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Camille Pissarro lived to be 73. As he aged, he looked more and more like the prototype of a Sephardic Jew. Anti-Semitic rioting accompanied the Dreyfus Affair; the painter found it prudent to stay inside his hotel room in Paris.
“On China” boasts photos of Henry Kissinger’s numerous visits to China. In many you see him smiling hugely, brandishing chopsticks alongside the likes of Zhou Enlai. He’s enjoying making history — and the food.
Now why, you might ask. Why is there no reaction? Why does everyone involved, chose to ignore the scandal? Because, playwright Alan Ayckbourn would say, that is how most of us are. To paraphrase “Hamlet”: We rather bear the troubles we know, than — by opposing them — create even bigger ones.
This is a highly satisfying evening of light theater that provokes its audience to bursts of recognition, laughter and sorrow in quick succession.
ONE HUNDRED NAMES FOR LOVE is an intermittently engaging and very useful book for millions of partners, parents, children, friends and caretakers of stroke victims as well as anyone else interested in the workings of the mind.
SUBMARINE director Richard Ayoade has good taste. He loves movies so purely and energetically that it’s fun to watch him borrow from his favorites and patch together something new.
How many painters were taught by Rembrandt? How big was his school? Well, that is a matter for debate — to echo Donald Rumsfeld, there are the known unknowns. Then there are the unknown unknowns
In India, dosas are cooked on a griddle in the street, as well as in restaurants and homes. As street food goes, the dosa gets high marks. It’s not junk, and it tastes great. The Dosa Factory in Central Square, subtitled “Indian Street Food,” is a hole-in-the-wall–not for an evening of food and talk. But that’s not what street food is. It’s a quick fix, and for these purposes, it’s about as good as it gets.
This is adversarial criticism, with an eye on the martyred, fueled by grievances political and aesthetic — the return of the repressed as the comeuppance for the comfortable. No wonder Roberto Bolaño’s reviews garnered him fierce detractors as well as admirers.
Two New York stage productions offer sterling examples of going maximalist in an increasingly minimalist age
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