Twilight and Big Love explore something most romantic dramas have forgotten: the pleasures of moral struggle for the sake of spiritual growth.
Kathryn Reklis reviews film, TV, and more
The temptation of Pinterest is in the part of it that is trite, banal and predictable. But that's not all there is to the site's appeal.
I feared that Rev. would reprise the saccharine sweetness of The Vicar of Dibley. Episode one set me straight.
Each time Walter White gets away with something, I can't help cheering him on—while also shuddering at his depravity and my own complicity.
Several current tales of Snow White nod at feminist critique—while leaving the old paradigms for female power and beauty intact.
Theologians have long posited an omniscient God. The British TV show Sherlock delights us with an omniscient human being.
It seems like all anyone wants to talk about is power. And the best show on television about power is Game of Thrones.
Why did I spend three and a half days of my life watching all 87 episodes of a soapy spy serial? For Jesus, of course. Also because it's a provocative and relevant series.
“I’ve been telling everyone who’ll listen how great Downton Abbey is,” I said in a sermon that was technically about evangelism. I was illustrating St. Augustine’s point that when people love, say, a great actor they tell others about him—and so how much more should we tell others about the gospel. A week later I learned how (un)successful that point had been. “I’ve watched every episode,” a parishioner said. “Now what was it you were trying to say about that show?”