"hey, why are you walking alone? are you a fuckin' loser?"

when i went to the philippines to visit my family for the first time, we went to my grandparents’ home— the place where my mother and her brothers grew up. i wasn’t sure what to expect, because the stories of her childhood felt so fantastical to me, somewhat surreal. was it a suburban house? was it a townhouse? an apartment? i had no framework what it was or what…

“it was you; you were my ghost.”

a decade ago i was a freshman in college. my dorm neighbors - and new college best friends - and i went to watch this film in imax; it was a tremendous, formative experience. as we left the theater we were electric, brimming with the excitement and fervor that only a truly singular piece of art can elicit. we went home that night enraptured by the power of love, the indomitability of the…

it’s so messy, especially in the beginning. i’m still reeling from the loss of ilsa in the previous film, hanging on to a nonsensical hope that i would catch a glimpse of her, even in a flashback. the implications of the ending are questionable, specifically given dead reckoning’s themes and allegorical stance on artificial intelligence and the overall state of the apathetic, corporatized and soulless state of film and television, and art as a whole.

but by god did i…

“i swear, your life will always matter more to me than my own.”
“you don’t even know me.”
“what difference does that make?”

in this age of growing over-reliance on artificial intelligence in its myriad forms, an age of burgeoning distrust and disdain where hostility between in- and out-groups festers at the hands of modified and misrepresented information, it’s such a beacon of hope to witness a piece of art that is so deeply entrenched in comion and humanity. ethan…