Claire Danes Must Die

I've just slogged through Richard Eyre's STAGE BEAUTY . . . what to say? Billy Crudup is fetching throughout and lots of fun in the early scenes, creating a stylized physical vocabulary that makes some sense for the period. A shame the movie doesn't support this enthusiastic "recreation"; the entire arc winds up being yet another Ode To The Method, unappealingly made to go hand in glove with Heterosexual Assimilation.

And dear Billy's guide away from the aesthetic appeal of presentational acting (to say nothing of that of Ben Chaplin's torso) is none other than Claire Danes, on my short list of irritating actresses. I'll admit I rather liked her at the end of THE HOURS: her embrace of Julianne Moore was moving and helped the finale "land." But I can't think of anything else in which she hasn't annoyed me more than anything else, with her goggle gaze and oozing neediness.

I AM Pilar Lorengar

A short "debut" post here -- well, the title says it all. I've become quite addicted to the late, great Spanish soprano and have lately been devouring recordings of her Met performances, both broadcast (BUTTERFLY and FAUST) and in-house (HOFFMANN and OTELLO). The shimmering sound, the fearless top (secure up to D live; her fans know she ventured at least one E-flat in the studio), the emotional commitment, the deep musicality -- all these rank her high in my book. I'm hoping to land her DON CARLOS soon. The studio recordings are consistently excellent, but these live things are something else again ...

I hope to write a fair amount about opera here, but anyone who drops by can also expect stuff about movies, theater and TV. In a sense I AM Joan Cusack, Rosemary Harris and Jean Smart, so consider yourself warned.