Flora G. Staff Picks
Think E.B. White, John Irving, and maybe even Bridget Jones. The Folded Clock is biting, self-aware, stubborn, and refreshingly un-fluffy for a diary-of-sorts. I wish as a sequel she would publish the diary she wrote as an eight-year old; how has nobody done that already? Keep an eye out for Flora: At Eight.
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Wolcott’s Wikipedia page lists him as a practicing Transcendental Meditator, but you wouldn’t know it from his zinging, resonant critical essays that in the course of a few years can applaud and then brutally strike down (see: Woody Allen). I appreciate his acknowledgement of the intellect behind all things media, and his ability to call out a phony when he sees one. None of the decades-old essays feel creaky with age; if anything they nostalgically remind us of the power that movies, books, and late-night talk show hosts have on a culture-hungry country.
I never would have guessed that a play about the internal happenings of a movie theater and its employees would so powerfully address the equally mundane and fantastic experience of going to work each day-- what one brings in with them, what they leave, and what they communicate to one another-- but now it seems so perfect. The Flick is funny and depressing, hopeful and quiet, and illustrates the everlasting importance of the game “Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon.”
An incredibly moving and musical biography and conversation with one of the most talented and important musicians of the twenty first century. Show the man some respect and read this!!