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In my first class, I almost got into a fistfight with Warren Beatty over the ranking of Godard’s Weekend. It was at that point the only film I’d ever seen and, therefore, I put it at number one. Beatty put it at seven because he didn’t understand it. He insisted the film was a critique of fascism…

Whatever it is, it’s certain to be yet another turgid, overhyped foray into Kaufman’s self-referential, self-congratulatory psyche

Certainly Farrow is a filmmaker to watch. One sympathizes with her desire to separate herself from her father’s well-known surname, as well as his nose—for it seems apparent, if one compares earlier and more recent photos, Farrow has undergone cosmetic rhinoplasty. Still, one wonders if there will …

I SUSPECT HENRIETTA IS plotting to kill me. I can’t say that I blame her. I am the department favorite and, whereas I have many other irons in the fire, with my book on Ingo soon to be fully remembered, then written, then released, and then my plan to film a live-action remake of the film, this is …

Wait. Something is coming to me. A conversation with Ingo one night during our dinner break of ramen and reconstituted evaporated milk.

“Most of us are invisible,” he said. “We live our lives unrecorded. When we die, it’s soon as if we have never lived. But we are not without consequence, becaus…