Word: stuffs
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Dates: during 1980-1989
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...blue limosine carried Wolfe around during his latest trip to Boston, a pilgrimage to the Boston Globe book fair to promote his latest anthology, In Our Time. and the paperback version of his bestseller, The Right Stuff. The limo suits him fine, he tells a passenger, but he would rather be at home in New York City. "I've become a terrible, doting daddy," he says, the fine purr of Virginia landowner still evident in his voice. A daughter has arrived in his life since his last conversation with the passenger. "Forty days old," he says; his pride mixes with...
Successful, married, relentlessly domesticated, Wolfe sits serenely among the American pop-intellectual gentry. He has lots of money, and, after The Right Stuff, an invigorated reputation with the critics. He revels in his success, seems actually to enjoy it--none of the tortured artist pose for him. Yet for all the success and the play at exuberance, middle age has crept into his writing. The writing itself hasn't changed much--the sentences still go on for several multi-adjectived, vocabulary-taxing, punctuation-packed clauses--but the narrator has changed entirely. Wolfe has stepped away from his subjects into...
...short, the stuff of which sociology theses are made...
...Still others discovered how the earth's surface, found to be unexpectedly mobile, has been shaped and reshaped over the ages. Perhaps most startling of all were the explorations on the very frontiers of life. For the first time, scientists were beginning to understand and manipulate DNA, the basic stuff of heredity...
This is, potentially, hot stuff. But Depardieu and Huppert, who at least on paper would seem to make a pretty erotic combination, refuse to strike sparks. Depardieu has played this part before, and now looks to have played it out. Huppert, with the freckled, enigmatic face of a sullen schoolgirl, is a tabula rosé on which other directors have written personality. But Pialat is too reticent to give her dramatic motivation, and Huppert is too self-enclosed to convey the orgasmic release that would give her character, and the film, a little life. Alas, Loulou is a corpse...