Their Satanic Majesties Request – The Rolling Stones

This has to be one of the most bizarre Stones records I’ve heard. I picked it up as a blind spot, knowing only one track and little else about the background. To be honest, I didn’t even know the Rolling Stones had a psychedelic “phase,” which is probably too wide a term considering it appears to have lasted for just this one album. It is understandable the desire to compete with the Beatles and Sgt. Pepper, but I would say it was not very effective. Obviously, they must have agreed since the follow-up began an unassailable run of albums—at least four, but possibly as many as eight?—all of which went back to the core sound rooted in blues. All of those, in fact, I prefer to this one. This was a fascinating experiment, and one I would actually like to return to at some point despite my misgivings.

Hamnet (2025)

I found the pacing of this film to be odd, and when I looked around online after watching it, I saw others feeling the same way. Anecdotally, though, it seems like people tend to form into one of two opposing opinions about the film’s ending: it either confirms the slow pace and does not resolve well or justifies the slow build and earns the emotional payoff. It was good to see my feelings echoed online, because I was very much in the latter category. It takes twenty-five minutes for the love story to develop, the title character is not even revealed until minute forty or thereabouts. This hardly gives time to develop a meaningful connection before he is abruptly killed, propelling us to the climax. But then, the conclusion is spell-binding. By way the mother and her brother, we go from feeling the playwright’s absent coldness to losing his son, to realizing he has actually expressed his grief in the most public way possible. The mother achieves a sense of catharsis by watching a tragic play as personal elegy intended only for her despite being surrounded by a hundred different people having a hundred different feelings of their own. This film is a perfect example of art as healing—for both creator and consumer.

Viridiana (1961)

From what other Buñuel I've seen, I had expected this to be far more surrealist. Instead, this was a straightforward film with gorgeous scenery, set almost entirely in a Spanish villa. The film was beautiful, even if the messaging fell short for me. For vague reasons, the title character visits her wealthy, estranged relative, just as she is about to achieve her life goal, which ends up derailing her life. Without sacrificing her goodness, she is able to make the most of a new situation, only for her intentions to betray her, and leave her empty. She is, quite literally, assaulted by those above and below her place in life, and we are left to believe she is ruined because of it. I realize the intent of the film was to decry the lack of morals of the upper class, but the way the poor were ultimately demonized at the end didn't sit right with me. 

Mile High Madness Anything Goes (AEW, 2/25/2026)

This is not really my style of match, overemphasizing chaos and props, but it was certainly enjoyable for what it was. This was the definition of a spotfest, and I don't necessarily use that as a pejorative. To begin the match, having Jack Perry's music running the entire first two or three minutes was goofy and fun. From there it was quick cuts jumping from action to plunder to more action. Kudos to the Perry, the Rascalz, and the Bucks for wearing similarly colored pants; otherwise, I would have been totally lost in the mayhem. I can't watch too many of these in a row, but I'm good for one or two a year. 

The Legend of Zelda: The Minish Cap (Game Boy Advance)

Zelda is very much a winter franchise for me. Something about the holiday time inspires me to pick up a game to chip away on. This year, I landed on a new-to-me entry, as I didn’t own a Game Boy Advance growing up, and this game was a blast. While the overworld was a bit trite (forgivable, considering it’s on a mobile device) the dungeon puzzles were highly satisfying. I thought the music, when I remembered to turn up my Game Boy’s volume, was particularly magnificent, directly reminiscent of Ocarina of Time. There were moments I thought I had played this before, but it was only the music grounding me. This was not my favorite Zelda game, not even my favorite 2D Zelda, possibly not even my favorite handheld 2D Zelda, but even a “not my favorite” in this series is still a tremendous game. Especially after feeling burned by the Zelda output on the Switch, this reminded me what I love about the series.

Network (1976)

Although he doesn’t play a major role, Robert Duvall submits another incredible performance, proving he would not be typecast as Tom Hagen, despite being just a couple years removed from The Godfather. What a treasured American actor. A ludicrous satire of mass media, which—while obviously dated—somehow feels more poignant viewed in today’s America. The sensationalism depicted here actually winds up feeling quaint compared to the real-life news channels. The interpersonal relationships of the executives could not hold my interest, but the machinations of the TV station, whereby all moral values are sacrificed at the altar of Nielsen ratings and ad revenues, will never not be relevant. This is Succession, but fifty years earlier.

Football - Chuck Klosterman

I have often said no one has influenced my writing style more than Chuck Klosterman. In fact, these very words wouldn’t exist without him. So, my favorite author wrote a book about sports. One sport in particular, actually. And it was exactly what I’ve come to expect from him and his writing. I like to read his thoughts on pretty much any subject, but as it happens, football is also a topic I enjoy, though not nearly as much as he does. Still, his appreciation is undoubtedly infectious. This is less of a history or analysis of the game, and more critical think-piece essays about football’s place in the larger view of society, which is again to be expected. If anything, it was more focused than I expected, less tangential than his usual works. Not many nonfiction books have ever made me laugh out loud, but he does it with regularity, and this one was no exception. He writes at a level of intellectualism where I feel dumb even trying to comprehend it, but then bends it back around to a level of stupidity where I feel smart again. The truth is probably closer to the former for me, but at least it's a fun ride, and it tends to prompt me to initiate similar conversations with my own like-minded friends. He has an undeniably special way of looking at the world that sitting in the bar and chatting with him for an afternoon would feel natural.

The Alabama Solution (2025)

As expected, this was a difficult documentary to watch. The story was primarily told via vertical cell phone footage directly captured by inmates of the Alabama prisons, and it was amazing how quickly the blurry imagery naturally gave way from “cinematography” to realism. Specifically, the film focused on a handful of prisoners and the immediate impact of their mistreatment. Broadly, though, it was about the widespread systemic racism and classism in the prison system where powerless human beings are kept in inhuman conditions. Likening the captivity to slavery—forced labor, little to no chance to graduate—made the message that much more effective. Importantly, the film did not give time to anyone with the concept that these people somehow deserve what they are going through beyond a couple arrogant radio hosts, nor does it blatantly politicize the outcome beyond the usual, which is to say financial gain. Doing so would have only made it divisive, and this shouldn’t be. Human beings throughout the nation (as the documentary reminds us this is not limited to one state or one region) are being denied human rights. It’s impossible to talk about this as a work of art. It’s a well-made documentary, sure. But the value, of course, is in the meaning, and hopefully some actual difference can be made because of it.

Big Arch burger (McDonald’s)

It’s not often a fast food gimmick actually works for me as anything more than that: a fun one-off I never need to try again. Calling myself a connoisseur feels pretentious, but I do make regular trips to any fast food establishment for any new goofball menu offering, so I can comfortably say I’ve had a wide range of offerings. That said, I was impressed with the new Big Arch burger, even for someone with such a limited palette. For starters, opening the lid to see a dual sesame and poppy seed bun was a very pleasant surprise. I appreciated the gooey over-serving of cheese surrounding both patties, which was even tastier in conjunction with the sauce. But the best addition was the combination of raw and fried onions, above and below the meat, respectively. If I had one request, it would be for a pop of fresh tomato. It is decidedly too much food to function as my daily driver of a sandwich, but as an occasional purchase and competitor with the Big Mac, this burger deserves a place in the regular menu, or at least a rotating treat.

Justified – Justin Timberlake

I’m of the opinion that 39 minutes is the perfect length for an album. Somehow, rap and pop records seem to be the biggest offenders of this rule. This album (like last week’s Pitchfork Sunday review, Madonna’s Erotica) is guilty of overstaying its welcome. Although it only has thirteen tracks, it’s still over an hour, which is too much. Especially if it’s not my preferred style of music.

I have at least one friend who swears by later Timberlake albums, but this one didn’t do a whole lot for me. While I would have been a little young for the whole boy band craze, Justin Timberlake was ubiquitous enough that I kept waiting to be hit with songs I of course recognized, but that only happened once, with “Rock Your Body.” I did have a moment of shock when I heard Clipse on one song, so it was less of a surprise to learn The Neptunes were heavily involved here. Otherwise, I heard talent, both in the production and vocalizing, but an overall sameness. It’s hard to say without the benefit of hindsight, but it felt like an early record from someone who goes on to be one of the biggest pop multimedia stars of the decade. And again, every song could have trimmed 30-45 seconds off the meandering outros. At some point, I’ll probably try a later album or two, for no other reason than to see if I agree with my friends.

Fireworks - Matthew Burgess & Catia Chien (illus.)

When I say I enjoy following awards, I am referring to a wide range of them. The Caldecott Medal and Honor books are part of my yearly routine. This title, the award winner, was quite pretty. The artwork was minimalistic but the colors were vibrant. The story was not particularly deep, but that is never the intent of the award. One page expanded upward in a fold to expose the finale of the firework show, proving once again that children’s picture books are one of the last formats which cannot be replaced digitally. I always enjoy when picture books take advantage of the art form when it supplements the story. In this case, providing a vertical page extension added to the majesty of the firework celebration.