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Pauline Kael - Brian Kellow [246]

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177 “a viciously rigged game”: Ibid.

177 “If such a catastrophe has indeed occurred”: The Village Voice, December 20, 1971.

177 “a victory in which we share”: Kael, The New Yorker (January 1, 1971).

177 “symptomatic of a new attitude in movies”: Ibid.

177 “corrupt”: Ibid.

178 “At the movies”: Ibid.

178 “right-wing fantasy”: Kael, The New Yorker (January 15, 1972).

179 “falling to the water in an instant extended to eternity”: Kael, The New Yorker (January 29, 1972).

179 “take the façade of movie violence”: The New York Times, February 26, 1995.

179 “got so wound up in the aesthetics of violence”: Kael, The New Yorker (March 21, 1970).

179 “profoundly depressing”: Letter from Sam Peckinpah to Pauline Kael, May 22, 1970.

180 “You can’t make violence real to audiences today”: Kevin J. Hayes, Sam Peckinpah Interviews (Jackson: University of Mississippi Press, 2008), 102.

180 “The vision of Straw Dogs is narrow and puny”: Kael, The New Yorker (January 28, 1972).

180 “intuitions as a director are infinitely superior to his thinking”: Ibid.

180 “stale anti-intellectualism”: Ibid.

180 “one of the few truly erotic sequences in film”: Ibid.

180 “the punches that subdue the wife”: Ibid.

180 “The rape has heat to it”: Ibid.

180 “The thesis that man is irretrievably bad and corrupt is the essence of fascism”: The New York Times, January 2, 1972.

180 “What I am saying, I fear”: Kael, The New Yorker (January 29, 1972).

180 “Fascist, God how I hate that word”: Letter from Sam Peckinpah to Pauline Kael, February 21, 1973.

181 “Doesn’t Kael know anything about sex?”: Hayes, 100.

181 “Cabaret is a great movie musical”: Kael, The New Yorker (February 19, 1972).

181 “distinctive, acrid flavor—a taste of death on the tongue”: Ibid.

182 “The grotesque amorality in Cabaret is frightening”: Ibid.

182 “you can create a new organic whole”: Ibid.

182 “the best popular movies come out of a merger of commerce and art”: Kael, The New Yorker (March 18, 1972).

182 “tenaciously intelligent”: Ibid.

182 “mellowed in recent years”: Ibid.

183 “those old men who carry never-ending grudges”: Ibid.

183 “Organized crime is not a rejection of Americanism”: Ibid.

183 “one of the most intricately balanced moral dilemmas imaginable”: Kael, The New Yorker (March 25, 1972).

183 “Inexplicably”: Ibid.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

186 “improbable one”: Author interview with Erhard Dortmund, February 9, 2009.

186 “She would throw a little dart in”: Author interview with James Wolcott, August 3, 2010.

187 “Sometimes I would just sit there silent as a stone”: Author interview with James Morgenstern, May 8, 2009.

187 “She thought that the editorial department should be doing more”: Author interview with Hoyt Spelman, January 15, 2009.

187 “fossil”: Author interview with Joseph Morgenstern, May 8, 2009.

188 “Pauline was one of the women”: Author interview with Karen Durbin, January 12, 2010.

188 “that a Negro family can be as dreary as a white family”: “Trash, Art and the Movies”: Harper’s (February 1969).

188 “never pushes a moment too hard”: Pauline Kael, “The Current Cinema,” The New Yorker (September 30, 1972).

188 “the singular good fortune”: Ibid.

188 “to strive for classical plainness”: The New York Times, September 25, 1972.

188 “no resemblance whatsoever to reality as I observed it”: The New York Times, November 12, 1972.

188 “Are they available only for fantasies”: Life (October 20, 1972).

189 “heavy and glazed”: Kael, The New Yorker (November 4, 1972).

189 “Factually it’s a fraud, but emotionally it delivers”: Ibid.

189 “Pop music provides immediate emotional gratifications”: Ibid.

189 “want Billie Holiday’s hard, melancholic sound”: Ibid.

190 “Everything outside this place is bullshit”: Bernardo Bertolucci and Franco Arcalli, screenplay of Last Tango in Paris, 1972.

191 “our marriage was nothing more than a foxhole for you”: Ibid.

191 “Listen, you dumb dodo”: Ibid.

191 “drenched”: Author interview with George Malko, April 15, 2009.

191 “Bernardo Bertolucci’s Last Tango in Paris”: Kael, The New Yorker (October 28, 1972).

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