All men fear death. It’s a natural fear that consumes us all. We fear death because we feel that we haven’t loved well enough or loved at all, which ultimately are one and the same. However, when you make love with a truly great woman, one that deserves the utmost respect in this world and one that makes you feel truly powerful, that fear of death completely disappears. Because when you are sharing your body and heart with a great woman the world fades away. You two are the only ones in the entire universe. You conquer what most lesser men have never conquered before, you have conquered a great woman’s heart, the most vulnerable thing she can offer to another. Death no longer lingers in the mind. Fear no longer clouds your heart. Only passion for living, and for loving, become your sole reality. This is no easy task for it takes insurmountable courage. But remember this, for that moment when you are making love with a woman of true greatness you will feel immortal.
”Nostalgia is denial. Denial of the painful present. The name for this denial is Golden Age thinking - the erroneous notion that a different time period is better than the one ones living in - its a flaw in the romantic imagination of those people who find it difficult to cope with the present.”
Diane Keaton and Woody Allen have the nicest correspondence. So sweet:
Humans are clean slates. There are no qualities indigenous to men or women. True, there is a different biology, but all defining choices in life affect both sexes & a woman, any woman is capable of defining herself with total FREEDOM. Therefore women are anything they choose to be & frequently have chosen & defined themselves greater than men. Don’t be fooled by THE ARTS! They’re no big deal; certainly no excuse for people acting like jerks & by that I mean, so what if up till now there were very few women artists. There may have been women far deeper than, say, Mozart or Da Vinci but contributing their genius in a different socially circumscribed context. Note how I switched from pen to pencil at this moment because in Lelouch’s film, A MAN & A WOMAN, he switches from color to black & White—So I underline my point using the same symbolism—Very clever? OK, then, very stupid.
We have enough rehearsal time, but not as much as in L.A. Still, I think Love and Death will be easier than Sleeper as there is not a lot of…falls and spills and water stunts…Our dialogue exchanges should be brisk and lively…but we’ll get into that …so snookums…speak with you soon.
Also finished 1st draft of 2 New Yorker pieces. Hey! My book—Getting even—is a hit in France. Go figure. You remain a flower—too, too delicate for this harsh world & Dorrie is a flower & your mother is a flower & your father is a vegetable & Randy is a flower in his way & Robin is a cat. And I remain a weed.
I am jettisoning some old socks in my travel bag to make room for some idiot’s sunflower seeds. Guess who? You, my pal, are my cross to bear.
So they’re saying I’m a genius—but you know better, you little hellgrammite. Are you sure they’re not calling me “White Thing?” “And he changes his underwear to sleep in.” And all the things you call me rather than genius? I am tortured by the most incredible dreams of sexuality that revolve around you and a large 2E BRA that speaks Russian
That genial pal and good egg, Woody
I have decided to let your family make me rich! It turns out they are wonderful material for a film. A quite serious one, although one of the three sisters is a fool and a clown. (I think you can guess which, ducky!) I didn’t send you a big letter, because you’re coming to Paris soon. I wonder if your observations about my family clock them as weirdly as I see yours? Do you have insights into my father & mother? I can imagine. The blind perceiving the blind. Last night I had a tender dream about me & my mother. First dream of her in years. Wonder why? I wept in the dream & ate my laundry. Just kidding—I ate her boiled chicken which tastes worse.
Love from the fabulous Mister A, a man with healing humour.
I love this movie. I know people were saying “this isn’t Woody Allen at all!” to which I say, had he made another “Woody Allen-esque” movie you would complain about how his movies are all the same. Anyway….a friend of mine just gave me the soundtrack to the movie which I LOVE and I was reminded about this scene which is just genius. Genius! I love you Woody Allen.
And I was doing a little Googling. Did you know that he and Mia Farrow have a son together?
Yeah, according to Wikipedia, their son Ronan was a child prodigy. Entered Bard College at age 11. Yale Law School at age 16. He’s a published writer (with works appearing in the LA Times and Wall Street Journal). He’s a human rights activist and is currently serving as Special Advisor to the Secretary of State for Global Youth Issues and director of the State Department’s Global Youth Issues office.
And come Michaelmas, at age 23, he’s a Rhodes scholar.
Oh, and this is a photo of him:
I cannot describe how utterly inadequate, dim-witted, and worthless I feel right now.
"It’s a wonderful thing to be able to create your own world whenever you want to. Writing is very pleasurable, very seductive, and very therapeutic. Time passes very fast when I’m writing—really fast. I’m puzzling over something, and time just flies by. It’s an exhilarating feeling. How bad can it be? It’s sitting alone with fictional characters. You’re escaping from the world in your own way and that’s fine. Why not?"
"Nostalgia is denial - denial of the painful present. The name for this denial is ‘golden age thinking’, the erroneous notion that a different time period is better than the one one is living in. It’s a flaw in the romantic imagination of those people who find it difficult to cope with the present."
A bit late to the game, but I finally saw Midnight in Paris.
And my god, did I love it. It was so romantic, idealistic, esoteric, meta, witty, intelligent, stylish. I felt myself swaying in my seat. My heart felt like it would burst (Is this what true love feels like? I wouldn’t know; never felt it with a guy before. But I digress.)! For about $11.50, it was the least I ever paid for a trip to Paris. Sans whining mother at the Louvre.
So multifaceted. It was a love letter to Paris and literature. A commentary on intellectualism and pedantry. A response to the romantics who live in the golden age.
It was childish in the way that it portrayed Parisian allure, without compromising the mature, pragmatic tone of (what I perceived) was the main message: Nostalgia is merely a glimmering, attractive escape from the tediousness of the present. You may think the 20s or the 50s were the golden age, but chances are that the people of those generations will have thought the same about previous eras. Indeed, everything does seem better in hindsight.
Movie Trailer of the Day: First official trailer for Woody Allen’s latest annual rom-com, Midnight in Paris.
The film, which stars Owen Wilson, Rachel McAdams, Marion Cotillard, Kathy Bates, Carla Bruni, Michael Sheen, and Adrien Brody, is set to premiere at Cannes on May 11, followed by a limited release on May 20. [yahoo.]