Silver Streak (1976, dir. Arthur Hiller)

George Caldwell (Gene Wilder) is taking the Silver Streak train from Los Angeles to Chicago. While onboard he meets and spends the night with Hilly Burns (Jill Clayburgh), the secretary to a prominent art professor. George claims he saw the professor dead and thrown from the roof of the train and his investigation the next morning leads to him crossing paths with paid goons and being tossed from the train. A conspiracy behind the professor’s work is uncovered and George must team up with Grover Muldoon (Richard Pryor), a thief who ends up drug into the mess.
When Silver Streak was released, Gene Wilder was at his career peak. He’d come off of Blazing Saddles and Young Frankenstein. Previously, Wilder had struggled to find a breakout role. In retrospect, films like The Producers and Willy Wonka are spoken of fondly but at the time they were considered box offices failures whose love only came later with home video in the 1980s and 90s. Richard Pryor was as big a name and arguably bigger than Wilder at the time. By 1976, he’d had three comedy albums that went gold and hosted what became one of the great Saturday Night Live episodes. Before that, he’d cut his teeth as a writer on Sanford and Son as well as Blazing Saddles. He was set to play the co-lead with Wilder in Saddles but his volatile nature connected to his drug use caused studio heads to nix that idea.
The film was directed by Arthur Hiller, one of the big directors of the 1970s with features like Love Story, The Out of Towners, and The In-Laws. He worked frequently with playwright Neil Simon, however, Silver Streak was the work of Colin Higgins. Higgins was the screenwriter behind Harold and Maude and would go on to write and direct Foul Play, 9 to 5, and The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas.
The biggest thing you’ll notice while watching Silver Streak is that Pryor doesn’t appear onscreen until a full hour into the film. He’s billed third behind Jill Clayburgh and this appears to be because his roll was not meant to be as stand out. After reading the script, Wilder told the producers that the only way to keep elements in the film from becoming offensive would be to hire Pryor for the Grover role and allow him to bring his personality and point of view to the role. He was exactly right because, in scenes like the blackface disguise moment, Pryor is able to comment on white people and their exploitation of blackface in a way that most certainly came from his own mind. It’s very apparent to see why Pryor and Wilder would be teamed together for the next 15 years because they do have a wonderful chemistry together.
Speaking of chemistry, the relationship between Wilder and Clayburgh is one of the most convincing I’ve seen in a film. There was a certain type of naturalistic acting that worked its way into mainstream cinema in the 1970s that I think is present in the interaction between these two actors. It doesn’t hurt that both of them just have very magnetic, genuine, and charming personalities. You just can’t help but smile during their flirtation because it feels like you’re watching a real moment between two people who are attracted to each other.
The supporting cast is one of those great character actor showcases: Ned Beatty, Scatman Crothers, Patrick McGoohan, Ray Walston, Clifton James, and Richard Kiel. The roles are not that meaty on the page, but the actors bring dimensionality to the characters through their choices. The film is also very well-paced with Wilder’s series of ejections from the train marking the act breaks in a very clever manner. This will definitely be the strongest of the four Pryor/Wilder films in the series and serve as a benchmark to compare the subsequent pictures.



Florida cop Christopher Henry has a new job training the law enforcement forces in Baghdad. It’s 2003, and he is in the heart of the Iraq War. There is the standard level of chaos and violence in the city but things get personal when one of Henry’s Iraqi trainees is found murdered. Henry teams up with Nassir, an ex-cop still hanging on in the city. In the background is Sofia, an Iraqi-American who has come back to the city to help with the rebuilding process while attempting to take control of the organized criminal underbelly. This is the tv series HBO wishes it had the budget to make.
eat, as all noir needs to have.

I had no idea what Paper Girls was, not even who wrote or drew it. I just saw the cover and thought that looks interesting. To my joyous surprise, I learned it was written by Brian K. Vaughan (Saga, Y the Last Man, Lost) and illustrated by Cliff Chiang (Wonder Woman, Tales of the Unexpected). I also had wondered what the title meant by “Paper Girls” and found it was so clear I should have figured it out: They are girls who deliver papers.
I became a lover of Jorge Luis Borges’ writing in college. If you’re not familiar, he was an Argentinian writer who trafficked mostly in short stories that evoked magic realism and played with the ideas of authorship, fiction, and meta-reality. Brockmeier doesn’t get as deeply academic as Borges would, but still touches upon the same ideas. The Truth About Celia begins with the mysterious disappearance of the title character, the daughter of science fiction author Christopher Brooks. The book’s structure is that of a collection of short stories written in the seven years since she vanished that revolve around that tragedy. Some are directly about Celia other opt to explore more fantastical spaces.
I picked this novel off the shelf at a bookstore my sophomore year of college knowing absolutely nothing about it. Over a decade and a dozen books later I consider Japanese author Haruki Murakami one of our greatest living writers. Murakami is unlike anyone else you will ever read and has always felt more like film than literature. He’s about setting a mood and examining characters in their spaces. He’s about hinting at mystery and fantasy but never letting the lens explore it too closely.
I was in the dorms the summer between my sophomore and junior year when I read this novel. I was blown away. It was my first encounter with Cormac McCarthy and I knew I had read one of the great American works of literature. Surprisingly, this is a variation on the story of Davy Crockett. That is never clear but if you are familiar with some of the tropes you begin to see them underneath the surface. The story follows a character known only as The Kid born under mysterious signs who encounter a powerful figure known as Judge Holden. Holden becomes a recurring figure throughout the novel and might possibly the Devil. The Kid ends up working to help expand America into the west by exterminating Apaches. The landscape becomes a surreal nightmare plane seen through the eyes of the Kid. Blood Meridian is one of those pieces of literature that you must imagine nearly killed the author to write. It is supremely intense, violent, and sprawling. It outright spits in the face of the romantic Western genre by making us seeing the horrible brutality and biblical horror of a lost time.
While I really don’t enjoy found footage horror films, when the genre is applied to literature or, in this case, audio drama, it works much better in my opinion. The premise of Tanis is that journalist Nic Silver is attempting to uncover what Tanis, a word mentioned in a myriad of sources, is. Is it a person, a place? Why are famous occultists obsessed with it? How does it connect to other urban legends and modern horrors? If you are a fan of slow burning, very creepy, conspiracy theory stories Tanis will provide you with many hours of entertainment. Currently, Season 1 (12 episodes) is available with Season 2 on its seventh of 12 total episodes.
This was the first movie podcast I ever listened to starting way back in 2005. At the time it was Adam and Sam Van Hallgren hosting, but the latter has moved on to a producing role. No matter the hosts, the film has always maintained a high level of discussion about film. Kempenaar is an instructor at the University of Chicago and Larsen spent over a decade reviewing films for the Chicago Sun-Times. Both men have a very deep knowledge of film and work to spotlight picture beyond what has currently opened at the cineplex. This podcast has probably been the biggest inspiration to my love of film introducing me to filmmakers like Wim Wenders, John Cassavetes, and Robert Altman. Even if you have an extensive film knowledge you will learn something from listening to this series.
Inspired by Mystery Science Theater 3000 and a plethora of books detailing the “worst films ever made” these three comedians and actors set out to make a series where they explored travesties of cinema in depth. Episode One spotlighted Burlesque; Christina Aguilera and Cher’s gaudy passion project. From there they have looked at films like The Last Airbender, Masters of the Universe, and Zardoz. Some particular highlights have been A View to a Kill, Glitter, and the god awful sequel to Saturday Night Fever, Staying Alive. A very high energy podcast that has very charismatic and witty hosts that make watching bad films a pleasure.
Lauren Lapkus had become a staple on Comedy Bang Bang thanks to her variety of characters. When she decided to start her own podcast instead of hosting she opted to make the host rotating and to play a different character on each episode. This lets the guest come up with the concept of the show, the topic of conversation and even the basics of Lapkus’ own character. In fact, Lapkus doesn’t know any of this information until they start recording the episode and loves being made to improvise it all on the spot. A nice surprising podcast that never fails to present something unique and funny. 