In this paperless age, I find that I need a letter opener. Just a simple blade with not too sharp of an edge.

A letter opener is precisely what you need to open a mailer from Netflix, to slice through the squeeze dot and snick open the perforated fold. A finger won't do, because you're sure to tear something you shouldn't, and then the integrity of the mailer is compromised for its return trip. I usually use a table knife, but that leaves a glue residue on the knife that doesn't come off in the dishwasher.

So I need a letter opener. Maybe some nice person will make a holiday gift of one.

posted: 12:38:57 PM  

A pair of recent films featuring brilliant impersonations of literary figures from the 1950s and 60s take different approaches to their material: Bennett Miller's Capote and George Clooney's Good Night, And Good Luck. Miller's film tells the story of the reporting and writing of In Cold Blood, Truman Capote's recreation of the bloody murders of a Kansas farming family in 1959, the search for their killers, and the killers' execution; while the latter movie follows Edward R. Murrow and other CBS reporters and producers as they take a stand against the demagoguery of Senator Joseph McCarthy during the height of the Red Scare of the early 50s.

While we see a lot of what is happening outside the frame of Murrow's televised reports—producer Fred Friendly cueing Murrow by tapping him on the knee, Murrow reading his half of a pre-recorded celebrity interview—we don't see at lot of what's going on inside Murrow (the skillful David Strathairn). His inner struggles instead are externalized by two subplots: the suicidal collapse of colleague Don Hollenbeck, spurred perhaps by a conservative columnist; and the secret marriage of Joe and Shirley Wershba in contravention of CBS policy. What we do hear is how literate Murrow was: his 1958 speech to the Radio-Television News Directors Association, which frames the main story of the movie, is meant to be read as much as heard.

Just as Truman Capote revealed more of himself to induce his interviewees to open up to him, the film of the making of his book reveals more of his inner life to us. And what a doomed, ambivalent inner life it is. Capote (Philip Seymour Hoffman in a multi-layered Oscar-bait performance) gains the confidence of one of the killers, Perry Smith, while he is on death row, via a combination of genuine affection and subtle, almost unknowing manipulation. Having nursed Smith back to health after a self-imposed starvation, Capote later abandons him when continued appeals and stays of execution delay the completion of his book and threaten his peace of mind. There's a key moment when Smith is being prepared for the gallows when he tells Capote that he's pleased to have a friend with him; Capote (Hoffman) is overcome with emotion, and his words say "yes" but his head shakes to say, "no, I'm not really your friend."

posted: 9:23:39 AM