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kelly daniela norris
El Norte, dir. Gregory Nava (of the ‘enduring, unbreakable brother-sister bond reigning in worlds of displacement’ genre) (yeah, THAT genre.)
Sweet sigh, Shirl! I cannot go without this song these days…how did YOU know? :)
Carole King, on writing “Will You Still Love Me Tomorrow” for the Shirelles:
“A lot of people think I wrote the lyrics for ‘Will You Love Me Tomorrow’ because they express so eloquently the emotions of a teenage girl worried that her boyfriend won’t love her anymore once she gives him her most precious one-time-only prize. Those lyrics were written by Gerry. My contribution to ‘Will You Love Me Tomorrow’ included writing the melody, playing piano in the studio, and arranging the string parts. I had never before composed a string arrangement.”
Sanaz, playing with her long hair and rolling it around her finger, looked up and said, “Many people feel that Rushdie portrayed their religion in a distorted and irreverent manner. I mean, they don’t object to his writing fiction but to his being offensive.”
“Is it possible to write a reverent novel,” said Nassrin, “and to have it be good? Besides, the contract with the reader is that this is not reality, it’s an invented world. There must be some blasted space in life,” she added crossly, “where we can be offensive, for God’s sake.”
- Azar Nafisi, Reading Lolita in Tehran
Those soft, 16mm-captured amber hues! The über-stylized, perfectly symmetrical, uptight playfulness of each goddamn frame! That fucking cartoon quirkiness reminiscent of a 60s travel advert! Suzy’s white-collared pink dress with the matching knee-highs! The mobile record player like the one my dad gave me when I was six! Françoise Hardy’s “Le Temps de l’Amour”! FRANCES MCDORMAND! These are but a fraction of the many reasons why I hate you, Wes Anderson…and why I will continue see every single one of your goddamn films.
“There is no looking glass here and I don’t know what I am like now. I remember watching myself brush my hair and how my eyes looked back at me. The girl I saw was myself yet not quite myself. Long ago when I was a child and very lonely I tried to kiss her. But the glass was between us—hard, cold and misted over with my breath. Now they have taken everything away. What am I doing in this place and who am I?”
