“We are torn between nostalgia for the familiar and an urge for the foreign and strange. As often as not, we are homesick most for the places we have never known.”
Snyder sees the thin divide between awe and awful, between textual and metatextual. Then he burns dow that divide to ashes.
Future generations will cite Episode VIII as “the spark that ignites the fires” of their imaginations.
Klaus is Christmas’ Superman, replete with red cape, an indefatigable product of the greatest imagination of our generation, a perfectly designed emblem of highest selves.
After years of an admixture of apprehension and anticipation for the inevitable continuation of Watchman, Doomsday Clock #1 does not disappoint.
The film failed to live up to the expectations of the American pantheon sharing the silver screen at long last, and yet there was never a moment I felt anything short of euphoria.
I felt the closest thing to love at first sight that the pieces of my long-broken heart are capable of experiencing… in our Dionysian drunkenness we did not realize how rowdy our revelry had been.