I have lived through, and promptly forgotten, many an unmemorable day, but I distinctly remember my birthdays as if I were using up every bit of life.
On Sunday at The San Gabriel Mission Playhouse I saw a silent film that had an organ accompanist. Your probably wondering why I’m writing about it now? Because the humor hasn’t left me. Every time I tell someone about it the words don’t come out because I’m full of snorts, cackles and tears. So I’ll…
Florence Foster Jenkins I believed would be a barrel of laughs since it’s about a woman singing badly.
Although it’s based on a true story, it missed the mark. It feels like a 1940’s studio comedy- soon to be forgotten after you leave the theater.
It’s subject is an American amateur opera singer whose voice brought joy to millions in the depths of wartime, largely because she could turn even the most graceful coloratura soprano line into what could described as a screeching aria.
American Cinematique is an independent, cultural organization in Los Angeles dedicated exclusively to the public presentation of moving images.
Every May they hold a European film festival at the Egyptian Theatre that is sponsored by the Consulates.
It’s a great concept… one I wholeheartedly support but something has gone wrong.
On occasion I get emails from the Goethe Institute announcing a random drawing. Last week I received one of these asking that I select a lucky number from 1-100. Being the lucky winner, last night I attended the Newport Beach Film Festival.
This week with the start of spring, I celebrated the passage along with what would have been my father’s 91st birthday, with a film. I attended, Le Lycee Francais de Los Angeles in collaboration with the French Consulate’s and Alliance Francaise de Los Angeles, Film Festival.