DVDs: Those box sets and BluRays have been tough to hang onto in the streaming era, which has allowed us all to binge on classics at our leisure until — surprise! — networks and studios grow tired of propping up competitors with their archives and pull them back (“30 Rock,” for instance, is leaving Netflix soon, and each month brings more departures). If you’ve already donated your DVD library, maybe one day you’ll be able to rent what you once owned for a monthly access fee to the rights holders. Or, if not, at least you’ll have fewer items to dust while talking yourself into watching “Flaked.”
Luna: With David Lynch enjoying a resurgence after his “Twin Peaks” revival, it’s perhaps fitting that this indie rock band is also making a comeback after 13 years. Led by the arch twang of vocalist-songwriter Dean Wareham, Luna has long shared an echo-laden, literate kinship with Lynch (the band wrote a song that referenced “Wild at Heart’s” Bobby Peru), and the group sounds every bit as renewed as Lynch on a new covers collection, “A Sentimental Education,” which includes takes on the Cure and a late-period Dylan gem, and an alluring all-instrumental EP, “A Place of Greater Safety.”
TV as an image rehabilitation machine: If years of “Peak TV” have taught us nothing else, it’s that television is not a place of moral absolutes. So, of course Sean Spicer, gets an Emmys cameo goofing on his amusing (?) track record of lying, “Dancing With the Stars” still exists and “Saturday Night Live” washes away, having given a platform to a divisive candidate with a ratings surge behind an award-winning impression of him as president. Just be prepared: We’re a few months or so from having a good laugh with O.J. Simpson on a late-night show to be named later. All in good fun, right?
Darren Aronofsky: It’s well established that saying anything more than the title of this auteur’s new film, “mother!” (lower case, if you please), constitutes a spoiler, so let’s instead count the number of his movies anyone would watch again. The best choice may be his striking feature debut, “Pi,” but even that requires a tolerance for techno migraines and stapler play. “Black Swan” is the most accessible of his films (and by far the most popular), but then there’s the misguided “Noah” and the incomprehensible “Fountain.” Aranofsky’s films are less stories than imaginatively rendered endurance challenges, which isn’t the same thing as a great movie.
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