What a great time it was to be a teen in the late 1970’s. No, I’m not referring to disco music. It was a great time to go to the movies. It was the culmination of the perfect date, and Hollywood was riding the beginning of a trend that remains alive and healthy today. I’m talking, of course, about the slasher film. You could argue that Hitchcock started the ball rolling in 1961 with Psycho, but it would be decades before that film would find its true audience and plethora of imitators. Although The Texas Chainsaw Massacre and Halloween came before Friday The 13^th, can it be argued that any horror film franchise is as widely known? The truth is that even the man behind the film, Sean Cunningham, never really knew what it was that he had. It was never his intent to follow the film with a barrage of sequels. He also scoffed at the idea that Jason could become the centerpiece for future films.

When I first saw Nashville, it was back in my days of working at a video store in the 90’s, and I was consuming a ridiculous amount of films a week. For many, it’s considered a classic and one of the better films that Robert Altman put out. Before re-watching the film for this review, I couldn’t remember all that much about the film aside from it having a lot of music in it and there being something involving a political campaign. I’m a fan of Robert Altman. Personally, Short Cuts and The Player are my favorite films by him, but I can appreciate that his way of storytelling paved the way for one of my favorite writer/directors Paul Thomas Anderson. Just watching Boogie Nights and Magnolia you can see the influence of Altman’s work from the script to the way they are filmed.  Now that I’m older, perhaps it was time that I revisited this film. After all, for many it’s considered a classic. Perhaps this time it could make a greater impression on me.

“The time for apologies is behind us.”

While the dubbing of this film leaves something to be desired at times, all in all I’d categorize this as a moderately entertaining thriller. Tailgate can serve as a cautionary tale for us all regarding being careful who you cut off in traffic. You never know; that person could very well be a homicidal maniac with a penchant for using pesticide on his victims. Or at least that is what the killer in this film was all about. Granted, this antagonist doesn’t quite rise to the level of Michael Myers or say Candyman (you got me, I chose those two characters because they both have movies due out in the immediate future), there is something to be said for a killer who believes that he has the moral high ground. And to think all of this could have been resolved with a simple and well-timed apology.

"Once the world was full of wonders, but it belongs to the humans now. We, creatures, have all but disappeared. Daemons ... vampires ... witches ... hiding in plain sight. Ill at ease even with each other. But, as my father used to say, in every ending, there is a new beginning. It begins with absence and desire. It begins with blood and fear. It begins with A Discovery Of Witches."

And that's how it all starts. The ambitious series from Sky is based upon The All Souls Trilogy novels by Deborah Harkness. In the first season of eight episodes, we are introduced to Diana Bishop, played by Teresa Palmer. She a witch who is living in a world where there are three species of creatures: witches, vampires, and daemons (Demons). Diana 's parents were killed when she was young because of their witchcraft, at least that's what she's been brought up to believe by her Aunt Sarah (Kingston) and her lover "Auntie" Em (Pettiford). No, we're not in Kansas anymore. Notice no one is singing Carry On Wayward Son. This isn't Supernatural, after all.

1951 was a year that spawned some major classic films. There was An American In Paris, A Streetcar Named Desire, The African Queen, and A Place In The Sun. Of the four mentioned, the one I hadn’t seen and honestly was oblivious to was A Place In The Sun. While I do appreciate many classic films, I don’t have an answer for my ignorance of the film, and with a stacked cast of Montgomery Clift, Elizabeth Taylor, Shelly Winters, and Raymond Burr, I was more than happy to check out this film and review it on its 70^th anniversary. I went into this film knowing as little as possible, only knowing about the cast and the director George Stevens, a man with an impressive resume as a director as well as a cinematographer. This only flummoxed me further about how this film had managed to escape me for so long.