"David Cronenberg’s reflexive masterpiece of modern horror, with James Woods as a seedy purveyor of soft-core exploitation for cable TV, and Debbie Harry as his siren, brought the media-as-message theories of fellow Torontonian Marshall McLuhan to visceral life. This was one of the first movies I rented on VHS, and Videodrome is partly an exploration of the strange, clunky physical sensation attached to the idea of a feature film being available on a paperback-size plastic-and-tape cassette that is inserted into a machine . . . and our brains. A quarter century later, Cronenberg’s dazzling vision of a world where image and flesh are one—“long live the new flesh”—Videodrome’s futuristic vision is timelier than ever. And above all that, the movie is sexy, smart, funny, and fascinating, moving adeptly between its layers of reality, imagination, and that vast territory in between."

"Atomic Blonde, 2016. I’ve seen it three times. It’s directed by David Leitch, of John Wick fame. But this is my idea of the ultimate feminist action movie. Wonder Woman, I’m sorry, just didn’t do it for me, but Charlize Theron is definitely my idea of a female superhero somehow. She balances femininity, vulnerability, and total badass strength. So she is truly great in this film. And I would say, she usually is very strong. I love the way that Charlize Theron is rarely, if ever, like overplaying anything. And the film is ingenious; it takes place in Berlin, just 24 hours before the wall falls. It’s full of betrayal, violence, intrigue, and the idea of life and death become completely irrelevant when the wall comes down. It’s a really brilliant plot. And also James McAvoy, John Goodman, and Toby Jones deliver really engagingly creepy, supporting performances. The action sequences are all amazing, the visual effects, and hats off to Charlize Theron. I really love, Atomic Blonde."

"As if Dallas needed another reason to be avoided. One of the scariest movies ever made, this is the story that drained the quirky from the bodies of Errol Morris’s two previous films. With the Rashomon-like changing re-creations, the doomy circularity of Philip Glass’s score, the dead-wrong psychologizing of the Dallas detectives, and some of the greatest dialogue ever not written for film, The Thin Blue Line builds a sense of impending dread better than the clicking incline of a dilapidated roller coaster. It illustrates how comprehensively police can be blinded by the avenging desire of an enraged community. The contrast between personalities is pronounced. Even from prison (for a different crime), David Harris can’t stop smiling. And Randall Dale Adams is incapable of a smile—his eyes wide, still unable to believe this isn’t a dream. But just like Adams’s attorney Edith James says, quoting the judge: “What do you care? He’s only a drifter."