Yesterday I linked to a
New Yorker
piece on Pauline Kael,
occasioned by a biography of her and a Library of America collection
of her work; now here's
Roger Ebert writing about her:
We met often. There
was a night of drinking during the festival in my hotel room, with
Scorsese and me sitting on the floor at her feet. (It was circa 1970,
and sitting on the floor was commonplace, I suppose as some kind of
statement, just as wearing blue jeans everywhere had become). When
she was on the jury at Cannes, I was invited to a little bistro where
she introduced Agnes Varda and Jacques Demy. When she briefly took
leave of the New Yorker to accept a job offer from Warren Beatty at
Paramount, she invited me to a dinner at an Italian restaurant with
such as Ray Bradbury, Toback and Robert Towne. "Honey," she
confided, "I can't stay out here. They're all whores." Not
including present company, it was implied.
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