December 9, 2011
Paul Livingstone, R&D Magazine
Netflix is wonderful for the mailbox. Alongside bills, credit card offers and a never-ending stream of fat magazines, that familiar red-and-white envelope holds the promise of an hour or two of mindless entertainment. Inevitably, though, for every dumb movie or stand-up comedy, I feel obligated to add a documentary, exposé, or heart-wrenching Oscar-winner. The latest was Gasland, which sat on the shelf unwatched for some weeks until I heard it mentioned on the radio during my morning commute. I got what I expected; a Michael Moore-esque “j’accuse” laced with free-form cinematography and folk music.