Wednesday, November 19, 2025 |
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In March 2024, we learned that a Bruce Springsteen biopic was in production, with Jeremy Allen White circling the role of The Boss. It felt like nothing could go wrong—every set photo of Carmy in a denim jacket was immaculate. But when the film, Springsteen: Deliver Me From Nowhere, finally hit theaters last month, it was met with a collective meh not only from critics—but from the staunchest Springsteen-heads. So ... what happened? Anthony Breznican has a take on The Boss's big-screen letdown, which will make you reconsider the mythos of Springsteen entirely. "Ironically, in an age when most filmmakers and cultural critics are relentlessly urging people to see films on a big screen with a big audience, this is a kind of exception," writes Breznican. "It may be the one movie that benefits from watching it all by yourself." Read his column for yourself and find out why. – Brady Langmann, senior entertainment editor Plus: |
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The Bruce Springsteen biopic was meant to kickstart a long Oscar campaign for Jeremy Allen White. It hasn't, because everyone is missing what actually makes the film about Nebraska great. |
What Deliver Me From Nowhere shows is that everybody needs to pull back and go it alone sometimes. Authenticity comes from knowing your own heart, and listening to it. That's the part that is relatable to anybody, from rock stars to presidents to the average person who is just trying his or her best to figure things out and stay right with themselves and the world around them. Nobody is Bruce Springsteen. (Maybe not even Bruce Springsteen.) The man is one of one. But virtually everybody who reaches a certain stage in life, who carries the burden of family responsibility, who feels themselves being carried quickly down an uncertain path, can feel the urge to suddenly halt. There comes a time to reassess. A time to withdraw and look inward. "Is this what I want?" "If not, then what do I want?" "And who is truly with me?" These are the questions that writer-director Scott Cooper's film tries to answer. They're also the kinds of things most people, especially men, have trouble even thinking about to themselves, let alone articulating out loud. That's why it's a shame the film hasn't been more fully embraced. Critics have shrugged. Box office was underwhelming. It's a quiet and emotional story about a thorny and inscrutable moment of self-imposed isolation, but it rewards those who open their hearts to it. |
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Alone in the fog, after six days of running through the British mountains, Raf Willems began to speak with the grass and stones. About what, he doesn't know. The air was freezing, but he liked it that way; summer heat made for awful running weather. To be in nature—the thickening precipitation above, the undulating terrain below—pushing his physical limits was a thrilling adventure. Until he saw dead people lying in the snow, calling to him: Help, help, help me! The start of the ultramarathon had been lively. More than one hundred deliriously excited long-distance runners—their faces flushed from the drizzly 35 degree morning, colorful waterproof jackets zipped to the chin with hoods up—all huddled in mass anticipation of the Montane Winter Spine Race. It was January 15, 2023. Some wanted to win. Most, like Willems, simply wanted to finish. But completing the 268-mile course in the allotted time of 168 hours would be no simple feat. Starting in the town of Edale in Derbyshire, the trail ultramarathon threads the Pennine Way, a ragged seam that sews together northern England's east and west halves. It ultimately needles just past the Scottish border. Participants would have to climb mountains that jut from the earth like knobby vertebrae, the highest being the nearly three-thousand-foot Cross Fell. Running the course takes nearly a week, even in the best conditions, and British winters are particularly unkind. "The good news is, I've got an up-to-date weather forecast," a race staffer yelled to the crowd through a white-and-red megaphone. "The bad news is, I've got an up-to-date weather forecast." He didn't need to say it. Probable wind and snow. Definite cold. Minutes later, at 8:00 a.m., he shouted, "Three, two, one, go!" |
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There was a time when titanium watches were expensive and rare—but that time is long behind us. Ever since Citizen debuted its X-8 in 1970, more and more brands have been adopting this advanced material for its myriad excellent qualities. Lightweight and easy wearing, titanium is hypoallergenic, corrosion resistant, hard, and extremely robust—in fact, it's roughly five times as strong as steel. Though it can be difficult to machine and can scratch easily, it's a naturally advantageous watchmaking material, and costs have come down tremendously over the past few decades. In fact, a titanium watch can cost pretty much whatever you'd like it to cost, from just a few hundred bucks to "if you have to ask" territory. Many of the market's best contemporary tool watches, however, are in fact titanium pieces: Watches such as the GMT-equipped Longines Spirit Zulu Time Titanium and the sturdy Tudor Pelagos 39 are made of the stuff, as are plenty of others from brands like Hamilton and Mido. Also offering titanium watches are high-end marques such as Bulgari, and entry-level pieces can come from brands such as Citizen and Tissot. Truly, the world is your (titanium) oyster. |
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