Sentiments
Brief thoughts in a busy month
The big end-of-year round-ups are looming on the horizon1, so I’m getting ahead of the obligatory lists with some small updates on what I’ve read and watched since the last issue all the way back in October. In defense of my tardiness, I went on holiday to Ischia (a dream, though I am worried about recommending it too loudly and sending all tourists there instead of Capri) and then came back to work and created an entire magazine in about five weeks. Add in a dose of whatever little flu has been doing the rounds, a big walk around the East End on a treasure trail, several concerts, and time flies!
Tom Stoppard died last week. The news was devastating; of all today’s theatrical figures, he seemed the most immortal. I don’t have anything meaningful to say that has not already been said about his legacy in the obituaries and tributes that have poured in from his colleagues and audiences. I still have so much Stoppard to discover; his hold on my heart is predicated on two out of his many genre-defining works: on stage, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Dead (1966, seen on stage in Virginia 2009, seen on film several times, including the day my husband and I got together), and on screen, Anna Karenina (2012, directed by Joe Wright, also seen several times including during my first earthquake). Both employ metatheatricality without veering into detachment; there are some winks and smiles, but the arch is always in service of the human, and he never loses sight of tender, unique, infinitely destructible lives in the telling.
Death is, of course, not the only time when an artist’s impact becomes clear, but their sudden absence sharpens the perception and removes the clouds of taken-for-granted. The feeling was inescapable following the death of David Lynch this January, compounded by the struggles he faced in getting works financed and produced in the last two decades of his life. Stoppart kept writing, performing, innovating, and imagining new stories and histories throughout his life. Stoppard’s full impact on the way stories are told through performance is still rippling outwards; as with Lynch and Stephen Sondheim four years ago, it may be impossible to know the full impact of his influence for years, if not decades.
Working with artists and around art can feel like time travel. Worlds and times collapse as works written six years or six decades ago speak as vibrantly and immediately as if they were written today, for you personally. But the best art cannot be behind us. If that was true, there would be no reason to keep engaging with it and letting it speak for new times, alongside works not yet created.
What I’m reading
Exile by Aimée Walsh was lowkey devastating! Would recommend but only if feeling resilient.
The Sound and the Fury was my first William Faulker, and for me, it pushed my ability to put up with unlikeable protagonists. I can’t really bring myself to care about Lost Causers! I found Faulkner very similar to Cormac McCarthy in the fact that out of misery and confusion the most beautiful words ever written will appear from a fragmented sentence. I’d love to read more.
You can say a lot about Stephen King, but ‘Salem’s Lot proves that no one knows their way around pacing like he does. This is on track to be one of my favourite Kings (alongside Pet Sematary).
Colm Tóibín is such a personable nonfiction narrator, and Bad Blood, his account of walking along the Irish border in 1987, is unsensationalised and compelling. It’s quite dense, for a short book, so sometimes I feel like I am walking eight miles through farmland to get to the next village (complimentary).
I’m about halfway through Dark Matter by Michelle Paver, so I know something scary is happening but I don’t quite know what! A friend sold it to me as “good for fans of The Terror” and it 100% is while dealing with a completely different (and completely fictional) type and era of Arctic mission.
What I’m watching
After much research and fanfare I watched Death By Lightning and (mostly) loved it! Unfortunately, I might have known too much about all the juicy irl content they had to cut for time and pacing reasons in the historical adaptation they wanted to tell. I would have done many scenes differently. However, taken for what it is, it is a fantastic show full of Actors You Love to See bringing to life some of America’s best Weird Little Guys. I reviewed it in full for Movies We Texted About.
I loved Hedda when I watched it and it has only grown in my esteem since. Nia DaCosta understands why the play works and how to avoid (many) pitfalls of moving the stage to the screen. Her alterations and twists on the familiar plot are smartly done and do not undermine Ibsen’s greatest antiheroine. I also reviewed this one for Movies We Texted About, but my review now would have fewer reservations (honestly, who cares about “historical accuracy” when the vibes are this impeccable?).
The House of Mirth makes you wonder why Gillian Anderson has not been in every period drama ever made.
The greatest praise I can give Adolescence (aside from its excellent performances) is that I held off watching it for so long because I thought I would like neither didactic edutainment that my parents recommended nor showy one-shot gimmicks but it kept me gripped the entire time, so kudos there!
All That Heaven Allows in cinemas makes me
Over the Garden Wall: the obligatory Halloween watch! I adore Kitty / Wirt / George Washington / Jason Funderberker / the frog of many names and a mysteriously deep voice. Plus, casting opera singers as voice actors should be done far more often.
I kind of loved Bugonia, a film where it was clear everyone involved was having a great time and not really worrying about what it means.
With Threads earlier this year and A House of Dynamite out on Netflix, I ended up watching The Day After to catch up on another tale of nuclear terror. I’d heard The Day After billed as the soft Disneyfied version of Threads (American television, not British) but I do not really see it. Both are bleak as hell, and I don’t think either get at the full horror of a nuclear winter. A House of Dynamite is shamelessly mid.
Frankenstein might not be a good adaptation of Mary Shelley’s novel, but it is clearly the one Guillermo del Toro wanted to make, and for that I am happy it exists. Jacob Elordi is magnificent; I can’t wait to see if Wuthering Heights tanks his well-earned Gothic hero credentials, and if Outer Dark restores them. Frankenstein’s constant Oedipal milk consumption is an inspired touch, even if making the Creature read “Ozymandias” is diabolical.
Cover-Up: I wanted more from this, especially after the very strong archival start, but Sy Hersch’s story remains remarkable despite his flaws. I reviewed it for The Skinny.
Burn After Reading: a joy with a large crowd. Possibly the Coen’s best? Possibly among the best of the 21st century?
Since 11/22 fell on a Saturday this year, I indulged in the worst version of myself and watched four films semi-related to the Kennedys: Jackie, The House of Yes, Grey Gardens, and of course JFK. The only new-to-me one was Grey Gardens, and Little Edie’s joie de vie remains magnetic 50 years later. Also, Oliver Stone’s magnum opus is astoundingly cracked, but the construction and editing of the film, on a second watch, is extraordinary. It entirely earns Kevin Costner’s / Jim Garrison’s direct-to-camera plea in his climactic salvo.
I recently appeared on a podcast talking about the best 1990s Shakespeare films (a shockingly rich vein to mind, what was in the water aside from Kenneth Branagh and teen movies?). You’ll have to listen to the podcast for my full list, but rewatching Richard III (1995), 10 Things I Hate About You (1999), and Romeo + Juliet (1996) prove there are several excellent ways to put Shakespeare on screen.
Peter Hujar’s Day: all you need is some 1970s fashion, a New York apartment, romantic city lighting, and two of the most magnetic actors to grace our modern screen to make one exquisite film.
One Battle After Another on 70mm was my cinephile indulgence last month (having seen it in September on its initial release), and on second viewing a lot of its rough edges and my reservations melted away. This film is a masterpiece of love and hope despite overwhelming odds, and the necessity of both in an increasingly enshittified / fascist world.
Star Wars: husband was ill, so this was a classic nostalgic afternoon watch. They really don’t make ‘em like Harrison Ford anymore. The cheese factor is SO high in this film and it really wouldn’t work any other way. Long live George Lucas.
Blue Moon: In some ways, I wanted more from Linklater’s real-life tale of bitchy overgrown theatre kids – more discussion of the musicals, more history, more conflict, more representation of Rodgers and Hammerstein / Rodgers and Hart as genre-defining and electric in their own time – but this lowkey talkie drama is what the director does best. Plus, when it did give me a musical theatre deep cut, I was laughing too much to catch the next line which got the rest of the audience giggling. Time to dig out the Rodgers and Hart songbook and watch this again in the depths of winter.
The Night of the Iguana: perhaps a lesser Tennessee Williams / TW film adaptation but everyone was hot and bothered in this lavish melodrama and I had a great time!
What I recommend
Supporting student theatre! I went to the Royal Conservatoire of Scotland last night to see their production of Sweeney Todd and it was terrific! So many talented youngsters ready to grace our national stages, and a production that understood how to mix the macabre with almost-panto silliness (two words: corpse slide). This was also my first fully-staged live Sweeney Todd played with a full orchestra and Sondheim may have peaked musically with this one.
Potlucks. A collection of people who have all cooked too much food gathered together to share it and talk nonsense is an elite tier occasion. And if you want to use Thanksgiving as an excuse to do so, no Americans can gatekeep this because it’s already a made-up holiday based on fake history.
Nigel Slater you madman (this does not travel; would not recommend for potlucks but for many cold winter evenings in).
Buying a large box of cheese and preserves and the biggest book that can be found in the secondhand shop.
As described; Christmas has begun
I already had to make my first end-of-year list – top 10 films – for The Skinny, before I saw at least two strong contenders. I’ve also forgotten what numbers 7-10 were. When it’s released I’ll be as surprised as you are!
You always have the best tastes out of anyone I know