Ikke længere meget krudt i Woody (eller betydeligt blur)

Velgørende, ved siden af danske la-la-anmeldelser, a denne virtuost vitriolske PRÆCISE krtik af Woody Allens nye, mildest talt uoplagte film Magic in the Moonlight signeret Village Voice'y Alan Scherstuhl (også godt (ondt) kritikernavn - også (god) ond overskrift: It's Been A Year Already?")

(...) as the stars roam those gardens and vistas in their jaunty flapper couture, the story feels shapeless, un-tailored, defiantly off the rack.
Magic in the Moonlight's mystery is pedestrian and predictable, and its lovers -- Colin Firth and Emma Stone -- fall for one another for no reason other than they happen to be the leads in a Woody Allen movie. Everyone declaims the film's meager themes, as if we're watching the actors' what's-my-motivation? prep work rather than their final performances. Even Stone and Firth speaking Allen's lumpish dialogue is something like getting down a mouthful of oatmeal. Occasionally, an actor will shape a line with the hopeful sharpness of a joke, which suggests that someone on set may have been telling them that the film is a comedy. (...)
At one point, midway through, Stanley becomes convinced she does have some ability to contact a spirit realm, which for him means science can no longer be trusted and that maybe there is a God, and on and on. He calls a press conference to announce this and introduce her to the world; it's the movie's biggest laugh, as, for some reason, the reporters questions are all directed at him.
Such uncertain, ill-considered scene craft is a hallmark of Allen's late-late period. But I can say this for that sequence: It's the one thing in Magic in the Moonlight that doesn't feel dispiritingly familiar. Allen's habitual productivity -- a movie a year, whether he has something to say or not -- has made his films something more like rituals than events. Last year in these pages Stephanie Zacharek compared going to see Allen's annual offering to checking in on an elderly relative you hope is having a good day. A trick I've picked up is always to try to get such a relative to tell a story you haven't heard before. Is it too much to ask the same of one of the world's most distinguished filmmakers?

- åh, ja, tristhed over auteurundergang! Her et klip fra en. så vidt jeg husker, god, flosset Allen-film, Deconstructing Harry, med en ulykkeligt utydelig ROBIN WILLIAMS, som nu forbandet nok er helt væk:

Just 'cause you don't have a switch, don't get angry at me, baby

- fra et Rolling Stone-interview, 1991:

Asked if he and Marsha plan to have another child soon — Zachary is the product of his first marriage — Father Man nods and begins talking animatedly to a part of his body that he usually refers to as either Mr. Happy or Lumpy. "We have a few left, yes?" he says. "Those ninja sperms! Those ones that blow a hole in the diaphragm! Those ones that get through, no matter what!"
For the next few minutes, Williams is "on." Occasionally, when the actor lapses into his celebrated shtick, the routine seems forced and perfunctory. He seems to be clowning around simply because he knows he's famous for clowning around. Other times — like now — his short-circuited patter is literally breathtaking. Williams is not tap dancing on a hot plate; he's just having fun.
Eventually, Williams skids to a stop, looking wild-eyed and a little winded. "Fuck, it's great to play," he says. "Who wants to be deeply serious all the time? That would suck, I think. But I'm just now getting to the point where you realize, 'Wait, you don't have to play all the time.' It's exhausting, and you have to save something for when you come home. Marsha gets asked that all the time: 'He must be really wild at home!' The truth is that if I were, she wouldn't be alive. That type of freneticism is insane."
Hence the Robin Williams who walks into a room like everybody else does. Who talks for hours without once doing his mad-scientist laugh or standing on his head. It's true that Williams still can't go ten minutes without telling a joke about how hairy he is — these jokes always involve either Darwin or the film Quest for Fire — but for the most part he's "on" when he feels like being "on," and he's "off" when he feels like being "off."
"I used to hate that," Williams says. "People would say, 'You're on now. Do you always have to be on?' " He gets another glint in his eye, and — in a voice that's part Robin Williams and part Groucho Marx — he turns to address an imaginary accuser: "Yeah, sometimes I do. Around pricks like you — around raving assholes like you — I really like being on. It makes it easier. 'Cause being off would be pretty fucking boring."
Here, revving his engines again, Williams drops the Groucho inflection and picks up a little street sass. "Just 'cause you don't have a switch, don't get angry at me, baby," he says. "Just 'cause you don't have the batteries, don't call up and tell me to turn out my light."

Read more: http://www.rollingstone.com/movies/features/robin-williams-fears-of-a-clown-20140811#ixzz3AB7xK9A7

That black hole is a little blurry - for fanden da, Robin!

Virkelig åndssvagt og meget sørgeligt, at Robin Williams har begået selvmord. Min favorit-Williams var genialt manisk polyfone impro-Robin på Letterman - jeg har brugt hele morgenen på YouTube-klip, både gamle og nye, dette her fra 1993 er eksemplarisk og frygtindgydende virtuost, stemmerne og påfundene er simpelthen ikke til at stoppe, da han når hen til reolen, går han decideret amok; tænk, hvis nogen kunne skrive et digt som Robin Williams var en talkshow-gæst! Så usjovt, han er død!

De vildeste bowlere jeg har set

er dem her - på hovederne af Steve Martin og Robin Williams i Waiting for Godot, instrueret af Mike Nichols, som jeg så i 1988 i Lincoln Center i New York, efter min alt for søde mor, der ville have fyldt 71 forleden, og jeg havde stået i kø i 2 dage i træk for at få billetter, og det var akkurat så vidunderligt sjovt og fint, som det skulle være, bortset fra at jeg brugte alt for meget af min bevidsthed på at erindringsrecorde i stedet for bare at opleve, med det forudsigelige resultat, at jeg næsten ikke husker noget, bortset fra at Robin simpelthen ikke kunne lade være med at improvisere stand up-aktuelt, noget om abortlovgving tror jeg, som er SÅ forbudt at gøre med Becketdialog - men lige nu fandt jeg, via Robin Williams' hjemmeside, de mindste klip i en Beckett-dokumentar på YouTube (med vistnok hebræiske undertekster), og straks kom det tilbage, ikke hele forestillingen, men akkurat de to glimt i de to klip, Steve, der bliver inderligt fornærmet over at blive kaldt "critic", og Steve og Robin, der indtager yndefulde positurer: jeg vil se det hele, så jeg kan genkalde det hele, frydefuldt, jeg skal bare skrive en ansøgning som person "in the arts" og tage en sviptur til New York:

Waiting for Godot was an off-Broadway play. Although there were plans to tape the performance for a television broadcast, it is not currently available in any format. Researchers and people in the arts can make an appointment to watch a DVD of this version of the play at the New York Public Library's Theatre on Film and Tape Archive.

 (se fra 4:09 til 10:40)