Category: Awards

"When Anthony Zuiker goes down in the books as somebody in Hollywood that was a leader in the industry, I want people to look back and say, ‘You know what? He did it right.’ What we did, the team and myself, was to construct a storyline to tell other producers in the business, ‘Here’s how you do this. Don’t just say ‘no’ to the topic of HIV because you can’t pull it off in the right way or because you think it’s too scary or it’s too dark or it’s too whatever."

If a producer or writer thinks they can’t work HIV into a show, I want CSI to serve as a model. You weave it in a way to where you take people on a journey, where they’re still satisfied with the journey as a CSI viewer, but you’re dealing with a social issue that’s very important and impactful for the greater good, and everybody wins. We have developed the blueprint for other shows to tackle these same kinds of issues, and shown how to utilize television to really get the word out," – Anthony Zuiker, executive producer for CSI: NY, congratulating himself for including HIV in a storyline (non-sexual transmission, of course) after five years of discussion.

"I consider myself a philosophe engagé, a philosopher who gets involved. I like to think I manage to change things. Like any successful intellectual, I reckon I’m 99 percent misunderstood and 1 percent understood. That’s quite good. For instance, I think I helped to persuade Jacques Chirac to bomb the Serb positions around Sarajevo and thus stop a massacre.

I’ll let you into a secret: I never, never eat at home. I know it’s odd, but I find the idea of eating at home repugnant.

I don’t cook, and my wife doesn’t cook either. The only time I would serve food at home would be if I had to meet someone as discreetly as possible. That happens once a year at most, and even then I don’t eat," – Bernard-Henri Levy, in the Sunday Times Magazine.

Is this the winning 2007 Poseur Alert? Don’t Forget To Vote Here!

"How Nikki and the other characters wind up in these rooms ‚Äî how, for instance, the pampered blonde ends up talking trash in a spooky, B-movie office ‚Äî is less important than what happens inside these spaces. In ‘Inland Empire,’ the classic hero’s journey has been supplanted by a series of jarringly discordant scenes, situations and setups that reflect one another much like the repeating images in the splintered hall of mirrors at the end of Orson Welles‚Äôs ‘Lady From Shanghai.’ The spaces in ‘Inland Empire’ function as way stations, holding pens, states of minds (Nikki’s, Susan’s, Mr. Lynch’s), sites of revelation and negotiation, of violence and intimacy. They are cinematic spaces in which images flower and fester, and stories are born.

Each new space also serves as a stage on which dramatic entrances and exits are continually being made. The theatricality of these entrances and exits underscores the mounting tension and frustrates any sense that the film is unfolding with the usual linear logic. Like characters rushing in and out of the same hallway doors in a slapstick comedy, Nikki/Susan keeps changing position, yet, for long stretches, doesn‚Äôt seem as if she were going anywhere new. For the most part, this strategy works (if nothing else, it’s truer to everyday life than most films), even if there are about 20 minutes in this admirably ambitious 179-minute film that feel superfluous. ‘Inland Empire’ has the power of nightmares and at times the more prosaic letdown of self-indulgence," – Manohla Dargis, on David Lynch’s new movie, New York Times. (Hat tip: JPod.)

"It begins with familiar-seeming mild flu-like symptoms (mild in my case, more severe in others), but then tails off into a long, etiolated fugue state in which something more than flu-like lethargy, lassitude and inanition paralyzes you. It’s not just a neutral world weariness, it’s Weltschmerz‚Äîworld-historical sadness: Some mournful, emotional, deeply despairing, unremittingly sad and despondent sense of life seizes you and won‚Äôt let go for at least a week afterward," – Ron Rosenbaum on the flu.

Dude, get some Nyquil.