Arts Reviews

The good, bad and ugly in arts and exhbitions

Leonardo in Paris

ParisThe Louvre’s Leonardo da Vinci is the latest Renaissance master in a procession of epic anniversary retrospectives — after 2017’s hugely popular Michelangelo: Divine Draftsman and Designer at the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City, before next year’s inevitably popular marking of the cinquecentenary of the death of Raphael at the National Gallery in London. This year, with Leonardo’s posterity passing the same necroversary, the Louvre is augmenting its five Leonardo oils –– more than any other museum, thanks to the light fingers of legendary art critic Napoleon Bonaparte –– with a further six loans.

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catherine the great

Is this the only Catherine the Great review to mention the age gap?

Catherine the Great is the vanity project of star and executive producer Helen Mirren. One way you can tell it's a vanity project is that Mirren is 74 years old while the character she plays — at least at the start of the mini-series — is 33 years old. Now I don't wish to be ungallant. It's certainly true that Mirren has always scrubbed up well. She is a very handsome woman and she knows she is a handsome woman, as reflected by all those films and TV series earlier in her career — not, though, The Queen, as far as I recall — when she appears with her kit off.

Secrets of the maestro

This article is in The Spectator’s October 2019 US edition. Subscribe here. At last, some justice for the ‘teacher of Leonardo da Vinci’. Verrocchio: Sculptor and Painter of Renaissance Florence, now at the National Gallery of Art in Washington, DC, reveals that this master was more than a mere footnote to his famous apprentice. Born around 1435 into the artistic boomtown that was Florence under the Medici, Andrea del Verrocchio may, in fact, have been the original Renaissance man. The greatest artists of the Florentine Renaissance took root in his studio and grew out of his mentorship: not just Leonardo, who stayed with him for over a decade, but also Pietro Perugino, Lorenzo di Credi and, most probably, Domenico Ghirlandaio and Sandro Botticelli too.

Grandpa, who were the Rolling Stones, and why?

This article is in The Spectator’s October 2019 US edition. Subscribe here. The Rolling Stones’ delayed tour is back on the road. Not the tour they delayed after Keith Richards fell out of a coconut tree, but the one delayed because Mick Jagger had a heart attack. If you’re a boomer of advanced years and decayed taste, all this is no doubt a big deal, your last chance to see some of the last icons of the original and brief Rock Era, before you or they kick the bucket. Ladies and gentlemen, the greatest rock ’n’ roll band in the world, the Rolling Stones. Except they aren’t the Stones. They haven’t been the Stones for years.

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Pod almighty

This article is in The Spectator’s October 2019 US edition. Subscribe here. ‘Man the food-gatherer,’ wrote Marshall McLuhan, ‘reappears incongruously as information-gatherer.’ Once we foraged for information in the library. Now we graze among the podcasts. In the age of compulsive eating, podcasts are compulsive listening, an attempt to fill the silence. Nothing better to do? Click on a podcast, and let your attention drift. It takes no effort, it dissolves minutes into hours, and talking about the ‘great podcast’ you just listened to can sound just as smart as saying you’re reading War and Peace. After all, podcasts were originally made by nerds, for nerds.

CNN’s LGBT Town Hall collapses into trans madness

At the top of CNN’s Alphabetapalooza Town Hall on Thursday evening, a survivor of the 2016 Pulse nightclub Islamic terrorist attack asked New Jersey senator Cory Booker what he planned to do to stop violence against LGBT people. Gay icon Booker, a man widely lauded in the Port Authority Bus Terminal men’s toilets who sometimes performs drag under the name Izzy Gaye, had a clear-cut answer. As president, he would create an office dedicated to investigating white supremacy and right-wing hate groups. Sharia law and radical Islam were off-limits.

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A great time in the Faddisphere

This article is in The Spectator’s inaugural US edition. Subscribe here to get yours. It’s easy enough to write an elegy for the jazz world, a tale of decline and fall, from towering heights to epigones plying their trade in the shadows of the giants. But like most such stories, lachrymose in spirit if not intent, it obscures as much as it reveals. No doubt many of the great clubs that existed in the Fifties and Sixties have faded away, but since the Eighties there has been a distinct revival of more traditional forms of jazz.

Who killed the American arts?

This article is in The Spectator’s inaugural US edition. Subscribe here to get yours. The arts in America are dying. In the 20th century, Americans defined the world’s popular culture, but the 21st century world has no need of America’s arts. Through technology transfer, the world entertains itself with knock offs like Bollywood and K-Pop. In the 20th century, Americans created a new art form in jazz and its derivatives, and turned Hollywood into the world’s dream factory. In the 21st century, African American music has collapsed into monotone misogyny, and digital sex (see Julie Bindel) is America’s real movie business. Americans are in the gutter, looking up at porn stars.

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The NBA tosses an alley-oop for China’s censors

The co-creators of South Park have once again demonstrated why the cartoon remains, after 23 seasons, remarkably astute at delivering shrewd political commentary. Its 299th episode, ‘Band in China’, parodies China’s extreme censorship, restricted internet, and the capitulation of the American entertainment industry to cater to the political interests of the Chinese Communist party (CCP), which in an ironic case of life imitating art, got the show banned in China and virtually scrubbed from its firewalled internet.

Is Peaky Blinders past its peak?

This article is in The Spectator’s inaugural US edition. Subscribe here to get yours. Peaky Blinders would have you believe it’s the best of British: sharp suits and vests, the workingman’s flat cap and the gangster’s slo-mo swagger, the chug of Anglo alternative rock, and a smörgåsbord of regional accents, Academy Award-nominated guest stars and oh-look-I-remember-him cameos from historical figures. These are the ingredients of Britain’s answer to the American sagas that set new standards for television: The Sopranos, The Wire, Breaking Bad. Yet there’s always been the whiff of style over substance to Peaky Blinders, a sense of looking back without seeing anything new.

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Blondie ambition

This article is in The Spectator’s inaugural US edition. Subscribe here to get yours. Once upon a time in the Seventies, rock ’n’ roll was a man’s game. Then Blondie happened –– or ‘Blondie’ herself, Debbie Harry, platinum bombshell and queen of punk. Actually, before Blondie there was the Runaways, an exploitation act from which the singer, Joan Jett, ran away. There was Patti Smith, who moved to New York City, fell in love with Robert Mapplethorpe and wrote poetry. There was Chrissie Hynde, who moved to London, passed through the rehearsals that generated the Sex Pistols and the Clash, and then, after Blondie had charted in Britain, formed the Pretenders.

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The semiotics of Jackass

Sad times for emotionally stunted millennials – which is to say, all of us – as Bam Margera, star of the cult classic stunt comedy show Jackass, has continued his disastrous middle age with a desperate plea to sentient mustache and self-help guru Dr Phil to help him with his alcoholism. Naturally, I wish Mr Margera the best. Addiction is a terrible burden to bear. Still, it got me thinking about Jackass, which, incredibly, was developed about 20 years ago.Think about what this means. There are thirty-somethings and forty-somethings who, when asked by their innocent children what they watched when they were young, have had to lie or else explain their youthful enthusiasm for watching people set themselves on fire, publicly defecate and eat raw eggs and vomit them into a pan.

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Louise Linton: why I don’t like being ‘the wife of…’

This article is in The Spectator’s inaugural US edition. Subscribe here to get yours. It’s a muggy afternoon in Los Angeles as I sit down to write this — in my bathroom; the AC’s broken everywhere else. My vanity is dusty, cluttered with books, storyboards, shot lists and Post-It notes scrawled in ALL CAPS with a frenzied thick black Sharpie: ‘LOCK PICTURE!!’ ‘BEAR!’, ‘BORN FREE!’, ‘DOG’, ‘STATE DINNER’, ‘DOCUMENTARY!’, ‘GRATITUDE’. It’s a bizarre medley, as is my life in general. I’m married to a Republican politician but I’m extremely liberal. I cannot say that I’m a Democrat either. These terms are binary and weaponized.

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Not in front of the servants

This article is in The Spectator’s inaugural US edition. Subscribe here to get yours. Tina Turner believed that she and Ike were the reincarnation of god-kings from ancient Egypt. That, she reasoned, was why they’d been reincarnated in Memphis, Tenn.; their souls would feel at home in a city that, like Memphis in ancient Egypt, was sited on a big river and noted for its artisanry. In a perversion of Buddhism by celebrity culture, people select past lives that are more interesting than their present ones. Plenty of people believe they used to be Napoleon Bonaparte, but when was the last time you met someone who boasts of having been an illiterate Corsican goat-herder who married his cousin?

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Being mistaken for James Corden motivated my weight loss

Late night host James Corden had a viral moment over the weekend when he clapped back at Bill Maher for his comments about fatness. 'If making fun of fat people made them lose weight, there’d be no fat kids in schools,’ Corden said. 'And I’d have a six-pack right now.’ Well James, I’m here to tell you you're wrong. Fat-shaming can work. And I know. Because I was once mistaken for you. I was leaving an extremely busy pool hall in Manhattan's West Village with some friends one Saturday in early December last year. It was the kind of place where you had to collect a ticket from the bar in order to wait your turn for a table — and we had been waiting for over an hour.

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The Oscar goes to Felicity Huffman

And the Oscar for Best Actress goes to...Felicity Huffman in College Admissions Scandal! In this family drama that nauseated audiences everywhere, Huffman plays a desperate housewife with a dark secret. She might present herself like a Lala-leftie, denouncing Donald Trump and telling the dumb masses what to think about the environment, but she’s actually a perfectly sensible parent who knows the college application system is a corrupt farce. Huffman’s real-life husband William H. Macy, fresh from a deeply convincing performance in the dysfunctional family dramedy Shameless, plays the husband who claims he’s closely involved in parenting and the admissions process, but then claims not to know anything about it when his wife is arrested.

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In defense of record players

Oh, dear. Joe Biden is being dinged, or needled, as it were, about his stray remark last night that every American household should boast a record player to help educate young children in the evening. But seldom has there been a bummer rap. It would be hard to think of a more salutary suggestion.It’s no secret that black gold, as it is known among its aficionados, has made a comeback over the past decade or so, even outselling CDs. The Beatles sold more than 300,000 albums in 2018. Once you start buying LPs, it’s hard to stop. Just this morning I myself was tidying up my basement lair, restocking a few Tchaikovsky as well as a wonderful Oscar Peterson LP.

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Gays triggered after mass murdering clown outed as homophobe

If you haven’t heard, there’s a movie out about a demonic force in clown make-up that targets children. No, it’s not drag queen storytime, but It Chapter Two, based on the Stephen King book. And unfortunately, during the 27-year gaps between his mass murders of children, Pennywise the Dancing Clown never logged onto Vox to brush up on the social justice grievances du jour. The film is under heavy attack by the LGBTQQAAI2S++ community with accusations of homophobia. True to the original 1986 book, the film opens with a gay couple being attacked by a gang of men when Pennywise shows up to literally eat one of the gays alive. Minus the clown, the scene was inspired by a real anti-gay murder in Bangor, Maine in 1984.

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Disney and the imagination recession

Only in retrospect does 1999 appear to be the last imaginative year of mainstream American cinema. From Cruel Intentions to Being John Malkovich, American Beauty to American Pie, The Sixth Sense to Eyes Wide Shut, Election to Magnolia, and Fight Club to The Matrix, it was, as Esquire magazine put it, 'the last great year in movies.' In the year 2039, if anybody is able to tear themselves away from insect burgers and the lurid projections of VR pleasuredomes long enough to reflect on the movies of 2019, what will they have to rhapsodize about? They will look back and see a cultural landscape monopolized by one company: Disney.

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Dave Chappelle plumbs new depths of tastelessness in his new Netflix special

'You Can Definitely Skip Dave Chappelle's New Netflix Special,' says VICE. And if that's not recommendation enough, here's one from me: Sticks & Stones is the most, offensive, foul-mouthed, racist, misogynistic, homophobic, transphobic comedy set you're likely to see on TV this year. Chappelle, I must confess, was new to me. Yes, I know, I know, all you American readers: he's a comedy institution, ranked no. 9 in Rolling Stone's '50 Best Stand Up Comics of All Time' with numerous awards and a career going right back to his 1993 movie debut in Mel Brooks's Robin Hood: Men In Tights. But when you're English and you get to a certain age, you find yourself taking a certain perverse pride in not knowing anything whatsoever about icons who are really huge in the US.

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