Sad and shocking news - one of Britain's leading film directors, Oscar-winning Anthony Minghella - has died suddenly at the age of 54. Minghella's best work was arguably in the 90s, and in The English Patient he managed to create a film of enduring exoticism and romance to rival the epics of David Lean. His Talented Mr. Ripley was icy and glamorous, and is still so ambiguous and unsettling it has yet to be fully measured and appreciated; it provided an early launch pad for Jude Law (who was never better than in this movie), and showcased Venice wonderfully. This is a tragic loss for Western cinema - it was expected, and hoped, that at some point the writer-director would create yet another masterpiece. As it is, we have a few very fine films from the man.
When you open your mouth to speak, are you smart? A funny question from a great song, but also, a good one, when it comes to poets, and poetry. We tend to have a very ambiguous view of intelligence in poetry, one that I'd say is dysfunctional. Basically, it goes like this: once you are safely dead, it no longer matters how smart you were. For instance, Auden was smarter than Yeats , but most would still say Yeats is the finer poet; Eliot is clearly highly intelligent, but how much of Larkin 's work required a high IQ? Meanwhile, poets while alive tend to be celebrated if they are deemed intelligent: Anne Carson, Geoffrey Hill , and Jorie Graham , are all, clearly, very intelligent people, aside from their work as poets. But who reads Marianne Moore now, or Robert Lowell , smart poets? Or, Pound ? How smart could Pound be with his madcap views? Less intelligent poets are often more popular. John Betjeman was not a very smart poet, per se....
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