An incomplete (but growing) collection of the "beloved and irresponsible" film critic's work for Premiere magazine that hasn't already been compiled in book form.
To read the columns from Premiere on this blog, click on any scanned page, then right-click to download it as a JPEG that can be magnified on your desktop so you don't get a headache squinting at all of Libby's great one-liners. (Alternately, you can right-click to open a page in a new tab on your browser and magnify it that way.) I never worked for Premiere, so if you're a copyright owner and would like Libby's columns to be removed from this blog, please contact me at rwcass@gmail.com. They're meant for informational purposes only, I promise. (Well, they're also meant to make you laugh, but you get the idea.)
Showing posts with label Cousin Andrew. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cousin Andrew. Show all posts
March 2003: "I Know Why the Jailbirds Sing"
"I'm finally beginning to remember the characters' names, which include Gimli, Aragorn, and Legolas: 'Don't they all sound like laundry products from other countries?' Andrew asked."
January 1998: "I Love Lucifer"
"He's married to Charlize Theron, who comes with him to Manhattan, where Al's firm gets the couple an eight-room apartment on Fifth Avenue, which proves that, as we all know, Satan is a real-estate broker. Even God can't get you into a building on upper Fifth, where even Adam and Eve are considered new money."
September 1997: "Ship of Fools"
"My cousin Andrew told me that you can see Ewan's penis frequently in that art film The Pillow Book, but I still need more proof; a penis on an English actor is often just a special effect."
September 1996: "Doing Lines"
"... I have also read that at the highest levels of awareness, Scientologists are told about an early alien invasion of Earth; I have trouble with the Second Coming, but I like any religion that prophesies the box office potential of Independence Day."
June 1994: "Adam's Crib"
"It's supposed to be a charming romantic confection, and it sort of is, except that most of the people in it are English, which pretty much kills the hot-stuff angle; a naked Englishperson seems like something that has had its shell removed and been left on the highway. I think English people feel that sex is something Americans do because we can't read."
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