Blog Archives

Pat Jordan profiles Samuel L. Jackson in the New York Times magazine:

He is on location as much as nine months a year — “I love being on the road,” he said — and the first thing he does in a new town is look for the black community. Sometimes people say, “You’re it.” Sometimes they direct him to black restaurants, music bars or, most important, public golf courses. He plays alone or with strangers. One day in Memphis, he joined a group of 12 black policemen who were about to tee off. One cop said: “Hey, man, you’re Samuel L. Jackson. I like your movies. Now here’s the game. We play for a little something.” Jackson smiled, recalling that game. “Before I know it, I got 16 bets with 12 guys,” he said. “I can’t be thinking, Hey, I’m Samuel L. Jackson. I gotta be thinking of those 16 bets.” (He won 10 of them.)

Jackson told me he has never had an unpleasant experience in public like a lot of actors have who go out in public with bodyguards. “I walk the streets, take the train, it’s real simple. Some actors create their own mythology.” He assumed a self-pitying voice: “Oh, I’m so famous I can’t go places, because I created this mythology that I’m so famous I can’t go places.”

…He goes to theaters where his movies are playing and sits among the audience “to see myself up there.” His “Pulp Fiction” co-star, John Travolta, told me: “Actors go see themselves be someone else because being yourself in real life is not that interesting. I don’t think I’m entertaining.” But Jackson disagreed. “John’s a genuine gentle soul. I love John to death.” Then, speaking in a falsetto, he mocked actors who say, “Oh, I can’t watch myself on screen, it’s too personal.” He dropped the falsetto and began to fulminate like Jules, in ways that can’t be reprinted here. How could anyone expect someone else to pay $12.50 to watch him on screen if he couldn’t watch himself?

Check out this considered and well-reported piece by Noam Cohen about Joe Posnanski’s forthcoming biography on the late Joe Paterno in the New York Times:

Mark Kriegel, a sports columnist who has written biographies of Joe Namath and Pete Maravich, was more expansive. “I believe to do a biography, you need to love your subject, but you have to balance that passion,” he said. “On some level you have to love your subject, you have to have the devotion to your subject’s flaws and virtues. You have to care enough to become obsessed with your subject’s flaws.”

Creating distance is important, too. “In some ways that was easier for me with Namath, who didn’t cooperate,” Kriegel said.

…David Garrow, a longtime history professor whose biography of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., “Bearing the Cross,” touched on King’s personal failings, said it was important to challenge your subject, even one as celebrated as King. “We are not in the business of being uplifting — that could be myth, but it ain’t history,” he said. “The lives of saints is not history, it’s myth. I think it is a far more powerfully inspiring story for readers to appreciate the inescapability of human imperfection than to spin myths.”

According to the article, Joe Pos received $750,000 from Simon & Schuster to write the book, scheduled to be published this fall. It is a short turnaround from the events of last year at Penn State. Is that enough time to do the subject justice? We know that Joe Pos is nothing if not prolific. I’m eager to see if he can pull it off.

[Photo Credit: Samuels]

Okay so it wasn’t perfect. The Yankees left 634 men on base and made the game closer than it felt. It felt as if the Yanks were comfortably ahead all afternoon long though they were not. The crowd was subdued, drinking in a sunny and crisp day in the Bronx. But hey, perfection is overrated.

The Yanks scored three runs against Matt Scherzer who had more than a couple of reasons to beef with the home plate umpire Rob Drake on the count of a strike zone the size of a tick’s tuchas. On several occasions not only was Scherzer and his catcher fooled by a called third strike, the Yankee hitter looked caught out there too.

Still, the Yanks scored enough to win on two of the weakest RBI’s you’ll ever see from Alex Rodriguez (if an RBI can ever be weak), a sacrifice fly from Robinson Cano and solo homers from Curtis Granderson and Andruw Jones.

Granderson’s ball was almost caught by Austin Jackson who made a terrific effort.

C.C. Sabathia pitched a fine game, going eight innings. David Robertson pitched a scoreless ninth.

Final Score: Yanks 6, Tigers 2.

The only drag, other than all the runners that the Yanks left on base, came when Nick Swisher left the game with a hamstring injury. It was diagnosed as a low grade strain. After the game, Joe Girardi said Swisher will miss a few days but not go on the disabled list. A relief, for sure.

C’mon fellas. Make us happy.

Derek Jeter SS

Curtis Granderson CF

Alex Rodriguez 3B

Robinson Cano 2B

Mark Teixeira 1B

Nick Swisher RF

Raul Ibanez LF

Eric Chavez DH

Chris Stewart C

A call-up and Freddy to the pen. Notes from the one and only Chad Jennings.

Let’s Go Yank-ees!

[Photo Via: Food Addict]

Is the shortened season to blame for the injuries to Derek Rose and Iman Shumpert? Mike Wilbon thinks so.

[Photo Credit: Kelly Sullivan]

Sundazed groove.

[Photo Credit: Picoose]

Freddy Garcia almost made it through two whole innings today and gave up six runs in the process. His ship, it be a-sinkin’. The Yanks never recovered. It was a mostly listless day for the home team. They couldn’t do anything against the rookie Drew Smyly who pitched damn well.

The good news? Well, Dave Phelps was solid in three innings of relief, Nick Swisher hit two solo homers (one from either side of the plate), and Curtis Granderson hit a solo shot himself. But even three runs against that pant load Valverde wasn’t enough. Eric Chavez, pinch-hitting, represented the tying run with Raul Ibanez on second, two outs in the ninth. Got under an 0-2 pitch, a flat slider, a pitch to hit. It went as far as the warning track for the third out.

Sombitch.

Something will be done about Garcia who is currently putting out the fire with gasoline. In the meantime, chalk this one up to a No Shit Henry loss.

Final Score: Tigers 7, Yanks 5.

Nothing to see here.

Go away. Come back tomorrow. We’ll be here.

[Images via Tom Mannion; Anais the Mermaid;

Today gives the first round of the NBA playoffs, including your New York Knicks at the Miami Heat.

Later this afternoon we’ve got Yanks and Tigers at the Stadium.

Derek Jeter DH
Nick Swisher RF
Robinson Cano 2B
Alex Rodriguez 3B
Mark Teixeira 1B
Curtis Granderson CF
Andruw Jones LF
Russell Martin C
Eduardo Nunez SS

Hoping to get something, anything, out of Fab Five Freddy.

Have at it.

Let’s Go Yank-ees! (and Knicks and Rangers.)

[Photo Credit: Thealanka]

Listening pleasure while you’re doing the chores. A half-an-hour of Wes in Holland.

[Featured Image via Life in 35mm; Painting by Alex Belth: gouache on paper, 1997]

The Tigers are in town. Justin, Fielder and Miggy:  Oh My.

Tonight gives Verlander. Ivan Nova counters for the Yanks.

I know it’s the MVP/Cy Young Award winner tonight, still how about a Score Truck sighting, boys?

Derek Jeter SS
Curtis Granderson CF
Alex Rodriguez DH
Robinson Cano 2B
Mark Teixeira 1B
Nick Swisher RF
Raul Ibanez LF
Eric Chavez 3B
Russell Martin C

Never mind the side show (Dear Delmon, thank you for playing, Love, Hymie Town): Let’s Go Yank-ees!

[Photo Credit: Branco and Beautifully Insane]

I loved to watch Moose Skowron at Old Timer’s Day. I attended three of them at Yankee Stadium and always looked out for him. Tough-looking guy but not really, bent slightly, his uniform baggy. He’d bark at reporters that he didn’t want to fucking talk and then twenty minutes later he’d be holding court in the dugout surrounded by men holding tape recorders and writing on notepads. He played the grouch but it was an act.

Ol’ Moose died this afternoon. He will be missed.

The green on the trees, that green is popping; the flowers, even those you see planted on the street, are vibrant.

The city feels so cheerful, hopeful, this time of year.

The Gothamist celebrates National Pretzel Day.

I like mine with mustard.

[Photo Credit: Michelle Rick; Kelsey Jean Gosselin;  Sophisticated Gourmet]

“World Aquatics Championships July 2011” By Adam Pretty

Over at ESPN, Andrew Marchand talks to Curt Schilling about Michael Pineda’s injury.

[Photo Via: XM MLB Chat]

Kiss FM, 98.7 on your radio dial, is going away. Dag. Memories of DJ Red Alert.

Ego Trip has 12 radio promos to jog your memory.

[Image via: UB Massive]

 Coolin’.

[Photo Credit: Mamberv ]

If you grew up in New York and are of a certain age the name Pete Fornatale means rock n roll. When I think of the legendary radio disk jockeys of my childhood–Scott Muni, the unbearably sexy Carol Miller–Fornatale’s name is always at the top of the list.

I was sad to hear the news that Pete died today of a sudden illness. He was 66. I am sad for a number of reasons but mostly because Pete’s son is a dear friend.

My love goes out to the Fornatale family. The old man will be missed more than somewhat.

Julie Bloom talks with Maggie Gyllenhaal about sex scenes from a woman’s perspective:

Q: Why is sex still such a complicated thing to tackle on film?

A: I’ve thought a lot about women in movies and sex and sex scenes. The question is why, if half of the adult population is women who have sex, why is it difficult to see? I personally think this doesn’t necessarily account for this movie, but the most interesting sex scenes that I’ve done or seen are the ones that are truthful from a women’s perspective — instead of what I think everybody got used to in the ’80s and ’90s: put on a black Victoria’s Secret demi bra and be lit perfectly and arch your back. That’s supposed to look like sex. But that doesn’t look like sex for most people, and if it does, I think you’re probably missing out on a lot. The more truthful you can be, the sexier it is and the more uncomfortable it can make you sitting next to a stranger in a movie theater.

Q: As an actress, do you look for roles that are more honest about sex?

A: Someone was talking to me about a film-school character trope, these women in their 20s, quirky, happy-go-lucky, don’t-need-anything kind of girl — that romantic comedy fantasy. But the problem with that fantasy — and I’ve been offered so many parts like that — mostly those women don’t have a lot of need. So you see a man kind of go, “This woman doesn’t care what I do.” I think everybody has great need and that’s so complicated. If somebody needs you, if you need them, all of a sudden you’re going to have responsibility and that’s part of what’s so scary about sex to begin with.

…Q: What about these scenes makes them work or not?

A: There’s been such a history of sex scenes that don’t speak to me at all. So when you have the opportunity to do a sex scene and still be a real, thinking person in the midst of it, it can be an incredible way of expressing something about who you’re playing and something about the story. Sex on screen can be one of the most compelling ways of telling a story. Not if you stop acting — I think a lot of people stop acting and start pretending that they’re in a soft-core porn. But the women who don’t I get so interested in. It’s something we don’t talk a lot about in our culture and all of sudden there’s a comparable experience, like I had sex in this way and it felt disappointing and lonely or I’ve had sex in this way and experienced a connection I never could have felt any other way. That’s where I get really interested. Even if you’re talking to your friends, are you getting into the absolute deepest intimacies of it? Maybe, but to see someone act it well, it can make you feel like you have a connection to other human beings.

Wonderful insights. Move sex is often plastic and boring. By the numbers. You rarely see people have sex that is dissatisfying–unless it’s being done for laughs. I recently saw “Friends with Benefits” on TV and the sex scenes, between two attractive movie stars, were lifeless. They were filled with quick dialogue that was supposed to be witty and showed off the actor’s sculpted figures, but there was nothing erotic or sensual or credible about any of it.

“Untitled 51,” By Richard Diebenkorn (early 1950s)