For some years, Anthony Lane has been publishing witty and perceptive reviews in The New Yorker. As one of but a handful of Americans who can currently make a living doing nothing but eating popcorn and keeping their eyes peeled, he certainly needs no assist from me. We mention him in these spaces, not because of his having just now reviewed any mustn’t-miss movies -- indeed, the movies in question sound particularly worthless -- but because, critically, a moral dimension enters, singularly well-expressed. Indeed -- coincidence? -- this particular column, which you can read here
is in every respect one of his better ones (that is saying a lot).
Thus, the present offering well illustrates the dual duty of a movie reviewer:
(1) What when where why / nudity, backstory/ car-chases well-done yes-or-no / Hollywood dish / musings as to how Dziga-Vertov might have filmed the same thing / …
(2) Saving us from ourselves…
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