This one has a beautiful bird who neither sows or reaps or writes grants or makes granola or handles HR or IT. She’s openly vulnerable, glorious, somehow protecting or maybe just celebrating the lovers in their red refuge. (Egg? or nest? or—I know I read things into Chagall in part because he was a refugee. I’m taking it as that place of creative safety that so many refugees, and all of us who resonate with their experience, long for in our souls.)
Read MoreYou don’t need to tell me that it’s a bad habit. I can’t help it: I climb in bed, half-planning to go to sleep, but then plug in my earbuds, and end up watching a Netscape movie on my iphone. This week it was Kiarostami’s Certified Copy (about as awful a title as Abbas Kiarostami is a wonderful name; and bravo to Netflicks for actually making some interesting stuff available for streaming, although who are the jerks that gave it 3.5 stars?--Juliette Binoche deserves at least that just for being Juliette Binoche). This is a little film. No crashes. No gunfights. Perfect for an iphone with earbuds in bed.
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