Jozef Imrich, name worthy of Kafka, has his finger on the pulse of any irony of interest and shares his findings to keep you in-the-know with the savviest trend setters and infomaniacs.
''I want to stay as close to the edge as I can without going over. Out on the edge you see all kinds of things you can't see from the center.''
Every good movie has one great scene. In this it comes when the locum in a nondescript French village finds herself on a bootscootin’ dancefloor while a twangy country band plays Ghost Riders in the Sky.
What makes it special is that it arrives so unexpectedly and is shot with wall-to-wall locals, rather than a collection of choreographed extras. The warmth and sense of community – which is a central theme pursued by director Thomas Lilti (himself a doctor) – holds you like a big loving bear hug. Nathalie (Marianne Denicourt) has turned her back on hospital work in the city to assist the long-established and revered Doctor Werner (François Cluzet), who has been diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumour. Country Doctor
George Cukor’s 1957 film Wild is the Wind is now largely forgotten, a monochrome melodrama (previously filmed in Italy under the title Furia) about a love affair between a Nevada ranch hand and his boss’s new Italian wife (it ends badly). But it is notable for its theme song, a seemingly slight ballad that was transformed by Nina Simone into a tornado of piano and vocals and thereafter picked up by a succession of singers.y
“Wild Is the Wind” was written by Russian-born screen composer Dimitri Tiomkin (who also wrote the score for High Noon) and lyricist Ned Washington and is sung over the opening credits of the film by Johnny Mathis. Tiomkin picks up the song’s theme throughout his score for the film; also, cleverly, in one scene when a radio is switched on, a jazzy instrumental version of “Wild Is the Wind” is playing. Mathis’s performance is typically silky; in 1958 he sang it at the Oscars ceremony.
When the credits roll on Beyoncé’s new visual album, “Lemonade,” which had its premiere on Saturday on HBO, one of the first names to flash on screen doesn’t belong to a director, producer or songwriter. It belongs to a poet: Warsan Shire, a rising 27-year-old writer who was born in Kenya to Somali parents and raised in London.
Ms. Shire’s verse forms the backbone of Beyoncé’s album and its exploration of family, infidelity and the black female body.
“I don’t know when love became elusive. What I know is: no one I know has it,” Beyoncé says in a voice-over in the film, lines derived from Ms. Shire’s previously published poem “the unbearable weight of staying — (the end of the relationship).”
She continues: “My father’s arms around my mother’s neck, fruit too ripe to eat. I think of lovers as trees … growing to and from one another. Searching for the same light.”
Warsan Shire) reads like how Nina Simone sounds,” the woman who gave poetry to ‘Lemonade’ nyti.ms/1NUHLTh