The Invisible Counterpoint

One thing is clear: It's no accident that Obama beguiled the electorate (and maybe himself) by over-promising his ability to change Washington, end partisan gridlock and "part the waters," so to speak. He'd been practicing similar social jujitsu most of his life. [. . .] In "The Bridge," Obama's mother comes alive as a smart, stubborn idealist, a devoted but also practical globalist, a lifelong anthropology student who also held jobs at New York foundations and women's banking groups and did pioneering work in the now-mainstream field of microlending (as well as policy prep work for the United Nations' 1995 World Women's Conference in Beijing; in a time-travel cameo, Dunham had high hopes, Remnick tells us, for first lady Hillary Clinton's advocacy). She was a devoted mother who loved her son passionately, but nonetheless left him without her for large swatches of a sometimes-forlorn childhood. Clearly Dunham deserves her own biography. [...

Once I clicked on that e-mail attachment, though, and Joan's review filled the tablet screen in my hands, I knew this would be different. I nestled into the sofa, propped the iPad against my knees and blissfully read the whole 3,000 words from start to finish without once experiencing that nagging urge to check e-mail or Twitter or Facebook. OK, so maybe some of that is a testament to the piece itself, but I assure you that in light of my recent track record with on-screen reading, it was extraordinary. Reading a document on the iPad feels ... serene. There's no dock filled with application icons lurking at the edge of the screen to suggest that I log onto iChat to see who else is online (maybe it's Joan, and she can explain this one reference to me ...) or double-check the day's to-do list. No files on the desktop remind me about that other thing I need to put the finishing touches on and send. No notifications from TweetDeck pop up to inform me that Rose had insomnia ...

Hence my decision to appeal to an Internet audience by demystifying the process of filmmaking. I decided to blog the behind-the-scenes making of the film, posting outtakes as well as on-set clips every day and discussing the progress of the film as it was being made. I don't think I'm the first person to have done this -- at least I hope not. [. . .] So, I reasoned, there was little to be lost -- the clips I posted were short and mostly funny goofs. The interest that the "film diary" was provoking naturally seemed good for the movie's profile. Who could begrudge a little advance publicity? Still, a week or so into shooting, somebody did. I got a rather stern e-mail (and a series of worried calls from my producers) saying that one of the financing entities behind the movie had stumbled upon my blog and weren't at all happy with what I was doing. [. . .] My reaction? Fear and shame. Suddenly I was in sixth grade again. I felt the terror of having made the author...

Of course, lamenting that the old "Clash" is so much better than the new one will take us only so far. Any remake has to stand on its own merits. That said, "Clash of the Titans" still sucks. [. . .] The Kraken is big all right, and his design -- a small, turtlish head perched on a gargantuan body -- owes a debt, as so many modern movie creatures do, to H.R. Giger's design for "Alien." But this Kraken is disappointing; there's no glamour or mystery to him. He's overscaled and underwhelming, and even in 3-D, he lacks dimension. [. . .] But what about everything Hollywood, with movies like this "Clash of the Titans," is failing to give us? The movie is big all right. But where's the magic? (Stephanie Zacharek, "Clash of the Titans" could make the gods weep,” Salon, 2 April 2010) I promise you, boredom, demi-gods! Minor spoilers (leakages): Kalibos bleeds scorpions that are 500 times more powerful than he is (and Kalibos ...