It was a marathon last night for Katy Perry at the world premiere of her 3D documentary extravaganza, Katy Perry: Part Of Me.
Nora celebrated life to an insatiable degree, yet without any of the manic energy one associates with people who have "insatiable appetites" for life. She had a calm and elegant way of savoring every moment.
She said it all. Or most of it all. And what she didn't say or write we will never again hear. At least not the way Nora would have said it or written it.
Seth MacFarlane's Ted joins the ranks of Harold and Kumar Go to White Castle and Observe and Report among razor-sharp cultural satires cleverly disguised as dumb comedies.
Nora became my de facto Auntie Mame. My co-conspirator in neurosis. The one who understood the pangs of living in the gray of the Id and intellect and wanted to talk about it over decent wine and dinner.
In Stella Days, Martin Sheen gives a magnificent performance as Father Barry, a progressive priest whose wisdom and passion for cinema inspire those around him.
How many spots were filled tonight? How many are left? Who actually made the cut? Did anyone actually approach singer Shanice Hayes about ditching her dad, the other half of her duet act? We spent a lot of time talking about it and then never talked about it again.
To be honest, I suspect my hands would still shake if I did it again today. I still might think: Who am I to be writing to her? I'm still not brave in the way I imagine her to be, but these days I usually put the letter in the mailbox in the end. And Nora Ephron gets some credit for that.
Professionally, her legacy will be that of an exceptionally gifted and versatile artist who could do it all, and do it all incredibly well. Personally, she'll be cherished as a wife and mother, and a devoted, giving, treasured -- and irreplaceable -- friend.
It's hard to explain what 30 minutes out of the life of someone like Nora means. There was absolutely nothing in it for her. She liked my work, sure, but more than that, she knew how women have to help each other.
Since watching Hemingway & Gellhorn a few weeks back I've been spending much of my free time absorbed in this piece of history and personality I'd never heard of before.
Now that the dust has settled after having to once again react to a high-profile sadsack expressing their (incorrect and archaic) opinions on women in comedy, I want to talk about how we reacted and how, going forward, we should be more aware of using our voices for good.
The Newsroom is a paint-by-numbers Sorkin effort, given a frisson of media interest and buzz only because the workplace this time is the media itself. Nothing gets us going like someone we don't like preaching to us about our shortcomings.
For Nora Ephron, life was something to celebrate. And explore. And bitch about. And then celebrate again. You didn't have to read all of her brilliant essays to immediately see that the woman had a titanium-strength point of view -- and she was achingly funny about it.
Nora Ephron was never really a celebrity to me so much as she was a dream weaver. I grew up watching her films in my living room. They fed my youthful appetites for romance and humor. Most of all, these films shaped my dreams of love.
With Melissa gone, the Liars exit the closet, but not before finding a garment bag from a costume store. When they unzip, there's no costume, but there is a single feather. Is she the Black Swan?
Nora Ephron's success as a humor writer stands as a permanent rebuttal to any writer who decides to script another "women aren't funny" headline.
Claudia Zelevansky, 2012.27.06