Polish Poster by Bronislaw Zelek for ‘Far From the Madding Crowd’, 1967, and the Spanish Poster for ‘You Will Meet a Tall Dark Stranger’, Woody Allen, 2010Posted: August 29, 2016
A patent that has just been awarded to Google suggests that either could be possible and that we could potentially download different personality types from the cloud.
In fact, if you can’t choose what kind of personality you want for your future robo-pal, it’s highly possible that it might be able to choose for you. It would do this by accessing your devices and learning about you, before configuring a tailored personality based on that information. In addition it could use speech and facial recognition to personalise its interactions with you.
“It’s possible that if you uploaded its personality to the cloud you might be able to transfer it to another robot.”
The original question posed still stands though — you could potentially always choose a specific personality type for your Google robot that represents the kind of person you enjoy interacting with. This personality could even be triggered by specific cues or circumstances that the robot could detect, says the patent, which was spotted by Quartz.
“Unlike Newton and Stephanie from Short Circuit who were devastated when they believed their beloved Johnny Five had been destroyed, you never need get emotional over or be concerned about the physical destruction of your robot.”
“The robot personality may also be modifiable within a base personality construct (i.e., a default-persona) to provide states or moods representing transitory conditions of happiness, fear, surprise, perplexion (e.g., the Woody Allen robot), thoughtfulness, derision (e.g., the Rodney Dangerfield robot), and so forth,” states the patent.
“A more concerning concept perhaps though is that a robot could be programmed to take on the personality of a real-world person — the patent suggests a deceased loved one or a celebrity — so that effectively you could get someone to live on after their death in robot form.”
It also suggests that should a cruel fate befall your robot, that might not spell the end of its days. It’s possible that if you uploaded its personality to the cloud you might be able to transfer it to another robot.
Unlike Newton and Stephanie from Short Circuit who were devastated when they believed their beloved Johnny Five had been destroyed, you never need get emotional over or be concerned about the physical destruction of your robot. Read the rest of this entry »
“I don’t know how I got into this. I have no ideas, and I’m not sure where to begin. My guess is that Roy Price will regret this.”
“I don’t know how I got into this. I have no ideas, and I’m not sure where to begin. My guess is that [Amazon Studios Vice President] Roy Price will regret this,” Mr. Allen said in a news release about the project, which is still unnamed.
[An outbreak of mockery ensues at Twitter #WoodyAllenTVShowNames]
Amazon has commissioned a full season, with half-hour episodes available on its Prime Instant Video. The will be the first television project by Mr. Allen, who has worked on films such as “Annie Hall” and “Midnight in Paris.” He has won four Oscars.
On Sunday, Amazon’s “Transparent”—about a California family whose father comes out as transgender—took home two Golden Globes at the 72nd annual awards: best musical or comedy TV series, and best actor in a musical or comedy series for actor Jeffrey Tambor. This is the first Golden Globe win for an Amazon show. Read the rest of this entry »
Laugh Factory: How Bob Hope made a career in comedy
Adam Gopnik writes: When I was a teen-ager, I sort of hated Bob Hope. All of us did. Generationally crazy about the classics of American comedy—Groucho and Chaplin and Keaton and W. C. Fields—movie-loving kids could, in the nineteen-seventies, afford to be pious about the industrious, blue-collar types of that dispensation. Abbott and Costello and the Three Stooges had their Dada charm—they were working so hard that you couldn’t help but laugh. Henny Youngman, with his violin and grinning, rapid-fire delivery, was cool in his dirty-uncle-at-the-bar-mitzvah way. (Philip Roth went on the record as a Youngman fan.) If you were lucky enough to get to stay home with a cold and watch reruns on morning television, you could catch Lucille Ball’s and Jackie Gleason’s fifties sitcoms, which were truly funny, and had neat theme music, too.
But Hope was beyond hope. There he was, year after year, on those post-Christmas U.S.O. specials, with shrieking starlets and shirtless soldiers, swinging his golf club like a swagger stick. He seemed barely interested in his jokes, which he recited rather than performed, their standardized rhythmic forms—“Hey, you know what A is? It’s B!”; “Yeah, let me tell you: C reminds me of D”—more like the mumbled monotones of some ancient scripture than like anything funny. James Agee’s canonical essay on silent comedians used Hope as an example of everything that had gone wrong with movie comedy since sound came in.
Worse, Hope seemed like the perfect jester for the Nixon court: contemptuous of his audience and even of his role. A rule of American life is that the same face often appears as comic and tragic masks on two public figures at the same time. The unsmiling and remote Dallas Cowboys coach Tom Landry and the ever-smiling but equally remote Johnny Carson were look-alikes of this kind through the seventies, and so in the early nineties were the shoegazing stoner twins of the rocker Kurt Cobain and the comedian Mitch Hedberg—both sweet and self-destructive and dead too young. Hope and Nixon had that kind of symmetry: the ski-jump nose; the hooded, darting, watchful eyes; the five-o’clock castaway shadow (in the thirties, Hope did razor-blade ads because of it); the flat, nowheresville American accent; above all, the constant show of regular-guy companionability, unable to disguise for long the coldness and isolation at its core.
Woody Allen’s was the one voice speaking up for Hope’s genius in those years; he even did a Hope homage in “Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex.” But one felt that Allen liked Hope because he needed something from Hope’s work for his own—perhaps a sense that this much verbal aggression was going to work out O.K., perhaps a desire to be pious about someone other than the obvious.
America, however, is the country of the eternal appeals court, where judgment, once it has worked its way through the system, has to work its way through it all over again. With a comedian or a humorist, the newsweekly eulogy usually oversweetens the case, then the memorial makes some of the right jokes, and then the biography comes to make the last, best case for his importance. Richard Zoglin’s biography “Hope” (Simon & Schuster) does such an effective job of arguing the appeal that even the Hope-hater comes away eager to see more of his good early work, and more sympathetic to the forces in his life and in the country’s which left him hard to like at the end.
Bob Hope, we learn, was born outside London in 1903, and remained in one respect more English than American: the truest thing that can be said about his inner life is that he chose not to have one. His hard-drinking father was a stone cutter—a mediocre artisan in a dying field, who, failing to make a living in London, immigrated to Cleveland only to fail further there. Hope’s mother brought up seven boys in drear, impoverished conditions. The outer fringes of London and then industrial Cleveland were not places designed to bring out the beaming aesthete in any man. The grim determination with which Hope pursued his career is perfectly understandable if you first grasp the grim lack of determination with which his father pursued his own.
Some successful performers are perpetually on, and some are just perpetually pushing. Hope was the second type. You almost have a sense, following his progress, that he became a comedian not because he much liked entertaining people but because he had to do something, and it beat all the other jobs on offer. Then he discovered that the same gift of sober perseverance that would push you up in any other business would push you up onstage. In the mid-twenties, he hopped onto what was left of the vaudeville circuit, which, one gathers, was a bit like writing for the Huffington Post today: to do it, you did it. The early notices suggest that Hope was an efficient comic rather than an inspired one—a swift retailer of as many jokes as he could borrow from other comedians or steal from magazines. This made his rise surprisingly swift without, at first, being particularly notable. He was successful before he had a style.
His real reputation was made on Broadway, when, in 1936, he was lifted out of the ranks of scuffling comics to star with Ethel Merman and Jimmy Durante in Cole Porter’s “Red, Hot and Blue.” (In a duet he sang with Merman, he introduced the Porter standard “It’s De-lovely.”) He was what was called brash, and could dance lightly on the surface of conventional comedy, without melodrama or pathos. “He knows a poor joke when he hides it,” a critic wrote of Hope on Broadway, and he always would.
It was the final, onstage translation of all that pure ambition. Hope knew that there were many laughs to be had by laughing at the whole business of making people laugh. Early on, he had hired stooges to heckle him from the wings during his act. “Don’t you boys know you can be arrested for annoying an audience?” Hope would snap. “You should know!” was their reply. (Johnny Carson took this manner over whole, knowing how to get laughs out of the failure of a one-liner.)
Onstage, Hope was a wise guy and a go-getter—“cocky, brash, and bumptious” was his own summing up. Durante, Bert Lahr, and, later, Jackie Gleason played at being lovable naïfs of a kind. The personae presented by Groucho and W. C. Fields represented another form of displacement: Fields a nineteenth-century con man lost in the new world of immigrant energies, Groucho a rabbinic disputant without a congregation to listen to him. Hope, by contrast, was all the things comedians are not supposed to be: sure of himself, self-satisfied, a man justified in his complacency. He got his laughs by hovering knowingly over his material, without worrying it too much. Hope was entirely a city smart-aleck. (It was already an American voice, right out of Sinclair Lewis’s “Babbitt.”)
The Marx Brothers were satiric—they were against war and authority—but they were not particularly topical. Hope was always “on the news” in a nicely breezy way. Zoglin retails some of his lines from his first movie hit, the horror-flick parody “The Cat and the Canary”: Someone asks whether he believes in reincarnation—“You know, that dead people come back.” Hope: “You mean like the Republicans?” Will Rogers preceded him in this, but that was slow-spoken country-boy wisdom. Hope was tabloid-alert, and very New York. He later referred to his “suave, sterling style” on Broadway; Hollywood to his mind was mere “Hicksville.”
He was also what was called in those days an “inveterate skirt-chaser.” After an early and unsuccessful marriage to a vaudeville partner, he made an early and successful marriage to a minor singer, Dolores Reade. It was successful in the sense that they stuck together and raised children—she was devoutly Catholic—and that she permanently stabilized his life.
Along the way, however, he had an apparently unending series of sexual escapades. Most of his assignations were with little-remembered beauty queens and chorus girls, though he did tell a friend that he had had sex with the brass-tonsilled Merman in doorways all the way up Eighth Avenue. Although all this was widely known, Zoglin points out, no one chose to notice. Some work went into this. Hope’s agent Louis Shurr once said, brutally, to a new Hope publicist, “Our mission in life is to keep all news about fucking and sucking away from Dolores.”
It was in Hollywood, hick town or no, that he got paired with Bing Crosby, a much bigger star, in a small buddy comedy called “The Road to Singapore” (1940). This was the first of the series of “Road” movies—“The Road to Morocco,” “The Road to Utopia,” “The Road to Rio”—which made him a household name, and are his best shot at posterity. They really are funny, and curiously modern, and a key part of this, strange to say, is Hope’s sex appeal. He’s a self-confident wise guy—exposed as a coward but not as a nebbish. Riding the back of a camel with Crosby in “Road to Morocco,” he’s as at ease in his undershirt as Brando. Read the rest of this entry »
I hope Woody Allen reads this.
Though it’s unfair to start in the middle of Rev. Robert Barron‘s comments, this is a section that suggests the graceful exploration at work here. Note: Barron refers to Allen’s “recent ruminations on ultimate things”, but I’m not sure where Woody’s ruminations appear. Perhaps a recent interview? If a reader recognizes the reference, let us know. Though I’m tempted to include my own observations, I’ll refrain, to avoid diminishing Barron’s commentary.
“…If you consult the philosophers of antiquity and the Middle Ages, you will find a very frank acknowledgment that what Woody Allen observed about the physical world is largely true. Plato, Aristotle, and Thomas Aquinas all knew that material objects come and go, that human beings inevitably pass away, that all of our great works of art will eventually cease to exist. But those great thinkers wouldn’t have succumbed to Allen’s desperate nihilism. Why? Because they also believed that there were real links to a higher world available within ordinary experience, that certain clues within the world tip us off to the truth that there is more to reality than meets the eye.
One of these routes of access to the transcendent is beauty. In Plato’s Symposium, we can read an exquisite speech by a woman named Diotima. She describes the experience of seeing something truly beautiful — an object, a work of art, a lovely person, etc. — and she remarks that this experience carries with it a kind of aura, for it lifts the observer to a consideration of the Beautiful itself, the source of all particular beauty. If you want to see a more modern version of Diotima’s speech, take a look at the evocative section of James Joyce’s Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, wherein the narrator relates his encounter with a beautiful girl standing in the surf off the Dublin strand and concludes with the exclamation, “Oh heavenly God.” John Paul II was standing in this same tradition when, in his wonderful letter to artists, he spoke of the artist’s vocation as mediating God through beauty. To characterize artistic beauty as a mere distraction from the psychological oppression of nihilism is a tragic reductionism…(read more)
Frank Sinatra Jr. Ronan Farrow, the young celebrity who premiered on MSNBC earlier this year with much fanfare, confused the NAACP with the NCAA today in a segment following President Obama’s speech on the 50th anniversary of the Civil Rights Act…
“. . . And also Ben Jealous, former head of the NCAA . . . tell me, gentlemen . . . NAACP, I apologize.”
‘Woody Whistle’ Given to Girl Scouts of America members in Manhattan to Help Protect Girls From Woody AllenPosted: April 1, 2014
The Girl Scouts of America announced today the introduction of a new warning system for girls and parents concerned about safety, called the “Woody Whistle“. Also called the “Woody Warning System“, it helps alert an adult guardian in case of predatory behavior by the director. Due to an increase in girl-stalking by film director Woody Allen, in parks all over Manhattan, an emergency procedure was devised. In the event of a Woody sighting, girls are instructed to blow the whistle, then wait for a guardian to intervene.
“Woody spottings have increased, now that the spring weather is here, and we’re doing more outdoor activities, in public parks. Mr. Allen’s moods have become unpredictable again”, said Nancy Williams, safety advisor to the New York chapter of the Girl Scouts of America.
Parents have expressed gratitude to Scout officials, and have volunteered to step up their efforts to track the movements of Mr. Allen.
“I have a pair of binoculars, and the mobile phone numbers of all other parents, who are on the lookout, too. We’ve developed an informal intelligence network”, said one parent. “Last month we had a total of seven Woody sightings”, she said proudly. “And we were able to re-route our girls, to keep them out of view.”
“That doesn’t always work, sometimes Woody sneaks around in disguise, so we can’t always spot him until it’s too late. That’s why we started giving the girls whistles”, said Tina Brower, a concerned parent and child-saftey activist.
“My daughter came home crying last year, because Woody Allen approached her, and asked her if she wanted to be ‘in the movies’, and though he didn’t physically touch her or anything, he said really creepy things about how pretty her hair is”, said Barbara Needleman. “That was the last straw”.
Other parents fear that Mr. Allen fetishizes the Girl Scout uniform, and have considered sending the girls to events in normal street clothes. The iconic uniform is said to be a favorite of male predators with unsavory fantasies, along with Catholic school girl uniforms.
“We’ve offered to share our campaign with some of the Catholic girl’s schools in Manhattan. They’ve showed interest. Apparently, some of their parents have had Woody sightings, too”, said Barbara.
Not all parents agree, however, and wonder if their safety campaign is going too far. “I like Woody Allen movies, especially the early, funny ones. I know he had problems with Mia Farrow, and all that. But he’s not the monster people make him out to be”, said one parent who declined to be identified. “I know it’s important to be safe, and I respect the concerns of fellow members, and parents, but I fear this campaign might have unintended consequences, making the girls think they’re in more danger than they really are.”
Most parents of the Manhattan Girl Scouts are eagerly distributing the Woody Whistle to fellow members, and to their daughters. And more importantly, teaching them how to use it. “If you hear a whistle, look up. It might be the most important thing you do. Alert a Scoutmaster. Alert a guardian.” But then added, “We’re also teaching them when not to use it. It’s not a toy. It’s not to be used just because they like making noise with it. It’s only to be used in an emergency, if Woody Allen is nearby, and they need to let a guardian know.”
Joe Coscarelli reports: The ideal viewer for Ronan Farrow Daily, the brand-new show from the highly accomplished 26-year-old son of Mia Farrow and Woody Allen (or Frank Sinatra?), is younger than its host and maybe stoned or at least hung-over on a dorm-room couch. That’s both because it’s on weekdays at 1 p.m., when most adults are busy, and by design: Today’s debut was aimed squarely at millennials in topic — weed, Lena Dunham, student debt — and form, with segments built around Twitter and holding a sign while taking a selfie. Here are the highs and lows, because we’re allowed to watch TV in the middle of the afternoon.
Amount of Time Farrow Spent Introducing Himself: 45 seconds
“Hello and welcome to Ronan Farrow Daily!” said the very handsome and charismatic new host. “I’m Ronan Farrow — I’ll be here daily.”
Variety‘s Brian Steinberg writes: Ronan Farrow took to MSNBC Monday to demonstrate his access to big-name guests, his facility with complex topics of global import and, subtly, to toss cold water on the idea that his family affairs might become part of his program’s daily conversation.
Anyone tuning in to “Ronan Farrow Daily” hoping its nicely pedigreed host would address his or his sister Dylan’s relationship with their estranged father Woody Allen was likely disappointed. But those who expected the network’s usual dose of progressive finger-wagging may have walked away surprised: The host of MSNBC’s new 1 p.m. program steered the show away from anything salacious or argumentative in favor of something more reasoned and intelligent.
Over the course of an hour, Farrow demonstrated a detached, bemused stance toward the stories he presented. He didn’t appear to be a cheerleader for a particular cause …And he tipped his hand several times to social media, asking his viewers to use Twitter to express their opinions about a story on the show or to send a picture describing their problems with college debt….
Mara Siegler and Emily Smith report: Woody Allen is continuing to put on a brave face following abuse allegations from his adopted daughter — even attending a Broadway musical where one audience member brazenly yelled, “I think he did it!”
The moment the show ended and the crowd stood for the ovation, the famously shy director, who is nominated for Best Original Screenplay for “Blue Jasmine,” and his family made a beeline for the door.
But he didn’t go unnoticed by the crowd.
Mary Chastain reports: Director Woody Allen said his only biological son may very well be the son of Frank Sinatra. If it is true Allen claims ex-love Mia Farrow lied under oath just to receive child support.
I pause here for a quick word on the Ronan situation. Is he my son or, as Mia suggests, Frank Sinatra’s? Granted, he looks a lot like Frank with the blue eyes and facial features, but if so what does this say? That all during the custody hearing Mia lied under oath and falsely represented Ronan as our son? Even if he is not Frank’s, the possibility she raises that he could be, indicates she was secretly intimate with him during our years. Not to mention all the money I paid for child support. Was I supporting Frank’s son? Again, I want to call attention to the integrity and honesty of a person who conducts her life like that.
He addressed the issue in The New York Times op-ed he published to dispel claims by his adoptive daughter Dylan Farrow that he sexually abused her when she was seven-years-old. He uses the Ronan situation as evidence he did not abuse Dylan because Farrow cannot be trusted. He mentioned the Yale New Haven Hospital case, which said Farrow coached Dylan and brainwashed her into believing Allen molested her.
Dylan Farrow has responded to an op-ed Woody Allen published by The New York Times Friday.
In the response, provided to The Hollywood Reporter, Farrow denounced Allen’s op-ed — in which he suggested Farrow’s mother, Mia Farrow, had coached her to accuse Allen of sexually assaulting her as a child.
“I have never wavered in describing what he did to me. I will carry the memories of surviving these experiences for the rest of my life,” Farrow said.
She went on to challenge other points in Allen’s op-ed, calling it ‘the latest rehash of the same legalese, distortions, and outright lies he has leveled at me for the past 20 years.”
“…My intention in writing that piece was to put the truth on paper from a voice that was not able to speak before…”
Francesca Bacardi reports: For the first time since she penned her letter to the New York Times about the alleged sexual abuse she has accused her adoptive father Woody Allen of, Dylan Farrow has spoken to People about both the charges she has made and the backlash.
[The full interview can be read here]
Farrow’s critics have accused her of writing the letter as a means of sabotaging her father and his career, but she insists this isn’t the case. “I’ve been hearing that a lot,” Farrow told People. “I’m happy to answer that. My intention in writing that piece was to put the truth on paper from a voice that was not able to speak before.”
I was hoping someone would dig up this quote. It’s not unique, a lot of left-wing non-celebrities, stubborn Obama supporters, and autocratic rule-loving, authoritarian-leaning Democrats feel this way, too. They just don’t have a microphone. The sentiment is probably more common now than when Wilson or FDR were president. The quote? The Daily Caller‘s Patrick Howley has it:
Accused pedophile Woody Allen once said that President Obama is “brilliant” and should have dictatorial powers so that Republicans can’t oppose his agenda.
“…would be good…if he could be a dictator for a few years because he could do a lot of good things quickly..”
“I am pleased with Obama. I think he’s brilliant. The Republican Party should get out of his way and stop trying to hurt him,” Allen said in 2010, 18 years after he was accused of telling Mia Farrow’s adopted daughter Dylan to lay on her stomach and play with her train set while he allegedly sexually assaulted her, according to a New York Times open letter written by Dylan Farrow.
“[I]t would be good…if he could be a dictator for a few years because he could do a lot of good things quickly,” said Allen, who was accused of routinely putting his thumb in Dylan Farrow’s mouth and making her sleep under the covers with him while he was in his underwear.
Update: Feb. 2, 3:35 p.m. ET — Blanchett and representatives for Allen have now responded to Farrow’s New York Times piece.
Allen’s lawyer Elkan Abramowitz sent Mother Jones the following statement on the afternoon of Sunday, Feb. 2:
“It is tragic that after 20 years a story engineered by a vengeful lover resurfaces after it was fully vetted and rejected by independent authorities. The one to blame for Dylan’s distress is neither Dylan nor Woody Allen.” And a rep for Allen also told ABC News Radio, “Mr. Allen has read the article and found it untrue and disgraceful. He will be responding very soon.”
“…what he did to me in the attic felt different. I couldn’t keep the secret anymore.”
Dylan Farrow writes:
For as long as I could remember, my father had been doing things to me that I didn’t like. I didn’t like how often he would take me away from my mom, siblings and friends to be alone with him. I didn’t like it when he would stick his thumb in my mouth. I didn’t like it when I had to get in bed with him under the sheets when he was in his underwear. I didn’t like it when he would place his head in my naked lap and breathe in and breathe out. I would hide under beds or lock myself in the bathroom to avoid these encounters, but he always found me. These things happened so often, so routinely, so skillfully hidden from a mother that would have protected me had she known, that I thought it was normal. I thought this was how fathers doted on their daughters. But what he did to me in the attic felt different. I couldn’t keep the secret anymore.
When I asked my mother if her dad did to her what Woody Allen did to me, I honestly did not know the answer. I also didn’t know the firestorm it would trigger. I didn’t know that my father would use his sexual relationship with my sister to cover up the abuse he inflicted on me. I didn’t know that he would accuse my mother of planting the abuse in my head and call her a liar for defending me. I didn’t know that I would be made to recount my story over and over again, to doctor after doctor, pushed to see if I’d admit I was lying as part of a legal battle I couldn’t possibly understand. At one point, my mother sat me down and told me that I wouldn’t be in trouble if I was lying – that I could take it all back. I couldn’t. It was all true. But sexual abuse claims against the powerful stall more easily. There were experts willing attack my credibility. There were doctors willing to gaslight an abused child.
“..I could only hide my panic until I found a place to be alone and fall apart…”
After a custody hearing denied my father visitation rights, my mother declined to pursue criminal charges, despite findings of probable cause by the State of Connecticut – due to, in the words of the prosecutor, the fragility of the “child victim.” Woody Allen was never convicted of any crime.
Check out today’s episode of “Morning Bro,” featuring Matt Lewis, Vince Coglianese, Taylor Bigler and Christopher Bedford.
Dominic Patten writes: First Mia Farrow tweeted she was turning off the Golden Globes on NBC when they went to the Woody Allen tribute. Now her son and upcoming MSNBC host Ronan Farrow lashed out against his mother’s former longtime companion, also on Twitter.
Missed the Woody Allen tribute – did they put the part where a woman publicly confirmed he molested her at age 7 before or after Annie Hall?
— Ronan Farrow (@RonanFarrow) January 13, 2014
This comes after MSNBC is still trying to get over the successive embarrassment of departures of Alec Baldwin and Martin Bashir for incendiary remarks and Melissa Harris-Perry‘s ill-considered comments targeting Mitt Romney’s adopted black grandson.
A 14-year-old Danvers High School freshman ducked into a darkened movie theater for a matinee of the new Woody Allen movie after authorities say he murdered his popular math teacher and dumped her body in the woods, a law-enforcement source said.
Authorities did not say specifically when they believe Philip D. Chism “assaulted and subsequently murdered” 24-year-old Colleen Ritzer. But the source said it was before he bought a ticket to the 4:30 p.m. Tuesday screening of “Blue Jasmine” at the Hollywood Hits theater in Danvers. Police reported Chism left the theater about an hour and a half later.
The theater manager said Chism “blended right in.”
Sony Pictures has decried the suit as frivolous:
In Midnight In Paris, Gil Pender, the disillusioned Hollywood screenwriter played by Owen Wilson, says, “the past is not dead. Actually, it’s not even past. You know who said that? Faulkner. And he was right. And I met him, too. I ran into him at a dinner party.” The rightsholder[s] say the slightly paraphrased quote could “deceive the infringing film’s viewers as to a perceived affiliation, connection or association between William Faulkner and his works, on the one hand, and Sony, on the other hand.”
David Olson, a professor of law at Boston College (and no relation), disputed the notion that a license was needed just because the movie was intended to make a profit. “Commercial use isn’t presumptively unfair” he said. He said no one watches “Midnight in Paris” as a substitute for buying “Requiem for a Nun.” [Deadline.com, Washington Post]
- William Faulkner estate sues Sony over Midnight in Paris line (guardian.co.uk)
- Faulkner estate claims that quoting his novels in films is both a trademark and copyright infringement (boingboing.net)
- Sound and Fury: William Faulkner estate unhappy with Woody Allen (telegraph.co.uk)
- William Faulkner vs. Woody Allen…And Northrop Grumman? (publishingperspectives.com)
- Sony Pictures Sued By Faulkner Estate Over ‘Midnight In Paris’ Quote (m.deadline.com)