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One comes away a trifle numb: in part due to the sheer number of films made; but in part both awed and terrified by Hollywood’s ability to use what were, for the most part, mediocre films to make the ravages of war not only so acceptable to the American public, but glorious.
What the few of us in Jordan Hall heard that night was a richly conceived and beautifully performed song cycle, mostly serious, but with some great wit in exactly the right places. It made for a fascinating and enlightening contrast to the CD version of “Vespers,” which Steve Lacy recorded in 1993.
There was nothing in the program about the pieces he and his fellow musicians would be playing, but no one seemed to care. Most already knew the music from Paco de Lucía’s recordings. They were coming to hear him live, and there was not an empty seat to be seen in the Boston Opera House.
Man Ray | Lee Miller, Partners in Surrealism explores the relationship between two of the most celebrated surrealists of the 20th century, but the pattern of influence comes off as revealingly lopsided — the female artist of the pair more often than not inspired the male.
This was ensemble playing by two people who knew not only the music, but each other completely. There are some things you can’t fake, and one is ensemble playing with a person — or people — you love. (I speak from experience here). Everything was perfect.
What could have been a readable, informative, pleasurable book that would, much like Woody Allen’s recent film MIDNIGHT IN PARIS, enhance our experience of some of the modernist figures we adore wallows too often in brain-dead literary theory.
“Page One” is quite interesting but also quite scattered. You’ll exit the theater knowing a couple things about the New York Times, and maybe feeling like you got an idea about the characters of some of the talented, humorous, and interesting personalities that put it together.
Recommending The Spine of the Night depends on how much you’d like to see things like head decapitations, eye-gouging, and people being disemboweled in your high-fantasy animated features, in which case Spine is everything you could hope for and a whole lot more.
“A lot of books talk about slavery as something that just happened in the South and ended in 1865. I felt like there could be a book about how the North was making more of the profit and was in some ways more responsible morally, politically, and financially than the South.”
Liz Duffy Adams’ affectionate look at Aphra Behn’s rise to public prominence, despite prejudice against her gender, comes off as a sort of farcical love letter to an ink-stained ancestor that at times suggests a Shavian talk fest in a minor key.
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