Best comment on last night's Oscar moment came in a tweet from comedy writer Jena Friedman: "'Love will make you do crazy things' –Will Smith and most people in prison for murder."
I'd rather remember this year's Oscars this way (warning: spoiler alert):
In Hana, late 1990s. Lisa Kristofferson photo When the Rolling Stone story showed up on my phone Sunday afternoon, it felt like the last line of the last song of a magnificent playlist. Kris Kristofferson was dead at 88. The luminous obituary of the “American Renaissance man” was hardly unexpected. More than a decade earlier, in “Feeling Mortal” Kris wrote of “ That old man there in the mirror And my shaky self-esteem Here today and gone tomorrow That's the way it's got to be With an empty blue horizon For as far as I can see.” That empty blue horizon could have been the view from the home on a hill in Hana where he lived for decades with his wife Lisa, raising a bunch of kids. At the end of 50 miles of two-lane road clinging to cliffs above rocky Pacific beaches, passing lush jungles and postcard-perfect waterfalls, Hana is Maui's Brigadoon. An achingly gorgeous hamlet in Paradise, a place that stops time
Carey Mulligan and Bradley Cooper in “Maestro.” Jason McDonald/Netflix photos via IMDE.com. An old adage holds that meeting an idol isn't always a good idea, if you don't want to be disillusioned. That's the takeaway from “Maestro,” a penetrating portrait of monumental musical artist Leonard Bernstein, starring, directed and co-written by Bradley Cooper. Considering how much sublime beauty and exuberant joy he brought to the world as a conductor, composer and concert pianist, “Lenny's” life offstage was a glorious mess. Darkness and unrequited hunger in his psyche counterbalanced the soaring highs he shared with adoring audiences. Spanning three decades beginning in 1946, Cooper's ambitious epic follows the artist's meteoric rise and reign in concert halls around the world. His accomplishments extended to theatrical stages (“West Side Story”) and screens large and small, including his Young People's Concert series in the new mediu
Lily Gladstone (second from left) with Cara Jade Myers, Janae Collins and Jillian Dion. Photos via IMDB Not since “Oklahoma!” opened on Broadway has the state where I grew up in the '50s and '60s gotten so much attention in popular culture. That's not necessarily a good thing. Ken Burns's recent PBS documentary “The American Buffalo” followed the rise and demise of the majestic beasts across a boundless landscape being transformed in a nation. Their fate was intertwined with the fate of Native Americans, a lot of whom, along with a lot of buffalos, wound up in Oklahoma. A horrendous 1921 race riot in Tulsa provided the opening scenes of the recent HBO miniseries “Watchmen.” And now comes “Killers of the Flower Moon,” recounting yet one more unconscionable chapter that wasn't in the books or libraries when I was learning Oklahoma history in school. The tragic, three-and-a-half-hour epic follows the diabolical scheming by white men in what was called “Indian Territo
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