Comedy

What Catherine O’Hara gave cinema

There are actors who dominate the movie screen, and actors who deepen it. There are stars who are “bankable” and have names above the titles, and there are artists who, almost invisibly, give a film its weight, its texture, its lasting emotional impact.  Catherine O’Hara, who has died at the age of 71, belongs emphatically to the second group. She was one of the rare performers whose presence elevated everything around her. She understood precisely how to serve the story, the tone and the ensemble. Over a career that spanned many decades, genres and registers, O’Hara enhanced every film she appeared in.  What made her exceptional was not merely that

Have Americans lost their sense of humor?

Humor has become serious business. A nation of anxious primates trapped in a silicon casino of likes, retweets and dopamine-soaked drudgery, America is suffering from what the comedian Norm Macdonald called a “crisis of clapter.” Terrified of saying the wrong thing, needing punchlines to be spoon-fed – what was once the funniest place on Earth has become a tight-lipped, tongue-twisted society where jokes are rewarded with polite applause instead of genuine laughter. It’s the old stink of a well-mannered aristocracy, and very un-American indeed. From his beginning, the ugly American – wild-eyed and rabble-rousing – rankled the Old World. A pandemonious lot of yahoos set loose upon a land of

humor
louis ck

Louis C.K. fails to follow in Faulkner’s footsteps

The Great American Novel is a holy obsession – the Everest every writer dreams of summiting. For most, that dream begins and ends with William Faulkner, whose winding sentences and sunburned Southern landscapes birthed prose that seemed to breathe. His words marched; crookedly, yes, but always with purpose. Louis C.K., a would-be Faulkner disciple, trudges into the same swamp in Ingram, minus the map, the bearings and any sense of control. What was presumably intended to echo the Mississippian’s hypnotic disarray becomes instead a masterclass in incoherence. The story, told in long and sweaty first-person narration, follows a boy wandering through a Texan landscape of mud, hunger and half-formed memories.