July 30, 1995 |
If you were a woggle, could you make us long for a kiss? "What's a woggle?" you ask. Fair question. But now's not the time for an answer. I don't think it is, anyhow. And since this story is only about radical new ways to tell stories, only about the nascent medium called "interactive storytelling"--a yarn spinning process that taps new technologies to let the audience participate in the tale--it's really not your place to muck about with the narrative flow.
CALIFORNIA | LOCAL
April 2, 2000 |
With tongue rings, exposed navels and some unusual hair colors, the teenagers at Owensmouth Continuation High School in Canoga Park don't look like ambassadors of literacy. But there was 16-year-old Maria Jorge, early Monday morning, removing her tongue ring so she could enunciate the words "perplex" and "diabolic" to elementary school students who, she believes, need proper pronunciation to improve their vocabulary.
September 18, 1997 |
It's no surprise that cigar smoking is verboten at Barnes & Noble in Huntington Beach. Or is it? These days, gourmets cook, psychics predict, women drum and cuddly bears recite stories at bookstores big and small. Libraries let kids paste and glitter, dance and do division on computer. Indeed, today's literary outlets increasingly offer activities traditionally provided by community colleges, recreation centers, preschools, concert halls and coffeehouses.
March 25, 2011 |
"White Irish Drinkers" might be writer-director John Gray's profane, boisterous, blood-spattered love letter to growing up in '70s Brooklyn, but its truer and more regrettable connection is to the rampant Scorsese mimicry that characterized early-'90s indie calling cards. You know the kind: movies where young guys with glaringly obvious life choices ? here, it's whether kind-eyed, wisecracking, big-dreaming Brian (Nick Thurston), who paints secretly in the basement, should escape the influence of his boozy, violent father (Stephen Lang)
April 3, 2014 |
Krysten Ritter and Brian Geraghty, performers who have delivered striking work elsewhere, are hard to read in "Refuge," a torpid drama about a tentative new romance. Or perhaps they're too easy to read; whatever emotional depths filmmaker Jessica Goldberg hopes to suggest, there's nothing stirring beneath the movie's static surface. The central characters' coupledom might bring them a safe haven, but audiences will be left out in the cold. Adapting her stage play, Goldberg uses wintry Southampton, N.Y., locations to convey a down-and-out working-class vibe.
CALIFORNIA | LOCAL
October 17, 1992 |
Although the first Hanukkah candle won't be lit for another two months, veteran actor Ed Asner is already telling stories about the annual Festival of Lights that commemorates the rededication of the Temple in 165 BC. On Thursday, Asner colorfully read a story by Nobel Peace Prize winner Isaac Bashevis Singer called "A Parakeet Named Dreidel," about a Yiddish-speaking bird that lands on the windowsill of a Brooklyn Jewish family on the eighth day of Hanukkah.
July 30, 1999 |
They haven't lit campfires exactly but for the last two years, relatively small groups of New Yorkers have been gathering in a series of downtown bars, letting down their guards and re-creating all the warmth and camaraderie of a woodsy sleepover with the simple act of telling stories. The evenings have a theme and the five or six appointed storytellers must speak without notes for no more than 12 minutes.
September 9, 1991 |
Click! Clack! Clack! Sadayoshi Morishita is beating wooden clappers together in a small Tokyo park. It's a beckoning sound, one that is vanishing rapidly in Japan. Morishita is about to begin kamishibai, the 60-year-old traditional art of storytelling with pictures. The click-clack is the signal for children to come and listen to colorful tales told by a professional storyteller. The listeners also buy his rice crackers, lollipops and fried noodles.
July 27, 1997 |
Shortly after I was born, Aunt Laura came to live with us. She was, in reality, my great-aunt, Daddy's Aunt Laura Henry. She had lived, unmarried, with her sister-in-law, my Grandmother Henry, until Grandmother died the same year I was born. . . . Aunt Laura was the oldest living thing I had ever seen. She wore long dresses which came down to the floor, bonnets on her head, whether indoors or out, and thick rimless glasses which turned into mirrors when she looked at us. . . .
January 6, 1990 |
The man struggling for life in the hospital's intensive-care unit made but one request. He wanted his friend, David Novak, to tell him a story. So Novak obliged, recounting the courage of a tiny spider who, against all odds, scaled a water spout after nearly drowning in a rainstorm. "Early one morning in Spider Town, before the sun came up, all was quiet and still," Novak began. "The cool dew was clinging to the sleepy spider webs, and not a web was stirring. . . . " For his ailing friend, the tale of the spider "was like a warm cup of tea on a cold night," said Novak, a professional storyteller.