L’Histoire d’Adèle H. Isabelle Adjani going the absolute 100% (obsessive unrequited love for a military officer leads to her downfall etc etc…) And maybe from François Truffaut’s output more worth a watch nowadays than a lot of others.
Leonor Fini, Figures on a Terrace Leonor Fini (1907–1996) Argentinian surrealist painter, designer, and author, (known for her depictions of powerful women… as Wikipedia wants it)
This I know, the symbol is the gateway to delusion, Blurring to deceiving smoke The border between fact and error. Making havoc in the brain’s fine algebra, By symbol, the fantastic structure is made too strong, Too firm a palace against sad reality. She has been kidnapped from her usual world of glitter and luxury,Continue reading “Bellefleur”
1 One evening, Olivia de Havilland prepares — with great concern to adhere to the strict instructions on the tin, even to the extent of using her reading glasses — Hedy Lamarr’s Marine Fresh™ Skipjack Tuna Salad recipe, and finds it not good. Lettuce, hard-boiled egg, apple, celery. Cardboard, she reckons, multiply. As tasteless as.Continue reading “Hedy Lamarr’s Tuna Salad Recipe”
1 The morose poet Mayakovsky sits down next to her, And, just so that she cannot mistake his intentions, says: —I do not exist. Ok, she can cope with that. —But you’ll have an orange juice… or a coffee, won’t you? You look like you need something. The magic hour. He watches the bumbling carpContinue reading “In Parkland (Preview)”
The Journalist is persistent and dedicated; she has a lot of integrity. Specifically tasked, she lies in wait for him, the Pathologist. Winsome, that specific species of prettiness, she thinks she can probably screw herself up into, for a sufficient length of time to accomplish the job. And the probity, on which she prides herselfContinue reading “The 24 Deaths of MH – Part 2”
MH was a rock singer. By family he was a New Zealander, so was an Antipodean rocker. That’s the thing with birth: suddenly, out of nothing, you are something. No one can say you are other than that. Context has arrived, perhaps already too much. You’re rolling down those rails.
Rarely revealing anything of their private universe, signs are forthright about which part of the signee’s universe is to be abbreviated. Signs are hectoring. It has been at least a couple of years now since I saw a sign counselling: Go Forth and be Free. I saw it in my head. Anyway, these are fortunatelyContinue reading “Signs”
No Man’s Land by Harold Pinter. Ralph Richardson and John Gielgud, plus Terence Rigby and Michael Kitchen, from around 1975. I have never clicked with Pinter, just one of those things. The first half has lots of Webster hints and half-quotes, the second ditto with Eliot.