Fashion Week Observed
Entry One: You ever stare into the void? I have seen the finale of thousands of satellite shows and unofficial presentations by the tiniest motes, you wouldn’t even believe…You think you are unique, those girls in the t-shirts with their clipboards will disabuse you of that notion real fast, you’ll be standing on the shore waiting for your water taxi to Brooklyn, but that ship will have sailed, brother. All those people, they’ll be waving at you from the boat, and that boat is the void, and that void is going to Dyggal Greenhouse show without you.
Time to call Uber.
It’s time for the Golden Globe nominations, and with some of the more satellite awards pulling for early frontrunners (Gotham, Film Critics from New York, LA and Boston, etc.,) we’re starting to see some movie trends confirmed. Everyone loved 12 Years a Slave! Unsurprisingly! And Breaking Bad and Girls and Nebraska and American Hustle and Spike Jonze and Martin Scorcese movies that aren’t even out yet!
But there are some surprises…Brooklyn Nine-Nine, anyone? Rush? The Butler gets no love? Greta Gerwig for Frances Ha? That movie was great and all, but Lena Dunham is already representing the affected Brooklyn 20-something constituents with her Girls nominations, are you telling us that the portrayal of overly self-involved young women trying to “make it” in New York is going to start being a thing? Is already a thing?
See the full list of nominees below.
Matthew McConaughey, a mumbling Hollywood-honed Texas actor with a severely limited range whom I have never much liked on the screen, goes the distance at last and wins the crown.
Bill Cunningham hunched behind his camera last Saturday morning, snapping photos of those lined up at the southern tip of Manhattan waiting to board a ferry to Liberty State Park for the Veuve Cliquot Polo Classic.
“Watch your pedicures,” a ferry hand said.
It wasn’t just the women who were looking sharp, however. New York City’s Read More
One by one, the punishments suffered last month at the Toronto film circus are arriving to pollute the screens at home. Next week, get ready for a diabolical torture called Seven Psychopaths. For now, avoid at all costs a trash-wallow about sex and inbred Southern racism called The Paperboy. The director is Lee Daniels, who shocked and turned off a sizeable portion of the public three years ago with Precious. Maybe shock for the sake of nothing else is what he stands for, but regardless of what you thought about his disturbing feature debut, it was light years ahead of The Paperboy. This raunchy dreck, cut from the same disposable toilet tissue as the recent trailer-trash creepfest Killer Joe, is a leap downhill from Precious.
A transcendentally awful slab of chicken-fried camp replete with Nicole Kidman urinating on the near-naked body of Zac Efron, The Paperboy was booed in Cannes, laughed down in Toronto and inserted in the New York Film Festival for no other purpose than to stir up controversy. It has no place in any of them.
Director William Friedkin has always been attracted to lurid movie material. From the gruesome, overcooked The Exorcist to the vile and unhinged Cruising, he craves plots about deeply conflicted characters who are hopelessly alienated, disconnected from both the society that surrounds them and even their own lives. One craves another well-crafted action nail-biter like his Oscar-winning The French Connection, but at 76, his view of the world just gets darker than ever. Small wonder, then, that he has found his literary soulmate in Pulitzer Prize-winning playwright Tracy Letts, whose twisted, controversial and fascinating work has found its way to the screen through Mr. Friedkin’s jaundiced camera twice—first in the repellant schizophrenic thriller Bug, and now in the toxic trailer-trash thriller Killer Joe. When this sick, ludicrous cocktail of sex, violence and mayhem was first unveiled a year ago at the Toronto International Film Festival, one wag aptly described it as “the ghost of Tennessee Williams meets the spirit of Quentin Tarantino.” For shock value, cut to Gina Gershon, crawling across a filthy kitchen floor covered in blood to perform fellatio at gunpoint on a Colonel Sanders drumstick, and you have a high-water mark in tastelessness that gives depravity a bad name.
One of the many delights of Bernie, the offbeat new comedy by Richard Linklater, is that it is fresh, surprising and funny without going for sitcom punch lines or ridiculous, contrived situations inserted for guffaws. It’s not hilarious. It’s just warm and real enough to keep you smiling and awed at the same time. It is also the only movie I have ever liked Jack Black in, one of the few times Matthew McConaughey, a terrible actor, has ever come anywhere close to giving a tolerable performance, and features Shirley MacLaine’s best role in years. A lot to like here, and I liked it all.
Finding something to love in (500) Days of Summer is a fairly easy task to accomplish. Marc Webb’s indie-rrific paean to failed romance is filled with enough jubilant laughs and heartbreak to make it an instantaneous hit (the $27,000 per screen average the film scored this weekend bears this out). But … something Read More
Do you remember the first time you became aware of Bradley Cooper? I sure do. It was sometime during the first episode of Alias, circa 2001, and Mr. Cooper played Will Tippen, best friend to Jennifer Garner’s Sydney Briscow. What I remember is being distracted from the increasingly complicated plot by the fact Read More