February 2013
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Because he plays with infectious enthusiasm. Because he's undersized for his position but unfazed. Because he plays a better game today than he did last week. Because he's so often the first man down the floor, outrunning and outhustling his opponent. Because he's not the most gifted athlete in the league, but he makes the…
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I remember that my first and until yesterday sole viewing of Bergman's The Seventh Seal took place in August of 1958 at one of those big old downtown Brooklyn movie palaces. I was in the company of Leigh Anderson and Alice Bruno, who might not remember the day — or remember me, for that matter.…
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I've several times poked fun at sad instances of Victorian sexual prudery. If, gentle reader, you doubt that I'm capable of prude-pokery, check here, here and here. My mild animosity toward the sexual silliness of our ancestors originated in my childhood. My father, though in most things a font of good common sense, was, sexually…
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As far as I can remember, and I've read the stories many times, Conan Doyle's Sherlock Holmes never had to deal with amnesia, which in those days of reading and writing had not yet become the most routine of plot devices. The Holmes of Billy Wilder's movie runs into amnesia straight off the bat, when…