As far back as I can remember I wanted to be a gangster—I mean, film critic. Ahem, yes of course, that’s what I meant (though now that I mention it, it’s relatively easy to confuse gangsters and film critics — both operate within exclusive secret societies, neither can claim to have a legitimate job on their tax returns, and their members are known to die unceremoniously before their time).
This no doubt comes as a shock of defibrillating proportions to anyone in my life who’s ever attempted to watch a movie with me for more than seven seconds, but it’s true – writing professionally for a major website (that may or may not rhyme with PlogerPlebert.plom) is a gig I’d basically kill for. Unfortunately, until some media mogul decides to pay me for my opinions, I’m afraid I have minimal interest in devoting my free time and extra money to reviewing contemporary films in time for them to be relevant to Joe and Jane Moviegoer – even if I did, they already have Rotten Tomatoes or Half in the Bag for that. Continue reading Get Out: A Lesson in Effective Storytelling