Ava Gardner: Twilight of the Goddess
In one of her last interviews, Ava Gardner, the siren who stole Frank Sinatra, spurned Howard Hughes, and ate matadors alive, talks about how it all began and where it all ended.
In one of her last interviews, Ava Gardner, the siren who stole Frank Sinatra, spurned Howard Hughes, and ate matadors alive, talks about how it all began and where it all ended.
Following a period of neglect, Stanley Donen's reputation is on the rise. The director with the most elegant touch of all talks about Singin' in the Rain, Funny Face, Indiscreet, Charade, Two for the Road, and Bedazzled.
A penetrating, profound essay has long cried out to be written about Martin Scorsese, the director critics say made the greatest film of the last decade. This is not that essay.
Director John Waters doesn't let the exquisite kitsch of his films dominate at home--but his private decor does feature an electric chair and a painting by serial murderer, John Wayne Gacy.
In the volatile world of show business, Jamie Lee Curtis describes herself as a "control freak," but the daughter of Janet Leigh and Tony Curtis knows as well as anyone in this town that a career is made of luck and timing.
Production design is more than just conjuring up a specific time and place, at it's best it also reveals the story's emotional content. Academy Award-winner Gene Allen, talks about George Cukor, My Fair Lady, and his masterpiece, A Star is Born.
Long before Ann-Margret proved she could act, she proved that she couldn't, especially in the little-known gem Kitten with a Whip (1964), a "dangerous youth" movie warning you to beware of befriending pouty teen temptresses (who only exist in low-budget Hollywood movies like this one), lest you wind up being held prisoner in your own suburban home. (Imagine the headlines--would they cry out, "I WAS HELD CAPTIVE BY A KITTEN WITH A WHIP"?)
Martin Scorsese is a scary little guy with mean friends in New York's Little Italy, but he's also a driven artist and almost certainly our finest American screen director. Even when he blunders, he's world-class as opposed to flash.
Over the course of his 81 years, John Huston lived a life as prolific as it was protean. Though he gained international stature as a writer and director, his pursuits were legion. But the passion that lasted the longest was the one that was most private to him: he loved to paint and draw. And though he completed hundreds of oils and filled innumerable sketchbooks, never in 70 years did he exhibit his work. His art was far too personal for that.
Under the smog-skin of contemporary Los Angeles lie precious remnants of the grand, parochial city that lent itself, and the shadows of its lowlife inhabitants, to the light, sleazy film noir gems of the '40s and '50s.
After decades of legendary self-destructiveness, actor-director Dennis Hopper is six years into his campaign to make up for lost time. "I must leave a body of work," he says, and a slate of upcoming films testifies to his new brand of willfulness.
"It's definitely not Rocky Fights the Nazis," says Willem Dafoe, who plays a Holocaust-era boxer in the recently released Triumph of the Spirit. "Perhaps it didn't go as far with its message as people would like or cover any new ground, but I look at it as a movie that's a noble failure at worst."