Instead of drama and imagination, J. J. Abrams’s coda to the Star Wars saga depends on a relentless blare of music, which takes the place of any emotional complexity that might dare to sneak through the interstices.

Instead of debating the articles of impeachment, House Republicans acted as if they were participating in a show trial—one with a predetermined not-guilty verdict.

An investigation into the effects of surveillance capitalism, a sensitive celebrity memoir, an ode to A Tribe Called Quest, and more.

The paradox, as her lawyers have pointed out, is that Mason was charged with voting illegally even though she did not actually vote.

For costume designers on whodunnits, the clothes become the clues.

The Trump Administration’s launch of peace talks with the Taliban, last year, startled many women in Afghanistan.

The Cantonese restaurant bolsters the argument that Manhattan’s Chinatown is just as exciting as the Chinatowns of Flushing, Sunset Park, and Bensonhurst.

“Halfway Bitches Go Straight to Heaven,” Guirgis’s rough-cut gem of a new play, is rich with revelation and barbed empathy.

The ballet dancer, who is making her movie début in Tom Hooper’s version, pores over a first edition of T. S. Eliot’s text and muses on the haters who went to war over the film’s weird “digital fur technology.”

Fiction by Camille Bordas: “I thought Audrey was faking it. How could you make it to twenty-six and not notice that you were color-blind?”