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Nothing would please me more than to believe the announcement made last week by the Van Gogh Museum, saying that one of the paintings in the museum that has always been called a self-portrait by Vincent van Gogh is in fact a portrait of his brother Theo
The theme of fading passion would have been enough. It is the theme of many a love story. It would have been enough for this chess story. But author Robert R. Desjarlais won’t let it be enough.
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.
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