Last week I saw Leave Her to Heaven, a seriously twisted movie from 1945 starring Brooklyn's own Gene Tierney (not pictured) as a well-bred newlywed whose infatuation with her author husband (Cornel Wilde) devolves into obsession and murder. It was one of the first films shot in Technicolor, and it was great to see it on a big(ish) screen at Film Forum. Tierney's lips are so red in this you could see them with your eyes closed. Sometimes lavishly stylized fake-looking movies are more fun than the customary, hyper-naturalistic contemporary aesthetic, I posit. Directed by John Stahl, this won the Oscar for Best Cinematography.
Over the weekend, I saw clowns riding bikes to liberate the city's bike lanes from vehicular oppression.
Tonight, in a spectacular example of poor planning, I'm off to Times Square to see the new revival of West Side Story. As you know, it's St. Paddy's Day. This can not end well.
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