For my Substack paid subscribers, I wrote another piece about Eve Babitz: her impossible to imitate voice and the courage it takes to live life as a female swashbuckling romantic.
Thank you so much for stopping by. If you like what I do, and if you feel inclined to support my work, here’s a link to my Venmo account. And I’ve launched a Substack, Sheila Variations 2.0, if you’d like to subscribe.
What a tragedy, that this unforgettable sui generis writer would die, just as she started writing again, after twenty years of total silence. So now, we have what we have from her. She made her mark. At least she lived long enough to see her long-forgotten work recognized and re-published, with accolades and praise, everyone realizing – just in time – that she was a very important writer, one of THE “California” writers – but so much her own person she stands alone. She’s hard to categorize and even more difficult to excerpt. Her writing is so of-a-piece, so perfectly intertwined. And her voice is unmistakable.
Here’s the big piece I wrote when she died.
Thank you so much for stopping by. If you like what I do, and if you feel inclined to support my work, here’s a link to my Venmo account. And I’ve launched a Substack, Sheila Variations 2.0, if you’d like to subscribe.
Thank you so much for stopping by. If you like what I do, and if you feel inclined to support my work, here’s a link to my Venmo account. And I’ve launched a Substack, Sheila Variations 2.0, if you’d like to subscribe.
I reviewed It Ain’t Over, a documentary about Yogi Berra. It’s pretty emotional and I liked it a lot.
Thank you so much for stopping by. If you like what I do, and if you feel inclined to support my work, here’s a link to my Venmo account. And I’ve launched a Substack, Sheila Variations 2.0, if you’d like to subscribe.
It’s been a while. March and April were a whirlwind. February too.
— I worked on this. It was a challenging one, and a little different for me. I loved the challenge.
— Michael messaged me (you know. Michael. This Michael.) when he heard the news about After Hours and he was flipping out. It’s his favorite movie of all time. I asked him “Did we talk about that ever??” He said he didn’t think we did. Imagine the weirdness of this. Our relationship is so strange and special. We were CHILDREN when we “went out” (I mean, not literally, but, whatever.), and here we are, still in touch, and I am hired by Criterion to write the booklet essay for his favorite movie. It’s perfect.
— Speaking of Michael, he wrote Dungeons and Dragons: Honor Among Thieves! There were all these red carpet pictures of him and I’m super proud. When it opened at the theatre down the street for me, there was a line down the block of D&D fans, all dressed up, waiting to see it. I sent Michael a pic.
— I went to Ebertfest. It’s been years because of the pandemic. It was a last-minute decision. I decided to go for multiple reasons. 2023 is my 10-year anniversary going to Ebertfest – the same way it was my 10-year anniversary going nuts in Memphis and getting diagnosed bipolar. I went to Memphis this year at the same time to commemorate how far I have come. I thought, “what the hell, let’s do the same for Ebertfest.” The first year I went, I was still so out of my mind, in the first month of being diagnosed, and … Mum came with me. I don’t remember how that decision was made. In retrospect, I think she came to just support me. (sob.) She ended up coming to Ebertfest for 4, 5 years in a row. It was this yearly thing we did. The other reason I suddenly decided to go: there are so many people I only saw once a year – Ebertfest people – people I really like, people I looked forward to seeing. The last time I went to Ebertfest was 2018 or 2019, I can’t remember, and I had no idea then I should be saying GOODBYE to all these people, other audience members, panelists, ushers, all the people I looked forward to seeing. So I was excited. I flew to Chicago, Mitchell picked me up at O’Hare, and we drove down to Champaign-Urbana together. This will be his third time accompanying me. We only stayed two days of the festival and it felt like we were there a week. The opening night film was Nine Days (which I reviewed), and had a great time interviewing the talented director Edson Oda and executive producer Jason Michael Berman onstage after the screening. It was incredible seeing that beautiful film on a large screen (one of the largest), and to FEEL the audience listening around me – 1200, 1300 people listening closely – it’s one of my favorite sounds in the world.
— Spent a couple days in Chicago afterwards with Mitchell and Christopher. We lazed about, we walked along the lake shore (experiencing a lightning-fast and sudden blizzard – horizontally driving snow and everything), we got together with Emma and her boyfriend Ben, it was a wonderful (albeit short) visit.
— I’m in a Ulysses reading group this year. It’s been tough to keep up, but I am doing the reading and having an absolute BLAST with it.
— Meanwhile, I was getting ready for this. It was postponed a couple of times for various reasons but we finally got the date nailed down. I prepared my notes for my introductory speech.
— MEANWHILE, in the middle of all this, I got a message from Criterion that Martin Scorsese wanted to talk to me. Now we have already made contact – or, he has made contact with me – and I have met him on a couple of occasions (the 50th anniversary gala of the Film Society at Licoln Center, and a couple of the NYFCC dinner awards) but I am sure he wouldn’t remember me. He only knows me now from the Raging Bull video-essay and now the After Hours essay. He has to approve everything on these Criterion releases. Everything I wrote was sent to him for approval and/or notes. So. He wanted to talk.
— A couple weeks passed. I was in contact with one of his assistants. He was busy. Of course. Marty is always busy. But finally a time was found.
— Martin Scorsese called me and we proceeded to talk for forty minutes. About everything. He talked to me about my Raging Bull essay and we talked a lot about After Hours, but then we talked about other things. I made him laugh. He said at one point, “I grew up in Little Italy–” and I wanted to say, “I know, Marty. We all know.” He was funny and extremely nice. It was amazing. I went into the call nervous. But about five minutes in, I was no longer nervous. He put me at ease. He told me the next time we meet to please introduce myself using the words ‘Raging Bull After Hours’ so he would be sure to remember me. “I’m old.” he confessed. And you KNOW I will. It was incredible.
— Five days later I was introducing Viva Las Vegas at the Paris Theatre in New York. It was a great event. Great turnout. Lots of friends, lots of people I didn’t know. My speech went great. The movie was so much fun. The whole thing couldn’t have gone better. Went out for drinks afterwards with a random group of my friends, none of whom knew each other outside of me – so we all bonded together, and became a group as we ate and drank. It’s my favorite thing. People meeting and connecting. I was so happy.
— To re-cap: In the same week I
1. had a 40-minute phone conversation with Martin Scorsese
and
2. introduced Viva Las Vegas at the Paris Theatre.
— It was only on the following day when it occurred to me: “Okay so … for this week at least … I’ve been living the dream.”
“Ah, but a man’s reach should exceed his grasp,
Or what’s a heaven for?”
— Robert Browning “Andrea del Sarto”
It’s Robert Browning’s birthday today.
“Imperial”. Spoken like a true Victorian.
We had to read Robert Browning’s poem “Meeting at Night” in 11th grade, and it was the first Browning I read. This was the era when I started getting into poetry, stuff I discovered on my own, not just the Irish stuff I always heard at home. This was the year I discovered Sylvia Plath, Robinson Jeffers, Edna St. Vincent Millay, T.S. Eliot, and I started “getting it.” I was figuring out how to read a poem, how to focus my attention on it, developing the “poetry reading” skill, which is a skill … This is not always an easy thing to do, especially for a 16-year-old wondering why the Band President doesn’t ask her to the Toga dance.
Robert Browning’s “Meeting at Night” transported me. I didn’t know anything about him. I didn’t know anything about his famous romance, and his even more famous poet wife, Elizabeth Barrett Browning. I met Robert Browning pure, on his own ground. And my response to “Meeting at Night” had to do with the adjectives in the first four lines. They launched me into the stratosphere, the pure pleasure of them. Those adjectives are perfect but also unexpected, if you look closer. The “startled” waves (so great) and “fiery ringlets”, the “yellow half-moon”, the “long black land” … I could see it all. I grew up in the Ocean State and knew all about the moodiness of the sea. Browning’s language fed my soul. It pleased me. Maybe that’s a weird word to use, but it’s true. Pleasure is very underrated.
I.
The grey sea and the long black land;
And the yellow half-moon large and low;
And the startled little waves that leap
In fiery ringlets from their sleep,
As I gain the cove with pushing prow,
And quench its speed i’ the slushy sand.
II.
Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach;
Three fields to cross till a farm appears;
A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch
And blue spurt of a lighted match,
And a voice less loud, thro’ its joys and fears,
Than the two hearts beating each to each!
^^ This promo, gigantic on the Paris Theatre website, is now my favorite thing on the planet. My name up there, my outlet, and the MASSIVE faces of Elvis and Ann-Margret. Life is a curious thing. You never know where your passions will take you!
The Paris Theater is the oldest arthouse theatre in New York (it opened its doors in 1948). It’s an amazing location too, on the southern end of Central Park, facing the park, with a great old-school marquee. It’s a gorgeous theatre, gorgeous interior too. I’ve seen a bunch of things there (including the Directors Guild screening of Phantom Thread, with the QA after with all of them, Daniel Day Lewis, Paul Thomas Anderson, Lesley Manville, and Vicki Krieps. They all were there.
The Paris and the NYFCC has an ongoing collaboration: each NYFCC member can choose a movie to screen, and the screenings happen every other Sunday at 3 p.m. The NYFCC member will introduce the film (and sometimes – like with Moonstruck – there’s a QA afterwards, moderated by the member). It’s been a great lineup of films. I thought long and hard about what I wanted to screen for my pick. I knew I wanted to screen an Elvis movie, but I waffled on what it should be. King Creole? Jailhouse Rock? They were strong front-runners. I even thought about introducing maybe lesser-known movies – like Girl Happy – or, my personal favorite, Live a Little Love a Little. But then I thought: No. There is only one choice for this screening. And that is Viva Las Vegas.
And, AND, the Paris Theatre got us a 35mm print of the film from Paramount. Viva Las Vegas in 35 mm!!
I can’t wait. I know I have readers from all over the world, but if you happen to live in the New York-ish area, feel free to grab a ticket and come join the fun!
I loved this movie. It makes me want to read the book. I reviewed for Ebert. I know I use that Yeats quote a lot but #sorrynotsorry no one said it better.
Thank you so much for stopping by. If you like what I do, and if you feel inclined to support my work, here’s a link to my Venmo account. And I’ve launched a Substack, Sheila Variations 2.0, if you’d like to subscribe.
Jafar Panahi and his wife Tahereh Saeedi. At the airport. Leaving Iran. I repeat: JAFAR PANAHI IS LEAVING IRAN.
I can’t believe this day has come. I am almost afraid to believe it. Like it’s a trap. Jafar Panahi’s wife, Tahereh Saeedi, posted a picture on her Instagram, with the following caption:
After 14 years, Jafar’s ban was cancelled and finally we are going to travel together for a few days…
If you have followed me for even five minutes, then you are familiar with how often I post about this man. If you have followed me for almost fifteen years then you really know!
Way back in 2011, I hosted an Iranian Film Blogathon (back when blogathons were a thing). Hosting it was my way of protesting what was happening to him. Years followed. He had been banned from making films, but he kept making films. He was banned from giving interviews and forbidden from leaving the country. He was imprisoned last year right before the nationwide (and international) protests erupted. Panahi was in Evin Prison too, a bad bad place. There was a fire while he was there, there was a Covid outbreak, and people who lived near the prison took videos where you could hear gunfire from inside. That’s where he was. And he’s famous. There are so many non-famous people also living under those horrific barbaric conditions. This is where things have stood. It’s been INTOLERABLE.
I’m not gonna lie. When I saw the picture of him and his wife with the luggage, I started crying. He’s one of my favorite living filmmakers and honestly he’s never really been far from my mind ever since he was arrested back in 2010. He was a target for years and they finally got him. But they never GOT got him.
The rumor is … he might be headed to Cannes. He might be a juror. If this is true … I can’t even deal with it already. I’m gonna flip the fuck OUT. Cannes or no, even if they’re just taking a little personal trip, the travel ban being lifted since being imposed in 2009 – 2009!! – is HUGE. It’s huge in actuality but it’s even more huge symbolically. This is a massive “concession” from the regime, this regime so obsessed with public opinion, with controlling its citizens’ every move. They lost control of the Jafar Panahi narrative the second they arrested him. Did they not think his international public wouldn’t give a shit?
I hesitated to post about it, even though the picture was on his wife’s Instagram … so … it SEEMED real, but I was afraid to believe. But then I read the piece in the Guardian, breaking the news and providing more information. He’s been trapped in that country for almost 15 years. He’s been imprisoned, he’s gone on hunger strike, he’s been banned from pursuing the art he loves, people who work with him are arrested, or have their passports revoked. He has persisted. He risks everything every time he makes a film. (See his most recent No Bears. It’s currently streaming on the Criterion Channel. I love all of his films but this may be one of his best. (I don’t like ranking.)
After all of these years, almost fifteen years of nonstop harassment, of being trapped within Iran’s borders, Jafar Panahi has left the building.
Don’t let people tell you public pressure doesn’t work. The people who say stuff like that are still in high school, mentally. They find caring about things “cringe”. Someone who legitimately CARES about something is to be mocked. Ignore the keyboard critics who tell you you’re “virtue signaling” if you dare to express outrage about what’s happening to a person or a group you are not personally a part of. Not everything is a meme. This is real life, not Twitter snark. Oh, you’re so IRONIC, so COOL for being so DETACHED. If a cause is just – or virtuous – yes, virtuous – then speak up. The public pressure to release Panahi has worked before. Them throwing him in prison last year was a very dangerous sign. The same with Taraneh Alidoosti. They are massive international stars. Arresting them was a sign that the regime was beyond the pale, not caring anymore about public image. Very dangerous. A lot has happened in a year. The game has changed. There’s too much heat on the situation, too many people are paying attention to what is going on. Keyboard critics are irrelevant. Keep making noise.
Seeing Jafar Panahi standing in an airport, smiling, with a huge pile of luggage in front of him is WORTH taking just a moment to be happy happy happy about it. I’m glad I care. I wouldn’t have it any other way. There is still work to be done. Jafar Panahi is SYMBOLIC. He matters to me as a filmmaker, yes. But the people of Iran have HAD it and I am with them all the way. Releasing Panahi is such a big concession I still almost can’t believe it has happened.
Proud that I wrote the piece in the program for the NYFCC awards dinner for Jafar Panahi’s special award (text here). I’ve been waiting for years for this day. Not out of the woods yet. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth, I suppose. Be happy. Small victories. And big.
AI has been in the news a lot in recent months (Buzzfeed laid off a ton of writers saying openly that they were switching to AI – this will keep happening) – and so this movie is pretty timely. It’s an interesting film, very good script, very controlled direction too (written and directed by Franklin Ritch, who also plays one of the characters). I was impressed. I reviewed for Ebert.
By complete coincidence, just a few days ago Mitchell and I had a lengthy conversation about Harry Belafonte’s wonderful performance in Robert Altman’s Kansas City. I can’t even remember how or why it came up. But we dug into it, the performance’s surprising qualities, the hardness, the edge he brought, plus his gorgeousness (in looks and attire), and the star power he brought to that ensemble film (not as well known as it should be). Again, I don’t remember how it came up, but we spent a good half an hour talking about him in Kansas City, and why that casting was so eerily right, how glad we was it happened.
When the news broke, Mitchell and I had similar initial reactions: “We were just talking about him!” Not that it’s all about us. But the timing … The exact same thing happened with Lena Horne, incidentally. Mitchell and I had this spontaneous discussion about her, where we looked up YouTube clips, pulled up audio tracks, Mitchell read excerpts from the recent biography – this is how Mitchell and I spend time together. We fell asleep and woke up the next morning to the news that Lena Horne had died. We felt like we had sent her off with a tribute, without even knowing she was passing.
Maybe we sensed something. Or maybe our random decision to discuss Harry Belafonte for half an hour is just a reminder that it’s always good to take a little time out of your life to talk about Harry Belafonte. And pay tribute to people, appreciate them, while they are here.
