Kind of like Groundhog Day, which I saw for the first time not too long ago. Has nothing to do with anything here, but what an excellent movie for a day in bed with the flu!
People Are Talking About . . . How amazing it is that people still are talking Jane Fonda - well, she is talking about herself. Ingmar Bergman, of course. Had a few searches for opera singer Giulietta Simionato. I think I am lucky to be able to feel the amazement of these connections through time and place. Someone from Swaziland visited recently. Had long conversation a while back with friend about hazards of Googling people you know. She felt it immoral and dangerous, citing Freud who wouldn't have gone near the Internet. I dug out Civilization and Its Discontents. The telephone bothered Freud. In the old days, if your friend went on a long journey, you would say good-bye and pretty much forget about him. But now there is the telephone. He could call. But he doesn't. What happened?
Stalling.
People Are Talking About . . "The Four Seasons, a newish restaurant where the food is almost as good as the sculpture -- a complicated extravaganza of shimmering wires by Richard Lippold and a strong cubist 'Guitarist' by the great sculptor, Jacques Lipchitz. . .
Amazingly enough, The Four Seasons is still around. It's not the hotel chain. It was astoundingly modern in 1959. Avant-garde. It would have paired very well with the Guggenheim.
Their website is lovely. I swiped this photo from nyjournal.squarespace.com.
Because, obviously, we didn't get there. I fully intended to drag someone to the bar with me, but it didn't happen. Instead we spent our drinking money at the Met, tramped through Central Park all day and had an excellent snowy picnic lunch from a quite superior halal truck. Spent a small fortune at a Momofuko Milk Bar, though, so we aren't entirely hopeless.
What's for dinner at in the Pool Room tonight? The bison sounds good. I can well remember when most of this would have been laughable, but now I am simply bemused at the change in what people accept for dinner. Friday night, meeting a friend for drinks and dinner, we decided against paying more than $30 at a fancy bar and grill for the evening special of turnip soup and roast goat - what would have been a menu from the apocalypse not too long ago. Down the street a new pasta place offered quail, squid and boar ragout for about $16 per entree. The boar was heavenly.
What a chatty post.
The Four Seasons opened in October in 1959 - just when this piece was going to print. Salient points from the Craig Claiborne review:
* The "pride and enthusiasm" of the waiters. No "Olympic detachment."
* Extensive, bewildering menu. See above! Mr. Claiborne couldn't even remember what he ate. Probably shell-shocked by the art, the trees, the pool, the friendly waiters.
* He did remember the beef stroganoff, prepared flaming at table side. I think that was a bit old-fashioned for an avant-garde restaurant, but sounds extremely appetizing.
*Fresh herbs in everything! Fresh! Herbs!
*Several kinds of fresh mushrooms!
But some very interesting criticisms:
* "In the opinion of this reviewer, it is vulgar to surcharge plates with food. The service of gross portions of edibles is a barbaric custom that is all too in American dining places. Judged on the basis of recent visits, The Four Seasons is no exception."
* Sauces were too sweet.
*Iceberg lettuce! Why is this permitted? "Oak leaf, cos salad, and Bibb lettuce are available in this area."
I am not entirely sure that this is the correct "Guitarist" by Lipchitz:
There is a Lippold sculpture not too far from me, inside the head-ache inducing Cathedral on Cathedral Hill in San Francisco.
Fifteen-stories high over the altar. Looks like a space ship in the photos. Field trip!
Let's go to the movies!
* On the day he receives a professional honor, an elderly doctor has stressful encounters with family members, picks up hitchhikers and has strange dreams.
* Beautiful, but kind of boring.
* Wonderful road trip car.
But this is not just any 1959 movie - People Are Talking About . . . "Ingmar Bergman, that dazzlingly good Swedish director with the power to elicit eccentric performances, whose 'Wild Strawberries' and 'The Magician' are dark teasers since they are obviously morality plays with no discernible moral; in 'The Magician a two-hundred-year-old witch. . ." Well, don't want to spoil it, because it's next up.
PATA is totally wrong about Wild Strawberries.
Next time: There is still a huge post left in this page, but the pix are in the other computer, so . . . we turn the page, and find The Sound of Music.
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