In Contention

Tag: obits

  • This one hurts

    George Carlin’s passing has been in the cards for a long time.  But MAN it stings.

    Personally I went from youthful (and therefore ignorant) adoration of the guy to a learned and mature wariness of his humor.  Later on, though, I came back around.  He did things with the English language that any writer had to respect, and I have to say, I’m really sad to hear the news.  I’m glad I had the chance to see him live, eight years ago now, and I wish him safe passage to that great venue in the sky.

    To which he’d no doubt say, “Fuck you, there is no God.”

    The infamous one:

    httpv://youtube.com/watch?v=BTyzTJTNhNk

  • Why I will miss Sydney Pollack

    It has now been nearly four days since filmmaker Sydney Pollack passed away. The loss was not crippling for me, however, because of equal parts expectancy and, strangely, indifference.

    As fine a filmmaker as Pollack was, he was always something of an afterthought in my cinema-going experience.

    I want to be measured here, because the last thing I mean is disrespect. In fact, I’m aiming more toward appreciation of a sort of confident casualness that has been eradicated in this fresh new world of cock-sure filmmaking youths and the veterans who, at times, struggle to keep up, and at others, tap into their own former risk-taking ways to establish a new vision of the “old school.”

    Pollack was never about that. He seemed to make his way from film to film with grace and a willingness to take stock of the lessons that came. I never knew him — can’t offer any first hand accounts of exchange — but if anything about his May 26 death strikes a profound chord with me, it is to know that an ever agreeable constant has been removed from this business, this art form. Sometimes the disconnect of casual dependency can sting as much as the loss of the closest of comrades.

    (more…)

  • Sydney Pollack (1934-2008)

    Trained as an actor at Sanford Meisner’s famed Neighborhood Playhouse — the stomping grounds of Robert Duvall — Sydney Pollack connected to actors because he was one of them…and a damned fine one at that.

    In fact, his comedy “Tootsie” is not only the greatest American comedy ever made, it is also the greatest study of the art and craft of acting I’ve ever seen. The director, writers and star explored the depths to which an actor will go to get the role right, to find that all-important and essential truth. Without truth in a performance, there is nothing but failure.

    There is a moment in the film when Michael Dorsey, the actor who has become actress Dorothy Michaels to find work, is no longer Michael at all. Dorothy has become a living, breathing character in his life. Hoffman’s astounding performance is the finest work of his career, a jaw-dropping feat of art that is often overlooked (criminally) when the great film performances of all time are discussed. And of course holding the film together, the glue, the guiding hand, was Mr. Pollack, one of the great directors of the 1970s, 1980s and beyond.

    Though he lacked the box office breakthroughs of Francis Ford Coppola or Steven Spielberg, or the nasty edginess of Martin Scorsese, Pollack nonetheless was an artist, one of the few directors able to walk the line between making succesful mainstream films that worked on levels of commerce and artistry.His death at the age of 73 is one of the film world’s great losses, though he leaves behind a legacy that will be remembered for years after many of us have gone to that great screening room in the sky.

    (more…)

  • I want to say something about Sydney Pollack…

    …and I will.  When the time is right.  The irony is, of course, that his passing follows so closely behind that of his friend and colleague Anthony Minghella.  I hope they are at peace together, and however expected yesterday’s news might be, sadness is the overriding emotion at the moment.

    In the meantime, I’m compiling tribute quotes here at The Times.  Let me know if you guys stumble across a memoriam that ought to be represented.

    More to come…

  • The buried

    Okay, I think we’re done cleaning out all the kinks here for the night. I wanted to mention, however, that the old site is still out there in cyberspace for you to peruse. Check it out here. It’s a little buggy over there in the wake of the move, but I’ll iron all that out in due time. But now that the new design is out and about, I wanted to link back to a few posts from the last month by both myself and a few contributors, lest they be lost in the shuffle of today’s goings-on:

    1) Guy Lodge previews the Cannes line-up. (4/22)
    2) John Foote takes a look at Brad Pitt’s Oscar hopes this year. (4/21)
    3) Steve Lopez talks about his new book, “The Soloist,” in Pasadena. (4/19)
    4) The “Valkyrie” pile-on knows no bounds. (4/8) and (4/22)
    5) Anticipating the summer movie season. (4/8)
    6) Very brief notes on the “W” screenplay. (4/1)
    7) Remembering Anthony Minghella. (3/23)
    8) And of course, the year-in-advance Oscar column. (2/26)

    That should cover it.

  • Heston

    Nothing can be said that hasn’t been said. Despite his political missteps (however objective such a thing might be), Heston was a God of the screen. And he has left us.

    In the way of tribute, a glimpse of his Oscar-winning performance in “Ben-Hur”:

    httpv://youtube.com/watch?v=c1iDvYMd8_U

  • Remembering Anthony Minghella

    9759a.jpgI’ve been tucked away on an island for the past week, stuck largely in a news vacuum and certainly free of the bindings of daily internet briefings. But it saddens me to return to the shocking news of Anthony Minghella’s passing.

    The Variety report indicates a brain hemorrhage as the cause of death, though Minghella’s publicists, Leslie Dart, is saying that is not so. Whatever the case may be, we’ve been swiftly relieved of one of the cinema’s most interesting voices, a man with just six films to his credit but all of them representative of the man and his convictions in some way, shape or form.

    I met Minghella just once, in December of 2006 when I moderated a Q&A with him and actress Robin Wright Penn for the underrated “Breaking and Entering” in front of an audience of SAG actors. What I remember of the man is a delicate touch, a soft-spoken manner that still held a certain adoration of truth in expression.

    He took the utmost care and consideration for any query, always ignorant of the stock answer and always intoxicating in his process, in explaining why he saw the world the way he did on celluloid and why he went to the deep and profoundly affecting places that he did in his work. Whatever one’s opinion of his filmmaking, it would be difficult to argue with his conviction.

    And now, he’s gone — taken from us like some cruel joke. I’m proud to say I shared a stage with him. I’m prouder, still, to say I was able to speak with him about his craft.

    If only once.

    You can read producing partner Sydney Pollack’s touching remembrance here, and actress Juliette Binoche’s eulogy poem here.