“Sickened by virtue he rebelled and cried   For all things horrible to be his bride   For through the hot red tides of sin

“May you be painted by Picasso!”—Parisian curse James Ivory’s Surviving Picasso (1996) is a fascinating failure.  It’s as if someone made a pretty good film about

Those who have crossed With direct eyes, to death’s other Kingdom Remember us—if at all—not as lost Violent souls, but only As the hollow men

—“This is great!  You gonna to give me the Grand Tour?”   —“My house.  Your house. There’s the shore.  The mine.  The Main Drag.  Hospital.

“Groups of unmarried women at quilting bees used to shake up a cat in the newly completed quilt and then stand around in a big

[Author’s Note: This is the second half of a column which began with a review of The Talented Mr. Ripley (1999)] Tom Ripley has the

“Once one becomes interested in the game, there is no knowing where one will stop.” –from Les Liaisons Dangereuses I’d originally planned this month’s column

“It is not my place to be curious about such matters. Imagine a powerfully romantic film where the lead actors never once kiss, hold hands,

Can anyone know how many stalks are in a rice field? How many bends are in a river? How many layers are in a monsoon

Early on in Denys Arcand’s Jesus of Montreal, René (played by the phenomenal Québecois stage director Robert Lepage) warns fellow actor Daniel (Lothaire Bluteau) that

“We’re goin’ to the grave. Ten mile on. Goin’ to the graveyard. Her [pointing to granddaughter] folks buried there. Both of ‘em kilt on Saturday

“When I recall you, beloved tango, I feel the earth moving under our feet As we danced, and hear the rumbling of the past. Mother