The interviewer, Matthew Bannister – generally known for keeping conversations moving dizzyingly ever forwards – was unusually quiet.
Jonathan Strange is an oddly lacklustre affair, aimed, it seems to me, at a generation brought up on Harry Potter.
The films of François Ozon are polymorphously perverse.
Our licence fees pay – in part – for two hours of lackadaisical nostalgia and lazy nature-gawping.
It’s hard to think of any satisfactory way for Game of Thrones to proceed now, short of Daenerys unleashing her dragons and barbecuing every man in the Seven Kingdoms.
(And forgives them for it.)
For thrills, I would take that exit poll over Judi Dench and Jude Law any day.
It seems that Sher is never not speaking on the radio or being spoken about.
Hearing audiences might feel that they are being kept at arm’s length and they would be right.
The 2014 Eurovision winner already counts Cher and Lagerfeld among her fans. Now, her message of tolerance is going global.
BBC Radio 4's The Language of Pain explores how we talk about pain - and why it helps.
Perhaps what Dhillon was picking up on as patronising was that if you’re addressing a slightly younger audience you have a responsibility not just to keep distracting them with quotable outrages; their minds are less experienced.
With Tom Hughes as lead and a script by Toby Whithouse, The Game gives us a lot to like - but doesn't do enough to surprise.
Passing the age of "believable fuckability".
Birds are able to discriminate between waveforms in a way we cannot - and their cries are mutating.
The mockumentary's second season opens with an hour long special - but some of it hits a bit too close to home.
Do "whatever it takes" to get your film made.
Six months of treatment for cancer? A mere £30,000 at London's most exclusive clinics.
It's easy to get swept up in the thrill of the media and the shiny lights of the debates - but broadcasteres have a serious role to play in the election, too.
It came as no surprise to hear him confess, with a hint of suppressed but immense weariness, the extent to which Hollywood has used history as nothing but an enourmous prop room.
Netflix thinks of its audience in much the same way as small children think of ducks: keep the bread coming and fast, or they'll soon waddle away.
Nothing since has been able to measure up to David Lynch’s Twin Peaks. Nothing has had its power. Why not?
The online mockery of fans of Zayn Malik, who left One Direction the same day Jeremy Clarkson was fired, would never be levelled at grown-up sports or Top Gear fans.
South African Trevor Noah, the newly-announced host of The Daily Show, joins Brits John Oliver and James Corden in the US’s coveted late-night slots.
We now live in the era of the “politics of wellbeing”. But what does that actually mean?
James Graham’s film about the formation of the coalition is an impressively human portrayal of constitutional torment.
James Graham's mischievous account of the heady days following the last election is Where’s Wally? for people who watch Newsnight.
Ten years ago today, Doctor Who returned to our screens – and in spite of big changes, it continues to amaze its most loyal fans.
When he first arrived, in 1980, Mayall’s face was alternative comedy, just as Johnny Rotten’s voice was punk.
Rachel Cooke reviews The Billion Dollar Chicken Shop and Back in Time for Dinner.