#I was trying to get eye boogies off of Katie's face this morning

[sinceileftyoublog]

Billie Marten Interview: Quiet Confidence

Photo by Katie Silvester

BY JORDAN MAINZER

“Where are you calling from?” I asked Billie Marten during our Zoom last month.

“East London,” she replied, “Like everyone else,” simultaneously rolling her eyes at and embracing the scene in which she’s found herself embedded.

The 22-year-old’s wry sense of humor, observations, and self-awareness complement the earnestness she’s shown on her three LPs, especially last month’s terrific Flora Fauna (IMPERIAL/Fiction Records). Though the rawer aesthetic of the record was influenced by a spontaneous, drunken purchase of a bass guitar, and many of the album’s instrumentals were fleshed out in the studio with producer Rich Cooper, Marten both dug deep within her psyche and branched out to the world around her to tackle the album’s themes of self-care and empathy. Opener “Garden of Eden” doesn’t waste any time, its drums rumbling and guitars scraping as Marten compares caring for people to tending to plants. It’s a sentiment that hits even harder after a year-plus of lockdown-induced isolation, when for many of us keeping our pets and plants alive was the only thing we felt like we could control. Throughout the record, Marten’s honest about her relationship with herself, relatable in her alternating between endurance and self-doubt. “Trying hard to teach myself a lesson / Give my body patience to bree free,” she sings on the hip hop-influenced “Heaven”; even if a partner or folks in the world around her think they’re already self-actualized, Marten’s looking out for her own mental health. On the flipside, a chaotically fuzzy stomp like “Ruin” has Marten declaring that treating others like she treats herself would be bullying: “Got a war with my body / Never win, never lose,” she sings desperately. 

Flora Fauna is much more than a collection of the good days and the bad days, though. Marten communes with all sorts of living things, from street pigeons to gardens. And perhaps the most consequential song on the album is “Human Replacement”, a song about women not being able to walk alone at night, inspired by a seemingly increasing rash of violent attacks on women in the UK over the past few years. In its juxtaposition of infectious groove and essential, in-your-face subject matter, it reminds me of U.S. Girls’ weighty “Incidental Boogie”. For Marten, putting herself in others’ shoes, in a sense, allows her to become something else. On minimal closer “Aquarium”, over strummed acoustic guitar, she sings, “Do you wanna go to the aquarium? / I feel I lately wanna drown / Sit down, stare out, shut up, and swim around.” She’s able to nurture an environment by immersing herself in it, like how dirt finds its way on her face and between her teeth on the album’s cover.

Marten’s getting ready to get back out there, with some festival dates in the summer and a UK tour in July. For now, she’s relishing reflection and admissions. Towards the end of our interview, in which she had her camera on but I didn’t, she told me, “I like that your camera’s not on. It feels like I’m in a confession booth.” Flora Fauna’s got to be the greenest confession booth in the world.

Since I Left You: How did you approach the order of the tracks on Flora Fauna?

Billie Marten: I definitely wanted it to follow the classic storyline writing/curve. “Garden of Eden” starts off with the plant, everything’s open, and you really get the main feel of the album there, and “Creature of Mine” is twisting you up to this darker, punchier world, and “Human Replacement” is very in-your-face. “Liquid Love” would be the plot twist. Then, eventually, we float down to the second side of the album and get back into that acoustic-y world slightly more, but it’s definitely still different from the first two albums. Laid bare with nothing but an acoustic...on the last song of the album. I love that it’s quite a loud beginning but very quiet ending, which is what a lot of album campaigns end up being. You’re selling this thing you’ve made for two years, and it’s all, “Look at me, here I am, here’s what I’ve been doing, here’s how much better I am.” That air of improvement has to be there. But in the end, it is what it is. Take it or leave it. I’m not a naturally outgoing, competitive person, so I quite like finishing it with an air of quiet confidence rather than being brash and loud.

SILY: "Garden of Eden” almost has its own quiet confidence. It starts like you’re already in the middle of a conversation.

BM: I definitely wanted it to be immediate, like you’re dropped into my life without any warning. Have you seen Soul?

SILY: Yes.

BM: What did you think?

SILY: I thought it was very good. What about you?

BM: I loved it, and I thought it was the best philosophical education you could have in two hours. It made me think of it that way, because he drops to the real world. I wanted that feeling here.

SILY: I read an interview you did that had the title “We really are just plants,” and I was thinking that while reading about the record before it came out and eventually listening to it. Was it important for you to start the record with a song that compared us to something that’s also living but we don’t always think about as living?

BM: Absolutely. Well said. We’re actually really easy to take care of. That’s why I wanted to simplify it down in the melting pot. Take away emotion from it. In the end, we just need water and light and a bit of space, but not too much, to survive. I was very aware of that whole concept. Especially in London, it’s, “Look how much I’ve grown or will be growing in the future,” not, “How’s everyone else doing? How’s your soil?”

SILY: On “Liquid Love”, you sing about “wanting to wake up as a human every morning.” Does that song point to an eternal optimism?

BM: That was very much an affirmation type line for me. That line about waking up every morning was about how glad I was able to do that, because not everyone gets to do that for a long time. The song’s a love/hate relationship with drinking, which I was doing quite a lot of in the first few years of music. I get hangovers really badly. It doesn’t take me a lot to be completely out of action for the entire next day. That line was about just waking up and feeling proper and normal as a human, because I’ve spent a lot of days not being able to function, and it was really getting to me. We rely on our conscience to remind us to take care of ourselves all the time.

SILY: Is your relationship with drinking now different?

BM: It’s definitely a lot better, and I’m a much happier person. I don’t use it the same. I don’t need it in my life; I just enjoy it. 80% of us probably have the same struggle with it. It’s something you can control, and something that takes us out of real life entirely. It takes up your attention for hours and hours at a time. It’s an incredible mask for genuine problems. With music, it’s around a lot of the time. Some people just can’t function without it. I have big realizations all the time. My body’s telling me to stop doing it and stop smoking as well. I keep getting tonsillitis every month. I think it’s its way of saying to chill out.

SILY: The theme of being able to control certain things seems to pervade the record. It relates to nature, too. On the album closer, your garden seems to represent a balance, a place where you can influence nature but not control it.

BM: I have a really strong urge to protect an environment. I use the word cradle a lot. It’s important that humans can do that with other ones. I wanted that side of confidence I’ve developed but to let people know it’s okay to be and remain vulnerable. I think those are some of the best sides of people. If I think of my friends, I don’t think of them as who they are when they know they’re being watched. I tend to think of what they’ve been through, their low points, who they are when they’re being honest. “Aquarium” is very much that sort of confessional poem.

SILY: There are other natural entities in song titles on here that symbolize something, like “Walnut” and “Pigeon”. I think I read the latter is a yoga pose?

BM: No. I was literally referring to the one-legged pigeons that hang around London that are all gammy and rough and ready and tough characters.

SILY: The pigeon is really smart and historically used for a lot but we think of them as rats.

BM: They’re complete vermin.

SILY: It’s almost like the way we treat nature and/our ourselves.

BM: Exactly. There’s such a different between a rural pigeon and a capital city pigeon. They’re almost completely different species. It’s funny. I’m getting a lot of misconstrued things coming out of this record, people saying I’ve left London, I’ve found spirituality, the pigeon thing. All of these things just aren’t true.

SILY: That’s sometimes a good thing. Of course there’s a line where someone says something completely wrong and claims it to be true, but do you like in general for people to be able to interpret your lyrics the way they want to?

BM: Yes. I’ve had a lot of experience [with the former], especially because we’re doing these things on Zoom, and then you read the written piece and it’s so different from how the conversation went. It’s an interesting social experiment. But I love when people take images and phrases and meanings for themselves and make them their own. It’s a great sign someone’s getting something from your music even when it’s not happening in your head.

SILY: On “Creature of Mine”, that post-apocalyptic, “this is our last chance” type vibe--Is that a scenario you often entertain, and how do you feel about it?

BM: I’m a sucker for diving deep into rumination in a very large, existential plane. Thinking just spirals until it gets bigger and bigger and you get to a point where you’re completely irrelevant. Like watching Cosmos or David Attenborough. [It puts] your existence into a tiny hole. I think sometimes that’s really positive because it helps me understand when I’m nervous for a performance or gig, it’s good to put yourself in perspective. However, it sometimes makes you not want to do things because they’re ultimately not important. It’s a fine balance with that style of thinking. It’s automatic for me. It’s my constant thought train.

SILY: Are there other places on the album, even if not in the same context, where you refer to that spiraling thought process?

BM: I think “Ruin” is especially difficult in that I was noting down my thought process, and that’s what the verses are. I don’t know why I do it, but it makes me feel good. I needed to do that to get it out of me and understand how ridiculous that thought train is. The chorus tries to put this analogy of [wasting] time being a crime. That’s what I was doing: I was wasting a lot of time thinking about it, so every time I sing it, it’s a weird slipstream universe type thing.

SILY: I asked the question hoping you would say “Ruin”. When you sing, “Got a war with my body / Never win, never lose,” it reminded me of that thought process. It goes in a circle. It’s not a linear thing.

BM: There’s no point in putting an element of battle into it. There’s no opponent. It’s just you. You could try and find opponents with other people, but that doesn’t usually work out either. This whole album is fleshing out these huge subjects I ultimately have no control over. Putting my two cents in and leaving it at that, making these musical, experimental creations. 

SILY: “Human Replacement” seems to be one where the juxtaposition between the instrumentation and subject matter is sort of contrasting. It’s this funky strut, but the song’s about women feeling and being unsafe alone at night on the streets. Were you conscious of that contrast making that song?

BM: Me and my producer [Cooper], that was the first song we did together in this album, so it needed to come out very immediate. I just had that [sings melody], and he sat on the kit just trying it out. I had no idea what I wanted to talk about. I was going into this Queens of the Stone Age, grungy, late-night mood. I didn’t have the narrative because what they sing about wasn’t relevant to me. I was looking outside and hearing all the sirens and hearing about what was happening in the news every day, and it was a subject that needed to happen. I wouldn’t say I’m in any way a political writer, but it is a massive problem. It’s a shame that narrative came out of me. The subject matter had to match the severity of the song. I couldn’t really talk about my own feelings in that song. It had to be a bigger subject.

SILY: Are songs like those more or less difficult to perform live?

BM: I don’t know. I worried about playing that one live because it’s so serious. My between-song chat is very much not serious. It’s my personality, which is who I am when I’m not performing. So I was worried I wouldn’t give it the air time it needs. Then again, most people don’t even listen to lyrics. They just like the way a song feels. It’s important to entertain those people as well. It can’t be all doom and gloom. I would say it’s harder than talking about myself, which I’ve been doing since I was 12.

SILY: How was playing your gig?

BM: It was at Banquet [Records], a record store in South London. I thought we were gonna be in the actual shop, me and my long-term collaborator and bandmate and TM Jason. He just makes a bit of [drum] kit, and I’m on acoustic. It turned out to be in this proper venue in this theater. It was a gig. I’m really glad we got pushed into that environment. Anything else would have been a lot more daunting.

SILY: Was it your first time playing many of these songs?

BM: Yes. There are still ones I have no idea how to play. I need to figure that out quite soon. [laughs]

SILY: Are you looking forward to touring?

BM: Yes. Massively. I really needed this break to make me realize that because I think gigs can be really hard for people. I definitely find that. There have been certain moments where I wish I wasn’t going on stage. Now it’s just like we have been given this gift again of living normally. It would be incredibly inappropriate to feel otherwise.

SILY: What else is next for you?

BM: Definitely writing. I want to start recording again. I can do it now since we’ll be so busy. It’s shaping up into a completely different soundscape again, which is interesting. You’re always going.

SILY: Anything you’ve been listening to, watching, or reading lately that’s caught your attention?

BM: This band called Coco. I don’t even know how I found them. They’ve got no information about them whatsoever. I think they’re American. They have 3 songs on Spotify. They’re very very good. To be honest, I’m not very good at watching things at the moment. I watched Nomadland and loved that. Mostly it will always be The Simpsons. To be honest, I’ve been too busy recently. I’ve been looking forward to June. Wait, we are in June! It’s the 2nd day of June. Well, I’m looking forward to this month, where I can do more domestic things again and stop talking about myself. [laughs]

[latestnews2018-blog]

There Were Zero Things Better This Week Than 20-Year-Old Ronald Acuña's Majestic Homers

New Post has been published on https://latestnews2018.com/there-were-zero-things-better-this-week-than-20-year-old-ronald-acunas-majestic-homers/

There Were Zero Things Better This Week Than 20-Year-Old Ronald Acuña's Majestic Homers

Welcome to Good Stuff, HuffPost’s weekly recommendation series devoted to the least bad things on and off the internet.  

To try to enjoy baseball today is to face a constant barrage of reminders ― from baseball’s brass, from baseball’s press, from baseball fans and people who very much want you to know that they are not baseball fans ― that there is something existentially wrong with America’s pastime. It is boring and dated and not worth watching. But every now and then, someone like Ronald Acuña comes along to remind you that baseball is, in fact, good.

Acuña, a 20-year-old Atlanta Braves rookie, has been one of the most exciting young players in baseball this year. But his true breakthrough came only this week, when Acuña opened each of Atlanta’s first three games against the Miami Marlins with home runs. Two of them came Monday, when Acuña opened both games of a doubleheader with home runs. Then he woke up Tuesday and decided to do it again.

They were majestic shots, all of them, each leaving the yard faster, higher and harder than the one before it, and it was a record-breaking streak: The Venezuelan is the youngest player to hit leadoff bombs in three straight games, the youngest to hit homers in five straight games since 1908, the youngest this and the youngest that in all sorts of categories now. Tuesday night, he added another one, a three-run shot that sealed another Braves win.

He’s the new face of the franchise in Atlanta, but, along with players like Washington’s Juan Soto, he’s also one of the new, fresh faces of baseball as a whole. And he plays the game with the sort of electric exuberance sports should elicit from all of us, even if we aren’t all blessed with the talent that allows us to express that joy through towering home runs, diving catches and stolen bases.

Baseball being baseball, that meant someone was going to take exception to his skill or his sheer funness or something. On Wednesday night, Marlins pitcher José Ureña decided there was no longer any point in trying to get Acuña out (a feat the Marlins had mostly failed to accomplish all week) and instead launched a 97 mile-per-hour fastball at the kid’s elbow. It was a cowardly play that drove Acuña from the game and could have ended his (and Atlanta’s) season, and Ureña was roundly criticized for the pitch. Still, his decision was also baseball’s most easily fixable problem illustrated. This game has, for whatever reason, a deep-rooted tendency for someone in or adjacent to it ― a pitcher, a columnist, even the commissioner ― to spend their time trying to convince everyone that the thing they like is actually bad.

Acuña, at least, won’t stand for it. On Thursday, he texted Atlanta’s manager to say he was ready to play, because even when baseball tries its hardest to be bad, people like Ronald Acuña are here to remind us that it’s not. ― Travis Waldron

“On the Road… In Trump Country”

Why are Americans so polarized? What really happened in the 2016 election? I’m leaving my liberal bubble to get some answers. pic.twitter.com/OClhEqRseC

— Jesse Brenneman (@Jesse_Brenneman) August 8, 2018

There was nothing better than radio producer Jesse Brenneman — formerly of WNYC — tweeting a video series about reaching across political and socioeconomic lines, “On the Road… In Trump Country.”

It’s a hilarious series of tweets in which Brenneman pokes fun at all the reporters who parachuted into “Trump Country” after the president was elected. There are a lot of garbage news reports that treat any locale outside of a metropolitan city as a peculiarity to be investigated for a few days and then left behind. Brenneman does exactly that, mostly without leaving his car, and the results are amazing. Read the entire thread. ― Andy Campbell

The First Movie In 25 Years To Feature An All-Asian Cast

This one may be obvious, but it has to be said: “Crazy Rich Asians” is a goddamn delight. This movie has it all: Really hot people! Stunning locales! Delicious-looking food porn! Red-carpet-worthy costumes! Extravagance that would be nauseating in real life but is super fun on screen! A biting joke about JFK airport! Awkwafina!

Also, it’s the first movie in 25 years (since “The Joy Luck Club”) that features an all-Asian cast and puts an Asian-American story at its center. So, seriously, go fill those theaters. ― Emma Gray

“Drowning” by A Boogie Wit Da Hoodie, Orchestral Version

🔥🔥🔥🔥 RT @soscrub_: A Boogie performing Drowning w/ a live orchestra 😳 pic.twitter.com/mxD17oAK3l

— Rory (@thisisrory) August 15, 2018

Bruh, this is majestic as fuck. The original song — “Drowning” by A Boogie Wit Da Hoodie — is amazing in its own right, but hearing it slowed down, without the Auto-Tune, without Kodak Black and with an accompanying orchestra??? Biiiiiiiitch. I wanna shout. I wanna nod my head. I wanna crump. I wanna get active.

There’s something cathartic about hearing a trap beat glide over the graceful medley of cellos, pianos and violins. The song feels fleshed out, as if the more classical instruments have lifted it to be all it can be, all it was meant to be.

And to hear A Boogie rap “Bust down, bust down, bust down, bust down, bust down, bitch I’m drownin’” while that violin whines in the back??? This rendition of the song deserves a Grammy, OK? ― Julia Craven

A Bubble Man

I love New York so much. pic.twitter.com/Qb4TSnknpR

— Alexander Kaufman (@AlexCKaufman) August 15, 2018

Union Square is an egalitarian island in a sea of opulence, corporate chains and pied-à-terres owned by ultrarich foreigners and trust-fund schmucks who think Brooklyn is “too far.” The 6½-acre park, plaza and subway hub of Lower Manhattan serves as the venue for an affordable farmers market four days a week. On the other days, it’s a draw for street performers. Which brings me to the Bubble Man.

I don’t know the Bubble Man’s name, but he’s been a fixture in Union Square for over a decade. He shows up, usually on the west side of the park, with buckets of soapy water and a wand made of two broom-length sticks. Then he just produces bubbles endlessly while kids squeal and chase after them, trying to pop the shimmering little orbs before they float down and burst on the concrete.

When I left work Tuesday, I was exhausted. For some unclear reason, I woke up with my insecurities and feelings of inadequacy on full blast. To boot, my checking account suffered a stinging blow that morning when a handful of different travel and life expenses unexpectedly hit all at once. All I wanted was to go home to my apartment in Queens and curl up until I mustered the appetite to eat leftovers.

As I walked through the park to catch the N train home, the glint of bubbles caught my eye. I noticed a crowd gathered, so I walked over before descending into the subway. The kids were ecstatic, exhaling a chorus of “whoas,” “wows,” and “awesomes” as they scurried around in pursuit of bubbles. Parents and onlookers from all different backgrounds watched, phones out, capturing videos and photos. It was such a raw, uplifting moment, and a wonderful reminder that this city’s real wealth is in its public spaces.  ― Alexander Kaufman

The Great Mayonnaise Debate

Last weekend, Sandy Hingston published a piece in Philadelphia magazine titled “How Millennials Killed Mayonnaise,” a 2,300-word diatribe apparently inspired by a few people not eating her potato salad at Fourth of July barbecues anymore.

The slightly tongue-in-cheek piece offered no real evidence that millennials had actually killed America’s most popular condiment (at least as of 2014), save for her wicked young daughter, a women’s and gender studies major who “naturally” “loathes mayonnaise” (by comparison, Jake, the “practical” and “good son,” loves Sandy’s macaroni salad, thank you very much).

And so it was that Hingston set off a predictably fierce and inarguably trivial internet debate about (A) if mayonnaise is good and (B) whether millennials killed it. The entire situation was wholly idiotic. It lasted way too long, and I loved every second of it. The episode reminded me of a simpler time on the internet, when my days and nights weren’t filled with thoughts of Nazis, incels, Russian bots and Roger Stone. And so I say: Bring back the asinine internet debates of yesteryear! I’ll watch people debate literally anything dumb. Ketchup? Sure. Avocados? Fine, whatever. You want to debate laundry detergent. I’ll debate laundry detergent. Please, I need this. I need this so bad. Help me. Please. And for the record, mayonnaise is bad. ― Maxwell Strachan

Pop’s New Pansexual Anthem

British-Japanese pop princess Rina Sawayama released her new single, “Cherry,” this week, a bubbly pop bop in which she gushes over a new crush who is… dun dun dun… a girl!

“Down the subway, you looked my way / With your girl gaze, with your girl gaze / That was the day everything changed / Now it’s something else.”

Sawayama, who identifies as pansexual, explores the electric experience of desiring a woman and letting the feeling fully flood the body ― even though she’s dating a dude. The song uproots the “girl meets boy” pop music standard, navigating Sawayama’s unfixed sexual preferences with nuance and playful levity. In “Cherry,” Sawayama confronts the contradictions that accompany fluid sexuality: can she authentically identify as queer while being in a heterosexual relationship? (Yes.) The question probes far deeper than Katy Perry’s “I Kissed a Girl.”

Like the 2017 album “RINA,” “Cherry” invokes sounds popularized in the late ’90s and early 2000s pop by femme-forward artists like Willa Ford and Danity Kane. Sawayama, however, sharpens their sugary recipes by granting the genre a gravitas long denied to it. As a result, her jams feel both nostalgic and cutting edge, combining the sweetness of Mandy Moore’s “Candy” with the visionary mastery of Janelle Monae.

Along with possessing me to dance with a force best described as supernatural, Sawayama’s music illuminates potential for a future in which mainstream music can encapsulate experiences as niche and complex as any other “highbrow” art form. As Sawayama told Broadly: “I think it’s possible to queer the world with pop music.” ― Priscilla Frank

This Book Has Everything: Spore-Infected Zombies, A Mediocre Photo Blog, Critique Of Capitalism

Amazon

Spore-infected zombies, a mediocre New York photography blog, critiques of capitalism, a residential shopping mall and a spot of doomed romance: Ling Ma’s debut novel, Severance, has everything I want in a work of fiction.

Severance follows Candace Chen, an aimless twentysomething who has an uninspiring office job in New York, overseeing the production of Bibles. She has vague artistic aspirations and a dreamy writer boyfriend of five years. As the book begins, her boyfriend decides to leave New York for the cheaper and more artistically inspiring pastures of, well, anywhere else. Meanwhile, a fungal infection has erupted in China, and it soon spreads throughout the world. There’s no treatment; the infection kills those it affects, but often after a long spell of zombie-like existence.

Candace, left behind by her boyfriend and alone in the world (her parents, who immigrated from China when she was a young girl, are dead), stays in New York City as it empties of living residents, documenting its decay on her blog. Finally, she flees the city with a small band of survivors who make their way to a shelter owned by the group’s de facto leader.

Interwoven are flashbacks exploring Candace’s childhood, her immigrant experience, her family and her early years in New York, piecing together a novel that’s zombie apocalypse meets immigrant narrative meets office satire.

This book is hauntingly beautiful, it’s thrillingly plotted and it offered me a bit of escapism, the comforting thought that American civilization could be brought to an end by something I’ve completely forgotten to worry about since November 2016: a massive pandemic. ― Claire Fallon

‘Spotlight,’ Which Deserves A Spot In The Pantheon Of Classic Journalism Movies

This week’s shocking grand jury report detailing sexual abuse by hundreds of Catholic priests in Pennsylvania credited the Boston Globe Spotlight team’s 2002 investigation, which first exposed the institutional cover-up of serial sexual abuse involving Boston priests. The reporters’ work was later dramatized in the brilliant movie “Spotlight” — which, luckily, is available on Netflix. Nearly three years after its release, I can confidently say that it’s just as good as (and maybe even better than) “All the President’s Men,” and it deserves a spot in the pantheon of classic journalism movies.

While it miraculously won the Oscar for best picture in 2015, it also should have won awards for its meticulous craft, from its seamless editing to subtle camera work. The technical elements in understated movies rarely get the recognition that they deserve, precisely because they are so understated (i.e. no explosions and car chases). Journalism is not an inherently cinematic profession: It’s mostly people staring at computers, talking on the phone, reading through documents, etc. But “Spotlight” manages to make these mundane, procedural tasks look riveting. Case in point: One of its most suspenseful scenes involves an Excel spreadsheet. An Excel spreadsheet! ― Marina Fang

Aretha, Remembered

As we remember the one and only Aretha Franklin, so many iconic performances come to mind. “Divas Live.” Obama’s inauguration. That Carole King tribute at the 2015 Kennedy Center Honors. But one TV appearance of hers needs to be watched again and again, if only to stare at Cissy Houston providing backup vocals in the background.

That’s right: In 2014, Aretha sang a cover of Adele’s “Rolling in the Deep,” blended with a rendition of “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough” on “The Late Show With David Letterman,” and Cissy, an accomplished performer herself, appeared to forget all the words as one of the backup singers. It’s so entertaining and funny, and it will bring you some joy as we face the sad loss of the Queen of Soul. ― Leigh Blickley

Glenn Close In “The Wife”

Graeme Hunter Pictures, Sunnybank Cottages

If you want to see an actor at work — really at work — look for the moments without any dialogue. For the most gifted performers, that’s when the magic happens. Nicole Kidman at the opera house in “Birth.” Jodie Foster darting through Buffalo Bill’s house in “The Silence of the Lambs.” And, now, Glenn Close standing idly by her husband (Jonathan Pryce) as fans extol his fraudulent career in “The Wife,” a Meg Wolitzer adaptation opening this weekend.

In one of the best performances of her career, Close plays the spouse of a novelist who’s just been feted with the Nobel Prize — for the books she ghostwrote. Over the course of 100 minutes, she finds it increasingly tough to quiet the resentment that’s finally bubbling up inside of her. The movie springs to life not in the couple’s verbal tiffs but in the subtle character work Close does when the camera is stationed on her face, telegraphing the conflict she’s long masked. It’s an actress at her finest. ― Matthew Jacobs

A Nice Memory

Read last week’s Good Stuff.

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