Pauline Kael - Brian Kellow [138]
Her review, however, caused her unexpected difficulties with William Shawn. When he read her March 8, 1974, column while it was in production, he cornered her in The New Yorker offices. Terrence Malick was a Harvard friend of Shawn’s son, Wallace. Shawn said, “I guess you didn’t know that Terry is like a son to me.”
“Tough shit, Bill,” Pauline answered, as she prepared for her six-month layoff.
In June 1974 Pauline delivered the address at the 142nd commencement exercises of Wesleyan University. Over the past few years she had begun to amass a string of honorary doctoral degrees from various universities around the country. On June 18, 1972, Columbia College awarded her a Doctor of Arts and Letters, and on May 27, 1973, she gave the commencement address at Smith College, which also conferred an Honorary Doctorate of Letters upon her. On June 19, 1973, she gave a speech, “The Effects of Movies,” at the commencement exercises at Kalamazoo College, where she received a Doctorate of Humane Letters. While her opinions on the general state of academia hadn’t changed, she enjoyed speaking before graduating classes and getting a chance to mingle with the students.
A few months earlier, on April 18, 1974, Pauline received her most distinctive honor to date when Deeper into Movies received the National Book Award in the category of Arts and Letters. In addition to the citation, the award carried a cash prize of $1,000. Janet Flanner presented her with the award, praising her not only as a writer but as a New Yorker colleague, causing Pauline to hang her head humbly. In her acceptance speech, she said, “Movie criticism is a happy, frustrating, slightly mad job. You can’t help knowing how ridiculous you appear when you interpose your words between the public and the vast machinery of advertising and publicity. Often you know you’re going to be made to look a fool. And so I’m particularly grateful for this award, as a recognition for those of us who try to sort out what’s going on in the mass media, without getting swept up in the circus. Thank you.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Pauline’s life had never been as exhilarating as it was now. Her existence revolved around going to movies, talking about movies, lecturing on movies, being interviewed about movies. Not only had the National Book Award put an official seal on her status, but that year she also received the Front Page Award from the Newswomen’s Club of New York, for the Best Magazine Column of 1974. Once she had been described as one of America’s most important and influential film critics, but now, there were few other qualifiers. She had achieved what she had always craved—major stardom—and with stardom came power.
The National Society of Film Critics was her pet group, far more than the New York Film Critics Circle. While the NYFCC was populated with critics who had been established long before Pauline’s arrival in New York, the NSFC boasted a number of new members whose careers she had nurtured. “With her review of Last Tango, I think,” observed Howard Kissel, then the film reviewer for Women’s Wear Daily, “she began to sense that she did have a power. And I think she had this notion that if the critics had a cabal, they could be more powerful.” Several of her colleagues felt she was overestimating the force that a group such as the NSFC could wield. “I would say film critics have power when it comes to some little