Not everything is Black and White in Orson Welles' film noir adaptation of Othello (1952)
Film Noir arose from the ashes of a disenchanted America in the early years of WWII; in the face of genocide, artists sought to find beauty in misery and perhaps no one more successfully than Orson Welles in his adaptation of Shakespeare’s Othello.
Monday 27 October 2014
Thursday 27 March 2014
The Selfie
I can’t actually say the word “selfie” without giggling. There’s
something about it that inclines me to put on even more of a Made in Chelsea
accent than I already, unfortunately, have. I’ve never really been one for
selfies.
Thursday 13 March 2014
King Lear at the National Theatre
King Lear is not my favourite of Shakespeare's plays. Lear is moody,
egocentric, demanding, unaccommodating, brutal, and crude; he annoys me. Even
his fool, the lowest member of the court, continually mocks him for his
stupidity and obstinacy. How Kent and Cordelia remain true to such pompous,
attention-seeking fool is beyond me.
Monday 6 January 2014
Death Comes to Pemberley
It is a truth universally acknowledged that I continue to delude myself into believing that I’m living in Jane Austen’s world. Though I may not live in Hertfordshire or, even more sadly, Derbyshire, I have an active enough imagination to believe that one day Mr Darcy will appear, Matthew Macfadyen-like, from the dawn mist. A few weeks ago I got very excited when I saw a tall, dark shape walking towards me through the fog on the cycle path to campus, but no. It was a cow.
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