Can a movie be too art directed? I think the answer is, yes. We just saw the newest version of Wuthering Heights , which borrows generously from many conflicting film styles – a hanging sequence (?) lifted from A Man for All Seasons , a ride-off-into-the-flame-red sunset seemingly inspired by the burning of Atlanta in Gone with the Wind , a fanciful, dessert-filled luxury garden setting straight out of Tim Burton’s Alice in Wonderland , a mantelpiece made of hands reminiscent

“You spent an hour too long, honey.” That’s a great line from the Judy Garland/James Mason version of A Star is Born , after the Makeover Team has tried to turn the Judy Garland character into someone else, someone more generically acceptable to a certain audience. But the James Mason character sees the folly of their ways and peels away the artifice to reveal the wonder of the original. Sadly, the current administration has no James Mason on staff. And there is no “wonder” a

Old as the hills When I was in kindergarten, and our teacher asked us what we wanted to be when we grew up, apparently I said I wanted to be an artist living in New York. Funny that. When I was in sixth grade, our teacher asked the class to write a page describing their life when they were 20 years older. My parents kept the paper. It seems I wrote that I would be an artist and an Art Director in advertising, living in an apartment in New York, and a farm house in Bucks Count

What time is it? We were out to dinner the other night, and we couldn’t help but overhear the conversation at the table next to us. Three late-teen prep school boys were having dinner with the grandparents of one of them. The boys were all shiny and new looking with that mushroom shaped haircut all boys seem to have right now. The grandparents were obviously well-heeled, with a mannered disdain that comes from years of practice. “Once a CEO, always a CEO, even after the compa

I don’t have children.  But I have remarkable, wonderful, talented, interesting, beautiful children of choice and grand children of choice – the baby grands, we call them.  And I love these people. And I stand in awe and curiosity of what they will become. And I stand in fear of what they’ll be exposed to and have to deal with. And I stand in overwhelming respect of the parents they’ve all had, who raise them with self-awareness and honor and dignity and love.  And I read a l

How do you think it feels to lose one’s soul? I mean, do you think it’s a gradual, slow death kind of a thing? Like when a lightning bug is put into a closed jar and it slowly suffocates from lack of air and its light flickers and then goes out completely, smothered cruelly into nothingness?  Or is it, maybe, a dulled-brain, synapse thing, like forgetting where you left your keys, instead, you’re wandering around your life forgetting where you left your soul? Could be. Or may

Photography changes everything. With few exceptions, movies were almost always black and white well into the 1950s. They depended on shadows and contrasts to create a graphic mood that was part carefully crafted visual, part imaginary shared memory,    Newspapers didn’t introduce color printing generally until sometime in the 1980s. Prior to that, color was reserved for the comics, also known as the “funny papers” – oh, the irony. Everything else was black and white and crisp

I highly recommend it. A few days ago, a young friend of mine asked me what it was like to live my true life. And I thought, isn’t that a nice thing to assume and a complement in and of itself? And the question was innocent and matter of fact and the answer to that part of the question was, “It’s great!” But it kind of stops you in your tracks, too, a question like that, and it makes you think. I mean, what is living your true life, anyway? Well, according to Google, it’s ali

Read on In 1960, our family purchased the The World Book Encyclopedia In Nineteen Volumes with Reading and Study Guide . It looked very important and filled a full book shelf on its own. It was bound in deep red, leatherette binding and it held, as far as we knew, everything, literally everything we would ever need to know. It was like Google on paper. The difference being that if you were looking up, I don’t know, Saskatchewan , a province in Western Canada, you would open t

but is it? It’s a Yes in a year of Nos, a hopeful smile in a year of dismal frowns. It’s a beautifully acted, emotionally naked, sexy love story in which boy-meets-boy and stuff happens, lots of stuff, the kind of stuff that has traditionally been represented by boy-meets-girl couples. And who’d have ever thought, in this year of prejudice and bigotry inspired by famously immoral officials, that this show would not only get produced, but become the most successful show of the

with the Mormon Tabernacle Choir, Steve & Edie and the New Christy Minstrels! In the 1960s, our stereo had a stack of 10 or 12 holiday music LPs that played pretty much non-stop between Thanksgiving and New Years. There were Nat King Cole, Barbra Streisand, and Bing Crosby, each represented by their own full-length, two-sided stylings, and then there were the compilations, thanks to the great tire makers of our time – Goodyear and Firestone! Tire makers, you say? I know, but,

Snowboots optional It’s Winter in Florida, odd as it seems, Not the snow covered landscape I see in my dreams. No, it’s sunny and bright and the beach is inviting, so here I am tanning and lounging and writing. But I do miss the north, where I’m from, in this season. I miss the first snow; that’s just one of the reasons. I miss getting cozy beside a lit fire, drinking cocoa or egg nog, a warming desire. I miss getting bundled up, layers galore. Is six scarves too many? Perhap

This is the first in an occasional, observational report. You know how, when you’re younger and you’re walking down the street behind older people, and you wonder, why are they moving so slowly??? Well, now that I’m officially in the land of the Forgotten-by-Marketing, which by the way is a huge mistake, but that’s a different topic...and I digress...and that’s ANOTHER thing and another topic...but anyway, the reason older people move so slowly is this. Because IT HURTS! Mayb

I live in a constant state of appreciation. For so many people and things.   For a family that’s smart, funny, thoughtful, loving, supportive...and very good looking.  For friends from so many chapters of life, who are also all of the above.  For the very beautiful home and always interesting life the Muse and I have built together over the last 35-years-this-week. For the ability to laugh with abandon. For the natural inclination to hug with true affection. For the desire to

and it’s none of my business. But I know all about it, because I was at the gym and an oblivious young lady was tread-milling next to me, having a very loud, very personal phone conversation through her Bluetooth. Also, Jenny’s breaking up with Steve, but Steve doesn’t know it yet, in case you were wondering. Poor Eileen. Poor Steve. Poor me for having to listen to this. When did it become “acceptable” to have out-loud conversations with the air, in public places? And why do

Funny. Not funny.   We were watching a TV show, a really good TV show, and they made a reference to the FBI getting involved in a storyline, and how, somehow, they, the FBI, were awe inspiring and respected and made everything legal and official and by the book, and we realize, now, the irony of that.  We were also watching a movie recently in which the main characters referenced the US Government and putting an issue before Congress, and we remembered when that meant somethi

So, this happened A few decades ago, an agency I was a part of had a contract with a bold-face-name developer. We were hired to brand a certain property and create all of the support materials and media for that property. The project was a huge success and very well received. When it came time to be paid for the contracted work, our bold-face-name developer said that he would pay half and if we didn’t like it, we should sue, and good luck with that because he had a legal team

Before you break my heart. Think it o-o-ver. Once upon a time, not too long ago, there was a group, a magical group possessed of special powers, that joined disparate cultural groups together through the strength of their combined vision and talent and fortitude and empathy...yes empathy...that word we’re not supposed to speak   anymore... They were called the Supremes. And they were. And they had presence and power in their presence, and we all knew that they were special, t

There’s a general understanding in all creative fields that if everything is big, nothing’s big.   Similarly, if everything is loud, nothing’s loud and if everything is shiny, nothing is shiny. So, here we  are, not even a full year into the big, loud, shiny administration and it’s been decided for all of us that what we all want, what we all need, what we’ve all been craving is a ballroom. A big, loud, shiny ballroom. A Versailles-like ballroom but bigger. A gold-plated, rea

I am he as you are he, as you are me and we are all together.   It’s a perfect evening. I’m sitting on our balcony, looking across the bay to the Gulf of Mexico. I’m sipping a perfect martini made with Vodka from France and Scotch from Scotland, garnished with Olives from Spain that are stuffed with Blue Cheese from Denmark, all contained in a beautiful, pewter-stemmed Martini Glass handcrafted in Italy. Down below, at the Tiki bar on the Bay, a quartet is playing bossa nova