Goodbye to Language
Jean-Luc Godard's latest free-form essay film may be, more than anything else, a documentary of a restless mind.
From Voltaire's "Poème sur le désastre de Lisbonne," written in response to the Lisbon earthquake of 1755:
What crime, what sin, had those young hearts conceived That lie, bleeding and torn, on mother's breast? Did fallen Lisbon deeper drink of vice Than London, Paris, or sunlit Madrid? In these men dance; at Lisbon yawns the abyss. Tranquil spectators of your brothers' wreck, Unmoved by this repellent dance of death, Who calmly seek the reason of such storms, Let them but lash your own security; Your tears will mingle freely with the flood.
This message came to me from a reader named Peter Svensland. He and a fr...
An installment of comments section Bingo focusing on Christopher Nolan's "Interstellar."
For decades, John T, McCutcheon's "Injun Summer" appeared every autumn on...