Archive | Essays

Jennifer Jason Leigh’s Brave New World

Screen Shot 2016-02-20 at 11.47.01 AMEarlier this month, Jennifer Jason Leigh turned fifty-four. That’s middle-aged by any standards, not just at-thirty-she’s-over-the-hill Hollywood’s. Yet she’s knee-deep in a renaissance that may transform into a bona-fide career high, if it hasn’t already. On the heels of her much-touted voice work in “Anomalisa,” Charlie Kaufman’s animated feature, she’s received her first-ever Oscar nod for playing fugitive Daisy in Quentin Tarantino’s “The Hateful Eight.” What’s even more noteworthy: It’s her first major role since 2007’s “Margot at the Wedding.”

“I feel like the door was closed, and I had made my peace with it,” the actress told The Guardian last month, crediting Tarantino for her return to the limelight. Though that comment is gracious – and though the writer/director does have a knack for resuscitating actors’ careers (see: John Travolta and Pam Grier) – Leigh’s current success may have more to do with a tenacity that’s enabled her to survive in the film industry since she was a tween. It’s a tenacity that often takes the form of a ragged self-possession, and it’s arguably the only good thing about “Eight,” in which her black-eyed gang leader Daisy reads as a silent film actress amid a babbling brook of men. (She’s the only female lead in the film.) Watchful, wrathful, and impossibly comic, Daisy’s like a grown-up Katzenjammer Kid – if those cartoon characters were out for genuine blood. Continue Reading →

When Time and I Collide

With my Sunday supper bubbling in the oven, I guess it’s time to call it: I crashed into walls the entire weekend. Yesterday I wrote and read and forgot everything I remembered. On the way to dinner, I ran into two different friends and couldn’t recall their names or even how I knew them. Today I went to Meg to fetch a pair of pants I’d specially ordered and realized they simply weren’t for me. I ran for the ferry only to arrive as it was pulling away from the dock. I left my bag at the 1st Avenue L stop, and dashed back from Brooklyn just in time to catch two guys rifling through it across the platform. “Gentlemen!” I called across the divide. “Do you mind watching my bag until I can get back to your side?” They pointedly looked away when I arrived in front of them, red-faced and panting with my hand outstretched, but handed it over.

It didn’t matter, any of it. I got home in time to make the lasagna I’d planned. I eventually remembered who my friends were. And my bag still contained the purple scarf I made the winter I couldn’t stop knitting, the long fingerless gloves that make me feel like Jo March, the notes from today’s session with brilliant astrologer and general wise lady Virginia Bell. Continue Reading →

The Arithmetic of Snow

Here on the East Coast we are in the midst of a good old-fashioned blizzard. I’m not sure if that’s the official word but the snow has been coming down for 15 hours; the sidewalk, stoops and street outside my apartment are covered in two feet of snow; and everything and everybody has been cancelled. That’s a blizzard even to this Masshole. (I’ve lived in Brooklyn for 23 years but once a Masshole, always a Masshole.)

I’m been the queen of preparation this round. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned about living alone, it’s that gender coding is an ill-advised luxury; when you have to cook, shovel, clean, and fix everything from hems to technology to radiators yourself, it’s a bad call to get the vapors or cry caveman. Bundled in a wearable sleeping bag, face mask, and two scarves, it’s impossible to tell whether someone is a man, woman, non-binary gender person, or a “Revenant” bear, anyway.

So yesterday after reading distressing weather reports, I headed over to Red Hook Fairway, where I bought enough food to stock my refrigerator and freezer for two weeks (which is how long it’ll probably be before I’m able to safely drive Minerva again). I bought wonderful things: thick pork chops, lamb, dried apricots, pistachios and pecans, crushed tomatoes, ricotta, extra virgin olive oil, thick Greek yogurt, a roasted chicken, challah bread, a jug of organic cream, rosemary, mint, kale, and copperhead salmon. My enthusiasm was only mildly hampered by the fact that, even at 9 am, the store was clotted by Park Slopers who didn’t feel it appropriate to reign in their free-spirited children as the rest of us tripped over them. Continue Reading →

"All, everything I understand, I understand only because I love."
― Leo Tolstoy