It is perhaps no small irony that the culture that gave us “nothing in excess; everything in moderation” also gave us a literary masterpiece whose first word is “rage.”
The ancient Greeks were a mass of contradictions. But then, human nature is a mass of contradictions and the Greeks were nothing if not masters of plumbing the human condition as seen in “A World of Emotions, Ancient Greece, 700 B.C.-200 A.D.,” on view at the Onassis Cultural Center New York through June 24. ...
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A shoutout to the new film version of “Beauty and the Beast,” which proves you can build on previous iterations and make something that is related but individual.
Of the three Walt Disney versions using Alan Menken’s score – which also include an acclaimed animated movie and a Broadway musical – this latest interpretation is by far the most adult (although kids will still enjoy it). ...
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As a writer of homoerotic fiction, I consider myself a collector and connoisseur of male/male romances. I began with the ancient Greeks, who practically invented homoerotic relationships – all those youths beloved by Apollo, whose depiction reached an apotheosis in the paintings of neoclassical Paris (see Abigail Solomon-Godeau’s provocative book “Male Trouble”); and the relationships of Alexander the Great with his right-hand man, Hephaestion, and eunuch Bagoas, portrayed so movingly in Mary Renault’s “Fire From Heaven” and “The Persian Boy,” respectively.
Then there’s Marguerite Yourcenar’s “Memoirs of Hadrian,” a model for all aspiring historical fiction writers, which tells the story of the titular Greek-loving Roman emperor and his love for the tragic Greek youth Antinous.
Moving on to our own (mostly) gay-friendly, postfeminist time, there’s Gus Van Sant’s ingenious “My Own Private Idaho,” based on “Henry IV,” and Annie Proulx’s hauntingly spare novella “Brokeback Mountain,” made into an equally worthy film by Ang Lee. ...
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Mary Tyler Moore – who died Wednesday of cardiopulmonary arrest after pneumonia at age 80 – was the Jackie of TV. And like Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis, she road the wave of feminism from chic wife and mother to career woman.
If Laura Petrie on “The Dick Van Dyke Show” was White House Jackie in Capri pants, Mary Richards on “The Mary Tyler Moore Show” was Jackie O, the Doubleday and Viking editor, a sweater draped nattily over her shoulder. But Mary was not only a career woman, she was a certain kind of working woman, one who, unlike Jackie, had to go home and cook and face being alone. ...
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Years ago, I had a dream job with Gannett Inc. as senior cultural writer. One of my beats was to cover the big arts stories of the day and so it was that I found myself on one occasion interviewing Richard Cragun the American-born star of the Stuttgart Ballet and one of the finest male dancers of the 20th century.
In those days, Gannett recycled our stories in its many publications, and my Cragun piece found its way into one of the tabloids overseen by a favorite editor who was fond of the Daily News and New York Post. It was with some sheepishness then that I handed the publicist a copy of the publication with the words “Ballet Hunk” in the headlines. I needn’t have worried. He was thrilled.
I covered most of the great “ballet hunks” of the 20th and early-21st centuries ...
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The latest salvo in the culture war that is surely to deepen under President Donald Trump was fired by Meryl Streep in a graceful and grace-filled speech at the Golden Globes.
I’m not a fan of people using award shows as a bully pulpit, coming of age as I did in the 1970s when such Oscar speeches (think Vanessa Redgrave and an absent Marlon Brando) were a kind of cliché. I’m not a fan of gesture politics like refusing to stand for the National Anthem. I’m not even a fan of Meryl Streep, a sometimes mannered actress (“Sophie’s Choice,” “The Hours”) who’s nevertheless capable of great work (“Marvin’s Room,” “The Manchurian Candidate”).
But Streep – a hard-working craftswoman who has paid her dues – offered a master class in a performer giving a political speech by turning the concept of the politician as performer inside out. ...
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Though I admired Debbie Reynolds’ and Carrie Fisher’s talents, I can’t say that I followed their careers particularly. And yet, the deaths of this mother and daughter – one day apart, the daughter’s, Fisher’s, first on Dec. 27, perhaps causing the mother’s from a broken heart– resonate with me. As the daughter of a glamorous mother who often upstaged me, I got the “Postcards From the Edge” aspect of the Debbie-Carrie relationship. But as the niece of a beloved aunt who raised me and whom I mourn so intently that I just dreamt about her the other night, I also understand the Debbie-Carrie who lived next door to each other.
The mother-daughter bond is perhaps not as fraught as the power struggle between fathers and sons but it is no doubt more intense. At its heart is the quest for control and perfection that is part of each woman’s hypercritical life. But there’s also an intimacy and, yes, a real love as mothers and daughters become neighbors, roommates and friends. ...
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