Doreen St. Félix

The aftereffect of a new ceramics show, “Watch Out for the Ghosts,” at the Nicola Vassell Gallery, is of feeling . . . pricked.

The artist’s latest album, “The Passionate Ones,” catches your weariness, and, with a dreamer’s irrationality, asks if you would consider transforming it, even for a while.

The American Eagle campaign, with its presentation of Americana as a zombie slop of mustangs, denim, and good genes, is lowest-common-denominator stuff.

After being acquitted of the charges that would have put him away for life, Sean Combs likely has a plan to work his troubles into a narrative of redemption.

Over the years, the director’s early films have been lost and found, forgotten and celebrated. But what about the work that came after, or that never came to be?

In a new documentary about the pro-Palestine demonstrations on Columbia’s campus, students are in an existential battle of both exploiting and shedding their protagonist status.

In “Magazine Dreams,” the actor—who was found guilty of assault—plays a bodybuilder undone by the pressures of image-making. Majors has relied on the slippage between character and actor to facilitate his rebrand.

The creators of the British miniseries think of the contemporary English boy as a fragile creature, abandoned by society.

The clanking didacticism of Dan Fogelman’s new Hulu series, which involves climate disaster, nuclear war, and the insurgency of the billionaire class in politics, is deeply satisfying.

The best word to describe the rapper’s Super Bowl halftime show is “existential.”