
Or, as a “Top Chef” contestant might title this post, “Drive” Four Ways. The US teaser poster for Nicolas Winding Refn’s Cannes winner unveiled a couple of weeks ago — the one that handily doubles as the cover for Ryan Gosling’s upcoming workout DVD — met a mixed reception. Some liked the kitsch, star-centered romanticism of it (though I can’t top Nick Davis’s “Aaron Carter inspirational cassette single” analogy), while many others thought it did an inadequate job of selling the film’s genre components. The film’s a fast-car thriller — where were the cars? And the thrills?
Those objectors should be appeased by the film’s new US and UK one-sheets, both of which retain The Gosling Factor while shading in a little more of the action-film context. (A faint hint of camp is still present in the film’s trademark hot-pink cursive.) The US poster wins on the design front — and props for including a glimpse of the film’s key fetish object, Gosling’s leather driving gloves — but loses major points for recycling a tagline indelibly attached to “No Country for Old Men.” What were they thinking? Check ’em out after the cut.


I suppose some might put it down to the fact that I didn’t find the film as spirit-lifting as many critics did, but I have a hard time signing the blogosphere’s imaginary petition for Andy Serkis to get a Best Supporting Actor nomination for 

Longtime Oscar-watchers know that the Academy’s documentary branch is a law unto itself: no amount of glowing reviews, previous awards, robust box office and/or pop-culture prominence is enough to secure a film a guaranteed nomination in the Best Documentary Feature race. Indeed, anticipating the “surprise” snub in the branch’s series of shortlists is something of an annual pundits’ parlor game: last year, Davis Guggenheim’s popular
Here’s some exciting news for my London-based fans — all six of you, give or take members of my immediate family. If your long-cherished dream has been to see me in the flesh, offering my own limited insight into the whys and hows of film journalism, that can become a reality today.
It seems perverse to begin a review of a documentary — one about a well-known, latter-day sports legend, at that — with something as mundanely cautious as a spoiler alert. Until recently, if general knowledge hadn’t already acquainted a viewer with the outcome of a non-fiction feature, or if the laws of real, unheightened life hadn’t made it patently obvious, the filmmakers would usually do the job for us anyway, working backwards from set facts to find the variables we don’t know, or didn’t know we knew.
The vast Toronto Film Festival lineup is a still-growing beast, but today it swelled to 125 titles with the addition of a cluster of homegrown Canadian titles, including two films — Mary Harron’s
Apologies for the silence on the site in the last day or so — Kris has been in transit, while I’ve been distracted by dispiriting events close to home. The riots that have been plaguing London since Saturday night seemed to finally attract the full attention of international news networks today, but I’m not sure how effectively they can convey the queasy jumble of anger, confusion and dread afflicting most of the city’s residents, myself included.
I generally try to ignore film opinion pieces I think are fundamentally misguided — à chacun son goût and all that, plus the fact that fighting one mind is generally more trouble than it’s worth — but Ben Walsh’s 
And you thought
When compiling my first round of Oscar