Seymour Cassel has died. A John Cassavetes regular, an essential member of that merry band of actor misfits, who followed their own sense of truth with an improvisatory and free-flowing jazz-riff style so impossible to replicate (even though so many directors have tried). His career was very much tied to Cassavetes. He also acted as producer on some of Cassavetes’ films. He appeared in Shadows, Cassavetes’ first film, a warning shot to the Hollywood studio system in 1959. It would be 10 years before Cassavetes’ Faces in 1968, which really ushered in the independent film movement in America. Made for almost nothing, it ended up being a huge hit, with multiple Oscar nominations (including a nomination for Cassel, who takes over the final third of the film).
The first Cassavetes film I saw was Minnie & Moskowitz, not as well-known as Faces or Woman Under the Influence or even Husbands. It’s Cassavetes’ version of a rom-com, starring Gena Rowlands as Minnie and Seymour Cassel, ponytailed and handlebar-mustachioed, as the exuberant volatile car park attendant Moskowitz. This film kills me. Maybe because it’s the first one I saw, it was my gateway drug. But it gets at loneliness, and what loneliness can do … you can’t separate yourself from loneliness, you can’t avoid how it warps your personality and your natural responses. It’s such a moving film, but it’s also so funny. I love Cassel as a romantic lead.
A whole new generation got to know Seymour Cassel through his presence in Wes Anderson’s films. This always made me so happy. It was a tribute. Not just to Cassel, but to those of us out there who knew him from Cassavetes’ films. When Seymour Cassel showed up in anything, it was like running into an old friend, an old friend you wished you saw more often. He brought with him that sense of familiarity. His distinct voice, his face, the way his mouth moved, the pathos and humor, the honesty.
When you’re a kid, the heroes you choose come so automatically it doesn’t feel like a choice. They’re just people who inspire you, who seem like they “have something,” a key to the secret of life, something. But when you look back, it’s extremely illuminating to see the people you were drawn to before you knew what life was all about. In those choices you can see the seeds of who you would become. And the group of people in John Cassavetes’ repertory company – Gena Rowlands, Peter Falk, Ben Gazzara, Seymour Cassel – these people were my heroes as a teenager, just as I was starting to get serious about acting. Going into acting with the Cassavetes example before you as the Be-All End-All of artistic life is highly recommended. Because what’s important is to make work that interests you, and to make work with your friends. That’s it. Don’t worry about the other stuff. Don’t try to fit in. Trying to fit in is such a worthless activity. Maybe it’s not worthless if you work in an office, maybe then it’s good to try to play well with others, but if you’re an artist, for God’s sake? No. Do not allow the WORLD’S values to be YOUR values. Who do you want to be? What kind of art do you want to make? What kind of LIFE do you want to have? The Cassavetes people knew the answers to these questions, and their careers – eclectic, passionate, full of stops-starts, but also so full of exhilarating confidence it makes all other work seem pale in comparison – show that they proceeded with a sense of purpose and camaraderie and freedom. They were the coolest fucking people in town.
My talented brother Brendan O’Malley is an amazing writer and actor. He’s wonderful in the recent You & Me, directed by Alexander Baack. (I interviewed Baack about the film here.) His most recent gig was story editor/writer on the hit series Survivor’s Remorse. Brendan hasn’t blogged in years, but the “content” (dreaded word) is so good I asked if I could import some of it to my blog. He did series on books he loved, and albums he loved. I thought it would be fun to put up some of the stuff here. So we’ll start with his list of 50 Best Albums. I’ll put up one every Monday.
Brendan’s list of 50 Best Albums is part music-critique and part memoir and part cultural snapshot.
I have always loved these essays, because I love to hear my brother talk. I am happy to share them with you!
50 Best Albums, by Brendan O’Malley
40. Elvis Costello – King of America
My junior year of college was Dickensian. Best and worst. I rented a house right near the ocean with two insane good friends, I was in a string of great plays which were insular universes of creativity and sexual tension, and I drove a Karmann Ghia, a car I’d always wanted to own.
The first play of the year was Biloxi Blues and it was a magical process. The combination of the military content and the freewheeling nature of a college theater crowd made for an amazing atmosphere. We all shaved our heads and started doing pushups without provocation.
My soundtrack for this play was Elvis Costello’s King of America which had been released a couple of years earlier.
Now, Elvis and I have had to break up. Once I started writing songs, his influence was so immense that I sort of had to denounce him and concentrate on other artists. But my singing and writing style will always be very indebted to him and to this album in particular.
While working out to get in shape for the play, I would sing along to this album. This doesn’t sound like a big deal but when you try to sing along it is a workout all on its own. He holds notes, bends them, modulates the intensity of his delivery…it is truly masterful singing.
The cast party for Biloxi Blues is still burned into my brain. People were on the roof. A mass leap from the porch to the backyard occurred. My roommate had purchased 50 shot glasses for like 10 bucks and insisted that the party kick off with a ritual. He laid out the shot glasses along the railing of the porch and filled each with Southern Comfort, I think. Everyone had to do the shot and then jump off the porch into the backyard, a drop which varied from 5 to 12 feet depending on where you were.
Everyone celebrated in a way that I yearn for today, a simple exuberance that was unfettered by any sense of loss or fear. We were young, talented, and proud. The girls were hot and innocent and the boys were cool and tough. We were artsy-fartsy but unpretentious. We didn’t take ourselves too seriously but we were truly dedicated to doing good work. And we did. And once we did it, we partied as hard as you would expect.
The show used a lot of music from the 30’s and 40’s to set the mood and we blasted the soundtrack at the party. I’d made a mix (cassette!!!) of appropriate tunes from my own collection. One of those songs was “Poisoned Rose” from the King of America album.
Somehow a lip-synching show spontaneously occurred with the army troop serving as a backup band. The party morphed instantly into an audience and allowed this to happen, mostly as a way to celebrate us for our performances in the play itself. It was exhilirating. To have your whole peer group validate you so unconditionally is truly wonderful.
I could go track by track and describe how perfectly played and written this album is. I could talk about how the lyrics, even on the page, are little diamonds. I could marvel at the fact that during the same calendar year that he recorded this album, he recorded another with The Attractions called Blood & Chocolate that is an evil twin so different it is.
But for a solid year I listened to this album in its entirety at least once a week, usually singing along at the top of my lungs. I was young and beautiful. I was the King of America too.
Rumble: The Indians Who Rocked the World (2017; d. Catherine Bainbridge)
Mum came and visited me and we watched this amazing documentary about the contributions Native Americans have made to music. It starts with Link Wray. I loved this documentary and was very excited to show it to Mum. She loved it. We had some really good talks about it. (I grew up with Buffy Sainte Marie albums, since they were in my parents’ collection.)
Eighth Grade (2018; d. Bo Burnham)
This was the second movie Mum and I watched together during her visit. I reviewed for Ebert. I had a feeling she would love it. She so did.
Ministry of Evil, Season 1, episode 1 (2019)
I only watched the first episode of this, but it was right up my alley. Cults. California. Hippies. Cult leaders who are so CLEARLY charlatans. Interviews with survivors. I’ll finish it eventually.
Gloria (2013; d. Sebastián Lelio)
I re-watched in preparation for the remake, which I was reviewing. It’s excellent.
Gloria Bell (2019; d. Sebastián Lelio)
Lelio remade his own movie, with Julianne Moore in the lead. I liked it. I reviewed for Ebert.
Quantum Leap, Season 1, episode 1 “Genesis: Part 1 – September 13, 1956” (1989; d. David Hemmings)
I haven’t watched these in years, since my Dean Stockwell Manic Phase, circa 2006. It was so fun to “leap” back in! I had forgotten a lot about it, especially how it takes some time for Sam and Dean (huh … check that out, Supernatural people) … I mean, Sam and Al … figure out what happened. Sam’s memory has been wiped, so he has to fly (literally, in the pilot) by the seat of his pants.
Quantum Leap, Season 1, episode 2 “Genesis: Part 2 – September 13, 1956” (1989; d. David Hemmings)
The two-part pilot is masterful and looks very VERY expensive. It’s like a mini Right Stuff. They pulled out all the stops. It occurs to me that there are similarities with Supernatural in that there is no standing set (or there wasn’t until the bunker came along). In every single episode of Quantum Leap, they had to create a whole world from scratch.
Quantum Leap, Season 1, episode 3 “Star-Crossed – June 15, 1972” (1989; d. Mark Sobel)
Teri Hatcher is beautiful in this episode. And dammit one of the scenes made me cry.
Quantum Leap, Season 1, episode 4 “The Right Hand of God – October 24, 1974” (1989; d. Gilbert M. Shilton)
This is some pretty sentimental shit, gotta say! You expect Bing Crosby to stroll into a scene.
Supernatural, Season 14, episode 14 “Ouroboros” (2019; d. Amyn Kaderali)
There were some good scenes here. But let me say just one thing. Now that the cast is so crowded … we are deprived of Sam and Dean reacting to things side by side, them together, having to improvise. This scene was funny but it would have been funnier if it had been Sam and Dean. I got into a disagreement with some lady on Twitter who kept babbling about how it was better with the large ensemble, and now Sam and Dean weren’t as close (“codependent”) and that that was a good thing – what are you smoking?? – and I did a little bit of digging into corners of the fandom I never visit, and now I realize that her words were code for: “If the brothers aren’t codependent, then that means Destiel can happen.” So basically: Sam is now a PROBLEM that needs to be SOLVED, to clear the way for Destiel. But that’s not what she said to me. She said, “I just love how the bond has been broken, leaving room for more people, their found family, blah blah woo woo.” She positioned herself as a voice of authority, and I found her very aggressive – she was really trying to SELL me on her interpretation and I don’t even know her, she never comments here. It was weird. At any rate, I did some digging and now I get what she was REALLY saying. Let’s just say: I disagree.
The Souvenir (2019; d. Joanna Hogg)
Oh my God, it’s so good. I’ll be writing something about it.
Finding Steve McQueen (2019; d. Mark Steven Johnson) I reviewed this for Ebert. I liked a lot of it.
The Wedding Party (1962; d. Brian De Palma)
A lot of firsts here. Brian De Palma’s first film. Robert De Niro’s first film. Jill Clayburgh’s first film. I wrote a little bit about it here.
The Local Stigmatic (1990; d. David F. Wheeler) Interviewing Dan about his book began a binge-watch of epic proportions. Not of one particular thing, but of movies I wanted to re-watch with Dan’s observations in mind. I actually had not seen this but Dan spoke so highly of it it was first on the list. The whole thing is on Youtube. Highly recommended.
Mean Streets (1973; d. Martin Scorsese)
It still leaps off the screen, no matter how many times you’ve seen it. It’s so damn PERSONAL.
Longford (2006; d. Tom Hooper)
Discussed with Dan. I had never seen. Samantha Morton’s performance is as fantastic – and frightening – as promised.
Unrelated (2007; d. Joanna Hogg)
Tom Hiddleston as youthful sexual carefree possibility … with some darker undertones. This has been a Joanna Hogg month for me. I love her.
Shattered Glass (2003; d. Billy Ray)
This movie is so good. No matter how many times I’ve seen it (and I saw it in the theatre when it was first released: the whole story had fascinated me) it always impresses me with its slow and super quiet build. Unbelievable performances and I fluctuate on who’s “the best” before I say: EVERYONE is good in this. Hank Azaria, Peter Sarsgaard (his best), Hayden Christensen, Chloe Sevigny, Melanie Lynsky, Steve Zahn, Rosario Dawson … fantastic film.
The Godfather (1972; d. Francis Ford Coppola)
It’s been a while since I’ve watched this movie. I know this movie so well I can anticipate cuts, edits, lines … it’s IN me.
The Godfather: Part II (1974; d. Francis Ford Coppola)
One of the best gestures in all of cinema. One of my favorite moments of any actor ever.
The Godfather: Part III (1990; d. Francis Ford Coppola)
It’s worth it for the Keaton-Pacino scenes and it’s worth it for this moment. I can’t tell you how many times I reference it in my own life. I mean, haven’t we all felt this way, even if we aren’t part of an international crime family?
Supernatural, Season 14, episode 15, “Peace of Mind” (2019; d. Philip Sgriccia)
It had its moments, that’s for sure!
They Shoot Horses, Don’t They? (1969; d. Sidney Pollack)
A bleak masterpiece. It doesn’t blink.
The Last Clean Shirt (1964; d. Alfred Leslie)
A collaboration between artist Alfred Leslie and poet Frank O’Hara. For something I’ve been working on. If you Google the title, you can watch the whole thing on Vimeo.
Requiem for a Dream (2000; d. Darren Aronofsky)
I put myself through this again for Ellen Burstyn’s “red dress monologue,” referenced by Dan in our interview. I saw this in the theatre in its first release and thought: “Okay, never need to see THAT again.” It’s amazing how it stuck in my head with such clarity.
Bed Among the Lentils (1988; d. Alan Bennett, Stuart Burge)
Again, inspired by my interview with Dan. This is one of the best performances I’ve ever seen. It’s 49 minutes long. The whole thing is on Youtube. I wrote about it here.
The Dropout (2019)
Like so many of us, I became obsessed with Elizabeth Holmes, she of the baritone voice (who are you kidding, lady), this past month. I read the book. I haven’t seen Alex Gibney’s documentary yet. But I did watch the special on ABC. The whole thing is so fascinating to me.
1900 (1976; d. Bernardo Bertolucci)
I had some serious deja vu moments this month because I was going over ground I’d gone on before years and years ago when I first got into acting. 1900 is 5 hours long, and has a kind of tortured release history. But it was released in theatre – at that length – and yes, it is a commitment – but come on, it’s Bertolucci, Depardieu, De Niro, Dominique Sanda … it’s certainly worth it. The politics are often ridiculous, but it’s not meant to be subtle. Plus, it’s got De Niro and Depardieu getting simultaneous handjobs. What’s not to like. While so much of this is a mess … it’s kind of a beautiful mess. With one stunning shot after another. (Vittorio Storaro shot it.)
Supernatural, Season 14, episode 16 “Don’t Go in the Woods” (2019; d. John Fitzpatrick)
There was some element of fucked-up-ness here that I liked: the message of “don’t lie” and when is it right to lie, is it ever right to lie, and how Jack hurts his lesbian friend and then lies to Sam and Dean just as they are coming clean and “telling the truth” to him and so … the Winchester Belljar continues. Jack has absorbed the “lie. always” message. Sorry, Twitter lady, who thinks breaking the bond of codependency is good television mainly because it clears the way to Destiel … we appear to be watching different shows. Normally I live and let live but not when you so much can’t let it go that you bombard me with DMs telling me why I’m wrong, and criticizing how I “interact” with the show, even when I tell you not to DM me, to just leave me alone. My first real run-in with another aspect of the fandom, believe it or not. Maybe because “endgame” is coming down the pike now for real, people are getting super stressed out?
Puzzle of a Downfall Child (1970; d. Jerry Schatzberg)
So good. My kind of movie. A woman having a nervous breakdown. It flat out would not be made today. It’s too quiet, too character-oriented. Faye Dunaway’s best as far as I’m concerned.
The Holocaust, episode 1 (1978; d. Martin Chomsky)
I decided, almost spur of the moment, to watch Meryl Streep’s movies in chronological order. There’s very little I haven’t seen already. I might have missed one or two, so all of these are re-watches. But I wanted to see it in order to get a sense of what has happened.
Manhattan (1979; d. Woody Allen)
Streep as the gorgeous and cold ex-wife turned lesbian. Boy, this movie has issues. This is not news.
Paradise Recovered (2010; d. Storme Wood)
Small side route. I fell down into a cult rabbit hole and somehow found mention of this movie which was partially sponsored by one of the only organizations that helps ex-cult-members – or people who suffered under spiritual abuse – to re-enter society. I really enjoyed this film. I recommend it.
Kramer vs. Kramer (1979; d. Robert Benton)
She really is so good in this. But you know who else is good? Jane Alexander. Both nominated for Oscars. Hell, everyone was nominated. Dustin Hoffman felt the threat of Streep, and pulled all these power trips, slapping her, throwing the glass against the wall without warning her. In one scene, her entire chest area is blotchy red. That’s not makeup. That’s real. (You’ll notice Streep never worked with Hoffman again.)
The French Lieutenant’s Woman (1981; d. Karel Reisz)
This was around the time in my life when I started seeing her movies, as they unfurled in real time. Or maybe Sophie was the first one I saw.
Alice at the Palace (1982; d. Emile Ardolino)
Now this I had never seen. Streep played Alice in a celebrated production in New York which was then filmed for TV. Debbie Allen as the Red Queen. It’s really something else, people. Lots of fun. So inventive. And she is so in the moment. So so free as an actress.
Still of the Night (1982; d. Robert Benton)
A noir-ish thriller, with Streep as the chilly mysterious and possibly murderous blonde. It’s fascinating to watch this in order. Because you know what’s coming next … after what’s coming next, she’ll never have to play a cookie-cutter role like this one again.
Sophie’s Choice (1982; d. Alan J. Pakula)
I’ve only seen this a couple of times. Because … who needs to see it again? It’s brutal. You believe she is actually thinking in Polish. She isn’t just doing an accent. She’s translating the words into English in her head before speaking. She’s a phenom.
Silkwood (1983; d. Mike Nichols)
One of my favorites. I watch this one more than I watch a lot of other Streep movies. Everyone’s good. And just consider what it was like back in the early 80s, to go from Sophie’s Choice to this. Imagine what the reaction was. Nobody knew what hit them.
Falling In Love (1984; d. Ulu Grosbard)
This is such a weird movie. I own this one too. There is literally nothing between these two characters. They aren’t characters. You’re supposed to think it’s this great missed-connection love but … what? When they move to go to bed, you wince, because it just hasn’t been established that there’s any relationship between the two of them. None of this is the fault of Meryl Streep and Robert De Niro. And the fun of this – or, not fun – but the reason this is interesting is to watch two stars make something interesting, by the sheer power of their personalities AND how well they listen to each other. In particular De Niro is very interesting here. This may be his most naked performance, honestly. Because he’s not doing a character. But still. Snoozefest. Also, everyone’s so wealthy. It’s alienating.
Out of Africa (1985; d. Sidney Pollack)
It’s funny: Streep is great but are these great movies? Has she been in a GREAT movie? I think the only one that could be classified as such is Deer Hunter. There’s much here to love, of course, and plenty of colonialism, and also great scenework between her and Redford (who’s great). She’s an interesting case. If her timeline had been different, if she had “hit” in 1972 as opposed to 1982, the movies she would have appeared in would have been very different.
Heartburn (1986; d. Mike Nichols)
When all is said and done, this may be my favorite Streep. It’s another one I pop in all the time.
JT Leroy (2019; d. Justin Kelly)
With Kristen Stewart and Laura Dern. I’ll be writing something about this. It’s fascinating.
Ironweed (1987; d. Hector Babenco)
This is some bleak shit. Again, all of these I saw first-run, and usually with Mitchell.
Fast Color (2019; d. Julia Hart)
I will be reviewing for Ebert.
All About Nina (2018; d. Eva Vives) I reviewed this for Ebert. It’s so damn good. It’s on Netflix, if you haven’t seen it. It’s just as good as I remember and the same moment – “My name is Geronimo but you can call me Smoky” – made me laugh out loud.
She-Devil (1989; d. Susan Seidelman)
“I am an ARTIST.” hisses Meryl Streep, on all fours on the bed, facing away from the camera, shaking her ass when she says “artist.” You almost can’t believe it’s happened. It became instantly mythologized for Mitchell and me. We DIED. And we still say it. “I am an artist” (butt jiggle). This is when people started getting confused about what Meryl Streep was doing. This is when I – and all my actor friends – started getting even more excited. This moment too: I can’t explain why it is so funny to me, but I rewound it 5 times to see it again.
The Haunting of Sharon Tate (2019; d. )
I will be reviewing for Ebert.
Postcards From the Edge (1990; d. Mike Nichols)
Mitchell and I can recite this one from beginning to end. “I don’t have a generation.” “Then I think you should get one.”
Archipelago (2010; d. Joanna Hogg)
More Joanna Hogg, and again with Tom Hiddleston. Fascinating.
Caprice (1983; d. Joanna Hogg)
Joanna Hogg’s genius student film, starring Tilda Swinton as a young “plain” girl who becomes trapped in a fashion magazine. It’s really something. Like I said, it’s been a Joanna Hogg kind of month.
Exhibition (2014; d. Joanna Hogg)
Phenomenal film. (With Tom Hiddleston in a very small role). It’s about a relationship, it’s about architecture.
Us (2019; d. Jordan Peele)
Jen and I went to go see this yesterday. Miraculously, I had managed to avoid spoilers.
Supernatural, Season 1, episode 9 “Home” (2005; d. Ken Girotti)
I realize that looking in the rear view mirror is no way to go through life, but just popping in eps from earlier seasons is like … you really have to confront how far the show has fallen. I’m sorry if this hurts people to hear. It hurts me to say. Watching this, watching Sam and Dean, and only Sam and Dean … was like HEAVEN after such a crowded ensemble of people I don’t care about for three years. I get that they needed to expand for more characters. And for the most part, they have managed that without compromising the main bond, which is the Sam and Dean bond. That has suffered in the last 3 years. Especially Sam. But let’s not get sad or regretful. Let’s celebrate what we have. Sam and Dean stepping, tentatively, back into their past, reaching blindly. You realize how much John keeps from them. Also, the DARK COLORS. And Jensen’s FRECKLES. It’s all quite gorgeous.
Supernatural, Season 1, episode 10 “Home” (2005; d. Ken Girotti)
I love her.
My talented brother Brendan O’Malley is an amazing writer and actor. He’s wonderful in the recent You & Me, directed by Alexander Baack. (I interviewed Baack about the film here.) His most recent gig was story editor/writer on the hit series Survivor’s Remorse. Brendan hasn’t blogged in years, but the “content” (dreaded word) is so good I asked if I could import some of it to my blog. He did series on books he loved, and albums he loved. I thought it would be fun to put up some of the stuff here. So we’ll start with his list of 50 Best Albums. I’ll put up one every Monday.
Brendan’s list of 50 Best Albums is part music-critique and part memoir and part cultural snapshot.
I have always loved these essays, because I love to hear my brother talk. I am happy to share them with you!
50 Best Albums, by Brendan O’Malley
41. Guns N’ Roses – Chinese Democracy
I know.
Really.
You fall into one of two camps.
Camp 1 hates Guns N’ Roses but hates Axl Rose more. You consider him to be Journey on steroids or Poison with pretension. You can’t fathom how a sensitive, educated, progressive, avant-garde leaning artist like myself could waste any brain space on Guns N’ Roses. You probably think less of me for it. I have nothing to say to you.
Camp 2 loves Guns N’ Roses, but only the first Guns N’ Roses. The scruffy glamour scumbags who bummed cigarettes from hookers in front of the Whiskey and then threw up on the whole world with Appetite For Destruction. You cringed at the racism of “One In A Million” and were old enough to be turned off by the MTV over-saturation of “November Rain”. The fact that the dirtbags now wanted to be IMPORTANT left you cold. You are predisposed to ambivalence. To you I shout, ‘Let NOT the past deprive you of the glorious present!’
This prelude to the actual review is for those who fall into Camp 2. If you ever had any love for Guns N’ Roses, I implore you to open your heart one more time. Try to listen as if you’d never heard of these guys. As if your hard rock itch had never been scratched, as if your adrenaline cherry had never been popped by “Welcome To The Jungle”. You will feel like a virgin, touched for the very first time. Well, no…you’ll feel like you’re touching a virgin for HER very first time.
For Chinese Democracy is not only easily the best Guns N’ Roses album, I am, two weeks into listening to it, very comfortable putting it on this Top 50 list.
I have to start the fuck over. FUCK. This review sucks and YOU suck for taking it the wrong way even though it isn’t actually the review I intended to write. So take your lack of patience and wrap it up in a live lemming and let ’em drag you ever the edge, buddy, coz’ I ain’t gotta put up with your misinterpretation of my elaboration.
See? Axl’s vision is contagious. And if you don’t let yourself get swept away, you are missing the fuck out.
What else kicks things off but “Chinese Democracy” which, of course, is about Axl Rose making the album Chinese Democracy.
This whole album is like one of those photos where someone is looking into a million mirrors and each reflection stares back at them from a little bit further away. The power chords ring in but are immediately stifled, falling away in a gust of wind that conjures up Genghis Khan on the Steppes braving the 1,000 mile blast of snow. I admit I felt a pang of fear here, as if the entire affair was going to be Axl striking-curious-poses-they-feel-the-heat-the-heat-between-me-and-you.
And Axl anticipates this reaction in the first line…
It don’t really matter
Gonna find out for yourself
No it don’t really matter
Gonna leave this thing for somebody else
With that salvo, he breaks the funhouse rigidity into a billion little pieces, each one reflecting your own prejudices towards him and his band. Er, him.
I’m sorry for swearing at you earlier, it’s just when I start off wrong I get so fucking angry. Can I please start this whole fucking thing over again? Oh, you’re just gonna keep on fucking reading now even though I just asked you if I could start over? You’ve got a lot of fucking nerve and you’re on my last one you fucking hypocrite. I love you more than you’ll ever know and you know it’s true because I’m standing on top of the Concorde as it takes its last flight into the Indonesian night.
That’s it, I’ve had just about e-fuckin’nuff. I’m skipping ahead to the crown jewel of this whole sexy mess, “Sorry”.
I like it more than “Sweet Child O’ Mine”, “Welcome to the Jungle”, “You Could Be Mine”, “Breakdown”, “Civil War”, more than all of it. It is my favorite Guns N’ Roses song.
It is also absurd.
Backtrack time I can do what the fuck I want it’s my fucking review.
In the early 21st century, I became aware that Guns N’ Roses would include a song called “Riad n’ the Bedouins” on Chinese Democracy.
I wondered just what Axl Rose would have to say about a nomadic desert tribe. Well, the waiting paid off with this opening line:
Riad n’ the Bedouins had a plan and thought they’d win
But I don’t give a fuck ’bout them coz’ I am crazy
See? He lets you conjure the image of the proud sand-blasted warriors all by yourself and then looks right back into the broken funhouse mirror.
I know you’re tired of this album even though you’ve never heard it. I know Axl long ago forfeited any right to anything but skepticism. But even that adds to the pathos of this music. Here is a guy who KNEW he had a great album in him. He knew it wouldn’t sound like the band he’d forced upon the world, making it the biggest baddest band on the planet. He believed in the album to the point that he let himself be the posterboy for all that is wrong with big label excess. He didn’t say, “Fuck it, I’ll put it out now, it’s good enough.”
No, he waited until it was too late to save his reputation.
And lo, there came unto him an angel who said, “Fuck that…this album restores your motherfucking reputation, dog.”
This review sucks and I’m gonna start over. If I keep working on it until 2024 I’ll have mimicked Mr. Rose. Don’t be fooled, folks. This sucker is the real deal.
p.s. There’s also the amazing fact that Tommy Stinson of The Replacements plays the bass. Which is absolutely bizarre. And awesome.
Like so many great clowns, Lon Chaney had a huge and tragic soul, at the heart of his persona was an abyss of sadness. He plays a clown, but he gives deeply tragic performances of towering stature. He’s overwhelming to watch, to this day (especially at public screenings).
I had the great good fortune to be there at Ebertfest when his 1924 film He Who Gets Slapped was screened, with accompaniment by the brilliant Alloy Orchestra (who wrote and performed the score themselves). Seeing that movie in that movie palace, packed to the gills, was an experience I will never ever forget. Here’s the piece I wrote about it for Rogerebert.com.
Here are some screen grabs from his beautiful and disturbing performance as the clown Tito, in love with tightrope-walker Simonetta (Loretta Young) in 1928’s Laugh, Clown Laugh. The film – and his performance – is an unforgettable evocation of love, loneliness, and hope, showing how true madness comes on the heels of heartbreak. His performance is both hilarious and tragic, sometimes in the same moment. He was a true genius.
“Look What They’ve Done To My Song” – Miley Cyrus. Every song in “The Backyard Sessions” has a purity of emotion and expression that GETS to me.
“Jordon River” – The Raunch Hands. In my parents’ record collection. We were OBSESSED with it, knew every word, sang along lustily. They only came out with 1, maybe 2, albums. Some years ago, Mum transferred the album to CDs for all of us. Best gift ever. My brother Brendan’s gorgeous essay about the Raunch Hands is here.
“The One in the Middle” – Sarah Jones. This is a feisty pissed-off song. “The one in the middle” refers to the middle finger – as opposed to the ring finger. “Now I’m givin you the one in the middle…” I love country music.
“Happiness is a Warm Gun” – The Breeders covering The Beatles? Is this heaven?
“The Wild One” – Link Wray. So heavy.
“Stray Cat Strut” – The Stray Cats. It wasn’t until much later that I learned more about Brian Setzer – they may have seemed like a gimmick. But they were part of the rockabilly subculture, which – improbably – broke through into the mainstream when I was a teenager. Girls were wearing poodle skirts at my school, to give an example. They were a gateway for me into rockabilly. Setzer taught me a lot. I’ll follow him anywhere.
“If It Ain’t Easy” – Steve Carlson. I love his voice!
“Wonderboy” – Tenacious D. The song is such an epic. Ridiculous, and in the sweet spot for me, comedically. “With nothin’ but a motherfuckin’ MIND BULLET.”
“Feeling Good” – Michael Buble. He kicks it here. Not ashamed to say it.
“Monsoon” – Robbie Williams. Boy does the man know how to write a pop anthem.
“Hitchin’ A Ride” – Green Day. From International Superhits. Meaning, pre-American Idiot. But this is great, one of my favorites off of Superhits. Harsh huge sound.
“I Was There (And I’m Told I Had a Good Time)” – The Monkees. From their new album, and just saying “The Monkees’ new album” makes me happy. This is fantastic. The title alone …
“About a Girl” – Nirvana. There’s something about them that makes the hair on my neck stand up.
“Sweet Jane” – Metallica and Lou Reed. When this happened I couldn’t even believe it. It seemed too good to be true. Also it’s wild to hear Metallica play (relatively) slow.
“Can’t Find My Way Home” – Nathan East (featuring Eric Clapton). This is an absolute dream. Nathan East is the most in-demand studio musician working today. His credits are miles long. He’s a genius. I met him at the Albuquerque Music and Film Experience, where he was the featured guest (my film screened at the fest). Incredible man and artist.
“If Drinking Don’t Kill Me Her Memory Will” – George Jones. This is a pitiful story, George!
“That’s How Strong My Love Is” – The Rolling Stones. Who can quantify or describe “personality” and how it travels or translates? I try. Mick has it. Keith has it. They all have it.
“Wearin’ That Loved On Look” – Elvis Presley. So sexy. Grown-up sexy, not adolescent sexy. A man who knows there’s been some carryin’ on.
“As Long As I Have You” – Pat McCurdy. An old friend, although we never see each other. In 2017, we talked about Elvis.
“My Babe” – Dale Hawkins. His stuff roils with wild sex. It’s off the rails. The guitar solo. The tight drums in the background. The guttural bassline. Keeping us in track. But the ENERGY. The energy is completely wild.
“One Night” – Elvis, his absolutely ferocious performance during the “sit-down” section of the 1968 comeback special. He had done the song 10 years before. But he was just a kid then. He’s a MAN now and this version shows that. At one point, women in the audience start screaming. And not just from lust. But from fear. I cannot begin to imagine what it must have been like to watch that performance up close.
“Kyrie Eleison” – Nóirín Ní Riain and the Monks of Glenstal Abbey. I love penduluming wildly between the secular and the divine.
“The Alcohol of Fame” – Jerry Lee Lewis, in his country-star-ascendant phase (a phase I love).
“A Long Hard Time’s to Come” – Gangstagrass. The Justified theme song. Ahhhh.
“Bye Bye Bye” – Jellyfish. They are a very time-and-place band for me. Chicago. 90s. I had this on cassette tape, and was completely unaware that there were other albums. I have since tracked them down. I love everything they did. My love is uncomplicated. These are bouncy beautiful ELO-ish pop songs, with beautiful harmonies and chord changes.
“Puttin’ on the Ritz” – Robbie Williams. I love him so much. Send help.
“Johnny Get Angry” – Joanie Simmons. Oh boy. Joanie, Twitter’s gonna drag you for this one.
“No Particular Place to Go” – Chuck Berry. The man was a genius lyricist. Among other things. But the pictures he paints, the narratives, the characters, the plot twists even (“Memphis, Tennessee”), the rhymes he pulls out … just brilliant with the English language and American vernacular.
“Ain’t That Peculiar” – Marvin Gaye. It is impossible to listen to this and not start dancing around.
“From Home” – The Troggs. So fucking good. Have they had a better Poet Laureate than Lester Bangs? Has any band?
“Everybody Loves Somebody” – Dean Martin. You can hear him smiling when he sings. It’s so relaxing. You don’t have to do anything. He’s got this. And he loves doing it.
“Gone, Gone, Gone” – The Everly Brothers. Their harmonies are so tight that sometimes it seems like it’s perfect mostly for ballads, for delicious crooning. But they were wider than that, versatile, their harmonies remained tight no matter the tempo (part of the thrill). Like this. It’s wild.
“May Queen” – Liz Phair. From Whip-Smart. I love the build on this one. It’s so exciting when the chorus kicks in. I love her. She wasn’t a “role model.” She was my peer, telling it like it was. I already was LIVING my “exile in guyville” life when her album came out. Something had been loosened from the 80s, something else was rising up … not that I would have put it that way. But that whole 90s-grunge-riot-grrrl thing hit right at the perfect moment. I was in the zeitgeist, for the first and last time.
“Revolution” – Jim Sturgess, from Julie Taymor’s Across the Universe. You know. In certain circles, carrying around a picture of Chairman Mao very WELL might get you laid. Not circles I’d want anything to do with, but you do you.
“Eight Days a Week” – The Beatles. That fade-in opening … how do they even decide to do something like that?
“Will the Circle Be Unbroken?” – Johnny Cash, Carl Perkins and Jerry Lee Lewis. Glorious. I don’t care who you are, if you have covered this song I want to know about it.
“Rockin’ Years” – Dolly Parton and Ricky Van Shelton. Thank God another woman showed up. This has been pretty much a sausage party thus far. Not that there’s anything WRONG with it. There’s nothing like a man and a woman harmonizing in a beautiful romantic country song.
“I Wanna Be Loved” – Ricky Nelson. I’m not sure what his reputation is, what has filtered down. Teen idol? Squeaky-clean 1950s teen idol? This is pure sex, though. I can’t imagine being a 15 year old girl listening to this back in the day. I would have lost my ever-loving mind.
“Search Me Lord” – Little Richard. His gospel stuff is transcendent. Almost creepily so. It’s like he’s got a direct line to some other level of consciousness.
“Armpit No. 6” – Screamin’ Jay Hawkins. He is out of his damn mind and I love him so much. This song is insane. He’s got his nose in someone’s armpit, taking gigantic sniffs and then shivering in ecstasy. He’s got so many different personae he can’t restrain any of them. He giggles, moans, groans, snorts …
“Caledonia Mission” – The Band. There’s an ache in their music. It makes me nostalgic for something, but I don’t know what it is. I feel like Griel Marcus’ chapter on them in Mystery Train is definitive, and I have nothing to add.
“Don’t Tread On Me” – Metallica. Epic macho-ness, somehow not a cartoon of it but an actual representation of it. An icy wave of it. Stomping, militaristic, pissed. “TO PREPARE FOR WAR … SO BE IT … SETTLE THE SCOOOOORE …” You tell ’em boys.
“Paddy’s Lament” – Sinéad O’Connor. From Sean-Nos Nua, an album I love. I will stick with her. Fan for life.
“Say Goodbye Hollywood” – Eminem. Off of The Eminem Show, an album which took over my life and what felt like my whole family’s life (I remember being at a huge family wedding, sitting at a table with a bunch of cousins. Were we discussing the happy nuptials, the food, the beautiful venue? No. We were discussing The Eminem Show.) It was a wild time. Followed quickly by 8 Mile. Dominance.
“Waiting for my Real Life to Begin” – Colin Hay. I know the feeling, Colin.
“Nil Desperandum” – The Monks of Glenstal Abbey. It’s … spoken word, I guess you’d say? I love these monks. One of their songs/prayers come up, and it’s like my blood pressure stabilizes. Accepting and open to whatever they’re sharing.
“Friends” – The Beach Boys. It’s so sweet. It’s sincere. Disarmingly sincere.
“When You Laugh the World Laughs With You” – Tracy Bonham. I love her. I have loved her ever since I walked into the Virgin Records on … Diversey, I think it was … in Chicago, and heard this woman SCREAMING on the speakers. The hair on the back of my neck rose. Who is that?? I asked an employee and he told me it was Tracy Bonham’s “Mother Mother.” Which reached the air riiiiiight before female anger vanished, with the rise of the sexed-up teenage Lolitas. She’s been around ever since. She’s not really prolific, but she plays out all the time. She’s an amazing songwriter/singer. I was so psyched to see her song “Devil’s Got Your Boyfriend” featured in Dirty John. Suddenly Tracy Bonham was everywhere. It made me happy.
“Bruise Violet” – Babes in Toyland. Talk about pissed off women. YES.
“I’m So Blue – Katie Thompson. Female sadness to counteract the rage.
“Walking On Sunshine” – Katrina & The Waves. And now for some female JOY.
“Maybe” – Garth Brooks. As Chris Gaines. Oh my God, who remembers Chris Gaines? Did that really happen??
“Funny How Time Slips Away” – Jerry Lee Lewis, from the beautifully bitchy-titled Country Songs for City Folks. I love this song so much. Everyone covered it. It’s a great monologue. Here, Jerry Lee Lewis takes a country song and basically makes it a blues song. He slows it way way down. Love it. It’s sexy.
“I Want to Hold Your Hand” – The Beatles. The hand-claps … thrilling.
“Wanted Dead or Alive” – Bon Jovi. lol. jk. luv.
“Role Model” – Eminem. Slim Shady at his brattiest.
“Better Together” – Jack Johnson. I’m too cynical for this shit.
“You Can’t Make Love to Somebody” – Carl Perkins. Carl gets it.
“Gone Insane” – Lucius. A new-ish discovery of mine. I love them. Instantly recognizable sound.
“Haunted” – Evanescence. I love her voice.
“Thunder” – Prince. Finally. I was wondering where he was. Off Diamonds and Pearls. I love this one, I love the a capella opening, and then where it goes. It gets NUTS. I’m in denial that he’s gone. Still feel a pang when he comes up. Somehow I’m still not “getting it.”
“Rings of Gold” – Waylon Jennings and Anita Carter. I love his voice in combination with another’s. I love his voice, in general, but there’s something so beautiful about him harmonizing, blending, with another strong voice.
“She’s In Love With the Boy” – Trisha Yearwood. The “narrative” of this song is effective, I won’t deny. But it’s this kind of nostalgic horseshit … beat-up Chevy, one-horse town, etc. – that sinks so much contemporary country. Also, how long do we give Katie and Tommy? At least Billy Joel admitted that Brenda and Eddie weren’t destined to last. See? Cynical. I prefer “realistic.”
“Movies of Myself” – Rufus Wainwright. This has a propulsive energy I really love. I treasure the memory of seeing him on Valentine’s Day at Town Hall in nYC, 2002. It’s almost impossible to describe to people who are not New Yorkers how traumatized we all still were from 9/11. It was in the air we breathed. It weighed us down. Rufus felt it. Nobody even had to speak it or name it. But he felt it in that room. At one point, he said, out of nowhere, to all of us, “It’s going to be okay.” I’ll never forget that.
“The Heart of the Matter” – Don Henley. It’s too much. I try to forgive. I do the best I can. I’m not perfect.
“It’s Sweet” – Liz Phair. I have nothing to say to the “Liz Phair sold out” people. I was a fan from the jump. I continue to be a fan. Whatever the hell she wants to do is a-okay with me, even a Bollywood-musical-inspired album (which she … did). I love the “sellout” album. To me, it just reiterates and underlines how amazing she is. If all she had ever done was Exile in Guyville, she’d be remembered. But that she then moved on and continued to work and create … even to come out with this perfect pop album … I think it’s genius.
“Tomorrow’s Gonna Be Another Day” – Pat McCurdy. Off of an album he put out for Katrina relief (if I recall correctly). I love it. It’s not on any of his other albums.
“The Beautiful People” – Marilyn Manson. Must be played as loud as possible, preferably as you drive to the beach down the Garden State Parkway, wind in your hair, iced coffee from Dunkin Donuts in the cup holder. Crank that shit up.
“Let Her Go, God Bless Her” – The Louvin Brothers. Man, I love these two maniacs. Perfect harmonies. Total lack of irony.
“Daydream Believer” – The Monkees. Why does it work so well? Why does it never get old? (Side note: one of the WORST parts of the Internet is the slow dawning horrified realization that you can no longer use rhetorical questions because boring people see a question mark and think: Oh! She’s really asking! I must help the damsel out with providing an answer! Y’all ruin everything.)
“Louisiana Land” – Ok Go. Hey, what have these guys been up to lately? I was super into them for a hot year or so. Still love them.
“Lewis Boogie” – Jerry Lee Lewis. From “Live at the Star Club, Hamburg”, one of the best concert recordings ever. The feeling in that room – onstage and off – is FEROCIOUS.
“Rockin Alone (In an Old Rockin Chair)” – Billie Joe Armstrong & Norah Jones, in their beautiful album of Everly Brothers covers. What a great idea. I love people who just do the shit they want to do. Who say “Hey, wouldn’t this be a great idea” and then just go out and do it.
“At Last” – Etta James. Definitive.
“That’s How Strong My Love Is” – The Rolling Stones. The band creates this solid container where Mick can go OFF where he needs to GO. I like how raw this is.
“Girl from the North Country” – Link Wray covering Dylan. It’s too much awesome for me.
“Kentucky Rain” – Elvis Presley ELVIS. I’VE MISSED YOU IN THIS SHUFFLE. This is a wonderful song for you to re-assert your kingly-ness.
“My Generation” – The Who. When I was a kid, the stuttering made me nervous. I wanted him to just come out with it.
“You’re All I Need to Get By” – Marvin Gaye & Tammi Terrell. This is one of my favorite songs ever written. I have so many versions of it. I love how he backs her up during her sections … (“come on baby” and etc.) Beautiful collaboration between two singers.
“Spread Your Wings” – Queen. This is so emotional it feels like my heart will burst. I wrote a whole thing once about the damn music video. Here it is.
“Searching For the Truth” – Brian Keith Nutter. I love his voice. Great country song voice.
“Purple People Eater Meets the Witchdoctor” – Big Bopper. This is some super stupid shit. And yet I own it.
“Ya Had Me Goin” – Bleu. If you are not aware of this man, what are you waiting for? I went to go see him play during a dangerously suicidal month. I should have been hospitalized. He didn’t give me hope to carry on or anything but I do think that writing about seeing him at least got me through the next day. Then some dude left a comment saying, “I love your stuff but you need an editor.” I deleted and blocked his ass. Fuck you. You read the whole thing to the end though, didn’t you? So who wins? Me. Be mindful, people. You never know what others are going through.
“Saint Brigid’s Prayer” – Nóirín Ní Riain and the Monks of Glenstal Abbey. I am loving how much these monks are showing up in the shuffle.
“Steal Away” – Mike Viola. Covering the lite-rock classic. Friend and sometimes collaborator with Bleu. He’s amazing. One of my favorite singer-songwriters today. He wrote all the songs for That Thing You Do and then got stiffed on getting credit.
“Bad Things” – L7. These girls are so fucking tough. Heavy heavy heavy sound. Of all the “girl bands” in the riot grrrl era … L7 was my favorite.
“You Know Me” – Air Traffic Controller. I love them! I got into them because the aforementioned Bleu produced this album and promoted them heavily. They’re amazing.
“Black Velveteen” – Lenny Kravitz. I’ve been a fan since “Fields of Joy.” I wrote about this somewhere. I got so obsessed with this song it was basically a life raft. Not a good time. I still shiver when “Fields of Joy” comes up, remembering that time. But I’m still grateful for that song.
“Pontoon” – Little Big Town. One of my favorite current country & western bands. They’ve got an edge. And, of course, along with hip-hop artists, country & western songwriters have FUN with the English language. Puns, internal rhymes, connections, metaphors, analogies … they’re all over it. Thank God. Keep that shit inventive, it’s a great language.
“The Sweet” – Bleu. Bleu can do it all. Sometimes his songs are so bittersweet you wince. Sometimes he writes pop anthem dance tunes. He can sing anything.
“Los Ageless” – St. Vincent. She completely rules.
I’m putting one out once a month, with a roundup of stuff I’ve written and other things I think are cool and worth sharing. Here’s the signup page if you’re interested. Thank you for stopping by here – I truly appreciate it!
Oh, and if you signed up and you haven’t received it: check your Junk Mail folder. That’s where it’s been going and I am not sure how to fix it.
George Morfogen as the head waiter in What’s Up, Doc?, directed by Peter Bogdanovich.
I just learned Morfogen died in early March.
He was one of Peter Bogdanovich’s oldest friends. And great in his much larger role in Bogdanovich’s They All Laughed, doing his back exercises on the floor as he talks to Ben Gazzara, quietly having a nervous breakdown. I love that his arc in They All Laughed basically sums up to: “Infidelity is sometimes okay.”
George Morfogen in “They All Laughed”
When Mitchell and I spoke to Bogdanovich after the screening of They All Laughed, Morfogen’s performance came up, and Mitchell said, “He was the head waiter in What’s Up, Doc” and Bogdanovich had a moment of being truly impressed and taken aback that Mitchell would put it together. I mean, the “Table 1” moment is really his only moment in the movie! Bogdanovich absolutely loved it. So much of what makes life livable and beautiful is REMEMBERING.
George Morfogen’s career involved much more than these two movies, but the memories involved with these two are very precious to me.
I woke up to the news that the great pioneering French New Wave filmmaker Agnès Varda, active up until the very end, has just died at the age of 90. In 2017, her documentary Faces Placeswas on my Top 10. 90 years is a good long life. This is not a shock. But her work, and who she WAS out in the world, has so much meaning, connecting up all of these disparate threads of the past into our Right Now, 90 years of experience … this is what I am present to now, this is the loss I (and so many others) are feeling. My first disoriented thought was, “But what am I supposed to do now?”
I scribbled something about this on Instagram, and I’ll put it here as well, since it’s a story I love. I look forward to the more in-depth career-spanning tributes which I know will be coming out today. I’ll link to the ones I love. In the meantime, here’s an anecdote about Varda as a director, an anecdote that has always stayed with me. Maybe it stayed with me because of my actor background: I love examples of directors who know how to give good direction.
Here is the great Sandrine Bonnaire giving her unforgettable performance in Agnès Varda’s Vagabond.
Like all great directors, Varda knew when to give direction/guidance, and when to stay silent. When Varda DID give direction, it was specific and action-oriented. Bad directors talk about abstractions and themes, none of which an actor can really play.
Bad director: “Remember, your character represents innocence in a fallen world.”
Actor: “….. Okay. Got it.” [Inner monologue: WTF.]
Scene begins. Actor tries to represent innocence in a fallen world.
Bad director: “Cut! Okay, so maybe this next take think of a really happy circumstance in your childhood that you now look back on and feel sad about.”
Actor: “So … I wasn’t really getting across innocence in a fallen world, is that what you’re saying?”
Bad director: “No, it was great, what you were doing was great, I just want you to maybe think about something personal.”
Actor: “So … a happy childhood memory that makes me sad now?”
Bad director: “Yes. Let’s try it.”
Actor: “Should I keep trying to be innocence in a fallen world?”
Bad director: “Let’s forget about that for now.”
This is not an exaggeration of what it is like to work with a bad director who
1. does not know what he/she wants
2. does not understand the actor’s process
Good directors always give actors something to DO. If you’re a bad director, and you don’t know how to do that, then just say NOTHING to the actor, let the actor work, stay out of their way. (Unfortunately, of course, bad directors don’t know they’re bad. That’s why they’re bad.) Good directors know how to say one tiny thing, one tiny suggestive thing, that sets the actor’s imagination on fire, or makes the actor know, “Got it. I know just what you want.”
Varda didn’t “help” Bonanaire give the great performance she did in Vagabond. That’s a misunderstanding of the relationship between director and actress. But Varda made one comment, one very pointed comment early on, which ended up being the thing that gave Bonnaire her “way in” to the character.
In the early development stages, Varda said to Bonnaire, “This character never says ‘Thank you.’”
Something in this simple statement sparked something in Bonnaire. She was curious about it, she hadn’t thought about it in those terms, she wondered what that would look/feel like. Also, on a practical level, it was something she could DO. Specificity is ALWAYS preferable to generalities. No exceptions. Even in highly stylized work.
Bonnaire began experimenting in her own life with not saying “Thank you,” just to get a feel for it, just to see what it might provide her in understanding the character she was going to play. She said she was surprised at how difficult it was. It felt wrong. It made her confront all kinds of things in herself, how you internalize civilization, how we all use good manners to get by the best we can in the world. This is not a bad thing. On the contrary. But what happens if you opt out of it? The “why” isn’t even as important as the “what.” Choosing not to say “Thank you” in the preparation phase made her realize how often she said “Thank you.” A cashier hands you change. A guy holds a door open for you. You trip off a stair and someone reaches out to help you. A waitress clears your table. You say “Thank you” for the help in every single circumstance. Or you should.
But not if you’re playing the lead character in Vagabond.
Bonnaire got into the groove of what it was like to accept help and never say “Thank you.” It was a whole other world and it opened up all of the possibilities of the character for her.
And it all came from a six-word sentence of direction. PLAY-able direction.
It set Bonnaire – already enormously gifted – free. Keeping those words in mind, she literally could do no wrong in her performance. It showed her how to be, where to go, what to do, what not to do.
Young directors, take note: THAT’S how you give direction.
