The career of French auteur Jean-Luc Godard can be viewed in stages: a celebrated debut with the Nouvelle Vague; a controversial, confrontational, Maoist phase; and an uncompromising, artistically vibrant period that runs into the present and finds the onetime enfant terrible of the press working far from the spotlight.
If you glanced at the bizarre image located near this text and were confused yet intrigued, Fischerspooner is accomplishing its mission. While its main purpose is to invigorate your body with shimmering Electronica, the band is also here to make you think outside the box. If you’ve gotten this far, you’re already deep into the rabbit hole to Fischerspooner’s fascinatingly synthetic world.
For some homeless people, “three hots, a cot and some assistance” won’t get them off the streets and into permanent housing, according to Pat Clifford, executive director of the Drop Inn Center. Cincinnatians understand that, and he believes that’s what really inspired the Homeless to Homes report produced by the Cincinnati/Hamilton County Continuum of Care for the Homeless.
As women, we have many responsibilities. We must maintain a sunny disposition to put others at ease, keep our make-up fresh and stay up on current events so we can keep up with our husbands in conversation. And we’re also being asked to work outside the home. How are we to do all of this and still entertain?
A piece of legendary television history, long considered lost but discovered and restored by the Archive of American Television, makes its DVD debut with its crackling, electrifying energy intact. Budd Schulberg wrote What Makes Sammy Run?, a portrait of venal and ignorant but desperately striving, hustling Hollywood studio boss Sammy Glick, way back in 1941.
While looking at the countless New Year’s Eve options Wednesday night and seeing the bloated cover charges, you may be thinking of a night at home with a case of Pabst Blue Ribbon and watching, uh, whoever counts down the ball-drop in Times Square these days (are they still propping Dick Clark up this year?).
Bitter cold. The air seemed to be made of sharp, solid metal, slicing through pants and shirtsleeves with tiny saw-like teeth that chewed at the skin. Hello goosebumps. Dressed in layers, I headed to Sharonville to teach my regular noon yoga class.