I've recently come to realize that the films I appreciate most are generally true stories. Real life is infinitely more compelling to me than fiction, which explains why I don't have even a shred of patience for the fantasy genre.

This past weekend I had the good fortune of seeing two nonfiction masterpieces. First "Frost/Nixon", a Broadway hit adapted for the screen by the consistently impressive Ron Howard, recounts the events surrounding an incredibly infamous series of interviews between British journalist David Frost (Michael Sheen) and Richard Nixon (Frank Langella), during which Frost seeks to illicit a full-fledged confession regarding Nixon's wrongdoings during his presidency, most notably, of course, his involvement in Watergate. Conversely, Nixon saw these interviews, at least at first, as a golden opportunity to somehow exonerate himself in the eyes of the American people by manipulating the interview in his own favor. What results is a fascinating dual of human psyche in which Frost is the ultimate victor.

Perhaps Howard's greatest challenge in tackling this content was structuring a two-hour feature in a way that would focus specifically on these interviews, without becoming muddied with extraneous (albeit fascinating) details of the Watergate scandal, or Frost / Nixon's lives. The temptation to elaborate in any of those directions is understandable. The piece flowed seamlessly, however, interspersed with authentic news footage and just enough background development to keep the stakes right where they should be.

Both title roles were tackled with a fragile intensity that can only come from knowing the part intimately, as did both Langella and Sheen, having originated the roles on Broadway. The transition of power between characters over the course of interviews is subtle, yet deliberate and compelling. And Langella's ability to create a sympathetic character buried deep within one of the most loathed political figures in American history is completely disarming.

I didn't intend for this to become a full-blown review, but rather a brief accolade. Suffice it to say that my ears will continue to perk up at the mention of either of these actors for quite some time. Stay tuned for my take on "Milk", and in the meantime, know that it is well worth your 12 bucks (or 10 in the suburbs) to devote an evening to another Ron Howard's latest project.

Cheers,
K

Tonight as I waited in line with a girlfriend at my neighborhood Starbucks, I watched a haggard-looking man outside one window - after violently waving to capture the attention the two nearest patrons - perform fellatio on what appeared to be a rather substantial bottle of prescription pills.

The frequency of tragic-yet-amusing displays such as this can only make one wonder what exactly it is that draws this city's millions of devout residents.

Fortunately this level of exposure, if you will, to one's surroundings works in other ways. At any given time there are myriad cultural experiences to be had. Be it a jazz saxophonist on the subway platform, a sketch artist in central park, a woman dressed head to toe in Roberto Cavalli, or a Zabar's employee marveling at the most exquisite cut of Sturgeon, the citizens of New York create a melting pot not only of ethnicity, but of cultural ideals.

Since my official move to the city I have become, at times, overwhelmed by the wealth of theatre, music, food, art, fashion, and literature surrounding me. And the need to muse on this cultural affluence - the need to publicly acknowledge it, exalt it, or even dismiss it - makes the idea of starting a blog decidedly cooler than it was in high school.