Many years ago, decades in fact, I was the object of an extraordinary kindness. In the very act of accepting this favor, however, I reacted with a remark of stupefying insensitivity. My benefactor recoiled visibly. The damage once done could not be undone. To describe the exchange in more detail wou

Art is a blood sport. Really. Someone, something must be sacrificed during the game, while heartless spectators stare in fascination at the suffering orchestrated for their amusement. Just think how many of the world’s greatest artists made a demolition derby of their lives, systematically wre

Sullivan’s Travels, the Preston Sturges movie from 1941, tells the story of John L. Sullivan (Joel McCrea), not the boxer, but a Hollywood director of highly successful light comedies. He is determined to change his image by adapting a ponderous social-message novel entitled O Brother, Where A

Road maps provide a wonderful metaphor for life. The thick double line of the Interstate marks the quickest, most direct route to our destination, but a nearly infinite number of blue and red side roads offer unimagined possibilities. By choosing the safe, direct route, we miss a great many of life

The Exorcist’ is back. A fresh review of a 27-year-old movie would surely tax the patience of even the most generous reader, but the reappearance of this now-classic horror film in its newly printed version with its enhanced sound and added 12 minutesnever before seen, according to the mislead

Pity poor Kansas! Deposited there in the dead center of the country, propping up Nebraska and oppressing Oklahoma, the state has been typecast by Hollywood screenwriters. When a poor girl gets bonked on the head, she hies out of Kansas as fast as her red slippers or white sneakers will carry her. Ev

This summer radio listeners in the Boston area have had a steady diet of ads for a touring company of Peter Pan. The attention-grabber is a line from its most familiar song: I won’t grow up; I don’t want to go to school. Great fun for all the family. Günter Grass, however, might have be

Dr. Sanford Cinematz, F.A.P.A., P.C.: Dreams. Yes, yes, your dream.

In his eminently forgettable "Stardust Memories" (1980), Woody Allen in the persona of a world-famous director in the Fellini mold, a kind of pizza made with Velveeta, catsup and Wonder bread, visits a college to participate in a leaden symposium on the art of the film. Rather than receivi

For years my shaving mirror has tried to convince me that I look just like Paul Newman: baby blues, wavy hair (with just a sprinkling of salt amid the pepper), sharp, assertive chin and that drive-the-ladies-wild roguish grin, with just a touch of worldly wisdom revealed in the perfectly etched line