Gossip Central

Candace Bushnell Dares to Ask: Is There Still Sex in the City?

The night before the HBO series she spawned reincarnated as And Just Like That at MoMA, Candace Bushnell signals, she has moved on. At the Daryl Roth Theater, she struts across a stage fitted with a hot pink couch and shelves lined with Manolos, recounting a stellar career as columnist, coming from Connecticut, modest suitcase in hand, sleeping around. This “having sex like a man” becomes material, and quite explicit. If you are a fan of Sex & the City, you know what I mean. Miraculously, in her tour de force hour and a half one-woman show—with the exception of a cameo by two dogs, the words “penis” and “vagina” are uttered once each, as Bushnell poses the question, Is There Still Sex in the City? Phone in hand, she converses with her Samantha, her Miranda, and her Charlotte, paragons of wisdom, as she navigates her rise as writer, all the while dumped by lovers including her ballet dancer husband. The men she mentions do not fare well—even her supportive father somehow lets her know her flat chest will get her nowhere in love. An exception is Darren Star, the series showrunner who attended the opening. I caught up with him over a gargantuan urn of guacamole at the Rosa Mexicana afterparty where a Covid test was now the new condom: “Yes, she got it right. She’s honest about Sex & the City and how we got it made. She would not have invited me if she was going to trash me.”

Battleground: What About Women’s Lives?

The abortion debate is personal. If you were around in 1973, as I was, a new hire in the English Department at Brooklyn College, you were privy to the harrowing stories of colleagues who had had unwanted pregnancies. This happened, not because they were reckless, but because of the prevailing notions that women could and would enjoy sex as much as men—a risky choice. Erica Jong’s catchphrase, “the zipless fuck,” was about to be coined. Our Bodies, Our Selves emboldened women to be adventurers. This was new, as women’s lives were expanding beyond their father’s/husband’s purview. Roe v. Wade enlarged those possibilities, eliminating the danger and stigma for sexually active women, “auctoritee,” as Chaucer’s Wife of Bath would have it—women would have self-rule. Agency. And maybe self-love. Implicit in the current reversal of Roe: women’s lives don’t matter.

Watching Battleground, Cynthia Lowen’s powerful, Zietgeist-hitting documentary featured at this year’s Tribeca Film Festival, I was struck by how intelligent the leadership of anti-abortion groups are, articulate and persuasive in their ideas about killing babies, Gen Z zealots in preventing this murder—and how young and clueless regarding the hard-fought struggles of pre-Roe women.

Hallelujah: Leonard Cohen, A Journey, A Song Plus a Concert and a Tribute to Hal Willner at the Tribeca Film Festival

Music docs at Tribeca have a common thread, record producer Hal Willner. In Angelheaded Hipster, about Mark Bolan and T. Rex, and Hallelujah, a Leonard Cohen biopic through the lens of his now classic song, Willner provides vital information on recordings. His presence in these films prior to his untimely death in the earliest wave of Covid shows how much his career spanned these eras of contemporary music. 

I used to visit him in his toy packed studio on the West side. Howdy Doody dolls, Pee Wee Herman figures grinned into the room from packed shelves where he’d be mixing a tape of poet Gregory Corso reading, or reminiscing about his good pal Lou Reed. The title Angelheaded Hipster comes straight out of beat lore. Bolan may have been a beat contemporary, but his glam persona matches more directly with David Bowie, Klaus Nomi, and Freddy Mercury. 

Hallelujah had a special opening at the Beacon Theater, followed by a concert. Judy Collins met Cohen in 1966 and immediately fell in love with “Suzanne,” recording it that year. On stage, her crystalline voice resonated, capturing Cohen’s special talent and a sense of loss, just as the many covers of Hallelujah in the film brought home its deeply spiritual quality, even as some made the lyrics more secular. As beat muse Neal Cassady used to say, “Sex is holy.”

Elvis: Baz Luhrmann’s Burning Love

“Man cannot live by Batman alone,” said Baz Luhrmann about making his film of Elvis, and yet the film feels like a wild ride at times. Its great achievement is the casting of Austin Butler who, handsome and talented singing many of the songs we know and love, manages to humanize this historic figure. Young Elvis, grows up in the black community, learning music amidst the gospel and rhythms surrounding him, marginalized by poverty. Luhrmann traces the vital American lineage up through monstrous fame choreographed by a mysterious figure known as Colonel Parker, a citizen of no particular country, who manages Elvis’ career. Played with flair by Tom Hanks, this man has the heart of a carnival barker and fashions Elvis in the art of the con. Often feeling like a sideshow freak, Elvis is imprisoned by the colonel’s greed which leads to his drugged demise and addiction to swooning fans. He’s a Shakespearean outsized tragic hero who reflects upon the eras, the ‘50’s, ‘60’s, ‘70’s—as Luhrmann observed, “He defined all of them.”

Meeting Chef Mauro Colagreco: Reinventing Mirazur

Among the many pleasures of the documentary-rich Tribeca Film Festival, Reinventing Mirazur is particularly yummy, the best word for a film about food. Or rather, the transformation of a multi-star Michelin restaurant in Menton, France during Covid. At center is a brilliant chef, the Argentinian Mauro Colagreco, named best in the world, who expected to be studying cooking in Paris for a few months—as one does— that stretched into twenty years, ending up in the most gorgeous setting, on the French Riviera—actually the perfect place for a restaurant that went from just great and innovative food to a more planet-conscious culinary experience. Mauro is a teddy bear of a man in the film, beyond friendly and loving to family and to his restaurant staff. Not that life was easy. During Covid, he could not fly back to Argentina when his beloved mother died. He went through great growing pains as a restaurateur. 

Cut to this film premiere at Tribeca, and an after party at Carbone where he would be the guest of honor. Intrigued and thoroughly seduced by the film, I was pleased to be invited to meet this world-class chef, fueled by the fantasy that he would be dishing out tiny slivers of lamb layered with leaves, as he does in Reinventing Mirazur. When I arrived at Carbone, no one could say he would be there. I had a glass of chardonnay in a corner, and ample samples of Carbone’s signature meatballs and veal parmigiana as the small venue filled with scenesters. The food was delicious.

Lost Illusions: A Classy Take on a French Classic

The French can be vicious, bringing backstabbing to a fine art. Just look at les Liaisons Dangereuses. This year’s winner of seven Cesars, including Best Film, went to Xavier Giannoli’s adaptation of Honore Balzac’s Lost Illusions, a splendidly captivating romp through 19^th century Paris via the extravagant “illusions” of a young, determined, and talented poet, as his ideals are bought and sold by alluringly fancy vipers of the first order. 

Fresh from the rural fields, the ambitious newbie makes his way to the big city’s swank salons, taking journalism as a day job. Needless to say, the work consumes him. He falls for a beautiful kept woman/would be actress, a lover of exceptional skill, who is ill (a little “la Boheme”). Lucien appears to have it all—acclaim, love, all except title, --until he does not. The Devil exacts his price. At Lucien’s inevitable fall, editors, rivals, --everyone exclaims, “Well, who do you think you are?” His shifting identity is just one of his conceits. In the French court of commerce and public opinion, betrayal –and its sister, humiliation--rule.

Weaving such tales of the ups and downs of Fortune’s Wheel with finesse and finery—with cunning contrasts in temptation and scandal, the French are masters. This is great work for an ensemble of actors starting with Gerard Depardieu, Cecil de France, Jeanne Balibar, Xavier Dolan, Salome Dewaels, and more. As Lucien, Benjamin Voisin plays the poet as pouty, seductive, and naïve.

A classic story, classically made! Yes, the French are great at tales of vicious misfortune, and that’s why we love them. 

Downton Abbey: A New Era: Celebrating with Julian Fellowes

Downton Abbey: A New Era hit the spot! The swell of music, a wedding, I was swept into fandom from the start, at times teary, at other times swooning, and laughing out
loud. Writer Julian Fellowes, brilliant at creating romance, never forgets the real estate. Downton is a place, a grand house where The Granthams, now family to me and millions of followers, have arrived at modernity, a delicious lapse between the two wars, and just before the Depression. Happy endings abound as the family braces itself for a surprise or two. Granny, the Dowager Countess—the always remarkable Maggie Smith—has inherited a villa in Toulon, in the South of France, from a former lover, allowing some of the Granthams to head to the beach to check out the joint, yet another palatial home. That leaves Downton to be managed by Lady Mary, the stern, lovely Michelle Dockery, as a film crew arrives at the dawn of talkies. Yes, it’s a little Singin’ in the Rain, turning a story we love into a larger story we love.

Only a grand premiere will do, an opera house for the grandest soap opera of the last decade: Lincoln Center’s Metropolitan Opera was fitted with a movie screen for the occasion followed by a grand dinner at Tavern on the Green, allowing Fellowes to hold court in the garden. The head of two events, he was greeted by the casts of not only the Downton movie, but HBO’s The Gilded Age, a thematically related series of New York wealth and class--featuring the fine mansions along Madison. Dockery, Laura Carmichael, Elizabeth McGovern, Hugh Dancy with his wife Claire Danes, Christine Baranski, Debra Monk, Louisa Jacobson (her mom is Meryl Streep), all stopped by his table.

Ben Foster in The Survivor: The Camps Never Leave You

HBO launches its movie, The Survivor, with a lavish premiere just in time for Holocaust Remembrance Day. Barry Levinson’s latest stars Ben Foster as boxer Harry Haft, Auschwitz survivor and refugee. 

As Auschwitz stories go, Harry Haft’s exceeds the norm. Grasping his world in the camps and beyond in Brooklyn, Ben Foster, in the performance of the year, gets Haft --as boxer and as nightmare-ridden refugee-- in Barry Levinson’s adaptation of son Alan Haft’s book, The Survivor. Told in two-time frames, The Survivor pares down Haft’s experience: the Holocaust period in black & white when he is made to entertain the Nazis using his skill as a boxer. Nazi officer Dietrich Schneider puts him in the ring fighting fellow prisoners to their death. If you thought Billy Magnussen was “bad” in the recent James Bond movie, here he brings his super-bad game, “owning Haft,” as it were. In color, survivor Haft fights in the rings of Coney Island, fighting even Rocky Marciano, with one goal shaping his American existence. That is, to find Leah (Dar Zuzovsky), his love from before the war.

Picture Raging Bull meets The Pawnbroker. Imagine the violence, the searing impression of the blood oozing out of the fighters—with Haft so gaunt, so spent, you cannot even think of his having body fluids in his vividly depicted post-war visions, triggered even on his honeymoon when he marries Miriam, Vicky Krieps in a tender role. They go on as survivors do, having three kids, managing the past as best they can—singing “God Bless America” in Yiddish.

Oscars So Real in 2022: No Offense Intended

Despite a contretemps at the Oscars—a slap seen round the world—the ceremony and awards proceeded as expected, apace, with favorites winning all around. When Will Smith accepted his Best Actor award, he tearfully mentioned defending family, as his character Richard Williams did coaching his daughters Venus and Serena to top tennis honors. Of course, Smith had just hit Chris Rock for a dumb, inconsiderate joke about his wife Jada Pinkett Smith, mumbled while Smith’s expletives were bleeped out. The morning after, many are thinking his tearful Oscar acceptance speech is not sufficient to brush aside his behavior. 

Last year’s Best Actor, Anthony Hopkins, present this year after missing the 2021 Academy Awards; so sure he would not win, he stayed home in Wales. Smith was the favorite for his prize as were the best supporting actors, Ariana DeBose and Troy Kotsur. Jessica Chastain, awarded for Best Actress for her role as televangelist Tammy Faye spoke about being seen. The Oscars –spreading the love-- made sure many were both seen and heard. CODA –the smaller film that could—about a young hearing woman coming into her own in a deaf family--took top honors.

Lady Gaga’s Passion at the New York Film Critics Circle Dinner at Tao

Brought to tears in telling the tale of her immigrant ancestry, Lady Gaga thanked the New York Film Critics Circle for recognizing her for Best Actress for her performance in House of Gucci. Big on heart, she was grateful to everyone from director Ridley Scott to her hairdresser and makeup artist, but mainly, she cited her matrilineage of strong Italian women who taught her to be bold and fearless, in a family that featured lots of shouting. Sorry, mom, she shouted out to her platinum haired mother seated at her table at Tao, the meatpacking Asian-themed restaurant and longtime venue for this annual—except for the Covid years--event. 

She was not the only awardee crying with emotion. Jane Campion, the NYFCC’s pick for Best Director, her citation given by Martin Scorsese, spoke of an early turn around in her career when the movie Sweetie, which many critics did not like, got a second wind after the New York Times critic Vincent Canby wrote favorably about it and changed the “trajectory of my career.” Back in the day, Susan Sontag took her to tea. Nothing if not edgy, Campion’s Power of the Dog is frontrunner for the Best Picture Oscar, but Drive My Car, from Japan, got that honor with the New York critics.

Celebrating Guild Hall at Cipriani 42 Street

Many revelers at this week’s Guild Hall winter gala remembered that before Covid locked everyone down, they were celebrating the premiere East Hampton cultural institution at its 2020 annual gala. And while much has changed in these two years—the venue was now the cavernous Cipriani 42^nd Street—and, the 2022 honorees were Board Chair Marty Cohen and Michele Cohen without the customary Academy of the Arts recipients—the mood was exuberant, as this huge, yet intimate event of East End neighbors chatting, catching up has not lost any of its warmth. Academy president Eric Fishl recalled that in that pre-pandemic limbo, no one knew whether to fist or elbow bump but preferred to kick one another in the ankles. All these dressed up people kicking the s__t out of each other, he laughed.