I am writing in response to "Spanking The DFS," (Sept. 28, 1995) wherein Matt Nisbet uses his "Right From The Start" column as a springboard to personally attack me as the man who has single-handedly assaulted the values and morals of our institution with this term's "Sex In The Cinema" film series.
Dartmouth is finally excited about something, it seems, and his name is Bill Clinton. Who would have guessed that Clinton's arrival and the relocation of Commencement would have caused such an uproar, so much ill-will amongst the '95s? I can see their point though.
It's Tuesday.I wake up and smile as I realize hat this is the first time in my esteemed Dartmouth career that I don't have classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays.
My final cultural pursuit of the term was an entirely self-invented one. After eight weeks of preparation and practice in class, it was time to shoot my final project for my filmmaking class.
I went to see "Higher Learning" last Thursday, and it turned out to be a decision I'm still regretting.
Probably the most pleasant surprise in last week's Oscar nominations was the inclusion of the superb Polish director Krysztof Kieslowski in the Best Director category for his film "Red." Kieslowski has been making films for more than 20 years, but he has just begun to receive recognition outside of Europe, which is a shame because each of the five Kieslowski films I've seen is hugely impressive.
There's an unusual new movie playing in a handful of American cities right now called "Mrs. Parker and The Vicious Circle." It chronicles the lives of the writer Dorothy Parker and her intellectual circle of friends that comprised the famous Algonquin Circle -- a group that pretty much sat around in their hotel lounge and drank themselves silly.
I was convinced last week by a number of people that the best way to spend my Friday evening would be playing laser tag at Webster Hall. Upon consenting to the activity, a few things flashed through my mind.
This past Saturday I went to see "Spanking The Monkey," which as far as I can tell, is the first mainstream (relatively speaking) American film to deal with the subjects of masturbation and incest. The film is about an MIT student who is forced to give up his lucrative summer internship in order to stay home and take care of his bedridden mother.
Last week, I watched the classic Alfred Hitchcock movie "Notorious" for one of my classes. It's the one that features Cary Grant as a suave federal police officer who persuades Ingrid Bergman, the daughter of a convicted German spy, to infiltrate a Brazilian man's inner circle and uncover his role as a German agent. Okay, it's a bit of a hokey set-up, but the movie proves marvelous, and for reasons you might not expect.