Faithful readers, as well as people I’ve met casually on the street, probably, will know that I am a huge fan of Nathan Rabin.
Note: This was written as part of The Dissolve commentariat’s tribute to Nathan Rabin.
In a recent piece, Nathan Rabin reflected on a vicious review his memoir received, which baselessly took him to task for snark and cynicism.
Although this particular review didn’t have much ground to stand on, he (rather generously) concedes:
I realized I sometimes used humor, or at least jokiness, as a crutch so I resolved to be more nakedly sincere and open in my writing.
Note: This was originally posted as part of The Dissolve commentariat’s tribute to Nathan Rabin. The idea was to continue some of the columns he started before he was unceremoniously bounced. Thanks, Nathan, for being the most consistently entertaining and insightful pop culture writer working today, and apologies in advance for the pale facsimile that follows.
Bad movies come in many varieties. There are the dull ones, the ones with continuity errors and sloppy technical aspects, the ones with howlingly bad performances. There are offensive ones, or ones that simply don’t work on their own terms. There are the ones whose sheer terribleness provokes amazement and joy – the “so bad, it’s good” entries in the cinematic pantheon.