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

American Graffiti at 50: a classic hangout comedy with a surprising melancholy

George Lucas’s 60s-set tale of California teens offers some freewheeling fun but also a lingering sadness

Ninety-nine times out of 100, the postscripts that get tucked in before the closing credits, telling us where the characters’ lives have gone from there, are totally unnecessary, especially in a fictional story where their fates are better left to the viewer’s imagination. But in George Lucas’s American Graffiti, which turns 50 this week, they are the most important part of the film, not least because two of the four characters don’t have much longer to live. We can feel that darkness lingering around the edges of Lucas’ dusk-till-dawn nostalgia piece about the last night of summer vacation in 1962 Modesto, California, even while its teenagers are getting into mostly light-hearted forms of trouble. This night has to end, and when the sun comes up, their entire world turns back into a pumpkin.

From the opening shot of Mel’s Drive-In, set to Bill Haley and His Comets’ Rock Around the Clock, American Graffiti seems to unfold inside a snow globe, an idealized past with invisible borders that separate it not only from the outside world, but from the future itself. It’s one of those films, like its spiritual successor Dazed and Confused, that has the quality of a hangout comedy, loose-limbed and goofily episodic, but laced with an air of melancholy that’s so subtle you miss it entirely. (That’s why the postscript is such a slap in the face.) It aches for a scene that had passed just a decade earlier, before the tumult of the Vietnam war and counter-culture, but must have seemed, even then, like ancient history.

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