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It looks like a hole in the world. Among many other thoughts, that’s what struck me when I finally got a chance to see the 9/11 Memorial Plaza few weeks back. Symbols exist for a reason, and the architects of our country’s newest grief repository have hit on just the right one; it’s hard not…
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Melky Cabrera… …and Donna McKechnie (all roads lead to musical theater, dontcha know…)
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On screen, onstage, in concert: here’s some stuff I got to see last week. Only Lovers Left Alive (Jim Jarmusch, director). What could be more modern? Two lovers live on opposite sides of the continent; when Adam (Tom Hiddleston), a legendary rock star recluse holed up in Detroit, becomes suicidal, his lady, Eve (the tres elegant…
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We go to the theater to renew our ties to the world. Sometimes we’re reminded of things, lives, people we used to know, or feelings we’ve tucked away long ago. When it’s working, a play can unearth those buried treasures, though the effect isn’t always pleasant. At a recent performance of Mothers and Sons, a…
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Rarely the lead; usually a guest; embodies either the saint, or the devil; appears everywhere at once: such is the definition of a working character actor, which James Rebhorn was throughout a laudable career that unfolded mostly on television, though he had his moments on the big screen too (The Talented Mr. Ripley as Matt…
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Calling him the Master wouldn’t begin to cover it. He was everything you’d want in a character actor. He could be funny and tragic, often at once (Capote); he could be imperious or blustery (The Master), yet he was capable of conveying great tenderness and vulnerability (as the lovelorn techie in Boogie Nights, and as…
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There’s a certain slant of light, Winter afternoons— That oppresses, like the heft Of cathedral tunes Emily Dickinson Winter is the cruelest season, though for me it’s not so much about the cold (though we’ve had our chilly moments, this time of year our apartment often feels like summer). What kills me is the darkness. …
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One of the first Hitchcock blondes. When she won her Oscar for his Suspicion in 1942, she was the youngest best actress winner ever (at the age of 24). Check out the Times obit here. RIP.
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Two favorites: O’Toole with Audrey Hepburn in How to Steal a Million. What an ultra, and the end of an era–check out UK’s Guardian obit here. RIP.
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They died too young. That’s one of the ways certain deaths acquire the sheen of tragedy. It’s never that way with long-timers who’ve earned every nail in their coffins: Lou Reed, for one, lived so many professional and personal lives, well, it’s not as if he died unfulfilled. Most of those elderly titans can rest…
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