Anyone who knows me knows that I have been unapologetically crushing on A.O. Scott, the New York Times' movie critic, for years. Years. Something about that man's elitist, wittily sarcastic prose just sends me aflutter. When he loves things, his praise is perfectly glowing without being lofty. When he hates things, the disdain drips off the page. (Please, for your own sakes, go read his archived review of Smokin' Aces. I have never laughed so hard in my life.) The man can write. And clearly this is one surefire way into my heart. 

Click to read more ...