There are a few things that everybody knows about Richard Pryor: that he lit himself on fire in a suicide attempt while freebasing cocaine; that his stand-up revolutionized the form and altered the terms of American race relations; and that the movies he made were, for the most part, very bad.
1. We begin in a Tokyo barroommaybe a little tacky but amiable enough, familiar enough, with its Toulouse-Lautrec posters and youthful customers sipping neon cocktails.
In what would have been his 90th year, the Italian poet, filmmaker, linguist, polemicist, and journalist Pier Paolo Pasolini has been honored with a number of events in New York City.
Theres scarce sound, but you can almost hear the clinking of champagne glasses: in a green landscape dotted with silent black servants and gallivanting bourgeoisie, the billowing white leisurewear of a late 60s colonial community in Tabu takes on a Proustian, hallucinatory weight.
Quentin Tarantino is an iconoclast, a gifted pastiche artist, and someone who firmly believes in his vision, God bless him. He effectively and articulately gets out in front of any attempt to critique it, and he has once again in the wake of his newest film, the incendiary 19th century slave revenge epic Django Unchained.