
Singin' in the Rain
Nothing else on film is this happy, and the subject is an industry in a panic: Hollywood's terror at the arrival of sound became two hours of pure delight.

Nothing else on film is this happy, and the subject is an industry in a panic: Hollywood's terror at the arrival of sound became two hours of pure delight.

Thrown out of college, then used by a Harlem political movement, a nameless Black man ends up living in a cellar on stolen light. Ellison writes American rage with jazz timing.

Kurosawa's answer to how a life should be spent: a bureaucrat gets one piece of terrible news and starts spending what is left deliberately, which will change how you see your job.

Eight ragged dark blue poles lean across the poured web and give it a beat. Australia's purchase in 1973 caused a national row.

Wilbur is a runt pig bound for slaughter, saved by a barn spider writing words in her web. Eudora Welty called it just about perfect, and it is where children first meet death.

Written as an allegory about the blacklist by a man about to be blacklisted: a marshal has eighty-five minutes before the noon train, and the film runs them in step.

Matisse was too ill to stand at an easel, so he cut the figure out of painted paper and called it drawing with scissors.

Black, white, red and blue flung edge to edge with nowhere for the eye to settle. The Cold War made it a symbol of American freedom.

Photography is the simultaneous recognition of an event's significance and of the precise arrangement of forms expressing it, Cartier-Bresson wrote. The 126 pictures that follow taught the century how to look.

Eighty-four days without a fish, and an old Cuban fisherman hooks a marlin longer than his boat and is towed out to sea. A man can be destroyed but not defeated, Santiago thinks.

Two generations of a Salinas Valley family repeat Cain and Abel, and Steinbeck stakes everything on one Hebrew word: timshel, thou mayest, which leaves a man free to choose against his blood.

A white child points and cries, Look, a Negro. Fanon takes that instant apart to show racism lodged in the skin itself, and half a century of Black thought has worked from it.

Back from the war, Hazel Motes preaches the Church Without Christ from the hood of a rat-colored car, insisting there was no Fall and nothing needing redemption. O'Connor makes blasphemy sound like faith.

At a tea ceremony in postwar Japan, a young man is steered toward a bride and finds his dead father's mistresses waiting. Kawabata routes the affair entirely through inherited tea bowls.

Broadcasting to a Britain at war, Lewis started from one claim: everyone appeals to a standard of right nobody invented. The talks became the book that does most of modern Christianity's arguing.

Fats Domino sat in on piano at Cosimo Matassa's studio, setting the pattern for New Orleans rock and roll.

Ford spent twenty years trying to make it and shot Ireland in Technicolor so green it looks invented: an American boxer goes home to Mayo and runs straight into everyone else's customs.

A war widow receives photographs of the husband she buried. The trail runs into a London fog where the killer Jack Havoc is loose, and Allingham makes the thriller an argument about evil.

The whole coast reduced to a few flat zones of color and some quick line. Picasso old, settled in the south, and enjoying himself.
Luck is a thing that comes in many forms and who can recognize her?

Parker and Gillespie's last studio meeting, with Monk on piano, playing fast enough that the rest of jazz spent a decade catching up.
But man is not made for defeat. A man can be destroyed but not defeated.
It is better to be lucky. But I would rather be exact. Then when luck comes you are ready.
Now is no time to think of what you do not have. Think of what you can do with what there is.