Like Proust and his madeleine, the simple act of eating in Anthony Bourdain’s television shows usually became an occasion for memory. Whether it was over mohinga in Yangon, egusi soup in Lagos, or clams at the Jersey shore, sharing a meal with Bourdain often became a portal to the past: to one’s childhood; to memories of family and community;

I am writing this blog during Season Two of Hulu’s TV production of The Handmaid’s Tale ; a drama about state-sanctioned oppression of sexual and gender non-conformity set in the  fictional Republic of Gilead . It’s tough viewing; its promises of hope, freedom and redemption always deferred to the next episode via cliff-hangers, misdirection and plot twists.

This blog sketches out some of the ideas that account for recent TV drama’s formal strategies due to the growing complexity of television narrative.

This blog post has first been published on Filmicon.   Growing up as a child of first-generation Greek-Australian migrants had countless privileges. But being different from the dominant white demographic was something I did not look too favourably upon, at that time anyway.

I’ve spoken before that I am a HUGE fan of The Bridge and especially the character of Saga Noren.  Last night, my adoration for the series went to a whole new level.

I’m the king of the world! — James Cameron on accepting the 1998 Best Director Oscar for Titanic (1997)   Nothing epitomizes the insularity, vanity, and self-regard of the entertainment industry like awards shows.

This article was originally published on The Conversation on 4 June 2018.

Beginning with the popularization and mass availability of television in the 1950s, the medium has since extensively been employed to transport and mediate history in manifold ways.

I have been thinking about a piece written by Elke Weissman[1] a lot recently. In it she describes how her experience at the 2015 MeCCSA conference had ultimately forced her to accept that television watching was (in its medium specific sense) no more. In years since, plenty of scholars have joined her in the search for understanding change, and for functionable terminology.

Laura Mulvey’s “Visual Pleasure and Narrative Cinema” is the gift that enigmatically keeps on giving. An avowed overstatement for polemical purposes, Mulvey’s essay, as she had hoped, was and remains a springboard for discussing sexism in the media. Recently, because of the Amazon series The Marvelous Mrs.