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Review: The Irishman

[The following review contains SPOILERS; you have been warned!] If the poetry of violence is a language in and of itself, then Martin...

Review: Boxcar Bertha

Hit IFC Center for a midnight screening of Boxcar Bertha, one of the few remaining Scorsese films I hadn’t seen yet. This variation on...

Review: Silence

Last night, I finally got to see Martin Scorsese’s long overdue adaptation of Silence—though it’s hard to say whether or not I enjoyed...

Travis (V.O.)

I tried several times to call her, but after the first call, she wouldn’t come to the phone any longer. I also sent flowers but with no...

Taxi Driver: The Wounded Vet

It’s easy to read Taxi Driver as a “coming home” narrative. Viewed through this lens, Travis Bickle’s enigmatic actions and ambiguous...

The Magic of Hugo

It’s already cliché to call Hugo “Scorsese’s love letter to cinema,” but what else does one call a movie that features Georges Melies,...

The Poetry of Violence

Ever since Edwin S. Porter had his great train robber fire directly at the camera, the landscape of cinema has been drenched in blood....

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