As a naive kid, I believed Clint Eastwood was the oldest man in the world when he made Unforgiven in 1992. A postmodern deconstruction of the western genre, that film seemed a summation of Eastwood's stellar career, and it felt like he was bowing out on a high. Cut to 27 years later and Eastwood has directed no less than 21 movies in the intervening years, with no signs of stopping at the ripe age of 88. As an actor…

I was wondering, is there such a thing as an ‘underground’ film anymore? Does a subculture exist wherein the experimental, the culty, the non-mainstream can thrive, enclosed within an echo chamber of shared ideologies and elite glamour; that Warhol/Morrisey sort of happening where filmmaking is a communally esoteric endeavour and usually part and parcel of a wider movement? I don’t think so, myself. The means of mass distribution and a world-wide communication system has gone and taken the cliquey cool…

As early as its customary opening crawl, I began to have a bad feeling about Star Wars: The Last Jedi. In what plays like a dig at the current leader of the free world (who was pictured earlier this year watching Rogue One on Air Force One), the word 'RESISTANCE' appears in upper-case letters, an early worrying sign that real world, outside forces may be intruding on this most endearingly innocent of escapist worlds.

This is nothing new of course…