A TV show can present a minority group as "respectable" or as people who are as screwed up as anyone else. Transparent goes with option two.
Kathryn Reklis reviews film, TV, and more
Fifty Shades of Grey is not a good book. The film is even worse.
Every war movie is in essence a pro-war movie, even when it tries to be against war.
Seven of this year's eight best picture nominees are stories of lone, white heroes—stories that seem out of touch with the times. The exception is Selma.
With Marco Polo, Netflix reaches for a global audience. Unfortunately, it casts the epic drama through one European’s eyes.
Exodus: Gods and Kings has more in common with the 2004 sword-and-sandal disaster Alexander than with the other biblical epics of 2014.
Like Sarah Koenig, I want to know if we can believe Adnan Syed. But I only know Syed through Koenig’s accounts of him in Serial.
Pop culture often reduces men to testosterone, with little room to acknowledge themselves as God’s image bearers. But there are glimmers of hope.
“Are we alone in the universe?” is always a question about God’s existence. The film Interstellar shows this clearly.
On Masters of Sex, the wired-up naked bodies are not nearly as titillating as the melodramas that unfold when the characters are fully clothed.
Gillian Flynn has been accused of hating women. I disagree: Flynn pushes the truth of what can happen to women in a world that diminishes them.
Christopher Foyle has a deep sense of right and wrong. Foyle's War offers both moral clarity and moral complexity.
Lars and the Real Girl shows the power of the visual medium to tell a theological story. I not only felt that I knew Lars, but that I knew myself through his fear of the tangles of relationship, his anxiety about the need to be transformed, and his desire to put transformation off as long as possible.
On the second anniversary of our media column, we asked several of our writers to reflect on their favorite theological films.
The Coen brothers’ sense of humor is not for everyone, but anyone with any sympathy for slackerdom can find a place in his heart for The Big Lebowski. I consider it a near-perfect illustration of the ancient Christian virtue of apatheia.