Diane Shipley

Contemporary films that try to identify the biggest dangers posed by and to broadcast journalists continually miss the mark.

While I loved high school English classes where we read everything from Macbeth to Maya Angelou, my dad finished just one book before leaving school at 15, The Day of the Triffids. (He liked it, but not enough to repeat the experience.)

It would have been easy to see the offer to present a daytime talkshow as a comedown, but DeGeneres turned it into one of the greatest second acts in showbusiness.

He’s one of the most emotionally aware protagonists ever committed to screen yet he isn’t the most compelling character in the movie — Diane is.

September 23 marks a television milestone: the 30th anniversary of a small-screen portrayal of chronic illness that was as moving as it was revolutionary.

In 2012, with Obama a shoo-in for a second term and the era of concentration camps on American soil safely behind us, the time was ripe for a sitcom about a vain, venal politician with an office in the West Wing.

The prevailing cultural wisdom that presents motherhood as transcendent and not having children as repugnant is an insult to the complexity of both identities.

As I grew up, I didn’t relate to the way marriage was usually presented, in real life and in pop culture: as aspirational, a source of validation and the only way to escape loneliness.

If you could abandon all expectation of professional ethics, it was thrilling to watch... Then came series two, and the prognosis was bleak.

From "Fat Monica" in Friends to Patty in the new Netflix comedy Insatiable, it's time for TV shows and films to put away the fat suit.

Perhaps today she would be offered a wider variety of roles, have the ability to produce her own material or subvert her image using YouTube, to become the star instead of the sidekick.

At that moment, the show establishes its worldview: Fat people deserve self-esteem, too. That might not sound subversive, but if you’ve lived and watched TV as a fat person, particularly a woman, you know that it is.

Another silly American idea, you might be thinking, like compressing marshmallows into a jar and calling it sandwich spread, or teasing Kim Jong-un about his nuclear capability. But it’s taken hold internationally, too.

After decades of erasure, the tide is turning in terms of how people with chronic illnesses are depicted in pop culture—and not a moment too soon.

A surprise pregnancy plotline tore the lovebirds apart and turned them into characters it was difficult to like – or even recognize.