“That he was born is just one of the many undeniable facts about the life of the late Douglas Adams –author, humorist, raconteur, speaker, and thinker (although it should be noted that, on at least one parallel Earth, Mr. Adams was born a spring-toed lemur with a predilection for grassy fields and the works of Byron — a poetic lemur whose work was not terribly springy).” With two days to go until Hitchhiker’s — you have picked out a towel by now, right? — IGN assembles a worthy cast of Adamsian roustabouts — including Terry Jones, Neil Gaiman, Michael Nesmith, and Stephen Fry — to offer their remembrances. (Unfortunately, Graham Chapman could not be reached for comment.)
Category: Arts and Letters
Thumbs Up…
With only four short days before the destruction of Earth (Don’t Panic, but do get your towel ready, and be sure to stock up on beer and peanuts), Coming Soon obtains a wealth of new stills from the Hitchhiker’s film, including this shot of Marvin at right. (I think you ought to know he’s feeling very depressed.)
Feet of Klay?
Two intriguing links from today’s Cliopatria: First, Inside Higher Ed‘s Scott Lemee surveys the hubbub surrounding an apparent Holocaust-related hoax perpetrated by Kavalier & Klay author Michael Chabon. And, elsewhere, What’s the Matter With Kansas author Thomas Frank tries to figure out what’s the matter with liberals, and concludes we play far too easily into the “out-of-touch elitist” stereotype.
“A Princess Among Men.”
“I always saw the possibilities there. She has the most wonderful technique: strong jumps, beautiful turns, lovely line. There’s something very honest about Gillian, and she’s so smart. You can feed in the information and she processes it all for herself. She doesn’t look like someone trying to be anyone else.” The LA Times‘s Susan Reiter profiles my sister Gill for the Sunday edition, which I took the liberty of reposting at her official site. “Having had her eyes unwaveringly on the prize since she was 11, Murphy brings a healthy sense of perspective and clarity to what being a dancer means. ‘The first time I put pointe shoes on, I was certain. I’ve been on a mission, in terms of wanting to dance and to be the best dancer I can be. At a certain point in a dancer’s career, it becomes a mission to look out for the art form as well, to concern yourself with the present and future of ballet.'”
(Pointed out by The Late Adopter.)
Lexrey Vision.
Alexa de los Reyes, an old artist friend from college days, has recently revamped her website, Lexrey.com, and it’s well worth a look, particularly if you’re in the market for a personalized painting, portrait, or mural. (I’m kinda fond of the pool series, myself.)
Slap-Stick(s).
Moviefone obtains a full scene from Hitchhiker’s (and one not in the book), namely Arthur, Ford, Zaphod, and Marvin trying to cross a field of those slap-happy doodads from the first trailer. A bit goofy on its own, but if the rest of the movie has succeeded into lulling you into Douglas Adams‘ trademark sense of humor by this point, I could see this being pretty funny.
Pardon me for breathing.
Attention, People of Earth: Touchstone releases eight character-specific and guide-themed posters for Hitchhiker’s. Also, some of y’all might have seen this extremely negative first review of the film over at Metafilter. Well, I’d take it with a grain of salt. Not only does this guy seem Marvin-like in the extreme, he has a nasty purist streak that rivals those of the most-impossible-to-satisfy Tolkien fans. At least in this corner, the jury’s still out.
Stella!
Last night, my sister and I went to go see the most recent revival of A Streetcar Named Desire, with Natasha Richardson as Blanche and John C. Reilly as Stanley. And, while I don’t claim to be an expert by any means — At the risk of looking like a rube, I’ll admit I went in with only vague impressions of the Brando-Leigh version, which I found had been interpolated, embarrassingly enough, with Cat on a Hot Tin Roof — I quite enjoyed it.
At turns willowy and brittle, Richardson’s Blanche DuBois has, as Michael Stipe once put it, that “knowing with a wink that we expect from Southern women.” A pampered schemer whose delicate flower act obscures the grim realizations borne of an all-too-tragic life, Blanche is a fading memory of the Old South — She seems lost without a mint julep in hand and completely out-of-place in rough-and-tumble post-war New Orleans. I expect Richardson’s take on the role is probably slightly less sympathetic than in some other versions — no one deserves Blanche’s horrible fate; nevertheless, Richardson’s DuBois, so insufferable at times in the early going, does an exemplary job in Act 1 of proving Benjamin Franklin’s adage that “fish and visitors stink after three days.”
For his part, John C. Reilly is also memorable as the vindictive, animalistic Stanley (although nobody would argue, except perhaps Stanley himself, that this iteration of Kowalski has any of Brando’s physical magnetism.) Reilly’s Stanley is a hard-living working-class schlub who becomes increasingly more dangerous as the “Every Man a King” prerogatives he expects of domestic life are affronted by Blanche’s continued presence. Most of the time, he sits coiled like a snake, bottle in hand…but, when the moment strikes, Reilly lashes out with a feral fury that’s all the more frightening for being unexpected (he’s definitely not the type of guy you want in your poker game.) And, when Stanley finally gains the upper hand on his unwanted houseguest, his predatory instincts take hold in brutal and remorseless fashion.
At any rate, a good show. I can’t compare it to earlier iterations of Tennessee Williams’ play, but I can say that Richardson, Reilly, and the rest of the cast at the very least do Streetcar justice.