I think it’s a testament to Martin Freeman’s amazeballitude that his entire face and body language actually look American in that Fargo nonsense. I don’t even have to listen to his (questionable) Fargo accent in a clip — I can see it in the way he holds himself, the way he moves, the way his emotions come across. In gifs, of course. Masterful, yo.
I was coming from the East Village and late to work as usual, so I took a cab instead of the M15. “Water and Broad,” I said to the driver, an older Asian man. “You are going to NYU?” he asked. “You a student?”
"Just to work," I said.
"You remind me of my daughter," he said. "She is so smart. So, so smart. She went to Phillip Exeter. But I lost her. Four years ago. She committed suicide." He produced a laminated photo of the girl when she was around fifteen or so. He kissed it. "I tried to kill myself twice after she did," he said. "It didn’t work. You know, she had everything. I had a good job before this." He kissed the photo again. "I have a house, I’ve paid my mortgage. She was a rich girl." He kissed the photo. "You think, rich girl has everything. But it’s all a lie. You’re just keeping it away from someone else." We went over a pothole. "I wish someone could have told her all this."
He turned onto the FDR. The windows were halfway down, so he had to raise his voice over the wind as he twisted halfway around to talk. “Happiness is the biggest weapon you have!” he shouted. “Every day, you have to fight through with happiness!”
“The thing about Harrison [Ford] was Harrison could fuck. Nine people a day. It’s a talent, loving nine different people in one day. Warren [Beatty] could only do six.”—Eve Babitz in the March 2014 issue of Vanity Fair (amazing piece by Lili Anolik, “All About Eve — and Then Some”)
Research suggests that “having a weird name makes you more likely to have impulse control,” and that impulse control is “even more important than I.Q. in predicting socioeconomic success, marital stability, and even staying out of prison.” So Conley names his firstborn daughter E and his younger son Yo Xing Heyno Augustus Eisner Alexander Weiser Knuckles.
He is one of the most legendary musicians alive. But on Wednesday, Prince played something of the anti-cupid during an appearance on the Arsenio Hall Show. The 55-year-old helped an audience member break up with his girlfriend live on the air on Wednesday night.
"In this relationship, things are much harder than in the single world. Keegan, in this life you’re on your own. Keegan, this is what it sounds like when Steven breaks up with you."
I want to stress this again: In many, many parts of the country right now, if you want to go to see a movie in the theater and see a current movie about a woman — any story about any woman that isn’t a documentary or a cartoon — you can’t. You cannot. There are not any. You cannot take yourself to one, take your friend to one, take your daughter to one.
There are not any.
By far your best shot, numbers-wise, at finding one that’s at least even-handedly featuring a man and a woman is Before Midnight (on 891 screens) so I hope you like it. Because it’s pretty much that or a solid, impenetrable wall of movies about dudes.
Dudes in capes, dudes in cars, dudes in space, dudes drinking, dudes smoking, dudes doing magic tricks, dudes being funny, dudes being dramatic, dudes flying through the air, dudes blowing up, dudes getting killed, dudes saving and kissing women and children, and dudes glowering at each other.
Somebody asked me this morning what “the women” are going to do about this. I don’t know. I honestly am at the point where I have no idea what to do about it. Stop going to the movies? Boycott everything?
They put up Bridesmaids, we went. They put up Pitch Perfect, we went. They put up The Devil Wears Prada, which was in two-thousand-meryl-streeping-oh-six, and we went (and by “we,” I do not just mean women; I mean we, the humans), and all of it has led right here, right to this place. Right to the land of zippedy-doo-dah. You can apparently make an endless collection of high-priced action flops and everybody says “win some, lose some” and nobody decides that They Are Poison, but it feels like every “surprise success” about women is an anomaly and every failure is an abject lesson about how we really ought to just leave it all to The Rock.