I made the mistake -the blunder - of watching Conclave the other evening. A decision roughly on par with licking a battery to see if it’s working. It wasn’t entertainment. It was a two-hour slow-motion shrug, like watching a dying man cough into a linen napkin. Now, I’d been seduced, you see. Hoodwinked by the timing. A … Continue reading Conclave – or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Accept the End of Western Storytelling