Letters To The Editor

Weep No More, My Distributor

To the Editor:

I explained to David D’Arcy ["Weepy Indie Director Tom DiCillo Brings His Big Gamble to Sundance," Feb. 5] that I don’t blame the distributors for the disappointing releases of my films. I specifically acknowledged to him that I was aware my previous films were difficult to market. I don’t deny that my films’ limited runs frustrated me, but I certainly don’t hold the distributors solely responsible. I am sorry my remarks were not understood by Mr. D’Arcy, and I apologize to the distributors he mentioned, particularly Michael Barker, Marcie Bloom and Tom Bernard at Sony Classics, who worked very hard on the release of Living In Oblivion. I regret any suggestion that their efforts were not appreciated.

Most of the other things Mr. D’Arcy wrote had some degree of truth, and I enjoyed talking to him. I must state, however, that I did not weep at the premiere of my new film. I’ve got nothing against weeping I’ve wept in the past, and I’m sure I will weep again but in this instance I can proudly say I merely choked. Also, the coat I was wearing at Sundance that “looked like it came straight from Barneys” was bought 10 years ago for $6 at a thrift store on Canal Street that has unfortunately gone out of business.

Tom DiCillo Manhattan

The Lady Is a Lady

To the Editor:

Writing as one who has been too often (and, alas, all too accurately) accused of reading Burke’s Peerage & Baronetage as regular entertainment, I wish to make a small correction regarding Frank DiGiacomo’s article about the late Frederick W. Hughes ["A Farewell to Dapper Fred Hughes," Jan. 29]. To refer to the actress Lady Anne Lambton, Mr. Hughes’ onetime fiancée, as “Lady Lambton” indicates that she is the wife or ex-wife of a knight, baron, viscount, earl or marquis. As a daughter of the Sixth Earl of Durham who disclaimed that peerage for life in 1970, while retaining the subsidiary title Viscount Lambton Anne Mary Gabrielle Lambton is properly called, upon second formal reference, Lady Anne.

Mitchell Owens

Manhattan

Take My Wife, Please!

To the Editor:

If William Berlind’s effusions ["Giants' Wives Call the Plays!", Jan. 29] accurately reflect the behind-the-scenes interference at work among the Giants, it goes far to explain how it came about the poor yobbos got trounced by the Ravens.

“Forget the hype, forget the stats.” Right. And forget winning.

J. Bennet Perth, Australia

Back to the Future

To the Editor:

Regarding the dilemma about how to distinguish the two President George Bushes [Off the Record, Jan. 29]: I suggest “Bush I” and “Bush II.” It suggests an appropriate sense of imperial succession, don’t you think? “George I” and “George II,” after all, have already been used up.

Joe Testa Mahwah, N.J.

When You’re a Jet

To the Editor:

What is it with your columnists lately? First Michael Thomas spends two columns [The Midas Watch, Jan. 15 and Jan. 29] explaining how we shiftless residents of the “Blue States” indolently feast off the fruits of the virtuous “Red States.” Now Terry Golway [Wise Guys, "My Plea, After Grisly Giants Game: Don't Bring the Super Bowl Here," Feb. 5] tells us how that great Red State worship service, the Super Bowl, was spoiled by us Blue Meanies via the satanic agency of MTV, which inserted a curse word into a spectacle otherwise devoted to uplifting sack dances, chest pounding and mashed vertebrae.

You boys watch yourselves if I catch you in my fashionable boho neighborhood. When you run down my socio-political demographic, man, you’re walkin’ on the fighting side of me.

Roy Edroso Brooklyn

Terry Golway replies: Anybody who can make a veiled reference to an old Merle Haggard song is OK by me, even if I’m not allowed in his neighborhood. I wonder: Is it a place where even squares can have a ball?