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The screening was an event in itself. A near-hysterical line ringed the downtown Ryerson University campus for the midnight world premiere of this candid-camera US journey. Desperate fans jostled TV crews—or were they plants, offering $150 a ticket?—as Borat made his grand entrance escorted by a ho…

As the media’s Klieg lights lit up California

Antic without being funny, The Terminal’s attempts at humor are largely predicated on calculating how many pratfalls can be derived from a wet floor

wherein a sitcom family—tense mom, supercilious dad, two smirking teens, and an annoying little sister—gathers in the dining room to partake of a delivered pizza.

Let me tell some of the childhood elements that have come into these pages, into this night with its intense side-long moon and the fast seafog flying over the city, this brilliant day with its unique light in the streets and parks, its light shed down to the Bay and to the red bridge, the hours sl…