Marvel. Ummm, yeah.
- how to stop time: kiss
- how to travel in time: read
- how to escape time: music
- how to feel time: write
- how to waste time: social media
”He and I had dinner in his New York hotel suite; it was a great treat for me. I was nervous and really didn’t want to go. But he was not at all what you might expect: the formidable, dark, brooding genius. He was a regular guy. He commiserated with me about low box-office grosses and women and having to put up with studios. The world saw him as a genius, and he was worrying about the weekend grosses. Yet he was plain and colloquial in speech, not full of profound pronunciamentos about life. Sven Nykvist told me that when they were doing all those scenes about death and dying, they’d be cracking jokes and gossiping about the actors’ sex lives. I liked his attitude that a film is not an event you make a big deal out of. He felt filmmaking was just a group of people working. I copied some of that from him. At times he made two and three films in a year. He worked very fast; he’d shoot seven or eight pages of script at a time. They didn’t have the money to do anything else. I think his films have eternal relevance, because they deal with the difficulty of personal relationships and lack of communication between people and religious aspirations and mortality, existential themes that will be relevant a thousand years from now. When many of the things that are successful and trendy today will have been long relegated to musty-looking antiques, his stuff will still be great.” - Woody Allen on Ingmar Bergman
River Phoenix photographed at his home by Bruce Weber
“River Phoenix isn’t crop-headed, of course. And he doesn’t wear bermudas. He arrived at my hotel in his mother’s car wearing a jade green Gap sweatshirt, navy blue long johns, and tennis shoes. He’s grown since we last saw him (in Running of Empty - what a tearjerker). He’s now 5’11 (barefoot) and slim as a willow, and hung with wisps of beard like Florida’s Spanish moss. He wouldn’t shave them off, even for Bruce Weber’s pictures.”
Vogue, May 1990
River was my first born. He introduced me to motherhood and has been the strongest influence on my life. I feel blessed to have been the woman who held him deep within my being as he grew from a tiny seed. I birthed him at home, suckled him to a chubby 2-year-old and then held him in love and awe until his safe passage on Oct. 31.
It was incredible to watch River grow. From the beginning, he was a soul filled with passion and a sense of service for others. At a young age, he took on the responsibility of sharing the wonderful gifts that were given him. He diligently taught himself guitar at 4, sang on the streets from Venezuela to Westwood, Calif., and wrote music and lyrics, seeking to open hearts in a new way.
Many of you have been able to experience his openness, gentleness, beauty and vulnerability on the screen. He chose characters that reached inside the souls of the audience, awakening long-forgotten feelings. With River’s passing, people the world over have been touched by the loss and once again their deep feelings have surfaced.
River made such a big impression during his life on Earth. He found his voice and found his place. And even River, who had the whole world at his fingertips to listen, felt deep frustration that no one heard. What is it going to take? (…) If River’s passing opens our global heart, then I say, thanks dear, beloved son, for yet another gift to all of us.