Last autumn, the Pitts, as they then were, released a curious Euro-art-movie called By the Sea, directed by her and starring them both, about a couple with raging marital problems at a French seaside resort. Few saw it, and the critical reception was generally unkind - it was accused of being a vanity project, a wispy and vain white-people-problem movie by the superstar couple de nos jours.
I can't say I've ever been much of a cat person, but until now I'd never felt a deep and unassuageable longing to chase one down the street with a flame thrower. That's all changed, though, thanks to Nine Lives, a film in which Kevin Spacey turns into a cat, and which makes the Garfield movies from ten years ago look like peak-form Billy Wilder.
Something extraordinary has happened at the Old Vic. A much-loved, ingeniously funny and clever Hollywood film has made a triumphant theatrical rebirth - in a show that looks, on first viewing, equal to, and perhaps better than, the movie.
When staging a blockbuster art exhibition, it is usual for curators to call on the leading museums of the world to loan their finest objects.
Margaret Drabble, an English novelist, biographer and critic, asked, "Why can't people be both flexible and efficient?"
Marcus Tullius Cicero, a Roman orator and statesman who died in 43 B.C., said, "Confidence is that feeling by which the mind embarks in great and honorable courses with a sure hope and trust in itself."
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|