Friday, June 1, 2012
May 28, 2012 Issue
The most interesting sentences in this week’s issue are by Richard Brody. In his capsule review of Leos Carax’s Boy Meets Girl (1984), he writes:
Lucid, sardonic, cinema-centric asides (especially one great set piece involving an aged, hearing-impaired movie technician from the silent-era) adorn their all-night tangle of intimacy, building to a grungy, furiously self-deprecating Liebestod.
Notice how he deliciously delays the verb. His sentences are like long freight trains, multi-colored boxcars of description strung before and aft of the locomotive verb. I’m a sucker for such front-loaded constructions. Brody is a master writer of them. Here’s another example, this one from his mini-review of Hitchcock’s Vertigo (1958), also in this week’s New Yorker:
The irrepressible allure of Hitchcock’s visual extravagance – his baroque swirl of caustic greens, voluptuous purples, acidic yellows, and fiery reds, the indecent glare of daylight – conjures a vortex of unconscious desires beyond the realm of dramatic machinations; his happy ending, of health restored and crime punished, resembles an aridly monastic renunciation.