King of New York: In Defense of the Superficial

Christopher Walken as Frank White, an adult light-skinned man with blue eyes and spiked-up ash-blonde hair, is wearing an all-black suit. He is facing the camera standing in front of a window, and the skyline is reflected across his face on the window glass.

|Michael Wellvang| Abel Ferrara’s King of New York is not a “great movie.” Nor is it trying to be. The timing of its release, just nine days after Martin Scorsese’s Goodfellas, has invited unfair but inevitable comparisons that plagued the film since before it was ever shown. Continue reading

Apocalypse Now Is My Cinema Addiction: Lessons In Physiological Film Experience and Coppola’s Choreography of Death  

|Casey Jarrin| Every morning in tenth grade, I’d press PLAY on my Panasonic VCR, the opening sequence of Apocalypse Now cued up and ready to explode into orange-red-pink pyrotechnics of helicopter-war-as-cinema-painting, soundtracked by Jim Morrison’s… Continue reading

Never Get Out of the Boat

A man rises from a bog, his face covered in mud and substances this editor cannot determine.

|Lucas Hardwick| High school…shit; I was still only in high school. Every day I thought I was gonna wake up and that book report would be done. I’d wake up and there’d be nothing written, and not much read. I hardly said a word to my sophomore English teacher until I said… Continue reading

Turn Your Gaze Upon This Wretched Thing: The Schismatic Spectacle of Brian DePalma’s Hi, Mom!

A white man waving at the camera, with the image cut off horizontally and mirrored at the middle

|Courtney Kowalke| I cannot escape the reach of Ancient Greek theater. The last piece I wrote for Perisphere was about Mai Zetterling’s The Girls and a fictional production of Aristophanes’ comedy Lysistrata. It turns out a large part of director Brian DePalma’s inspiration for… Continue reading