Aurelia Butler

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    A Beloved Comedian’s Film on Domestic Abuse Draws Italians, in Droves

    Paola Cortellesi’s directorial debut is kindling discussions about domestic violence and women’s rights. It’s also become one of Italy’s highest-grossing films.A movie centered on domestic abuse isn’t an obvious crowd-pleaser, even when directed by and starring one of Italy’s most popular performers.Yet exactly such a film, “C’è ancora domani” (“There’s Still Tomorrow”), the directorial debut from the comedian Paola Cortellesi, immediately shot to No. 1 at the national box office after opening in theaters in late October, and this week became one of the country’s 10 highest-grossing films ever.“Certainly, I’m surprised,” Cortellesi said during an interview in a bar in her leafy Rome neighborhood, though she added, “It’s a good film, and I am satisfied with what I did.” She attributed the movie’s widespread popularity to “having touched a raw nerve in the country.”The film — which manages to be both heart-wrenching and uplifting — arrived at a time when domestic violence, femicide and women’s rights have dominated public discourse since the death last month of a 22-year-old student, Giulia Cecchettin, in a case in which her former boyfriend is being investigated over her murder.“There’s Still Tomorrow” is set in 1946, in a Rome still struggling with poverty and the fallout from World War II. Cortellesi, 50, who co-wrote the screenplay, said she had been mulling over the film’s themes — disparity, domestic violence and women’s rights — “for a long time.”“I wanted to make a contemporary movie set in the past, because I think that unfortunately many things have remained the same,” Cortellesi said. “Naturally there have been advances, rights have changed, laws have changed, but not completely — that is, proportionately, not in the mentality.”The film captures the quotidian struggles of the protagonist, Delia, whose husband abuses her in a world where women’s roles are undervalued and their opinions scornfully ignored. It is loosely inspired by the tales Cortellesi’s grandmothers told her as a child about what it was like to be a woman during that time.Cortellesi, second from right, in a scene from “C’è ancora domani” (“There’s Still Tomorrow”).Claudio IannoneThe movie is in black and white — as the filmmaker said she always imagined her grandmothers’ old stories to be — a choice that is a deliberate nod to the neorealist film tradition that blossomed in Italy in the wake of World War II. Cinema buffs will also notice that for the first eight minutes the film is shot with a 4:3 aspect ratio, which dominated early cinema and television, but then the screen widens, as the opening credits roll to “Calvin,” a 1998 song by the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion.Chiara Tognolotti, a professor of History of Italian Cinema at the University of Pisa, noted that Cortellesi was following a common theme of early Italian cinema by portraying “women who try to change their existences, to overturn the typical script a woman was supposed to stick to.”The film explores the tension between the “patriarchal structure that informs Italian society” and a desire to recognize the importance of women’s societal role, “which in fact already exists,” but isn’t always acknowledged, Tognolotti said.Cortellesi attributed the movie’s unexpected widespread popularity to “having touched a raw nerve in the country.”Stephanie Gengotti for The New York TimesCortellesi has been entertaining Italian audiences for decades. She honed her writing and acting chops as a comedian on radio and television, where she used her talent for mimicry and an euphonious voice to impersonate famous singers — mostly Italian, but also Cher, Britney Spears and Jennifer Lopez.Her stage and television repertoire includes several monologues that use comedy to tackle difficult issues like chauvinism and domestic abuse.She began working in cinema alongside some of Italy’s most popular comics as well as leading men, winning a shelf-full of acting awards. When she started writing screenplays about a decade ago, her stories often focused on issues of social justice involving women, “maybe joking about them,” but also making a point, she said.Moving into the director’s chair felt like a natural progression: After writing several scripts that were made into films by others, she decided that she wanted to bring her vision to life in addition to her words. “I thought that maybe the time had come to tell my story in my way,” she said. Producers who had worked with Cortellesi in the past agreed and decided to back her. “It was the right time,” she said.They could also count on her appeal to audiences.“I think we shouldn’t undervalue Cortellesi’s star power,” said Tognolotti, the cinema history professor. “She’s very popular through television, through her films,” which “appeal to a vast public” through the variety of roles she has played. “That’s one of the reasons this film has been so successful.”The film, Cortellesi’s directorial debut, immediately shot to No. 1 at the Italian box office.Luisa CarcavaleBeyond the box office boom, “There’s Still Tomorrow” has taken off in other ways that Cortellesi could not have imagined.It was shown in the Italian Senate to mark the United Nations’ International Day for the Elimination of Violence Against Women on Nov. 25. That week, more than 55,000 teenage students watched the film at cinemas throughout Italy, followed by a live-streamed question-and-answer session with the director and some of the cast. And secondary-school teachers have written Cortellesi to say that they have brought their classes to see the film so that they could discuss the issues it raises.Elena Biaggioni, the vice president of D.i. Re, a national anti-violence network run by women’s organizations, said that by reaching large audiences, the film was contributing to nationwide cultural awareness about domestic violence, adding to efforts spearheaded by women’s groups, the news media and parliamentary commissions that have looked into femicide. “I hope it’s a propelling force,” Biaggioni said.Cortellesi said she hadn’t set out to make a propaganda film. But she wants Italy’s younger generations, including her daughter, who is 10, to know about the history of women’s rights in Italy. “She has to know that these rights have to be defended, and that they can be put at risk,” she said.She deliberately wrote the role of the abusive husband as a loser — “frightening, but also foolish, because he’s an idiot” — so that he wouldn’t be anyone whom young men might look up to. “There couldn’t be even the slightest risk that boys would want to emulate him,” she said. “When they see him, they have to say, ‘I want to be anything but,’ because he has no appeal.”In the immediate future, Cortellesi is touring with the film, in Italy and elsewhere in Europe. “I want it to have a long life,” she said.She has also found that she has a taste for directing. “I’m not giving it up,” she said. More

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    ‘The Curse’ Makes for Some of the Creepiest Horror of the Year

    “The Curse” has been described as cringe, but look closely and you’ll see it plays with the classic tropes of horror like jump scares.There’s telling a bad joke. There’s bombing. And then there’s what happens to Nathan Fielder’s character, Asher Siegel, at the end of the fourth episode of “The Curse,” near the halfway point of a series that goes to disorienting extremes.Siegel and his wife, Whitney (Emma Stone, in a remarkable comic performance), are making an HGTV show about eco-friendly renovations. After a focus group takes issue with Asher’s sense of humor in the show’s pilot, he finds himself in a comedy class where an instructor assigns an exercise: Get laughs without saying a word.In the episode, which premiered last weekend on Showtime and Paramount+, the camera swirls around a circle of students mugging for chuckles until it focuses on Asher, looking nervous in anticipation of his turn. You feel for him. In his finest performance to date, Fielder plays a guy who prides himself on being funny but deep down has doubts. Suddenly, in a quick flourish, he grabs his ears and flaps them while emitting a piercing squeak that could be described as unholy. No one laughs. But this face is more than unfunny. It’s unsettling, almost feral, working like a jump scare more than a punchline. It’s a gesture gone so wrong, it’s destined to become a meme.The year began with hit movies like “M3gan” and “Cocaine Bear” that pushed horror into camp comedy. It’s ending with a nervy television series that moves in reverse. It’s been called cringe comedy, and there are funny moments, but they set up something darker and dread-filled, potentially supernatural. Fielder has always toyed with genre, elevating prank comedy and using reality television to make unexpectedly moving drama. He’s leaning on the tools of horror here. With “The Curse,” the jangly sound design, manipulative cinematography and periodic bursts of oddball monstrousness offer a few of the creepiest moments of the year.While the plot is involved, with several threads, its engine is a classic horror trope: Is this supernatural-seeming thing of the title for real?Action commonly takes place through windows in “The Curse.”John Paul Lopez/A24, Paramount+ and Showtime“Rosemary’s Baby” and “Get Out,” among other movies, both invite the viewer to ask this question along with their paranoid protagonists.Asher possibly enters the realm of the fantastical after balking at the criticism that his plan to “consciously rejuvenate distressed homes” is gentrification. “We don’t believe the G word has to be a game of winners and losers,” he tells a journalist. Rattled by this exchange and concerned about his image, he summons his camera crew to film his giving a $100 bill to a small Black girl. Then when the camera stops rolling, he asks for it back. She responds by saying she is putting a curse on him, which he initially brushes off but gradually becomes obsessed with. Whether Asher is actually cursed hovers over the entire 10 episodes until a twist in the final episode that should polarize the audience.In “Psycho,” Alfred Hitchcock proves that the easiest way to make us empathize with a killer is to keep the camera on him. Even when Norman Bates is trying to cover up a murder, audience members will eventually, if managed right, find themselves gravitating to his side. Fielder has always been preoccupied with this emotional power, the distorting impact of the camera, not only on its subjects but on viewers, too. It’s easy to sympathize with Asher’s struggles as he navigates a skeptical press, his troubled new marriage and a bullying father-in-law as well as his craven producer, played by Benny Safdie. “The Curse” keeps complicating this identification, subverting and questioning it.In Episode 3, Asher’s stern face is cast in a shadow at an auction as he buys a home he didn’t realize is housing the girl who cursed him. A scene in which he uses a drill to open her door is played for terror, focused on her cowering inside. The rumbling power tool and the fear on her face cast this as a classic home invasion scene with Asher as the terrifying intruder. His stated good intentions are repeatedly mocked in the ominous way his scenes are shot.This draws attention to the Siegels as privileged outsiders casually entering and destroying a new neighborhood in the guise of liberal do-gooder assistance. The focus doesn’t just hit the theme of gentrification, but also, in a subplot involving an Indigenous artist, the genocide and exploitation that built this country.Fielder in “The Curse.” By filming frequently from outside windows and doors, the show creates an alienating effect, as if we’re only seeing part of the picture.Richard Foreman Jr./A24, Paramount+ and ShowtimeIt’s heavy stuff but not always on the surface. “The Curse” has many long, mundane set pieces that double as metaphors. Take the physical comedy of Asher helping Whitney to take off her sweater as they fall over each other. They try to recreate the funny moment for the cameras. But it doesn’t work, so they try again, emphasizing more strain and resistance. It’s a sharp satire of how people fake struggle for clout and approval.The show is full of goofy humor about tragic subjects, a cartoon about oppression, a Holocaust joke. The main plot is just the old story of vain fools trying to make a show, but grim subtext comes through in the formal qualities of the show.For instance, shots are commonly filmed through a window from the outside looking in. Instead of bringing us into a vehicle where Fielder and Stone are talking, the camera is placed beyond the closed car window, in traffic. Most of a scene in a hospital room is viewed through the door or window. So much of “The Curse” takes place outside planes of glass that the mirrored glare is a signature of its aesthetic.This has an alienating effect, giving the sense that we’re only seeing part of the picture, a distorted one at that. But there’s also something creepily voyeuristic about the shot, a cool detachment, the sense that everyone is under a microscope. It evokes the most famous shot in all of horror: The classic slasher point of view, used most famously in “Halloween,” where we share the perspective of the serial killer looking through a home’s window.But there’s something about a peeping-tom perspective that adds authenticity. It comes off as less staged and slick than most television and thus more real. Does that make it more fake or less? Fielder has always loved exploring this question. “The Curse,” his most scripted show yet, is continually shifting between comedy and horror as well as naturalism and the fantastical. The lines are much blurrier than we think, but on this show, that’s where the action is.After his monstrous face in class, Asher looks humiliated. But also taken aback, as if he revealed more than he wanted or knew was there. More

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    The Creepiest Moment Onscreen This Year Occurred in a Comedy

    “The Curse” has been described as cringe, but look closely and you’ll see it plays with the classic tropes of horror like jump scares.There’s telling a bad joke. There’s bombing. And then there’s what happens to Nathan Fielder’s character, Asher Siegel, at the end of the fourth episode of “The Curse,” near the halfway point of a series that goes to disorienting extremes.Siegel and his wife, Whitney (Emma Stone, in a remarkable comic performance), are making an HGTV show about eco-friendly renovations. After a focus group takes issue with Asher’s sense of humor in the show’s pilot, he finds himself in a comedy class where an instructor assigns an exercise: Get laughs without saying a word.In the episode, which premiered last weekend on Showtime and Paramount+, the camera swirls around a circle of students mugging for chuckles until it focuses on Asher, looking nervous in anticipation of his turn. You feel for him. In his finest performance to date, Fielder plays a guy who prides himself on being funny but deep down has doubts. Suddenly, in a quick flourish, he grabs his ears and flaps them while emitting a piercing squeak that could be described as unholy. No one laughs. But this face is more than unfunny. It’s unsettling, almost feral, working like a jump scare more than a punchline. It’s a gesture gone so wrong, it’s destined to become a meme.The year began with hit movies like “M3gan” and “Cocaine Bear” that pushed horror into camp comedy. It’s ending with a nervy television series that moves in reverse. It’s been called cringe comedy, and there are funny moments, but they set up something darker and dread-filled, potentially supernatural. Fielder has always toyed with genre, elevating prank comedy and using reality television to make unexpectedly moving drama. He’s leaning on the tools of horror here. With “The Curse,” the jangly sound design, manipulative cinematography and periodic bursts of oddball monstrousness offer a few of the creepiest moments of the year.While the plot is involved, with several threads, its engine is a classic horror trope: Is this supernatural-seeming thing of the title for real?Action commonly takes place through windows in “The Curse.”John Paul Lopez/A24, Paramount+ and Showtime“Rosemary’s Baby” and “Get Out,” among other movies, both invite the viewer to ask this question along with their paranoid protagonists.Asher possibly enters the realm of the fantastical after balking at the criticism that his plan to “consciously rejuvenate distressed homes” is gentrification. “We don’t believe the G word has to be a game of winners and losers,” he tells a journalist. Rattled by this exchange and concerned about his image, he summons his camera crew to film his giving a $100 bill to a small Black girl. Then when the camera stops rolling, he asks for it back. She responds by saying she is putting a curse on him, which he initially brushes off but gradually becomes obsessed with. Whether Asher is actually cursed hovers over the entire 10 episodes until a twist in the final episode that should polarize the audience.In “Psycho,” Alfred Hitchcock proves that the easiest way to make us empathize with a killer is to keep the camera on him. Even when Norman Bates is trying to cover up a murder, audience members will eventually, if managed right, find themselves gravitating to his side. Fielder has always been preoccupied with this emotional power, the distorting impact of the camera, not only on its subjects but on viewers, too. It’s easy to sympathize with Asher’s struggles as he navigates a skeptical press, his troubled new marriage and a bullying father-in-law as well as his craven producer, played by Benny Safdie. “The Curse” keeps complicating this identification, subverting and questioning it.In Episode 3, Asher’s stern face is cast in a shadow at an auction as he buys a home he didn’t realize is housing the girl who cursed him. A scene in which he uses a drill to open her door is played for terror, focused on her cowering inside. The rumbling power tool and the fear on her face cast this as a classic home invasion scene with Asher as the terrifying intruder. His stated good intentions are repeatedly mocked in the ominous way his scenes are shot.This draws attention to the Siegels as privileged outsiders casually entering and destroying a new neighborhood in the guise of liberal do-gooder assistance. The focus doesn’t just hit the theme of gentrification, but also, in a subplot involving an Indigenous artist, the genocide and exploitation that built this country.Fielder in “The Curse.” By filming frequently from outside windows and doors, the show creates an alienating effect, as if we’re only seeing part of the picture.Richard Foreman Jr./A24, Paramount+ and ShowtimeIt’s heavy stuff but not always on the surface. “The Curse” has many long, mundane set pieces that double as metaphors. Take the physical comedy of Asher helping Whitney to take off her sweater as they fall over each other. They try to recreate the funny moment for the cameras. But it doesn’t work, so they try again, emphasizing more strain and resistance. It’s a sharp satire of how people fake struggle for clout and approval.The show is full of goofy humor about tragic subjects, a cartoon about oppression, a Holocaust joke. The main plot is just the old story of vain fools trying to make a show, but grim subtext comes through in the formal qualities of the show.For instance, shots are commonly filmed through a window from the outside looking in. Instead of bringing us into a vehicle where Fielder and Stone are talking, the camera is placed beyond the closed car window, in traffic. Most of a scene in a hospital room is viewed through the door or window. So much of “The Curse” takes place outside planes of glass that the mirrored glare is a signature of its aesthetic.This has an alienating effect, giving the sense that we’re only seeing part of the picture, a distorted one at that. But there’s also something creepily voyeuristic about the shot, a cool detachment, the sense that everyone is under a microscope. It evokes the most famous shot in all of horror: The classic slasher point of view, used most famously in “Halloween,” where we share the perspective of the serial killer looking through a home’s window.But there’s something about a peeping-tom perspective that adds authenticity. It comes off as less staged and slick than most television and thus more real. Does that make it more fake or less? Fielder has always loved exploring this question. “The Curse,” his most scripted show yet, is continually shifting between comedy and horror as well as naturalism and the fantastical. The lines are much blurrier than we think, but on this show, that’s where the action is.After his monstrous face in class, Asher looks humiliated. But also taken aback, as if he revealed more than he wanted or knew was there. More

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    How Sexyy Red’s ‘SkeeYee’ Seized Sports in 2023

    After Sexyy Red released the hit single “SkeeYee” in June, the song quickly spread to practices, locker rooms and stadiums.The rapper Sexyy Red had the best year of her budding career in 2023, earning a spot on Drake’s newest album, concluding a 20-city tour and releasing her popular mixtape, “Hood Hottest Princess.”One of the mixtape’s songs, “SkeeYee,” quickly spread on social media after its release in June. Titled after a phrase the rapper described as a form of catcalling or flirting, the sexually explicit “SkeeYee” ranked No. 1 on the inaugural TikTok Billboard Top 50 chart.Professional and collegiate athletes were among the fans, and the song quickly became a presence in locker rooms, in stadiums and on teams’ official social media channels.Several athletes said they most enjoyed the song’s fast-paced, energetic beat, which was created by the prominent rap producer Tay Keith. But they also pointed to the tone in which Sexyy Redd delivers lyrics like “If you see me and you tryna see what’s up.”“It’s like an anthem at this point,” said Lonnie Walker IV, who plays basketball for the Brooklyn Nets. “It really uplifts people and gets people excited. It gives you a little bit of confidence, a little bit of swagger when she’s talking her stuff.”As the year comes to a close, The New York Times retraced some key moments to show how the song took over the sports world.Securing a Prime Television spot‘It Was Just Good Vibes’Several weeks before heading to the New York Jets’ training camp, linebacker Quincy Williams and running back Michael Carter were driving around Miami when Carter played “SkeeYee” on the vehicle’s stereo.“As I was listening to it, at first I was like, ‘I don’t know,’ but as we kept listening, I was like, ‘OK, that is kind of catchy,’” Williams said.When they returned to New Jersey, the song bubbled in the locker room. Carter said it helped the team bond amid the hot summer days and intense N.F.L. practices.“We were always with each other — there’s no girls around — so it was just good vibes and the guys,” said Carter, who now plays for the Arizona Cardinals. “It was a song that everyone knew the words to.”The fervor among the Jets led to a notable appearance for “SkeeYee” on “Hard Knocks,” the annual series by NFL Films and HBO that follows a team through training camp. The scene shows players and coaches dancing, nodding and voicing their approval on the practice field as the song blares over speakers.New York Jets players reveled in “SkeeYee” on HBO’s “Hard Knocks.”HBOJon Blak, the team’s D.J., said that he had played the song only about twice a week to prevent it from becoming stale, and that camera crews captured the 75-second sequence across several days. But each time the song blasted, the players reacted positively, Blak said.“It was so convincing that obviously the players loved it, and it was like a call to action,” Blak added.Infiltrating Athlete celebrations‘Catching Its Wave’As the scene from “Hard Knocks” hit social media, the song’s reach swelled. Williams said his Miami friends joked that they should receive credit for its increasing popularity.Sexyy Red attended the Jets’ home opener against the Buffalo Bills on Sept. 11 and took pictures with players before the game, a tight contest in which Bills receiver Stefon Diggs used the song’s lyrics during a touchdown celebration.A few weeks later, the rapper made a similar appearance ahead of Penn State football’s annual “White Out” game.As the song’s popularity grew, it appeared in more venues. The Baltimore Orioles played it in the locker room after winning their Major League Baseball division on Sept. 28. Two days later, so did the Ole Miss college football team after an important win.By Oct. 7, the Ultimate Fighting Championship fighter Bobby Green was using “SkeeYee” as his entrance song for a fight in Las Vegas.“It’s in the streets, I felt like it was the newest thing out right now,” said Green, who was introduced to the song by one of his sponsors. “I could see it catching its wave.”Athletes have responded similarly to trending music in the past: In 2016, many professional and college teams completed the “Mannequin Challenge,” standing still for about 30 seconds until the chorus of “Black Beatles” by the rap duo Rae Sremmurd began. In 2013, there was the “Harlem Shake Challenge.”Flourishing on Social Media‘Show Them How We Rock’As athletes embraced “SkeeYee,” so did their teams, which pounced at the opportunity to leverage the trend.Ahead of the N.B.A.’s annual Media Day on Oct. 2, the social team for the Brooklyn Nets discussed ways to market its players as they underwent a daylong gantlet of photo shoots and interviews. It planned to tape a staff member reciting part of a “SkeeYee” lyric and see if each player could finish it.Brooklyn Nets players were asked to finish the lyrics of Sexyy Red’s summer hit.Brooklyn NetsThe video received over two million views on Instagram.“I think the opportunity to reach potential new fans really comes through cultural crossover,” said Alessandro Gasparro, the senior director of content for BSE Global, the Nets’ parent company. “Getting stuff like this really helps humanize our players.”A week after, a fan edited a video of the World Wrestling Entertainment star Joshua Fatu, known as Jey Uso, conducting the crowd at an event. The fan had superimposed “SkeeYee” over the video’s original audio.Sexyy Red noticed and posted on social media that she would like to be invited to a W.W.E. event. Fatu responded: “Hell yea u invited!! Special guest!!”The invitation still stands.“If she’s making noise, good or bad, I’m all for it — she’s more than welcome,” Fatu said. “If we can bring the outside people in and show them how we rock, why not bring the music business here?” More

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    Colette Maze, Pianist Who Started Recording in Her 80s, Dies at 109

    Born before the outbreak of World War I, she began making albums in the 1990s. She released her latest, “109 Ans de Piano,” this year.When the French composer Claude Debussy died at his home in Paris in 1918, he probably had no idea that one of his youngest fans lived just a few blocks away. Colette Saulnier, not yet 4, was already learning the rudiments of music, and even at that age she was drawn to the work of her famous neighbor.“I love these climates where you have to create an atmosphere, a daydream,” Colette Maze, as she later became known, said in a 2021 interview with the website Pianote. “I’m connected with Debussy because he corresponds to my deepest sensibility.”Mrs. Maze would go on to become an accomplished pianist and teacher. But it was only in the late 1990s, when she was over 80, that her son persuaded her to begin recording commercially.What followed was one of the most surprising second acts in classical music history: seven albums, largely but not exclusively the music of Debussy, and a fan base drawn as much to Mrs. Maze’s exquisite finger work as to her sheer, irrepressible joy, which shone through in interviews with French television and in videos posted to her Facebook page.“As soon as I get up, I start playing the piano to connect with the forces of life,” she told Pianote. “It’s a habit. It’s always been that way. I don’t need to motivate myself, it’s natural. It’s like an automatic function.”Mrs. Maze, who was widely considered the world’s oldest recording pianist, died on Nov. 19 in the same Paris apartment where she had lived since she was 18, with views of the Eiffel Tower and the Seine River. She was 109. Her son, Fabrice Maze, confirmed the death.Mrs. Maze at age 18. She studied under Alfred Cortot and Nadia Boulanger.via Maze familyColette Claire Saulnier was born in Paris on June 16, 1914, a month before the beginning of World War I. Her father, Léon Saulnier, managed a fertilizer factory, and her mother, Denise (Piollet) Saulnier, was a homemaker.She grew up surrounded by music. Her mother, who played violin, and her maternal grandmother, who played piano, gave concerts in the Saulnier home, and chords wafted in from a piano-playing neighbor. By 4 she was learning to play.She aspired to be a concert pianist, but her parents — who were strict and, according to her, miserly with their love — disapproved. When she applied to the performance track at the École Normale de Musique, a new conservatory founded by Alfred Cortot, her parents refused to let her stay home alone to practice for her audition.Her score wasn’t quite high enough, but she still qualified for the teaching track. She studied under Mr. Cortot and Nadia Boulanger, who tutored some of the 20th century’s greatest musicians, including Daniel Barenboim, Virgil Thomson and Philip Glass.Mrs. Maze later credited the Cortot method of playing, with its emphasis on relaxation, for her ability to continue at the piano without suffering the sort of joint stiffening that can strike older pianists.“If I still play at my age, it is because the teaching of Alfred Cortot and Nadia Boulanger was very flexible and based on improvisation,” she said in a 2018 interview with the newspaper Le Parisien. “He told us that our hand was a diamond at the end of a silk stocking.”After graduating in 1934, she stayed at the conservatory to teach. When the Germans invaded in 1940, she and a friend fled on bicycles to the deep south of France, where they remained until the end of World War II.Back in Paris, she had a relationship with a married man, Hubert Dumas, with whom she had a son, Fabrice. But Mr. Dumas left her in 1952.She married Emile Maze, another musician, in 1958. He died in 1974. Along with her son, she is survived by two grandchildren and three great-grandchildren.Even after she retired from teaching in 1984, Mrs. Maze continued to play four hours or more a day. Her son later began encouraging her to record an album, to capture both her talents and the influence of Mr. Cortot’s unique methods.Her first album, a recording of Debussy’s preludes, was released in 2004, the year she turned 90. Three more albums of Debussy followed, as well as three others featuring music from different composers: “104 Years of Piano” (2018), “105 Years of Piano” (2019) and “109 Years of Piano” (2023).As her discography grew, so did public curiosity, which turned into acclaim as critics praised her technique and her supple interpretations of not just Debussy but also Robert Schumann and Erik Satie, as well as more modern composers like Astor Piazzolla and Ryuichi Sakamoto.She found even more fame in 2020, when she took to Facebook to share daily comments of good cheer during the darkest days of the pandemic. As restrictions eased, fans streamed to her home, coming from as far as Japan to ask for a brief lesson.“I always preferred composers who gave me tenderness,” she told NPR in 2021. “Music is an affective language, a poetic language. In music there is everything — nature, emotion, love, revolt, dreams; it’s like a spiritual food.” More

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    Jane Wodening, Experimental Film Star and Intrepid Writer, Dies at 87

    For 30 years she collaborated with the filmmaker Stan Brakhage, her husband, often appearing on camera. After they divorced, she lived off the grid and wrote about her life.Jane Wodening, the longtime collaborator and wife of Stan Brakhage, the avant-garde filmmaker, who flourished as an author after their divorce, writing stories about her years living on the road and then alone in a mountain shack, died on Nov. 17 at her home in Denver. She was 87.The cause was cardiac arrest, said her daughter, Crystal Brakhage.Mr. Brakhage, who died in 2003, was among the most influential experimental filmmakers of the 20th century, though his work could be considered an acquired taste. He made hundreds of movies, most of them silent, that were deeply personal, sometimes elegiac and very beautiful, though they dispensed with any recognizable narrative, often veering into complete abstraction.For three decades, starting in the 1960s, he and Ms. Wodening (pronounced WOE-den-ing) lived a spartan life in a century-old cabin in a ghost town in the Rocky Mountains called Lump Gulch, sharing it with their five children and many animals, including a donkey and a pigeon named Fanny.It was this world that Mr. Brakhage captured in his idiosyncratic, inscrutable way, in what the film critic J. Hoberman, writing in The Village Voice, described as “home movies raised to the zillionth power — silent and rhythmic, based on an invented language of percussive shifts in exposure or focus, multiple superimpositions, refracted light, and staccato camera moves.”Ms. Wodening was the star of many of them. He filmed her delivering their first child in a bathtub in “Window Water Baby Moving” (1959), a startlingly lovely work that is considered one of his masterpieces. “Wedlock House: An Intercourse” (1959) is a kind of short horror film, with flickering images of the couple having sex interspersed with flickering shots of them having an argument.The work didn’t sit well with feminists, who accused Mr. Brakhage of objectifying his wife. But Ms. Wodening didn’t see herself that way.“Jane was committed to the filmmaking and the artistic enterprise,” said John Powers, who is an assistant professor of film and media studies at Washington University in St. Louis and working on a biography of Mr. Brakhage. “Stan felt he was in service to the muse,” he added, in a phone interview, “and she considered herself a loyal supporter of that muse, and the muse needed help.”A lot of help. Ms. Wodening offered ideas, critiques and camera and sound assistance, along with running the day-to-day business that was “Stan Brakhage.” He signed his work “By Brakhage,” which he always said meant the two of them.Ms. Wodening with Stan Brakhage, her former husband and collaborator. Often the star of his experimental short films, she also offered critiques and camera assistance, and helped run the day-to-day business.Jason Walz/Uncommonbindery, via Granary Books, incBut Mr. Brakhage, never totally faithful, left Ms. Wodening for another woman, and in 1987 the couple divorced. The children had left home, the cabin was sold, as were the animals, and Ms. Wodening took off in a bright yellow Honda Civic kitted out so that she could live in it. (The back seat was removed, among other interventions.)For three years she spent months at a time on the road, touring the country, camping in arroyos, mountain trails and friends’ driveways, even working for a spell as a tour guide at an archaeological site near Barstow, Calif., in the Mojave Desert.“Driveabout,” a 2016 account of that time from Sockwood Press, one of the small presses that has published her work over the years, is charming, funny and often quite profound, like Thoreau but spiced with mild profanity and more drama, as Ms. Wodening faced perils as a single woman sleeping in truck stops, camping near sketchy characters and nursing an old friend through delirium tremens.In this and other works, she came into her own. Her voice was as engaging and charming as her ex-husband’s was abstruse and highfalutin. Steve Clay, a founder of Granary Books in New York City, a small publishing house that is devoted to poetry and art books and that has put out works by Ms. Wodening, recalled his expectation that the wife of Stan Brakhage would be more “formally experimental” in her writing. “Instead, it was sort of folksy and straightforward,” he wrote in an email.To film buffs, however, Ms. Wodening remained a mythic figure — an “Enigmatic Character in Film History” as one radio program described her in a headline.“Driveabout” (2016) chronicled the years Ms. Wodening spent living out of her car and on the road after her divorce from Mr. Brakhage in 1987.via Sockwood PressShe was born Mary Jane Collom on Sept. 7, 1936, in Chicago, and grew up in Fraser, Colo., a small town in the Rockies about 70 miles northwest of Denver. Her parents, Harry and Margaret (Jack) Collom, were teachers at the local school, where Harry was also the principal.Jane was a shy child who preferred the company of animals, especially dogs. (She wrote that she spoke canine sooner than proper English.) She worked in an animal hospital and enrolled at Colorado State University, in Fort Collins, thinking she would study to be a vet, before dropping out.When she met Mr. Brakhage, “we were adolescent wrecks,” she told an audience a few years ago at Los Angeles Filmforum, a showcase for experimental movies. They married in 1957; she was 21 and he was 24, and “it was quite a relief for both of us.”She recalled her first foray into his films, shortly after their marriage, when he declared: “You should take your clothes off, and we should make a film about having sex.” She balked at first — “I’m not that kind of girl!” — but he said, “I’m an artist, and an artist has to have a nude.” She thought about all the great nudes of history — from Raphael to Duchamp — and told herself, “‘I have an opportunity to join a group of people I quite admire,’ so I stripped and went to it.”For most of her adult life, she was Jane Brakhage. When she returned from her car travels, transformed, she changed her name. She settled on Wodening, meaning child of Woden, the Anglo-Saxon god; since her family lineage stretched back to the early Britons, it felt somehow appropriate, she said. And she bought property near Eldora, Colo., about 20 miles west of Boulder, a mountainous site where she lived in a Hobbit-like shack with no electricity or running water — but thousands of books and a typewriter — living a hermit’s life for the better part of a decade.It agreed with her.When her family worried about communicating with her in an emergency, she became a ham radio operator, learning morse code to do so, and found community among other hammers, as they called themselves, who were mostly men and introverts like herself. Her call sign ended with the letters HPH, to which she gave the phonetics “Hermits Prefer Hills.”“To become a hermit and at the same time to become popular was not only paradoxical,” she wrote in “Living Up There,” her memoir of her years in the mountains, “it was a tremendous delight.”Ms. Wodening was the author of 14 books, including “Wolf Dictionary,” about how wolves communicate with one another. She had a loyal following and small but steady sales.Toward the end of her decade at Fourth of July Canyon, as her mountain home was known, she connected with another hammer, Carlos Seegmiller, a computer programmer. He lured her back to civilization (and helped her trade her typewriter for a computer). They lived together in Denver until his death in 2008.In addition to her daughter, Crystal, Ms. Wodening is survived by her daughters Myrrena Schwegmann and Neowyn Bartek; her sons, Bearthm and Rarc Brakhage; 14 grandchildren; and six great-grandchildren.At her death, Ms. Wodening was working on a history of the world starting with the Big Bang. More

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    Review: Philharmonic Debuts Back Flashiness With Substance

    In an evening built to entertain, there was also depth in Andrés Orozco-Estrada’s conducting and the cellist Edgar Moreau’s playing.There’s often a bias against the idea of flashiness, especially in classical music circles, as if it must always be preceded by the word “empty.”But not on Wednesday at David Geffen Hall, where the conductor Andrés Orozco-Estrada and the cellist Edgar Moreau were making their New York Philharmonic debuts. If anything, the word that accompanied their kind of flashiness was “fun.”By offering plenty of buoyancy — and largely skirting grave weight — the programming communicated this conductor’s zealous pursuit of entertainment. It ran from a rousing take on Tchaikovsky’s “Romeo and Juliet” Overture-Fantasy to a graceful (and yes, occasionally flashy) Haydn Cello Concerto No. 1, then, after intermission, a truly aggressive reading of Bartok’s “Miraculous Mandarin” Suite and a boisterous finale in Enescu’s Romanian Rhapsody No. 1.That’s an evening built to dazzle and entertain. But there was substance as well. From the outset of Tchaikovsky’s crowd-pleaser, Orozco-Estrada had the Philharmonic players in fine balance: Plucked strings had presence; entrances of flute or harp came across clearly; a roll of percussion heightened tension without calling too much early attention to itself.We are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber?  More

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    ‘Oppenheimer’ Will Be Released in Japan After Earlier Backlash

    Critics said the film’s cross-promotion with “Barbie” trivialized the U.S. nuclear attacks on Japan during World War II, but the biopic will be released in 2024.The box office blockbuster “Oppenheimer” will be released in Japan in 2024, a local distributor announced on Thursday, quashing speculation over the film’s rollout there following criticism of its promotion online.Bitters End, a Japanese film distributor, did not give an exact date for the Universal Pictures film’s opening in Japan, but said it would happen next year.The simultaneous release this summer of “Oppenheimer,” the brooding biopic about the creation of the atomic bomb, and “Barbie,” a fantastic-plastic tale of a doll’s awakening, was a discordant mash-up that delighted film fans. The “Barbenheimer” moment generated fan-made merchandise, memes and plentiful cross-promotion of the two features.But many in Japan took offense, with critics saying that the Barbenheimer meme trivialized the horrors of the U.S. military’s nuclear attacks, which killed hundreds of thousands of mostly civilians in Hiroshima and Nagasaki. The hashtag #NoBarbenheimer spread widely on social media, and some vowed to boycott watching “Barbie,” which was released in Japan in August.The backlash even spurred conflict among the films’ distributors after the official “Barbie” movie account on social media responded playfully to fan-made Barbenheimer creations — including a photoshopped image of a Barbie with an atomic bomb bouffant.In an unusual rebuke, a Japanese subsidiary of Warner Bros called the headquarters’ endorsement of the meme “highly regrettable.” Warner Bros. later apologized for “insensitive social media” engagement and deleted its responses to the memes.The decision to release “Oppenheimer” in Japan came after “various discussions and considerations,” Bitters End said in a statement on Thursday, according to local media. The distributor said that it was aware that the film’s “subject matter has a very important and special meaning for us Japanese people,” and said it believed that the film should be seen in cinemas. Bitters End did not immediately respond to a request for comment.Foreign films are often released in Japan far later than their initial distribution, sometimes by years, but when its promoters there did not initially set a release date, the marketing backlash caused speculation over “Oppenheimer” not being released at all. It has grossed nearly $1 billion in box office sales worldwide.“Barbie,” the top-grossing Warner. Bros. film of all time at nearly $1.5 billion, debuted in Japan just weeks after its initial release. But its reception in Japanese theaters was modest, and some local commentators speculated that the Barbenheimer controversy had cast a shadow on the film. More