Posts tagged "liam neeson"
Procrastination Theatre: June 30, 2012
So, for about two months, or however long this has been released, whenever we had my youngest brother William over on Friday nights and we were trying to decide what movie to watch, he’d be like, “THE GREY!” and he’d sell us this big long thing about how badass fighting wolves would be. So finally last week, I let him rent it on our Apple TV.
Dude, this movie is really depressing. Basically, if a movie has Liam Neeson, you know it’s going to be stark and desperate and it’s going to involve a man who’s willing to give up his life because he’s lost something essential. The man just has that look in his eyes. And so anyway, despite 99% of this movie being not very good, and ADDITIONALLY it being a terrible misrepresentation of wolves that would make Farley Mowat furious (read Never Cry Wolf. Do it. Don’t pass Go. Just do it.), there were about ten minutes of this that I found really moving because it involved Liam Neeson telling a story about his father and a poem that his father had written and put on the wall. And it’s the sort of poem that’s only moving if Liam Neeson reads it….but he did. So it made me feel things.
This is a really lovely beginning to a celebrity profile. Perhaps one of the loveliest we’ve read yet. From Tom Chiarella in Esquire ”The Hard Luck and Beautiful Life of Liam Neeson” (via Longreads)
Liam Neeson and I last spoke a week before I wrote this sentence. At that time, I asked him what he remembered about the interview I’d done with him at a restaurant in New York almost three weeks before that. He said, “I remember you told me that story about your accident, and that was pretty hard for you. I remember that you made me draw that picture of my house, and I remember that we talked about Natasha. I started to worry: Why would I tell him that? Why did I speak about the hospital? And then I thought, No, he’s a man. This is not some newspaper story. So I wasn’t sorry. Except about your accident. That was bloody awful.”
Then Liam Neeson asked me what I remembered about the interview. I echoed him: “You told me about your accident. You told me about your wife’s accident. That was hard for you. You were upset. You got very quiet. So I traded stories. I told you something bad that happened to me. I have the picture of your house right here. I remember that your hand was shaking.”
“You have to be careful,” he told me, “in how you describe it.” I told him that was my job, to be careful with descriptions.
If you read one thing today, it should be this. Beautifully written.