The Post keeps standing, filling space emptied out by more ethical actors. It’s just one example of a larger American problem. The people who insist on making sense speak in small, prim voices, trusting their listeners to understand subtleties of tone. After all, everybody’s off carving out his own personal city, made up of small but real impressions. Why try? The Post screams on, and—by the evidence of our last national election, in which almost every demographic in the city veered right, toward Donald Trump, whose profile was created, in part, in Murdoch’s pages—New York keeps hearing it out.
Maybe I read the Post because, as Ramona Garnes said, it leaves its malice naked and, therefore, shows me a more complete picture of where I and people like me really stand.
Vinson Cunningham enjoys The Post
Ingmar Bergman’s “Scenes from a Marriage,” from 1973, is the greatest artistic exploration of the vicissitudes of marital loneliness. It consists of six roughly hour-long episodes, in which a married couple—Johan and Marianne—try and mostly fail to connect to each other.
[…]It is a profound insight on Bergman’s part to notice that loneliness involves a detachment not only from other people but from reality in general.
[…]It is a profound insight on Bergman’s part to notice that loneliness involves a detachment not only from other people but from reality in general.
[…]Can any marriage survive an honest reckoning with itself? Can you get close enough to any person for life to feel real? These are Bergman’s questions
New Yorker, 2021.
To watch: “Summer in the City” (1969, Christian Blackwood and Robert Leacock).
