Sex and the Married Man: Portrait of a Serial Adulterer |
Adultery is a mirror all married people look into, a line to step up to and decide whether to cross. It is a mirror as well of the times in which we live, of the places where we look for grace. Where once we found solace in our dazzling contradictions, in the way we pick ourselves up from the pratfalls we take, now comfort flows in a colder vein, in the stern, conscientious energy with which we purge temptation in the first place, in the vigilant avoidance of danger. And so if, in the 1950s, adultery was a sin, and in the '70s an avocation, in the '90s it is in danger of becoming a disease. The therapeutic vision of life, after all, makes no room for monsters, for architects of their own grotesqueries. As if somehow we could do without them. Now adulterers are victims, too. |
|
| Oppenheimer Is Terrifying, But Irresistible |
Short of Tom Cruise, there's been no more vocal advocate for the theatrical experience than Christopher Nolan in recent years. He's penned impassioned op-eds, battled with studios over release strategy, and his movies have consistently boosted the box office's bottom line. Nolan, though, is not just a champion of theaters—but one of their greatest beneficiaries. His latest, Oppenheimer, is, if not his best film, certainly among his grandest spectacles—one made many times more powerful if witnessed in the largest, loudest venue possible. As you might expect in a movie about the father of the atomic bomb, there is a great—and I do mean great—explosion in Oppenheimer. But in this three-hour biopic, it's not just the booms and blasts that are worthy of IMAX. It is Cillian Murphy's oceanic eyes bulging out of his chainsmoker's cheekbones. It is the alien emptiness of the New Mexico desert. And it is, perhaps most of all, Ludwig Göransson's relentless score. The fireworks in this movie are constant, if not always literal. |
|
|
The Five Best Rappers of All Time |
If you want the intelligentsia up in arms about aesthetics and the merits of conscious rap, broach the subject over dinner. You want to hear a Harlem barbershop hella vociferous with avowed expertise, mention some list compiled by a music mag. You want to lose the lion's share of a few nights' sleep, pay serious consideration to ranking one yourself. That was me over a few days in April as I prepared my list of the five all-time greatest rappers. Rap music was born in the Bronx. Many of its pioneers were former members of crews or gangs and used battling as an alternative to actual violence as well as a way to foster esteem. Rap has remained the most competitive music genre, one whose artists tout themselves as the biggest, best, greatest. The "top five dead or alive." And that aggressive spirit makes it ripe for ranking. |
|
|
A Closer Look at 3 of Rolex's Coolest 2023 Releases |
When founder Hans Wilsdorf came up with the name "Rolex" in 1908, he couldn't have known the resonance that otherwise meaningless word would have a century later. By 1931, when the brand registered its iconic crown logo, he probably had some idea. Wearing those five points on your wrist is a sign, for many, that you've made it. And every new Rolex is a potential way to realize the dream. This year, the company introduced nine watches at Geneva's annual Watches and Wonders show. Here are the three we're most keen to wear, each guaranteed to capture a place in your imagination—and maybe your collection, too. |
|
|
The Life, Death—And Afterlife—of Literary Fiction |
Those of you who are reading this essay, let me ask you, right away—is your smart phone next to you? Or is it in your hand? Are you reading this on your phone, swiping up the paragraphs, swipe, swipe, swipe, wondering how far you're going to have to swipe to actually finish this thing? (Just so you know, it's gonna take a lot of swiping.) Or are you reading on your computer screen, as I've been writing this on mine? I happen to know you're not reading this in a print magazine. Ha! And ouch! Can you read anything at all from start to finish, ie. an essay or a short story, without your mind being sliced apart by some digital switchblade? Without your seeking distraction as a form of entertainment, or entertainment as a form of distraction? Or is all of this just ordinary life in the internet era, with your every thought and feeling and perception being diverted or fractured or dissolved or reiterated endlessly with utter normality in a digitalized world to which nearly all of us are fixated, or might we say, addicted? Did you ever even know a different world? |
|
|
It's Time to Listen to John Boyega. Again. |
It's taken Boyega a while to be able to comfortably flex. After a youth spent anchoring a stupendously profitable blockbuster franchise, he's proved himself as a performer who can seemingly do anything, onscreen or off. He made headlines for speaking frankly about how Disney sidelined his Star Wars character. The experience was brutal, but made him want to bring his most unfettered self to his work. These days, he has more control over his career than ever before and considers himself a collaborator with the directors he works with now. He has also actively defied being typecast, most recently starring as a bank-robbing Marine vet in last year's Breaking and as a nineteenth-century West African monarch in the Viola Davis–led The Woman King. His latest character, Fontaine, is the grounding force in a trippy universe where Black people are being lied to in multiple dimensions. The role immediately thrilled Boyega, a lover of dark humor and provocation. Lately he's been taking big swings to fuel big ambitions, and filmmakers, producers, castmates, and audiences instinctively trust his choices. He could do anything, but what he most wants is an eclectic Joaquin Phoenix– or Tilda Swinton–type range. Somehow when Boyega makes this comparison, it's not remotely obnoxious—he comes off as both confident and totally likable. He is not what he calls "toxic humble." | |
|
|
No comments:
Post a Comment