Perhaps the most recognizable poster created by Paul Rand is the one he made for IBM, with its clean iconic triad, the eye, the bee, with the alphabet letter M, striped to match the body of the bee, to complete the rhebus. The graphic designer Paul Rand (1914-1996) is acknowledged as the artist who lifted graphic design to a new level of Art. Known not only for his corporate work, identity programs, packaging design, brochures, Paul Rand, born Peretz Rosenbaum in Brooklyn, was a teacher, in the lecture halls at Yale, and as a writer of numerous volumes including Thoughts on Design and Design, Form, and Chaos. Writing constantly, he wrote not only to educate, but to clarify his thoughts and assertions. At the Museum of the City of New York, the breadth and scope of his career is in full display. A bit too crowded to give each work its full measure of weight, the exhibition, ads hung chockablock on the walls and laid out in vitrines in a first floor gallery, is a testament to his legacy.
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Remember the old feminist adage: A woman without a man is like a fish without a bicycle. It is in that antique spirit that The Heidi Chronicles in a new production at the Music Box Theater follows art historian Heidi Holland (a pitch perfect Elisabeth Moss) through decades of social and political change with the men and women most prominent in her life. She met Peter (Bryce Pinkham just off his Tony winning performance in A Gentleman’s Guide to Love and Murder) at a high school dance, and Scoop (Jason Biggs) at a McCarthy fundraiser; those historic markers anchor Wendy Wasserstein’s smart, quip-heavy drama, further informed by the soft rhetoric of consciousness raising, through the strident ‘70’s into feminism’s late ‘80’s moment, when Heidi, still unwed learns how to deal with her aloneness, as did this significant playwright in her real life before her early death. -
Seymour Bernstein at 88 is such a loveable man, and so talented an interpreter of classical music, it is easy to fall in love with him. But that’s not why Ethan Hawke was so inspired at meeting him at a dinner party, so much that he knew he wanted to spend more time with Seymour documenting him. Hawke’s movie Seymour: An Introduction captures Seymour's wisdom and generosity. It should be mandatory viewing for anyone in the arts, in fact, everyone alive. Seymour’s gift as a teacher of piano is to supply ample instruction, carrying over into life itself, advocating integration and balance. He believes, “Whatever talent you have is the essence of who you are.” Hawke’s goal was to show young people, how a passion for an art form can inform the art form and life; in this anti-Whiplash, Seymour helps Hawke with his stage fright, ironic because after stellar reviews on the concert circuit himself, as a young man, he gave up performing because the pre-performance anxiety was unmanageable. So it was a special treat when he sat at the piano performing for invited dinner guests at last fall’s New York Film Festival. -
If Going Clear: Scientology and the Prison of Belief, Alex Gibney’s new documentary only illuminated the outsized personality of L. Ron Hubbard, the founder of the Church of Scientology, it would be a fascinating study of one of the most compelling figures of the mid-twentieth century. But this film, based on Lawrence Wright’s book of the same title, is so much more, exposing the secretive society within our society Hubbard founded. Given to bizarre behavior, tantrums, and self-aggrandizement, Hubbard wrote the best-selling Dianetics, and with that invented an ideology. Hubbard found a way to avoid taxes by naming this phenomenon a church; and, he understood the one thing Americans truly worshiped was celebrity: John Travolta and Tom Cruise were cultivated to lure a populace to its ranks. When LRH died of a stroke in 1986, his reign fell to David Miscavige who expanded the empire; his speeches to the fold—footage shown through fair use– are done on a spotlit stage with Nazi-esque imagery crossed with Who Wants to be a Millionaire extravaganza. -
What makes French films, eh, French? The facile answer: a focus on love: married, obsessive, at first sight. In its 20th season the popular Rendez Vous at Lincoln Center, shows a penchant for action adventure—and, serial killers. What happened to the frothy comedies and romantic musicals of the past?Benoit Jacquot’s 3 Hearts opened the festival. Known for making each movie a love letter to women, Jacquot’s films were celebrated at the French Institute Alliance Francaise with a retrospective. 3 Hearts features three of France’s best imports: Catherine Deneuve, Chiara Mastroianni, and Charlotte Gainsbourg, in an odd triangle. Deneuve is the family matriarch. Her daughter, Charlotte’s Sylvie, meets Marc (Benoit Poelvoorde). In a coup de foudre, she’s set to leave her life behind to be with him. Fate intercedes. They lose each other, but her sister, Chiara’s Sophie, strangely meets him and falls in love. The problem is Marc, a loser from the beginning, not at all sexy, and exhibits, let’s say, issues of character and ethical behavior. Is this casting the director’s calculation, to play his movie for comedy? Otherwise, this taut drama has you in its grip with intense, intriguing car scenes. 3 Hearts features strong sister ties between Sylvie and Sophie. Irony is: the actress Charlotte Gainsbourg’s real life sister died just after the filming. Gainsbourg now lives in New York with her husband filmmaker Yvan Attal. At the opening night party, Nathalie Baye laughingly complained, she’s the only French actress never to have been cast in a Benoit Jacquot film.
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As galas go, Guild Hall’s is one of the best, a chance for city and country to meet up over art, cocktails, and dinner. On Monday, Hamptonites left their snowy driveways behind, hopped on a jitney, greeted the Manhattan crowd at Sotheby’s, mingled over cocktails and viewed Guild Hall's recent acquisitions at the annual winter love fest. A large untitled canvas features a beach scene by the Academy of the Arts’ new president Eric Fishl. Celebrating his birthday too, the Sag Harbor resident said he’d rather be here on this special day than anywhere else, and then introduced Laurie Anderson, who is so talented “you want to kill her.” If you know her seemingly effortless performances, you what he means. She went on to present the first lifetime achievement award of the night, for visual art, to photographer Ralph Gibson. Noting that he also performed music with Lou Reed, she was most grateful for his laughter. -
If you have never been to Buckingham Palace, you can now have an intimate view in The Audience, starring Helen Mirren as the Queen, imported across the pond to Broadway’s Gerald Schoenfeld Theater. However much conjured in your imagination, the room in which Queen Elizabeth meets with her Prime Minister every Tuesday (with one exception) over 6 decades, the premise of this sharply conceived drama under Stephen Daldry’s superb direction, is described in vivid detail by an Equerry in full regalia. A dazzling chandelier hangs overhead, two chairs of precise lineage and upholstery reign over the otherwise bare stage, a triumph of understated opulence, in Bob Crowley’s masterful design. And the queen herself, the magnificent Helen Mirren who has honed this role wig to wig, dowdy dress to coronation jewels, nails imperious, witty, wise, sympathetic, and politically astute to a tee. -
This is a boom time for Albert Maysles: his iconic Grey Gardens (1975) in a restored print is screening at Film Forum, and available from Criterion. A new documentary, Iris, about style legend Iris Apfel, a hit at the 2014 New York Film Festival will be released in late April. But then again, in the years that I have known him, he was always working. With D.A. Pennebaker, Richard Leacock, and his brother David, Maysles was a pioneer in “fly on the wall” or direct cinema. A lover of movies, it is hard to imagine not seeing him on the scene at the premieres of the latest, encouraging young filmmakers. As he said to me in a 1994 interview: “Making a film isn’t finding the answer to a question; it’s trying to capture life as it is.” -
Having seen a rehearsal for the Malpaso Dance Company on a recent trip to Havana, a highlight of our cultural tour, we were eager to see the New York Joyce Theater’s full production. Guest choreographer Trey McIntyre, from Idaho, was on hand, enthusing about working on “Under Fire” with this talented group founded in 2012 by Daile Carrazana, Fernando Saez, and dancer choreographer Osnel Delgado, whose work, “Despedida/ Farewell,” was in preparation for its world premiere. The company is one of a few in Cuba not supported by the government. The program at the Joyce, through this weekend, is a thrilling affirmation of flourishing independent arts in Cuba. -
“This is the best show in town tonight,” exclaimed David Letterman at the SeriousFun gala, the only thing he said that wasn’t a joke. Founded by Paul Newman and Joanne Woodward, SeriousFun was established to ensure childhood fun at summer camp for children with special needs. With Paul Shaffer at piano, Letterman did his Top Ten, featuring songs for Newman’s movies: only Shaffer could set Towering Inferno to the tune of West Side Story’s “Maria,”or Cat on a Hot Tin Roof to “Mack the Knife,” but you get the picture. A mix of Newman nostalgia, performances by many campers, and high profile celebrities like Clooney, Streep and Hanks, SeriousFun was the place to be. -
If art has the freedom to display human foibles in the extreme, the “ick” factor of Jennifer Haley’s play The Nether, the MCC production that opened this week at the Lucille Lortel theater is through the roof. On first view, the stage is a somber gray, an interrogation room where an investigator named Morris (Merritt Wever) pushes middle aged men to near tears questioning their online languishing in a virtual paradise called The Hideaway. By the time doors open onto sunlit verdant gardens, and the baby pink of a child’s bedroom in this quick 80 minute tour de force, the suggestion of edenic innocence is as welcome to the audience as this splendid, if non-existent place is to Mr. Sims (Frank Wood) and Mr. Doyle (Peter Friedman). Morris demands to know the server, information that the men are loathe to deliver, lest they never see “Iris” again. -
“Do you want me at the piano,” Alexa Ray Joel asks in a kitten voice several times during her set at the Café Carlyle. Eager to please, in her low cut dress and cascading curls, she sings her own compositions, with one or two exceptions she’s tailored the lyrics to: “How Lovely to be a Woman,” her favorite song Ann Margret sings in Bye Bye Birdie. Aside from her father, Billy Joel, Randy Newman is her favorite songwriter; Stevie Wonder is her favorite singer. Joel pays homage to all of them and covers Gypsy’s “Let Me Entertain You,” with a line about “My mom’s too damned pretty.” -
If you are Jewish, you want your son to be a doctor. But think again. Ziggy Gruber, the “deli man” among several featured in Erik Greenberg Anjou’s new documentary, Deli Man, will do just fine. Trained for cordon bleu at the Culinary Institute, the young Ziggy was so attached to his grandparents, he went into the family business, and now, successfully situated in Houston, the deli restaurateur of his dreams and married to his masseuse, he is worth way more than his weight in chopped liver. Dimple cheeked, Ziggy is a Jewish boy in the great Jewish tradition: he honors his ancestors, and the crude and heimish cuisine of his people. -
J. K. Simmons’ music teacher from hell may earn him an Oscar, but he is also having an unanticipated nightmare effect on anyone who has had rigorous training, no matter what the field. We’ve seen movies about cordon bleu culinary school. Can cooking school really be as severe as the blood-letting in Whiplash? Last week Daniel Boulud explained his edible tribute to those rigors. After having seen Whiplash on the airplane from Japan, he had flashbacks to severe culinary masters. Creating his dinner for the East Coast Academy of Motion Picture Arts members for Oscar viewing tonight—this is the third year he is hosting—his dessert team created a confection called “Drums:” Saint Honore, Yuzu, and Raspberry. According to Oscar prognosticators, Whiplash may not have a chance at the top award, but, believe me, this is one winning dish.
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Shakespeare’s The Winter’s Tale, one of the bard’s problem plays with its themes of wrong-headed leadership and outright cruelty, may not seem a likely source for a ballet, but choreographer Christopher Wheeldon thought otherwise. In the play, King Leontes’ (Edward Watson) jealous rage leads to the deaths of his young son, his wife Hermoine (Lauren Cuthbertson), and her unborn baby. Just as operas are now brought to audiences in state-of-the-art films, so too will The Winter’s Tale follow the highly successful ballet of Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland onto the big screen. Featuring commentary by Christopher Wheeldon, composer Joby Talbot, and designer Bob Crowley, the film of The Winter’s Tale is exquisite, at once accessible and richly absorbing. -
The injustice of women trapped in unhappy marriages by husbands who refuse to let them go has long been acknowledged in religious Jewish communities. If a woman cannot get a “gett,” she is not officially divorced, and therefore is not free to remarry, continue with conventional domestic life, perhaps remarrying. Shlomi Elkabetz, director of the movie Gett: The Trial of Viviane Ansalem, says that in Israel, the situation is even more egregious because there is no civil recourse as there is in the United States, but then again, in observant circles, the result is the same: the woman remains a social outcast, the husband free to do as he wishes. -
When Benjamin Scheuer walks onto the Lynn Redgrave Theater stage, picking up an acoustic guitar, announcing he’s 10 years old, you believe him. He is about to tell his story in song, accompanying himself with several guitars, instruments he mastered at his father’s knee. His one-man show, The Lion, follows him through a Freudian mind field, coming of age under the tutelage of this strict father and finding his own roar; you weep at his misfortunes, particularly loss and then survival, which Scheuer has managed to express so beautifully in his music. -
The irrepressible Rosie O’Donnell could not help herself. Coaxed to do stand up on the not funny subject of her heart attack by HBO’s Sheila Nevins, the television star created a routine that is more than the heartfelt in its title, “Rosie O’Donnell: A Heartfelt Standup,” it’s a PSA for women, a wake-up call to the astonishing fact that the leading killer of women is not breast or ovarian cancer, but heart disease. After a special screening at the Athena Film Festival, a panel of doctors weighed in on heart health for women offering tips for prevention. O’Donnell created a mantra for detection, HEPPP: Hot, exhausted, pain, pale, puke, which she made into an infectious ditty. When someone in the audience told her own heart story, O’Donnell strained to find a place for H, an added symptom of heartburn. -
Paris may be exotic to many, but two visitors touring with their music in 1989 had opposite takes: for Osceola Mays, (Lillias White) untrained singer from Dallas formed by gospel at church and a history of slavery, Paris was a place that did not discriminate for her color. She never wanted to leave. For John Burrus, (Scott Wakefield) white rodeo cowboy who had been there before, during the war, the concert series was a job working his guitar, in Western regalia, pointy boots, wide-brimmed hat, and cowboy shirt. A more unlikely pair you will never meet but for the York Theater production at Saint Peter’s that brings them together. Alan Govenar’s Texas in Paris tells a little known story of these two, brought to Paris to entertain; Govenar deftly teases out their world, creating a dialogue about race, justice, and class in America. Director Akin Babatunde makes the music dovetail beautifully. That the two come to understand each other is no surprise, but the fine performances are this entertainment’s miracle. -
What an impressive record of documentaries on the subject of addiction! Then again, what an impressive record of documentaries! Last week, Phoenix House honored President of HBO’s Documentary Films Sheila Nevins at Cipriani 42nd Street. With Michael Douglas and Catherine Zeta-Jones by her side, Nevins had a ringside seat watching the reel of her green-lit films, from her comprehensive 9-part series, Addiction, to Wishful Drinking, Elaine Stritch: At Liberty, and others from a stunning decades long career. Many film insiders were abuzz, fresh from Sundance where HBO’s controversial new non-fiction film, Going Clear: Scientology and the Prison of Belief, premiered to a packed house. This weekend she is to be awarded at the Athena Film Festival at Barnard College, in tandem with a screening of Rosie O’Donnell: A Heartfelt Stand Up, and a panel about women and heart disease. I had the opportunity to talk to Sheila Nevins about her awards, and HBO’s current documentaries. For this veteran television producer, what appears to be a crazy busy time may just be business as usual. -
Wiry and wise to life’s vicissitudes, soul singer Bettye Lavette took the stool at the Café Carlyle, commanding from that small perch a powerhouse of songs featuring her new album, Worthy. Building up to the title song, Lavette’s set included tunes from Bob Dylan (“Unbelievable”), Mick Jagger and Keith Richards (“Complicated”), John Lennon and Paul McCartney (“Wait”), not one of them a hummable known despite the fame of the songwriters, which made the evening a treat of discovery, providing a glimpse into some soul-searching moments in those artists’ careers. Another tune was inspired by Lucinda Williams: “Don’t Count Me Out Just Yet;” her “Before the Money Came” caused her to admit, “I have the worst time remembering the words because I wrote them.” Bettye Lavette explained her choices: “I recorded these songs because I liked them. They didn’t sell.” -
“Is that how I sound?” exclaimed dancer Tiler Peck, reminding everyone around her at the premiere screening of the documentary Ballet 422 that ballerinas are usually seen and not heard. Peck was not even aware of the cameras because Jody Lee Lipes’ film was meant to be a promotional short; that he was taking sound was news. Lipes had so much rich footage, the decision to make a feature seemed the next big move. The result, an engrossing backstage glimpse into the making of a ballet from dancer/ choreographer Justin Peck’s initial conception through casting, lighting, costuming, and the vital give-and-take between choreographer and dancers up to the staging of the New York City Ballet’s 422nd work, “Paz de la Jolla.” Justin Peck (no relation to Tiler) is part of the NYC Ballet’s corps de ballet, and like Tiler, became part of the 90-dancer group at age 15. Among other revelations is that dancers double in other aspects of the ballet’s creation.
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The parting shot as we left Miami for Cuba last week was NBC’s Brian Williams reporting from Havana. Talks were under way, and news crews were on it. Andrea Mitchell was spotted crossing the Hotel Nacional’s grand lobby. Everyone wanted to know how President Obama’s move to finesse diplomacy would land. Already the word was out: while he welcomed an accord with the Americans, Fidel Castro (88), was not going to budge on the values he enforced over the decades of his rule, no matter what. What this means was a subject for discovery, anyone’s guess, as many Cubans must petition for permission to travel, a Kafkaesque process. -
“Are there any thespians in the house?” asked Simon Doonan at City Winery for the 2nd annual House of SpeakEasy gala on Wednesday night, looking for sympathy. The writer and window dresser long associated with Barney’s (he’s now the store’s creative ambassador at large), had launched into his story about having been tapped for the part of Nigel in the movie of The Devil Wears Prada, a good choice in everyone’s estimation, but he had reservations. “It’s the role of the helpful homosexual,” he quipped, “and I’m not that helpful.” Concluding they were merely picking his brain, “Nigel” did in fact go to a thespian, Stanley Tucci, and yes, there were at least three thespians present in a roomful of writers and other book lovers: Uma Thurman, Jim Dale and Dan Stevens. -
Even before the Golden Globes win, and the Oscar Best Actress nomination, Julianne Moore was having a good year. Her roles in David Cronenberg’s Maps to the Stars and Still Alice, two very different characters, one terrifying and satiric, the other heartbreaking and realistic, were noticed. Moore has been around for a long time: she could be all fashion as in Tom Ford’s elegant movie, A Single Man, or the housewife next door as in Lisa Cholodenko’s movie, The Kids are All Right, her performances are always noticeably excellent. That she will win the Oscar this year seems a given. And the career salute from the Museum of the Moving Image, is just the proverbial icing on the year’s cake.
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