Bob Cashill »
No Concessions: “Hellboy II” and “Journey to the Center of the Earth”
Like the humans who misjudge or underestimate the big red lug on the big screen, I must apologize to Hellboy. Our first encounter, in 2004, was not a happy one. His debut film lurched
Read More »No Concessions: Let’s Talk About Sex
Sex. You know you want it — and I know you’re not getting it from the movies. And I know you’re not because I’ve been looking myself, and coming up empty. Wanted teases with
Read More »No Concessions: Lazy-Ass Critic Watches New Movies in Bed
I have violated the covenant between reader and critic. You, the reader, expect me, the critic, to leave his home in Brooklyn, get on the subway, and attend screenings 25 or so minutes away
Read More »No Concessions: Odds and “End”
By the calendar it’s not quite summer yet, but the northeast has already wilted under August heat — and the movies already feel spent and depleted, in need of a second wind. The Pixar
Read More »No Concessions: Genghis Khan and Harlan Ellison
You can see the nominees for best foreign-language film at the Oscars coming from a kilometer away. They’re tied to some sort of hot-button issue, or a pivotal historical event in the 20th century
Read More »No Concessions: Indy (and indies)
Like Jack Lemmon in Glengarry Glen Ross, I’m overjoyed to find myself on the big board, with all the cool kids who’ve written “Most Popular” Popdose posts. And I didn’t even have to do
Read More »No Concessions: “Prince Caspian” and “Young@Heart”
“That’s it,” said my friend, following our Monday evening screening of The Chronicles of Narnia: Prince Caspian. “I’m through with Narnia.” I know the feeling; it’s the same one I get after semi-dozing through
Read More »No Concessions: “Speed Racer” and “Iron Man”
All I know about Speed Racer I learned as a kid, when I watched episodes of the proto-anime between spoonfuls of Cocoa Puffs. There wasn’t much to it — there was a car, a
Read More »No Concessions: “Redbelt” and “The Visitor”
David Mamet can’t commit. His latest Broadway show, November, is an almost-farce in need of bigger laughs. Despite its definitive title, his film Heist couldn’t quite bring itself to be a fulfilling caper picture;
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