{"id":155215,"date":"2021-10-08T14:50:06","date_gmt":"2021-10-08T18:50:06","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=155215"},"modified":"2022-03-21T11:50:00","modified_gmt":"2022-03-21T15:50:00","slug":"the-reviews-review-quiet-magic","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2021\/10\/08\/the-reviews-review-quiet-magic\/","title":{"rendered":"Quiet Magic"},"content":{"rendered":"
\"\"<\/a>

We Work Again<\/em> includes the only known footage of the Negro Theatre Unit\u2019s 1936 production of Macbeth<\/em>, staged by Orson Welles through the Federal Theatre Project. Above, a photograph of the production: Charles Collins and Maurice Ellis in act III, scene 4 of the play.<\/p><\/div>\n

I am a lover of old things. I could spend hours strolling through vintage furniture stores or flipping through clothing catalogs from the past, but my favorite is undeniably archival video. Recently, I discovered a treasure trove of streaming links: The Black Film Archive<\/i><\/a>. The site, which aggregates lists of comedies, westerns, dramas, and documentaries made between 1915 and 1979, is updated each month, and accepts submissions from the public. It\u2019s free, and equal parts educational and entertaining. This week, I watched We Work Again<\/i><\/a>, a video commissioned by a New Deal\u2013era public works project, in which a narrator describes an idealized version of segregation in the United States over videos of Black life in the thirties. It was moving footage that I likely would have never come across otherwise. This weekend, I think I\u2019ll watch Two-Gun Man from Harlem<\/i><\/a>, a musical western about a deacon who becomes a cowboy. \u2014Lauren Williams
\n<\/b><\/p>\n

I\u2019m a lurker on Facebook, always about to delete my account, and will by year\u2019s end. Right. But some months back, as if to redeem the bad faith of Facebook \u201cconnectivity,\u201d I started seeing on that platform extraordinary poems<\/a> by Katie Farris\u2014riddling, devastating, peculiarly spritely poems about death, cancer, Emily Dickinson, the limits of mind and body:<\/p>\n

Will you be
\nmy death, breast?
\nI had asked you
\nin jest and in response
\nyou hardened\u2014a test
\nof my resolve? Malignant
\nmagnificent palimpsest.<\/p>\n

Will you be
\nmy death, Emily?
\nToday I placed
\nyour collected poems
\nover my breast, my heart
\nknocking fast
\non your front cover.<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

These (from \u201cEmiloma: A Riddle & An Answer\u201d) and other poems are in Farris\u2019s 2021 chapbook, A Net to Catch My Body in its Weaving<\/i><\/a>; her first full-length collection, Standing in the Forest of Being Alive<\/i><\/a>, is due out from Alice James in 2023. The heart knocks fast with and for this poet, the top of one\u2019s head blown off, as Emily Dickinson almost said.\u00a0\u2014Maureen N. McLane<\/b><\/p>\n

The Lehman Trilogy<\/i><\/a> may or may not be a good play\u2014it\u2019s impossible to trust yourself to form an objective opinion once you\u2019ve been seduced by its irresistible themes of money\/power\/patrilineage, as impossible as it is to avoid whatever happens to your soul once you\u2019ve been given a corner office on Wall Street (I assume). I can say certainly that there are monologues that trace with devastating clarity the decades of manipulation that kicked the American people into today\u2019s late capitalism like a can, three very talented actors in three very distinguished overcoats, and nearly three hours of deftly executed third-person narration. \u2014Lauren Kane\u00a0<\/b><\/p>\n

The Japanese director and screenwriter Ryusuke Hamaguchi has become one of my favorite filmmakers. His movies, curiously intimate and subtly strange, attest to the mysteries of our selves and of the people we love\u2014and to the strength of the bonds we share anyway. His latest,\u00a0Drive My Car<\/i>, which screened last week at the New York Film Festival, is a loose adaptation of a story from Haruki Murakami\u2019s short story collection Men Without Women<\/i>. In it, Yusuke Kafuku, an actor and director, grieves the sudden death of his screenwriter wife, Oto, haunted by the fact that he never revealed he was aware of her infidelities. Driving his red Saab, he listens again and again to the tapes she once recorded to help him practice lines for Chekhov\u2019s Uncle Vanya<\/i>. When he stages a production of the play at a festival in Hiroshima, he draws his cast from across the continent, the actors performing their roles in native tongues from Tagalog to Korean Sign Language\u2014and his star is Takatsuki, a disgraced heartthrob he believes is the man he once, unnoticed, walked in on with his wife. Meanwhile, Kafuku chafes at the theater\u2019s mandate of a personal driver, a laconic young woman named Watari, but as the days pass and Oto\u2019s cassettes play, a friendship begins to unfurl out of their silences. I say all this, but the plot can only say so much: Hamaguchi has a gift for subtle shifts in feeling, for the moments life takes on the texture of candlelight. He works with, as Dennis Lim put it in his introduction to the film, something of a \u201cquiet magic.\u201d At a home-cooked dinner with his dramaturge, Kafuku is asked what he thinks, after his initial protestations, of his driver. She is so skilled, he says, he forgets he\u2019s not alone, forgets he\u2019s in a car. Sitting in the Alice Tully Hall at Lincoln Center, I suddenly remembered I was watching a movie. Hamaguchi\u2019s Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy<\/i><\/a> opens at Film Forum on October 15; Drive My Car<\/i><\/a> will open there on November 24.
\n\u2014Amanda Gersten<\/b><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>

Still from Drive My Car<\/em>, courtesy of Sideshow and Janus Films.<\/p><\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

We click through Facebook poetry and Black film archives, go uptown to NYFF, and are seduced by money and power. <\/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":[68386],"tags":[4738,25597,425,951,67827,24190,2081,81,24144,68297,44],"class_list":["post-155215","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-the-reviews-review","tag-anton-chekhov","tag-black-cinema","tag-drama","tag-facebook","tag-featured","tag-hamaguchi-ryusuke","tag-haruki-murakami","tag-movies","tag-ryusuke-hamaguchi","tag-stefano-massini","tag-theater"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nQuiet Magic by The Paris Review<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"October 8, 2021 \u2013 We click through Facebook poetry and Black film archives, go uptown to NYFF, and are seduced by money and power.\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" 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