Movies: Blood Diamond

Dara writes:

I have not yet seen the new Ed Zwick movie Blood Diamond, starring Leonardo DiCaprio, but I am always intrigued when reviewers I regularly read espouse opposite reactions to a film. Manohla Dargis of The New York Times hated the film; David Denby of The New Yorker liked it. I was particularly struck that the same aspects of the movie both enraged and thrilled the reviewers. David Denby referred to the film as "enjoyable" and called it Ed Zwick's best. He thought the film well-made and not sensationalized. Manohla Dargis, in contrast, writes:

"If films were judged solely by their good intentions, this one would be best in show. Instead, gilded in money and dripping with sanctimony, confused and mindlessly contradictory, the film is a textbook example of how easily commercialism can trump do-goodism, particularly in Hollywood."

Both writers agree DiCaprio is great. But about his co-star Jennifer Connelly, they diverge sharply. Mr. Denby attests, "Connelly suddenly seems like a movie star, not a warm-eyed soul mate." Ms Dargis avers that Connelly's performance is "woeful."

Hmmm. What accounts for the differences? My guess is that Denby, ever the turgid conservative, overlooks the self-righteousness of the film in favor of its cinematic slickness. Then again, even if the film is commercial, it is still bringing much-needed attention to an important topic. I rarely agree with Denby, but then again, I don't necessarily share Dargis's taste. She recently mooned over David Lynch's "masterpiece" Mulholland Drive. Perhaps if I share her sentiment on that film, I will feel more on her side in the Denby-Dargis match.

Food: Delishop

Dara writes:

Did you ever wonder what would happen if Zabar's, the storied New York purveyor of nova, bialys, gourmet cheese, and disgruntled older Upper West Side ladies, married a really sleek shoe store and they had offspring? Wonder no longer. The love child of gourmet food and hipness is the store my brother and his Spanish bride just opened in Barcelona, Spain: Delishop.

My brother has lived in Spain for years, working as a sports marketer and perfecting his cooking skills in Barcelona, which has become a culinary mecca whose imam is Ferran Adria of the famously experimental restaurant El Bulli. My brother has had two memorable meals there, by the way, after the first of which he scanned in his annotated copy of the menu, all thirty-some courses, and emailed it to us.

My brother's wife Monica has worked in advertising, but is also an excellent chef. The two pooled their entrepreneurial and culinary skills to dream up their new shop. As far as I can tell, the endeavor has two goals: to bring new cuisine to Spain, and to do it stylishly. According to them, Spain has been a bit insular, having only recently come out from under a totalitarian dictatorship. Staples we take for granted--soy sauce, ramen noodles, Bisquick--have never been readily available. Ricky and Monica will present "exotic" foods in a manner so hip you will be drawn into their shop first by the gorgeous layout (and handsome salespeople--my brother and their friend Sergio).

Foot traffic has been steady. The best-seller so far? Betty Crocker Brownie Mix.

Stay tuned in to supremefiction for more news from Espana.

Publishing: A New Low

Dara writes:

Everyone knows how the publishing industry has become increasingly corporate. Put in a call to the main numbers of the major houses and you will not reach a live person, but a labyrinthine voice mail data bank. Apply for a job, and you will be rudely telephoned after office hours by a person who does not clearly state her last name or her reason for calling. This happened to me yesterday.

At 6:15pm, I received a breathless call by a woman who gave only her first name and the house from which she was calling. She mumbled quickly that she wanted to call me in to interview for an Editorial Assistant position. She did not say for whom--only, "someone who just got here"--nor did she state her last name. I was put off by her unprofessional manner, and as a result, was unable to say that I would love to come in for an interview, even if this position were not exactly right.

When I asked her who had forwarded my resume to her, she could not tell me, as she "sources" resumes from so many different locations. The exchange caught me off guard and left a bad taste in my mouth.