As Singer puts us all to shame with his prodigious output, I can only shake my head at my Termite absence. I've yearned to shower praise on my favorite Hollywood film of the year, Orphan, as well as the multifarious pleasures of the flawed Gamer. But alas, writing a column a week for TCM has my eyes turned backward in time for the most part.
I'm still planning on contributing a little something on both of those worthy films (as well as on whatever I manage to catch at the NYFF), but for now, I'll just direct you to my defense of Paul W.S. Anderson over at IFC. Looking at his work as a whole, it shows a remarkable coherence, maintaining a visual focus on claustrophobic spaces that are often characters in their own right. The production design is the villain in his films, creating booby-trapped spaces that his genre archetype heroes navigate with aplomb. Also, Resident Evil as blood-soaked love-letter to Milla Jovovich. I think the guy is good. Feel free to disagree.
Also! October 1st! Farber on Film: The Complete Film Writings of Manny Farber from the Library of America! Buy buy buy!