The melancholy this time of year is inescapable, but as I begin pouring Bailey’s into my nightly hot chocolate, I begin wondering if there’s a kind of beauty to the blues. With such an inclination towards setting a certain mood, the art I ingest becomes more and more curated. I keep a pack of cigarettes on my desk that I bought in Barcelona just for the “vibe”. And I get an email from Criterion that it’s finally November Noir.
Les mer