Emily St. James is a writer and critic whose work has appeared in Vox, The A.V. Club, and the New York Times. She is the co-creator of the podcast Arden and a writer on the TV series Yellowjackets.
(Yo, this piece originally appeared on Tumblr. I am tired and don't want to write any more.) The first time I saw “So-Called Angels,” the much-maligned Christmas episode of My So-Called Life, I was but 14, and I thought it was the best episode of television I had
Few aspects of being a critic seem to fascinate readers more than the making of the annual top 10 list. (Okay, getting TV screeners/attending movie screenings are more interesting to most.) The irony here is that many critics hate to make them — narrowing a full year down to just
Criticism is sleight of hand. It's three-card monte. It's whatever you call that game with the cups where there's a ball under one of the cups. What I mean by this is that criticism is a personal essay that either needs to put the
Jaime Weinman has a strong piece today about how many of our Christmas songs take place in a version of the 1890s that the songwriters who created those songs had no first-hand experience with, to say nothing for those of us who sing or listen to those songs now. Something
I went on a bit of a Twitter tear a week ago, spurred by the HitFix TV critics poll but, really, by any list that aggregates a bunch of critics' votes together. I used to run one, in the AV Club's annual poll, and I counted the
No TV critic watches everything. So when my top 30 shows on TV list is unveiled on December 21 at the Vox Dot Com (along with, possibly, a very special sequel), you are bound to find that I've forgotten something, which will cause you great anger and distress.
It's that time of year again! The time of year when I insert some platitudes about how the calendar is reaching its end and time is meaningless. It's also time to talk about how it was a good year for TV! Maybe not as good as
I grew up surrounded by two things: Republicans and guns. Thus, I don't particularly hate the former, and I don't particularly fear the latter. That, increasingly, makes me feel like I'm out of step with my fellow progressive urbanites. Don't get me
WARNING: THIS IS THE DUMBEST INSTALLMENT OF THIS DUMB NEWSLETTER YET. TUNE OUT NOW! OR GO PLAY SOLITAIRE OR SOMETHING. I DON'T CARE! I saw The Revenant, the big Oscar hopeful, tonight. I'm under embargo for a few more hours, so I can't tell
(My apologies for any details I get wrong. I had intended to revisit this episode before writing this, but life, as they say, got in the way.) I love Rashomon episodes, even though they almost never purport to show what they say they're showing and even though the
Have you heard a bad version of "Santa Claus Is Coming to Town"? I mean, I'm sure one exists. I'm sure in the vast infinity of Christmas covers, there's a terrible, rotten, no good version of this song. But it's
(This is part two of a series. To read part one, go here!) There was perhaps no TV feature so roundly misunderstood at the AV Club as TV Club 10. And I don't just mean it was misunderstood by commenters (though it was that). It was misunderstood by