The gist of Daniel Bessner’s Harper’s article is that rank-and-file, middle-level industry folk are getting bled and squeezed to death by the brutes at the top of the food chain…by the soul-less greedheads.
Day: April 15, 2024
Younger Brother Shares My Bedroom
I could never decide where to scatter Tony’s remains. (He passed in the fall of ‘09.) I still have no good ideas. So he resides inside a small wicker storage thing in my bedroom. It’s not grotesque — he’s just there. Inside a dark-blue imitation velvet pouch with a drawstring.
Ripley Binge
Last week I rewatched the final three episodes of Steve Zallian‘s Ripley and then decided to re-watch Anthony Minghella‘s The Talented Mr. Ripley as well as Rene Clement‘s Purple Noon (’60).
Okay, I actually gave up when it came to re-watching the Minghella, but I’ll get to it this evening.
Basic conclusions or re-realizations: (a) I love Ripley‘s luxurious, laid-back Zen vibe… you can get lost in it, very pleasurably, and after two episodes you’ll never want to leave;
(b) The ultra-tight narrative of Clement’s version feels kinda great after you’ve been Ripley-ing;
(c) The late Marie Laforêt, who played Marge in Purple Noon when she was 20, is ten or twelve times hotter than Dakota Fanning‘s Marge in Ripley. Which is not a problem for Fanning, of course — she’s totally fine, excellent actress — but watching Laforet is…how to put it?…good for the soul.
Zen and The Art of Toilet Cleaning
I made a choice during last year’s Cannes Film Festival to sidestep screenings of Wim Wenders‘ Perfect Days, which I re-titled in my head as Toilet-Cleaning Guy.
It’s not that I was afraid of the subject…okay, I was a little bit. I might be an outlier in this regard, but I’m terrified of medium close-ups of turd-clogged toilets.
The film, of course, is about the spiritual (musical, literary, emotional, cosmic) life of Kōji Yakusho‘s Hirayama, and not his day job. Naturally.
Elite critics have praised Wenders’ film from the get-go, and now it’s getting the royal Criterion treatment.
Under Maher, NPR Will Almost Certainly Double Down on Woke
Last month Katherine Maher, 40, succeeded John Lansing as CEO and president of National Public Radio (NPR). In contrast to many NPR predecssors, Maher has never worked directly in journalism or at a news organization. She is, however, an adamant wokester Millennial, or she was, at least, four years ago during the George Floyd riots.
I’m presuming that under Maher’s leadership NPR will not be reverting to that mellow, thoughtful, sensibly measured news-and-reporting outlet that many of us knew during the Obama years and before.
Like much of the liberal realm, NPR began turning into a woke-talking-points platform when Trump took power on 1.20.17, and then veered into hardcore Stalinist woke-ism when the George Floyd riots happened in May 2020.
I’m certain Ira Berliner is very sorry. Me too.
Adding insult to injury Maher is from HE’s home town of Wilton — went to Wilton High School, etc.
Maher (no relation to Bill) turns 41 on 4.18.24. She has an agreeably deep and somewhat raspy voice, and bears an obvious resemblance to Rachel McAdams.
