In my new novel “Water Music,” the Summer Olympics in New York includes an opening ceremony as pretentious and ponderous as any of those sound and light shows that make up the actual opening ceremonies.
Let me ask you a question (or two or more): Why can’t the host country simply present its culture rather than hit us over the head with it? What did the opening ceremony for the Sochi Games really have to do with Russian culture? Why not an excerpt from “Swan Lake” or a clip from a film of “War and Peace”?
The irony of all these opening ceremonies is that they are supposed to celebrate the unique histories and cultures of the host countries, but they are actually interchangeable because they’re filled with faux PR symbolism. Enough with the cutesy mascots and whirling snowflakes and required releasing of a peace dove and that un-singable Olympic Anthem. Read more
Read MoreForget Richard III. This is the winter of my discontent, and it isn’t just the unrelenting cold, snow and ice in the Northeast. (It’s like “Dr. Zhivago” without Omar Sharif.)
No, it’s partly because my guys – Rafael Nadal, Novak Djokovic, Colin Kaepernick, Gov. Chris Christie and now Peyton Manning – have all fallen short this season. (Thank God Tim Tebow has found his calling as a T. Mobile pitchman and ESPN analyst, or this winter would be a total bust.)
Let’s leave off Gov. Krispy Kreme, shall we? Remember how in math you always had to pick out the one thing that didn’t belong to the set. Well, he doesn’t belong to the set. His is a different kind of performance to be judged by other criteria. What I want to talk about today in the aftermath of that dud of a Super Bowl and with the Olympics beginning Thursday, Feb. 6 with the new team ice figure skating event is why some people – brilliantly talented everyday achievers – fall flat in big moments. Read more
Read MoreRecently, a trio of screen stars has taken to the London stage to portray three of Shakepeare’s greatest characters – David Tennant (“Dr. Who”), Richard II; Jude Law, Henry V; and Tom Hiddleston (“Thor”), Coriolanus. Together they offer a kind of round robin of Shakespearean performance. On PBS, Tennant was a febrile Hamlet, a role that was played with lucent rationality on Broadway by Law, whose Henry V follows hard upon Hiddleston’s charismatic interpretation in PBS’ “The Hollow Crown.”
The three also offer lessons in leadership undone at a time in our history when the systemic failure of Alexandrian leadership – leadership from the front – continues to haunt us. What, for example, would the Bard make of New Jersey Gov. Chris Chrisite? Would he cast him as his blustery Roman general Coriolanus, a man whose skills are undermined – no, doomed – by his own arrogance and blindness to the will of the people? Read more
Read MoreWell, I’m disappointed that Colin Kaepernick and the San Francisco 49ers lost to Russell Wilson and the Seattle Seahawks, but I had a feeling it was going to be the Hawks. And it may well be their year, though I’ll be rooting for Peyton Manning and the Denver Broncos.
The press, of course, will be looking at many storylines for this Super Duper Bowl. There’s Peyton playing and possibly winning at MetLife Stadium, bro Eli’s home, just as Eli and the New York Giants beat Tom Brady and the New England Patriots at Lucas Oil Stadium, Peyton’s then home as the Indianapolis Colts’ quarterback. Then there’s the possibility of a major storm – the Farmers’ Almanac says so – which may prove nothing compared to the cold front that might greet Gov. Chris Christie. (Will his fellow pols like Gov. Andrew Cuomo be treating him like he has cooties?)
But perhaps the biggest storyline will be the possible changing of the guard. Read more
Read MoreI’m reading “Divine Fury: A History of Genius” (Basic Books, $29.99, 312 pages), which is just the kind of book I like – one in which the author takes the intellectual ball and runs with it. Darrin M. McMahon must be good at it. He also wrote “Happiness: A History.”
Genius, as he notes in his introduction, has meant many things to many different times. The word comes from the Latin, but the Romans, who cannibalized Greek culture, were really borrowing from the Greek “daimon.” Your daimon was – is – your guiding spirit, the link to the divine. Indeed, “Daimon” is the title of my unpublished novel about Alexander the Great, who like the Emperor Augustus and a host of ancient luminaries saw his daimon – his genius – as proof of his divinity. It wasn’t until the 18th century that we got the modern definition of genius as extraordinary creativity and accomplishment and not until the 20th century that we got the IQ tests that sought to quantify it.
McMahon rounds up the usual suspects... Read more
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