bratty slacker sweetheart IATSE local 44 property person.
funny, sad, strange and beautiful garbage from the end of the 20th century.
what could i possibly say that bois and rubenstein didn’t already say so perfectly? baseball is poetic and lyrical and cruel and also just really really funny.
in the weeks it took to watch this documentary, i ordered an 8x10 photo of dave stieb and put it on my wall in order for his sputtering and inarguable greatness to oblige me to fail more interestingly, clumsily refine myself into a better person than i was in the days preceding and…
william hurt had always been one of my favorite actors. when he died yesterday, i went over and over thinking about my favorite roles of his. i’ve always particularly admired his ability to project such real pain on screen, often without words. the man’s name is HURT. i don’t get lost in may performers, but i tend to always get lost in william hurt. there’s a certain diffused reality to him.
when i read accounts of his relationship with marlee…
at the dawn of the nineties, the question on the tip of every development executive’s tongue was “what if danny aiello was your dad?” and moviegoers came out in droves for the answer. it was a time you couldn’t explain unless you experienced it yourself. to try would be foolish. to remember it is to bathe in the golden sunlight of italian-american excellence.
probably not at all far off from what it’s like to date the actual richard dreyfuss.
while i maintain a full awareness about the powerfully intoxicating pull of nostalgia, sometimes that magnetized black hole exists for good reason.
“orange era” nickelodeon looms so large in my age cohort’s media minds, that its presence is nearly inescapable. i feel like the iconography of its orange splat logo and products, rugrats, rocko’s modern life, all that, et. al. etc. overshadows the true meaning of why those television shows are so deeply connected to and meaningful to audiences that…