It is not uncommon for creators of all sorts to become disgusted with their own most successful works. Joker: Folie à Deux, the utterly joyless follow-up to Todd Phillips’s 2019 smash hit Joker, is the most egregious example I’ve ever seen of this phenomenon

In the grand universe of horror/mystery tropes, the most hoary and venerable must be: Start it with an old dude hanging himself. The viewer is instantly gripped: why-oh-why did this dignified gentleman find it necessary to end himself?

Here’s the deal:  if there is a god, or supreme being or higher power as our friends in AA say, he enjoys a personal hatred for me. Why? I do not know, nor can I imagine.

As a relative newcomer to the human dynamo that is writer-producer-director-editor-cinematographer-actor Leanne Johnson, I need to know what goes into her pre-workout shaker bottle.

If you think about it, or being a Tarantino fan you don’t think at all, an actor is very much like a grifter, a con artist.  The profession is to make you believe something that is not true.