Articles by Sarah D. Bunting
There is a movie I watched, probably in the late ’80s/early ’90s. It was probably a made-for-TV movie, because I can’t find it hard as I Google, but it’s really stuck with me because it’s …
Most contemporary reviews of Croupier point to Clive Owen as the best — almost the only — thing about it, and he’s marvelous, but I disagree.
When a Wes Anderson movie is good, I don’t tend to have a whole lot to say about it.
I wanted to like August, Osage County more than I did — and I did like it fairly well, considering — because of Tracy Letts.
Selma is at its finest in the quietest moments, quiet enough to hear the hearts breaking.
A friend of mine once said that you don’t get over a death, the space it leaves. “It doesn’t go away; you just learn to decorate around it.”
Couch Baron, Blankenship and I discussed the good, the bad, and the flighty about Birdman.
Utterly inelegant, charmingly energetic, Killing Jimmy Hoffa crams a lot into 79 minutes.
I know I’m in for a drubbing, but I want to hear from you and your readers.
I’m a single mom of one, having a long-distance affair with a married man, G.
