The South African film Tsotsi, which won the Academy Award for Best Foreign-Language Film, is based on a novel by the celebrated South African playwright Athol Fugard. He wrote the novel in the 1960s but put it aside for many years; it was finally published in 1980. The movie differs from the novel in important ways.
After her husband leaves her—apparently to run off with his secretary—Terry Wolfmeyer (Joan Allen) is left with four daughters between the ages of 15 and 22. The Upside of Anger is about reconstituting one’s existence when mostly what you feel is fury and the desire to retreat. It’s also about the unanticipated directions life can take when it seems to have reached a dead end.
I never meant to burn any bridges,” Neil Young sings in “One of These Days” in Jonathan Demme’s movie Neil Young: Heart of Gold. “But I let some good things die.” Heart of Gold records Young’s two concerts at Nashville’s Ryman Auditorium last year. The concerts marked the debut performance of songs featured on his Prairie Wind album.
Many fields, many treasures, many pearls (One chosen). Here, fish netted, many kinds, But singularity is not the point, The point is, good are kept, and bad destroyed. Are these the gentle Galilean’s words? If so, a strange form of gentility: The angels throw the evil in the fire, And there is weeping and gnashing of teeth. O, how we twist and turn and rationalize, Assured Matthew was victim of his time, And heaven’s kingdom never need be forced, And “way that leads to life” is easy, smooth. Shall we amend, then, the Apostles’ Creed: “To judge the quick and dead”? This we don’t need.
Come darling, sit by my side and weep. I have no lyre, no melodious voice or chant. I meditate on the Zion I could never grant you. My son, my roe deer, my rock-rent stream. My honeysuckle, my salt, my golden spear. Forgive me your birth in this strange land. I wanted your infant kisses, your fists clasped round my neck. I craved you, though you were born in the wake of my illness, my dim prognosis. I was selfish: I willed you this woe, this world. You inherited exile for my sake.
Jane Little died at age 87 doing what she had been doing for the past 71 years—playing bass with the Atlanta Symphony Orchestra. She joined the symphony at age 16 in 1945 and was known as the longest-tenured orchestra musician in the world. A frail and injury-prone woman, the bass was an unlikely instrument for her to play. She collapsed while the symphony was performing “There’s No Business Like Show Business” as the encore at a pops concert. Members of the bass section carried her backstage; she never regained consciousness. “Hollywood could not have scripted it better,” said one viola player of her death (Washington Post, May 16).