(5) "The Witch Elm," by Tana French. I complain about French often, because I think her style is too windy. But I always read her books. She has a way of blending a tricky plot with an unreliable narrator. So you don't know if the world she is describing is crazy, or the narrator has sort of lost his mind, or both. I'm thinking of "In the Woods." It's interesting to me that "The Witch Elm" is the first of French's novels not to follow the "my-new-narrator-is-linked-to-the-preceding-book" trend. A fresh start! I'm all for that.
(4) "Nate Expectations," the final installment of the Nate trilogy, by Tim Federle. Each title has been outstanding: "Better Nate than Ever," "Five Six Seven Nate." I actually wonder if Federle chose the name "Nate" in part because it would yield such valuable puns.
(3) Additional seasons of "Hannibal"? I took a while to get adjusted to this show. For many episodes, I felt frustrated. Why couldn't the show be more like "The Silence of the Lambs"? But I've fallen in--qualified--love. I admire that Fuller was doing something no one else had thought to do: blending Thomas Harris's pulpy world with the pace and surrealism of a David Lynch movie.
Good fiction should "defamiliarize"--should present the world to us in a way that seems new. We should feel like aliens. "Hannibal" certainly achieves this goal. Human flesh is filmed as if it were bits of a Jackson Pollack painting. Everything seems exquisite: the costumes, the settings (especially Florence), the soundtrack, the very beautiful actors (Hugh Dancy, Gillian Anderson, Cynthia Nixon, and the list goes on and on).
It's startling to me that a show as violent as this earned three--three!--seasons on network TV. And the pedigree of the actors it attracted: Rutina Wesley, Eddie Izzard, Raul Esparza, Molly Shannon, Anna Chlumsky, Michael Pitt. I can't really imagine a more colorful gallery of characters--Verger, who impregnates an actual sow; Hannibal, who disembowels a man while enjoying some classical music; Bedelia, high on heroin and taking on the dual roles of Hannibal's "psychologist" and "bride"; Will Graham, who takes a bite out of his captor's face during a dinner scene. There's campy humor--this is the work of a gay man--and the show changes in astonishing ways somewhere between the episodic first season and the Salvador Dali-esque and baroque weirdness of the Florence chapters. This show had an outspoken following, and there are rumors of an additional season--taking on the "Lambs" saga, and using Ellen Page in the Jodie Foster role. A boy can dream.
You know a show is special when its final two episodes get an airing at IFC--just because. This happened with "Hannibal."
(2) "Merrily We Roll Along" returns to New York City--twice--in the next several months. One production seems minor, then the Roundabout Theater will dig in its claws. Expect some thoughts posted here!
(1) "The Mirror and the Light." Hilary Mantel's final Thomas Cromwell volume has been delayed, and delayed. It's now slated for a 2019 release. We shall see. What a treat to imagine Mantel taking Cromwell from the height of power to that moment where his head ends up on a spike--a journey of four short years, from what I have read.
Mantel has confessed to having been influenced by Shakespeare, and I see that in her language. Even when events are fairly muted, the sentences "sing." This is from "Vacant Possession," describing one of the protagonists: "These days she wore her brown hair in a short curly perm, which her hairdresser believed would soften her firm, rather harsh features. Her body was lean now, dieted and disciplined, capriciously nourished and not too much; as far as her brain was concerned, she was taking a course at the Open University. Now that she had lost so much weight, she was always in pursuit of new clothes, little tee shirts and cotton skirts which were bright, cheap, and casual; she picked up her ideas on the same plan. It seemed to her husband she had chosen, among current fads and notions, all those designed to diminish his self-respect and make him most uncomfortable." The intelligence, the serene registering of life's absurdity, the galloping rhythm, the nastiness: That is what we turn to Mantel for.
Every few weeks, I check for an update on "The Mirror and the Light." I don't like the title as much as "Bring Up the Bodies"--which is splendidly alarming and is also a quotation from actual history. Still, I'm ready to revise my opinion, when Mantel teaches me some dazzling and shocking new thing about mirrors and lights. That's to be counted on.
(4) "Nate Expectations," the final installment of the Nate trilogy, by Tim Federle. Each title has been outstanding: "Better Nate than Ever," "Five Six Seven Nate." I actually wonder if Federle chose the name "Nate" in part because it would yield such valuable puns.
(3) Additional seasons of "Hannibal"? I took a while to get adjusted to this show. For many episodes, I felt frustrated. Why couldn't the show be more like "The Silence of the Lambs"? But I've fallen in--qualified--love. I admire that Fuller was doing something no one else had thought to do: blending Thomas Harris's pulpy world with the pace and surrealism of a David Lynch movie.
Good fiction should "defamiliarize"--should present the world to us in a way that seems new. We should feel like aliens. "Hannibal" certainly achieves this goal. Human flesh is filmed as if it were bits of a Jackson Pollack painting. Everything seems exquisite: the costumes, the settings (especially Florence), the soundtrack, the very beautiful actors (Hugh Dancy, Gillian Anderson, Cynthia Nixon, and the list goes on and on).
It's startling to me that a show as violent as this earned three--three!--seasons on network TV. And the pedigree of the actors it attracted: Rutina Wesley, Eddie Izzard, Raul Esparza, Molly Shannon, Anna Chlumsky, Michael Pitt. I can't really imagine a more colorful gallery of characters--Verger, who impregnates an actual sow; Hannibal, who disembowels a man while enjoying some classical music; Bedelia, high on heroin and taking on the dual roles of Hannibal's "psychologist" and "bride"; Will Graham, who takes a bite out of his captor's face during a dinner scene. There's campy humor--this is the work of a gay man--and the show changes in astonishing ways somewhere between the episodic first season and the Salvador Dali-esque and baroque weirdness of the Florence chapters. This show had an outspoken following, and there are rumors of an additional season--taking on the "Lambs" saga, and using Ellen Page in the Jodie Foster role. A boy can dream.
You know a show is special when its final two episodes get an airing at IFC--just because. This happened with "Hannibal."
(2) "Merrily We Roll Along" returns to New York City--twice--in the next several months. One production seems minor, then the Roundabout Theater will dig in its claws. Expect some thoughts posted here!
(1) "The Mirror and the Light." Hilary Mantel's final Thomas Cromwell volume has been delayed, and delayed. It's now slated for a 2019 release. We shall see. What a treat to imagine Mantel taking Cromwell from the height of power to that moment where his head ends up on a spike--a journey of four short years, from what I have read.
Mantel has confessed to having been influenced by Shakespeare, and I see that in her language. Even when events are fairly muted, the sentences "sing." This is from "Vacant Possession," describing one of the protagonists: "These days she wore her brown hair in a short curly perm, which her hairdresser believed would soften her firm, rather harsh features. Her body was lean now, dieted and disciplined, capriciously nourished and not too much; as far as her brain was concerned, she was taking a course at the Open University. Now that she had lost so much weight, she was always in pursuit of new clothes, little tee shirts and cotton skirts which were bright, cheap, and casual; she picked up her ideas on the same plan. It seemed to her husband she had chosen, among current fads and notions, all those designed to diminish his self-respect and make him most uncomfortable." The intelligence, the serene registering of life's absurdity, the galloping rhythm, the nastiness: That is what we turn to Mantel for.
Every few weeks, I check for an update on "The Mirror and the Light." I don't like the title as much as "Bring Up the Bodies"--which is splendidly alarming and is also a quotation from actual history. Still, I'm ready to revise my opinion, when Mantel teaches me some dazzling and shocking new thing about mirrors and lights. That's to be counted on.
Comments
Post a Comment