{"id":128411,"date":"2018-08-10T13:00:46","date_gmt":"2018-08-10T17:00:46","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=128411"},"modified":"2018-08-10T17:42:02","modified_gmt":"2018-08-10T21:42:02","slug":"staff-picks-film-forum-fallout-shelters-and-fermentation","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/08\/10\/staff-picks-film-forum-fallout-shelters-and-fermentation\/","title":{"rendered":"Staff Picks: Film Forum, Fallout Shelters, and Fermentation"},"content":{"rendered":"

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If you recently found yourself wandering West Houston and Sixth, did you notice the soft sounds of film reels spinning and popcorn popping? If you didn\u2019t, then you weren\u2019t listening hard enough, because Film Forum is reopened for business after its renovation hiatus. Among some of the films stretching the legs of the new theaters are Nico, 1988<\/i> (which you can read about on the Daily<\/i><\/a>) and a long schedule of films by the French director Jacques Becker. On Saturday night, I saw Rendezvous in July<\/i> (Rendez-vous de juillet<\/i>), a 1949 comedy of jazz-loving, Bohemian-lite young Parisians. Lucien is in love with Christine and wants to go abroad to make a documentary film; Roger is a brooding, brass-playing musician in love with the actress Therese, who will be starring alongside Christine in a hot new play. When these bright young things aren\u2019t dancing in jazz clubs or having dinner parties, they\u2019re navigating their lives away from the strictures of their bourgeois parents\u2019 generation and forward into a new world after the war. At its heart,\u00a0Rendezvous in July<\/i>\u00a0is a wonderful, quick-witted movie about young people, about Paris, about art and love. This was the first film I\u2019d seen by Becker, and I hope to see another. However, if\u00a0Rendezvous in July <\/i>doesn\u2019t pique your interest, I\u2019m sure any of the embarrassment of film riches once more available would be reason enough to walk through Film Forum\u2019s recently reopened doors. \u2014Lauren Kane\u00a0<\/strong><\/p>\n

Nostalgia is not an emotional condition that holds much sway for me, so the ways in which the eighties have recently appeared in fiction and film have often left me feeling bewildered. The characters in Claudia Dey\u2019s Heartbreaker<\/em><\/a>\u00a0are caught in a perpetual 1985 by dint of their cultish isolation from humanity\u2019s mainstream. But Dey\u2019s project is far more ambitious than asking the reader to feel a pang of longing for the past. Her characters are trapped in a time machine of their own making, defining the world as fallen and then forming their own frozen version of it in reaction, as if in doing so, the world will be unable to fall further into hellfire. A fierce exploration of memory and zeitgeist peopled by characters named Pony, Supernatural, and The Heavy and partly narrated by the family dog, Heartbreaker<\/em> is a darkly comedic weirdo of a book that pulls the string of nostalgia from one side while unraveling it from the other. \u2014Christian Kiefer<\/strong><\/p>\n

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Still from The Atomic Caf\u00e9<\/em>.<\/p><\/div>\n

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The voice of an era distills as we hurtle ahead and away from it. In photos taken from Saturn, the Earth looks merely faintly blue. From an entire world of art and events, a few things, then fewer and fewer, are saved to become exemplary of their time and place, while the rest are buried and compressed like a geological stratum under new events, new art. The few representative pieces are sometimes kept intentionally, for their quality, and sometimes by chance, like the unremarkable domestic pottery that happened not to break over the millennia. Together, they create the flavor and sensibility of an epoch. What we continue to hold in regard is not a reflection of then but of now, of our sensibility, the qualities we choose to admire or denigrate. To rely on solely the canonical works to get a sense of another time is a deformation: the bad works of art, the forgotten works of art make up a constituent element of their time as much as, if not more so than, the works of genius. This is all to say that the 1982 documentary The Atomic Caf\u00e9<\/em><\/a>,\u00a0<\/em>now playing at the refurbished Film Forum, is many things\u2014history of the first decade of the atomic era, black comedy, exploration of the paradoxes of the American temperament\u2014but it is also a vital rescue of the resolutely bad art of that epoch\u2014the military propaganda, the television specials, the dryly delivered political addresses. Pieced together by Jayne Loader and the brothers Kevin and Pierce Rafferty from archival television broadcasts and military films, The Atomic Caf\u00e9 <\/em>is a bath in the ambient media of the late forties and fifties, a portal into the anxiety of the age, an anxiety blunted for us in 2018 by a nearly seventy-five-year interval in which nuclear weapons were never unleashed. Great movies of nuclear anxiety like Dr. Strangelove <\/em>have been assimilated into our sensibility, their ironic and detached tone familiar, but watching a maladroit instructional video in which a generic sitcom father resolutely gathers his family in their fallout shelter feels jagged, close to the bone. Its uncannily sedate terror feels much nearer to the close air of those years. \u2014Matt Levin<\/strong><\/p>\n

My litmus test for drinking while reading is that when I notice I\u2019m squinting at the book with only one eye open, it\u2019s time to go to bed. Drinking from<\/em> reading, however, is a different story. I\u2019ve written about wines mentioned by Alexandre Dumas in The Three Musketeers<\/em><\/a> and Homer in the\u00a0Iliad<\/em><\/a> for my Eat Your Words<\/a> cooking-from-literature column for the\u00a0Daily<\/em>. And I\u2019ve learned that when I need to track down a beverage from a classic book, I\u2019m often able to find a close modern-day equivalent. Many wine and spirits makers are turning to vintage and low-tech forms of production and coming up with funkier and more complex beverages that are more like what people would have been drinking centuries ago. If you want a wine that looks and tastes like what Telemachus serves the disguised Athena in the opening scenes of the Odyssey<\/em>, you can probably find one from a grape and region that would have been available to him, produced in essentially the same way. New Yorkers are exceptionally fortunate to have an Odyssey<\/em>-inspired wine menu running through August at the Ruffian Wine Bar<\/a> (125 E. Seventh Street), whose owner Patrick Cournot advised me on the Iliad<\/em> installment of Eat Your Words. Ruffian specializes in trendy, organic, small-batch bottles from cult European vintners, some of which are located in regions found in the Odyssey<\/em>. The ancient Greece\u2013inspired tasting menu offers, as Homer puts it, \u201cmany good things of what there was in the house\u201d and \u201call manner of meats.\u201d Unfortunately, the wine will not be poured out in \u201ccups of gold\u201d as specified; a few things have changed since antiquity. \u2014<\/em>Valerie Stivers<\/strong><\/p>\n

In the late seventies, Peter Sellers was filming in Paris and having a miserable time, so he called his agent at CAA and demanded that the agent rehire a producer Sellers had recently fired for reasons he could no longer remember. The agent said, \u201cOf course, Peter,\u201d then ordered his assistant to find the producer and get him on a flight to Paris that night or else the assistant would be fired. The terrified assistant desperately called every fancy restaurant in Hollywood until, miraculously, he got the producer on the phone. By that time, though, the last flight to Paris was leaving in twelve minutes, and the producer wasn\u2019t packed. He hadn\u2019t even finished his dinner. \u201cThere was a pay phone in the basement of our building at 1888 CPE,\u201d the assistant, Adam Fields, remembers, \u201cand I had seen on\u00a0Dragnet<\/i>\u00a0as a kid that supposedly if you use a pay phone and you put a handkerchief over it and you hang up within three minutes, they can\u2019t trace the call. So I called up the airline and called in a bomb scare to the delay the plane and hung up. Then I went back upstairs, called the airline, and a recording says, \u2018Flight to Paris delayed.\u2019\u2009\u201d This anecdote is from the addictive oral history\u00a0Powerhouse: The Untold Story of Hollywood\u2019s Creative Artist<\/a><\/i> Agency<\/a><\/em>,\u00a0<\/i>by James Andrew Miller.<\/i>\u00a0At the center of the story is Michael Ovitz, the youngest of the agents who seceded from the William Morris Agency to found CAA, a hipper, more collaborative agency. I hadn\u2019t heard of Ovitz before reading this book, but he was arguably the most powerful man in Hollywood throughout the eighties and nineties. His rise and fall is like that of a French king or a Roman emperor. CAA eventually came to represent everyone from Steven Spielberg to the\u00a0Ghostbusters\u00a0<\/i>franchise to Toms Cruise and Hanks to Fleetwood Mac,\u00a0ER<\/i>,\u00a0and the Coca-Cola commercials with the polar bears wearing sunglasses. The narrative spans the sixties to 2016, but throughout the decades, there\u2019s at least one constant: no one ever announces to their boss that they\u2019re going to leave CAA. Whenever they\u2019re even just considering it, word somehow makes its way upstairs. Verbal bloodbaths occur every ten pages. It\u2019s the same with clients. When the screenwriter Joe Eszterhas (Basic<\/i> Instinct<\/em>, Showgirls<\/em>, Flashdance<\/i>) tried to break his contract, he claims Ovitz said, \u201cMy foot soldiers who go up and down Wilshire Boulevard each day will blow your brains out \u2026 I don\u2019t care if I win or lose, but I\u2019m going to tie you up with depositions and court dates so that you won\u2019t be able to spend any time at your type writer. If you make me eat shit, I\u2019m going to make you eat shit.\u201d The book is seven hundred pages, and it\u2019s still too short. \u2014Brent Katz<\/strong><\/p>\n

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Lily Stockman, Jordan Pond<\/em>, 2018.<\/p><\/div>\n

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I experienced the new Cheim & Read show, \u201cAll Over the Moon<\/i><\/a>,\u201d as a Monty Hall problem for an audience lured by the title\u2019s promise of joy, a sort of trilemma of the liberated imagination. The three artists, Laurel Sparks, Lily Stockman, and Richard Tinkler, all work in the abstract. The show is curated by Jack Pierson, and the intrigue rests on the fact that the three showcased visions of being, each in separate rooms, seem difficult to synthesize. In the largest room are Richard Tinkler\u2019s oil paintings, which have an extravagant, consciousness-expanding style, using geometrics and symmetries that nonetheless depict a seductive sense of chaos, a portal to getting lost. In the adjacent room, we leave behind Tinkler\u2019s daunting cosmic Expressionism for Laurel Sparks\u2019s assemblages of glitter, papier-m\u00e2ch\u00e9, crayon, ash, beads, and beyond. Her work shares Tinkler\u2019s spontaneity, but the diversity in materials brings an infantile state of play to the canvas. Her pieces call to mind a child\u2019s arts-and-crafts sensibility, imbued with talismanic shapes, suggesting transcendental properties of play. The final room belongs to Lily Stockman, who works with oil on linen. She holds degrees in painting and botany and studied Buddhism in Mongolia. Her muted hues and smooth textures bring a relieving visual silence after the stimulation of the prior rooms, and her formal studies all come together on the canvas. The eye and mind may rest here, especially within Jordan Pond<\/i>,\u00a0my favorite piece of the show. As I left the Stockman room and then the gallery, I thought of a Talking Heads line: \u201cHeaven is a place \/ where nothing ever happens.\u201d \u2014Ben Shields<\/strong><\/p>\n

Every day, as\u00a0I walk to the office of the\u00a0Review<\/i>, I pass dozens of changeable letter signs in big block type: WINE IS SURVIVAL JUICE<\/small>, one shouts, advertising seven-dollar happy hour. Down the street, another encourages me to attend WINE THERAPY<\/small>, and still another informs me that A BANANA IS 105 CALORIES AND A PROSECCO IS 80<\/small>\u00a0and that I must CHOOSE WISELY<\/small>. It\u2019s hard to imagine a world where\u00a0alcohol is not cheerily, insistently equated with joy and celebration, sloshed across subway ads and doled out at parties. But in\u00a0Nothing Good Can Come from This<\/i><\/a>, Kristi Coulter sees through it all. \u201cWhy would anyone want to soften the edges of this glorious reality?\u201d she asks while drowning herself in a bottle of wine a night. You can practically hear the sarcasm she slathers on the page, the unflinching voice with which she narrates her journey toward sobriety. But her essays aren\u2019t just about weaning off the booze\u2014they\u2019re about what created the need for the bottle-a-night habit to begin with. Coulter challenges \u201ca lifetime of conditioning\u201d in a society that demands her to sacrifice her identity because of her\u00a0gender. With caustic wit and a renewed, sober vigor, Coulter lets us know that there might be hope for us after all. \u2014Madeline Day<\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

  If you recently found yourself wandering West Houston and Sixth, did you notice the soft sounds of film reels spinning and popcorn popping? If you didn\u2019t, then you weren\u2019t listening hard enough, because Film Forum is reopened for business after its renovation hiatus. Among some of the films stretching the legs of the new […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[438],"tags":[35028,35027,35036,4630,35037,30238,29467,35034,35035,35025,35029,35030,35026,35038,35031,35032,35033],"class_list":["post-128411","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-this-weeks-reading","tag-all-over-the-moon","tag-cheim-read","tag-claudia-dey","tag-film-forum","tag-heartbreaker","tag-jack-pierson","tag-jacques-becker","tag-jayne-loader","tag-kevin-and-pierce-rafferty","tag-kristi-coulter","tag-laurel-sparks","tag-lily-stockman","tag-nothing-good-can-come-from-this","tag-rendezvous-in-july","tag-richard-tinkle","tag-ruffian-wine-bar","tag-the-atomic-cafe"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nStaff Picks: Film Forum, Fallout Shelters, and Fermentation<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"This week, \u2018The Paris Review\u2019 staff recommends a wine tasting, an antinostalgia novel, and the movies on offer at the reopened Film Forum.\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2018\/08\/10\/staff-picks-film-forum-fallout-shelters-and-fermentation\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Staff Picks: Film Forum, Fallout Shelters, and Fermentation by The Paris Review\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"August 10, 2018 \u2013   If you recently found yourself wandering West Houston and Sixth, did you notice the soft sounds of film reels spinning and popcorn popping? 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