
Movie 43 opens with a struggling and misguided filmmaker (Dennis Quaid), dressed in skateboard shoes and a zip-up sweatshirt, desperately pitching a project to a major production agency.
It’s not everyday that you see a grown woman urinate on the face and chest of a young man, but this sight is just one of the many outrageous spectacles that make Lee Daniels’ The Paperboy one of the wackiest films in recent memory.
