Matsuda Eiko’s career illustrates the erasure that occurs when women’s creative work is falsely reduced to autobiography.
Susan Peters was an Academy Award-nominated actress, a trainee pilot, a medical student. But it was a shooting incident in 1945 that would come to define her.
In their decades of collaboration, the company created films tethered in a new language for what it means to be a human of multiple descriptions.
In her fifty years on screen, her palpable desperation to be liked has moved audiences or grated on them. But she projects something constant and knowable—the marker of a true star.
Rose McGowan suffered from the worst of the Hollywood machine and reclaimed her body and her narrative. But her all-for-one methods have alienated fellow activists.
As a nerdy kid who wanted to be a film critic, I saw myself in Wilson’s unexpected comedy. But my favourite writer was destined to become a movie star.
The 1973 film Messiah of Evil doesn’t scare with monsters—it shows instead how horror can annex a place, compelling you to pass through familiar and traumatic rooms, dread gathering as your heel meets the floor.
Despite filming her last feature in the ’40s, Dorothy Arzner remains Hollywood’s most prolific female director—what does that say about Hollywood?
Like so many of her heroines, the director seduces to control.
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