When I was a kid I posted my whole address to the catsthatlooklikehitler forums with no worry or consideration. The computer was magical and strange, something I was only allowed to touch on special occasions. By the time I was a teenager, my computer had become a word processor, a movie box, a telephone, and sometimes a porn machine. I never thought of it as a tool for escape or transformation, just something I needed to do work and pass…

The trailers for this movie seem designed to mislead and anger people. It is an arch exorcism movie for 45 minutes, and then it is something like the opposite: an exploration of what it means to live with the demons inside you forever. The moment of transition, when Molly Quinn’s damaged nun stands in windy spotlight and meets the eyes of the priest who can’t save anyone, is magnificent - the mythic stature of a definitive ending in three or…

Self-portraits in psychotic insecurity. Initial provocation aside, Brown and Vack unambiguously despise these self-caricatures, whose bullshit is never given an inch; “Vack” complains of being unheard and unseen as a white cis guy artist over a montage of glossy magazine profiles and TV/film appearances of the real Vack, and “Brown” pantomimes motherhood while barely wanting to touch her little baby prop when the camera isn’t running. They are shameless exploiters the aesthetics of femininity in the face of imagined injustice…