Tennessee Williams and Woody Allen: Kindred Spirits to Illuminate our Tragicomic Existence
Allen and Williams are united by a sensibility that can be described as tragicomic, even if each inflects it differently.
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Allen and Williams are united by a sensibility that can be described as tragicomic, even if each inflects it differently.
NOTE: This essay contains spoilers. The surprise success of the Netflix miniseries The Queen’s Gambit has brought me a great deal of delight—I’m a longtime fan of both the novel and its author, Walter Tevis. Just this summer, I wrote an essay about all the great American
Depp has found that using the law to defend your reputation is a very expensive way of shattering it.
I’m grateful to every straight director, actor, and writer who has taken up the cause over the last 60 years, and to their closeted friends and colleagues who inspired them.
All in all, more than 130,000 set sail on rafts and boats made of rotten wood, house doors, truck tires, and anything else that could float.
Contemplation of such great age is intrinsically moving, perhaps because it releases us from the oppressive clamour of the moment.
This is the territory with which Allen feels most familiar and confident—a spare, crisp, and yet intricately plotted tale that juggles characters and situations with sensitivity and bathos.
Fred Willard was a kind of Holy Fool even among fools.
Bingen is right about one thing, though: Easy Rider really is an important movie—much more important than a simple measure of its quality would suggest—which is probably why the American Film Institute, among others, continues to rate it so highly.
Some of them are stylish pop art or lowbrow trash—depending on how initiated you are with their appeal. But they will also make you cry or simply stare at the screen with a detached jaw as you begin to rethink their implications behind your sterilized walls.
Chinatown is a remarkable blend of screenwriter Robert Towne and director Roman Polanski’s antipodal sensibilities.
Most of us are distant spectators to the roped-off paintings that line the museums inside our aesthetic imaginations. Some of the pieces have been removed; others don’t have appropriate labels.
As unpleasant as this kind of harsh treatment was, defenders of EITs maintained that it fell short of torture.
Viewed as a romantic comedy, a bromance, or a musical, White Christmas may seem like just a lightweight piece of Hollywood fluff. But considered as a hymn to post-war America, it acquires additional depth.