A few years ago, a dear friend left us too soon after succumbing to cancer. I resisted articulating my love and admiration to her as I witnessed an unseemly parade of tearful remembrances at her bedside. I know now that it was a mistake not to have found a way to convey to her how her art and being had influenced and inspired me. Recent news of your diagnosis, Mr. President, has reminded me of those regrets, so now I want to send my good wishes for your health, and tell you how much you have inspired and guided me. I cannot possibly convey the entire story in a thousand words, but here is one tiny thread.
Read MoreThere is much hoopla over Ava DuVernay's buzzed-about film Selma regarding historical "inaccuracies" in the portrayal of President Johnson. In a TIME magazine article, David Kaiser takes us through a narrative presupposing the president's intentions, while admitting, "LBJ never let anyone know what he planned to do until it was absolutely necessary." This seems an admission that the dramatized conversations in Selma that have become the subject of this debate are not out of place and are therefore free territory for the imaginations of a gifted filmmaker like DuVernay.
Read MoreKaren Black died last week and she was my unlikely friend.
I say so because all the conventional markers could not have predicted it. I am an atheist, a feminist and a film director and Karen was none of those things. I plan fastidiously with storyboards and shotlists in pursuit of the dramatic truth. Karen sought the same truth, but through jarringly different means.
Read MoreI sound like some old man on a little front porch, springing back and forth in a creaky old rocking chair, pontificating between bull’s-eyes in a spittoon when I begin a sentence with “When I was a kid...” In truth I’m disturbed by my feelings and observations, since I am still a relatively young mother of three, and the world is indeed in a precarious state. I am not blind to the rolling back eyes of my cheeky teenagers who try to escape the room when I begin to express my disgust with what I witness on the evening “news.” However, things being what they are, I find myself in allegiance with that decidedly homespun American image of wisdom on a porch. And much to my children’s chagrin, I begin many a sentence these days with – “When I was a kid...”
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