Stockard Channing: ‘I cried at the election of Joe Biden, thinking we were out of the woods. Wrong!’

The actor on being told she was no Ingrid Bergman, forgetting her lines on stage, and not caring about getting older Born in New York City, Stockard Channing, 82, played Rizzo in the 1978 film Grease. In 1985, she received a Tony for her performance in A Day in the Death of Joe Egg, and in 1994 was Oscar-nominated for her role in the film Six Degrees of Separation. She has three Emmys for her TV work, which includes The West Wing. She makes her directorial debut at the Edinburgh festival with Krapp’s Last Tape, in aid of the Wembley to Soweto Foundation, Upstairs at the Roxy until 31 August. Her latest film is Practical Magic 2. She lives in London. What is your greatest fear? Climate change. Continue reading... from Film | The Guardian https://ift.tt/tU3oZP1 via IFTTT

Last Tango in Paris at 50: Bertolucci’s controversial drama remains troubling

The Italian director’s knotty drama remains a provocation, a film filled with lyrical beauty but also repulsive cruelty

Revisiting films on the occasion of major anniversaries can be a disorienting reminder of time’s too-swift passage: that film is now 20/30/40 years old? How can that be? Why does it still feel so much younger than I do? In other cases, however, the film wears its advanced age in a way that makes complete sense, and so it is with Last Tango in Paris, released in cinemas in 1973. Now a half-century old, Bernardo Bertolucci’s lightning rod for scandal and debate has dated in many of the ways you might expect, but that’s not quite what I mean: at 50, the film’s age has now caught up with the overriding air of middle-aged despair and disarray that it always carried. In a sense, it was a film made to be forgotten, and then remembered with bittersweet, conflicted feelings, its significant beauty curdled over time.

Bring up Last Tango in Paris in cinephile circles today – especially those reckoning with the gender politics of the artform post-MeToo – and you won’t hear that many fond endorsements. When it’s brought up at all, the conversation swiftly narrows to its most notorious scene: the one where Marlon Brando’s Paul, a recently widowed American abroad, holed up in a desolately furnished Parisian apartment, forces himself on Maria Schneider’s Jeanne, a 20-year-old ingenue whose name he refuses to learn. Grabbing a dab of fridge-cold butter for lubrication, he anally rapes her.

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