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The bricks of Gelecek / by Matthew Kressel. Oblivion by Calvin Klein / by Christopher Fowler. The Duke of Riverside / by Ellen Kushner. How the pooka came to New York City / by Delia Sherman. In Holly Black’s “Noble Rot”, a dying rock star discovers that the young woman who brings him food every day has some strange appetites of her own.įeaturing original stories from 20 authors, this dark, captivating, fabulous, and fantastical collection is not to be missed! In Melissa Marr’s “Guns for the Dead”, the newly dead Frankie Lee seeks a job in the afterlife on the wrong side of the law. In Patricia Briggs’ “Fairy Gifts,”, a vampire is called home by magic to save the Fae who freed him from a dark curse.

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In Jim Butcher’s ”Curses”, Harry Dresden investigates how to lift a curse laid by the Fair Folk on the Chicago Cubs. In this thrilling collection of original stories, some of today’s hottest paranormal authors delight, thrill, and captivate readers with otherworldly tales of magic and mischief. In Patricia Briggs’ “Fairy Gifts,”, a vampire is called home by magic to save t Urban Tale is a very sterile and disengaged film, that somehow seems to have tricked itself into thinking that it has terribly important things to say.In this thrilling collection of original stories, some of today’s hottest paranormal authors delight, thrill, and captivate readers with otherworldly tales of magic and mischief. Style complements substance it can’t replace it. But all these fail to make up for a fundamental lack that pervades the film. The cinematography is exquisite, with gorgeously framed shots and intriguing camera angles. It is a pretty film to look at, it must be said. Certainly, the prurience with which Urban Tale negotiates male nudity – which I’ve talked about before and won’t bother going over again – is strikingly timid, the very antithesis of the radical claims that the film stakes for itself. Truth is, it all seems rather quotidian, even conventional. In style, execution and, um, length, it is clearly intended to grab us by the short and curlies. Take the sex, for example (and there is quite a lot of this to take). But where it thinks of itself as brash and daring, it is instead quite conformist.

Urban Tale, to be fair, has a couple of interesting things to say about the irresistible cynicism that replaces the optimism of youth, the inevitability of one’s capitulation to the conformity of a deeply unimaginative age. The thing though is that it is always going to be the message, rather than the medium, that matters. Think of it as a wilful provocation from transgressive sexual conduct to a perhaps unfortunate preoccupation with anal polyps, Urban Tale agitates for our attention from its very first frames. It is, I suppose, the film-maker’s right to make a film as misanthropic, sexualised and stylised as Urban Tale. Including, it seems, this risibly misjudged film.

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From now on it is finally full sex, 24 hours a day, sex in your face, in Hi-Definition on prime time. No more self righteous programs with hidden messages. We’ll watch with our tongues hanging out. Don’t just hint, give us full penetrations. Women accentuate everything except their minds. We do not speak to each other in words, we declaim at one another in paragraphs. They tell us the things they think that we do not know. Sometimes, the others talk as well as fuck. Our father, he left us when we were small. Our mother has died and we are alone in the world. We have a preternatural passivity, and we speak only in declamatory monologues. We don’t have names, because we are Everyman and Everywoman. This is Urban Tale, written and directed by Eliav Lilti, and we are Boy and Girl. Maybe I will just stare meaningfully instead, and then you will understand. Too complacent and too bourgeois, I repeat in case you did not understand the first time. I want to shock you, shock you because you have become too complacent and too bourgeois.