Bangladesh won its independence from Pakistan 50 years ago after a war that involved terrible atrocities against the civilian population. Selective nationalist mythologies still obscure the human stories of victims and perpetrators, and the lasting scars of the conflict.
Theresa May as prime minister, like Thatcher before her, represents a woman given equal opportunity to oppress other women.
In the 1930s, the French realist filmmakers found a way to speak to and fight against the rising authoritarianism in their country and the world.
Throughout his career, Bill Maher has delighted in scolding the powerless.
Alex Garland’s Men is a horror movie about how awful it is to be a woman. But he’s so intent on driving this point home that all the terror drains out of the film by the end, and only annoyance at the didactic exercise remains.
In Mexico, an energy users' association is growing into a militant women's movement.
Reading Andrea Dworkin today is still bracing. But her pessimistic, dystopian vision of a world dominated by male violence only gained currency when the utopian power of the feminist movement receded.
This week, French writer Annie Ernaux was awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature. In an interview, she explains how her class background and the reality of class divides shape her writing.
Sofia Coppola’s On the Rocks is yet another meandering depiction of life as a bored and alienated celebrity.
Perhaps the strangest thing about the media coverage of the Capitol Hill rally was how little of it focused on the visible presence of QAnon. What’s behind the Q cult, and how can we confront it?
Are You There God? It’s Me Margaret. is probably a nice, worthwhile coming-of-age movie. But it comes off as a bland fantasy film about a land peopled by smiling denizens in sunny dreamscapes who have such mild problems that they aren’t actually problems.
Reese Witherspoon’s book club made the 2018 novel Where the Crawdads Sing a hit. The new film adaptation, just like the book it's based on, is pure bathos of the mushiest kind.
Netflix’s new series Ripley, the latest iteration of Patricia Highsmith’s murderous con man from The Talented Mr Ripley, is an arty, inert snooze. Its flat portrayal of the title character doesn’t come close to the novels or other fantastic adaptations.
Kimi, the new thriller from director Steven Soderbergh, is an ordinary genre piece — so ordinary that not even its insistent topicality can make it seem more compelling.
Dalit activist and writer Gogu Shyamala’s debut collection of short stories, Father May Be an Elephant and Mother Only a Small Basket, But . . . , explores caste, tradition, and exploitation in contemporary India without romanticism.
Relationship problems are usually considered private struggles. But from financial stress to overwork, capitalism’s systemic pressures upend our romantic lives, too.
The Oscar ceremony has finally acquired an ideal twenty-first century host in the smirking, tap-dancing, bland-faced Seth MacFarlane.
Vinson Cunningham’s debut novel, Great Expectations, follows a staffer working for a magnetic young black senator making a bid for the US presidency. It’s a book about the emptiness of political symbols and the comforts and dangers of blind faith.
The Israeli Ministry of Defense recently made its visa requirements for Americans seeking to visit Palestine even stricter. This will make it harder for Palestinians to visit their families and for US citizens to work in the country.
Why focus on laws and regulations aimed at controlling sex workers rather than recognizing their agency?