When James Agee wrote in these pages sixty years ago, he often
complained of the paltriness of this or that movie, as judged against
the events of the day.
This was intended to be a sweet little prewar column about an artist I
admire, Rosanne Cash.
The revival of a highly regarded play can either enhance or diminish
A few years ago, when moviegoers in this country were just beginning to
learn about Abbas Kiarostami, I heard a crowd of New Yorkers berate him
for having put a snatch of Vivaldi onto a soundtr
Only the joy of capitalist expectation could move a pre-Reagan-born
American to utter the line "civil rights is dead," let alone write a
book devoted to that proposition.
If you've never watched Nelson Mandela dance, then you should know that
he does a modified Locomotion, pumping his elbows like pistons to the
immense, loving amusement of his people.
The Grey Art Gallery, which occupies the former site of the Museum of
Living Art in the main building of New York University on Washington
Square, is celebrating its legendary predecessor with
Those of us who have followed the New York City Ballet and the repertory
of the world's greatest choreographer, George Balanchine, since the
mid-1950s are filled with spine-tingling memories of
In classical dance, the art of imbalance--the pirouette, the jeté
or the mere ethereal, alighted walk that alone makes audiences feel they
are getting their money's worth--is the purview
Since few of us at The Nation speak Thai, I'm going to refer to
my favorite filmmaker of the month as Joe, which is the name actually
used in this country by Apichatpong Weerasethakul.