Over at NYRB, Larry McMurty reviews a trio of new books on Marilyn Monroe:

In film Marilyn’s talent shows most strongly in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, How to Marry a Millionaire, Some Like It Hot, Bus Stop, and The Misfits. The director Billy Wilder quarreled with her on Some Like It Hot—but Wilder was no dummy and had this to say about her: “I think she was the best light comedienne we have in films today, and anyone will tell you that the toughest of acting styles is light comedy.”

She was almost always photographed smiling, her lips slightly parted, her skin aglow with an aura all its own, and yet there was usually a curl of sadness in her smile: sadness that just managed to fight through; sadness that was always considerable and sometimes intense.

In a review of “Marilyn,” by Norman Mailer, Pauline Kael wrote:

Monroe used her lack of an actress’s skills to amuse the public. She had the wit or crassness or desperation to turn cheesecake into acting–and vice versa; she did what others had the “good taste” not to do, like Mailer, who puts in what other writers have been educated to leave out. She would bat her Bambi eyelashes, lick her messy suggestive open mouth, wiggle that pert and tempting bottom, and use her hushed voice to caress us with dizzying innuendos.

…Her mixture of wide-eyed wonder and cuddly drugged sexiness seemed to get to just about every male; she turned on even homosexual men. And women couldn’t take her seriously enough to be indignant; she was funny and impulsive in a way that made people feel protective. She was a little knocked out; her face looked as if, when nobody was paying attention to her, it would go utterly slack–as if she died between wolf calls.

She seemed to have become a camp siren out of confusion and ineptitude; her comedy was self-satire, and apologetic–conscious parody that had begun unconsciously…The mystique of Monroe–which accounts for the book Marilyn–is that she became spiritual as she fell apart. But as an actress she had no way of expressing what was deeper in her except moodiness and weakness. When she was “sensitive” she was drab.

Here’s Nat Hentoff’s 1966 Playboy interview with Dylan.

The Great Hank Kingsley.

Hey, Now.

Let the professionals take you to school, won’t you?

Jay Jaffe on that recently retired force of nature Gary Sheffield.

Fresh direct from our man Mark Lamster’s Twitter feed this afternoon, a tourist shot of the Empire State Building from the 1940s:

It feels like spring today. Dig the moment, it’ll be brick again tomorrow.

[Picture by Bags]

Starting tonight, the Film Forum has a cool, week-long series: Pacino’s 70s.

I am always impressed when I see a blind person on the subway or walking down the street. Sometimes, I’ll close my eyes and pretend what it is like to be blind. But I don’t last long and it is just pretend. Still, I am filled with humility at that moment.

I don’t mean to suggest that blind people are saints. When I was in college there was an angry blind guy who walked around and always had a remark if someone accidentally bumped into him. “Oh, I’m sorry, that must be my fault, I guess I’m blind,” he’d say.

Navigating the streets and subways might become second nature for blind people, because getting around when you’re blind isn’t really a choice, it is a fact of life. This may seem daunting as hell for people who can see, but some blind people have never seen, it’s just the hand they were dealt.

I am still struck with admiration for them all the same.

Today I bring you one Gus Godbold (photo unavailable).

Sounds pretty badass, but not much is known about Godbold – he played from 1948 to 1950 for minor league Philadelphia As teams in Moultrie (?), Tarboro (?!) and Fayetteville, batting .270 for his career.

From an old Forbes magazine post by our man Michael Popek:

And if you’ve never popped by Forgotten Bookmarks, get-to-steppin’.

I saw the elegant Picasso Guitars Show at the Modern today and it made me feel lighter, alive, and unbelievably happy.

Check out the site, and if you are in town, peep the show, it’s around through early June.

Bucatini All’Amatriciana last night at my aunt and uncle’s on the Upper West Side.

Simply the best.

What games do you play while riding the subway?

Here’s a few: What if the train stopped and this became like an episode of “Survivor”? Who would take charge? Who would be the Alphas, who would be the trouble makers, who would crack first?

Who would I bone, and in what order? There’s lots of variations of this game, of course, like “Which beautiful women are lousy in bed,” and “Which regular-looking girls are tigers?”

Who is carrying a concealed weapon?

I used to play, “Who could I beat up?” but I’ve given up on that one.

Another favorite is guessing what stop people will get off.

Check out this cool post from the always cool spot, Jeremiah’s Vanishing New York.

Over at Esquire, Tom Chiarella profiles the hard luck and beautiful life of Liam Neeson.

[Photo Credit: WVS]

Constantine Manos

American Color

Bill Plaschke on the best spot to do lunch in Los Angeles: 

What I really wanted to hear, of course, was what the Dodgers thought about folks just walking into their house and hanging out in the middle of the day, so I phoned club spokesman Josh Rawitch with the news.

“I want to tell you about my favorite place to have lunch,” I said.

“Top of the park at Dodger Stadium, right?” he said.

“How did you know?” I said.

“You’re not the only one,” he said.

It turns out, other folks are aware of this place, and the Dodgers tolerate it for the good of the town.

“There are a lot of fans who refer to the top of the park as the best-kept secret lunch spot in Los Angeles, and it’s hard to argue with them,” Rawitch said. “While we don’t openly encourage it, the fact that it has become known this way is a reminder of just how special Dodger Stadium is to our fans, even when it’s empty.”

[Photo Credit: The Itinerant Fan]