Brad Barrish

I’ve sensed a thaw lately in the cosmos of letters: an energy, an urgency. Maybe it’s because people fear this might be the last good season before the end of the world, so we’d better get it all out now. Maybe it’s just because it’s spring.

We live in a world where movies aren’t considered art, but intellectual property. They’re “content,” little chunks of stuff that can be licensed, extended, remixed, rebooted, made into bedsheets and amusement park rides and whatever else will make money. It’s how the business has worked for half a century or more.