The woman reading on the couch is from Liotard, and I love how one can't help but wonder if Tissot's lady looking through the eyeglass is what she's reading about.
I also like how cinematic it feels, particular as I am genuinely saddened by the death of producer, director and actor, Sydney Pollack. Out of Africa is one of my favorite movies, even if Robert Redford can't do a British accent to save his waspy California ass. (Stick to directing, Bob.) But Sydney also acted and produced all over the place, in fact, one of the facts I learned from reading his obituary was that he had a production company with Anthony Minghella, one of my other favorite director/writers and who also died a month ago.
I can't bear when people think they're close to a celebrity because they've seen them on the big or small screen, and I don't pretend the loss of Sydney Pollack or Anthony Minghella grieves me as if I'd lost a friend or family member. But I do know the emotional experience I have felt seeing their work, and that was something real, is something real every time I watch Tootsie, or Breaking and Entering, or Truly, Madly, Deeply. (I'm mixing up the work of both men, but some of them were collaborations.) Just two months ago I was very moved by Michael Clayton, which Sydney produced and acted in, and a week ago he made me laugh out loud playing a pretentious American director in Avenue Montaigne. It is a genuine regret that I will never meet or work with them, even if the hope that I might have might not been very grounded in realism.
Both men were inspirations for me, and I feel a genuine sense of loss at their passing. I don't imagine I'm read by anyone who knew them, but, just in case, I extend my heartfelt condolescences to their families and friends.
MCO 2008
I didn't care about Redford's accent; I loved that movie. Hell, I didn't even realize that he was trying to do a British accent. Leave the accents to Madam Streep. I first saw it on cable. I had been dumped by the man that I believed to be the love of my life. I was a 34 year-old schoolteacher, convinced that I was doomed to live the rest of my life alone. I cried, ate chocolate and watched Out of Africa over and over again during the week that I spent grieving. Every time Redford died, I emitted great, heaving lamentations that I'm certain must have frightened my elderly next door neighbor.
I also noted Pollack's passing and was saddened by the loss of a great cinematic artist. Funny, but another film that I've watched over and over again is Minghella's, The English Patient.