FRED PLOTKIN is one of America’s foremost experts on opera and has distinguished himself in many fields as a writer, speaker, consultant and as a compelling teacher. He is an expert on everything Italian, the person other so-called Italy experts turn to for definitive information.  Fred discovered the concept of "The Renaissance Man" as a small child and has devoted himself to pursuing that ideal as the central role of his life. In a “Public Lives” profile in The New York Times on August 30, 2002, Plotkin was described as "one of those New York word-of-mouth legends, known by the cognoscenti for his renaissance mastery of two seemingly separate disciplines: music and the food of Italy." In the same publication, on May 11, 2006, it was written that "Fred is a New Yorker, but has the soul of an Italian."

By Andy Borowitz September 15, 2021 SACRAMENTO, California (The Borowitz Report)—After the polls closed in California’s recall election, the G.O.P. candidate Larry Elder claimed that there was “widespread evidence” of him losing to Governor Gavin Newsom. Detailing his accusations, Elder alleged a “vast conspiracy” involving millions of Californians, designed to deny him a victory. “I had people stationed at polling places across the state and they came back with truly shocking reports of people voting for Newsom,” he said. “Now, lo and behold, Newsom is being declared the winner. Coincidence? I don’t think so.” Seeking a remedy for what he called “one of the most blatant cases of someone losing in California history,” Elder has retained the legal services of the former New York mayor Rudolph Giuliani. The two men are scheduled to hold a press conference on Thursday in Santa Monica, at Shutters on the Beach Total Landscaping. Though Elder is playing his cards close to the vest, one remedy reportedly under discussion is a campaign to recall all ten million of the state’s Democratic voters. Andy Borowitz is a Times best-selling author and a comedian who has written for The New Yorker since 1998. He writes The Borowitz Report, a satirical column on the news.

By Andrea Sachs This story originally ran in nu-detroit.com I’m not much one for atonement. (Sorry, Grandma Esther!) Living on the Upper West Side in Manhattan, it feels like you get enough religious credit for shopping at Zabar’s. But this year, my conscience is heavy with guilt. I bear my soul here in hopes of asking forgiveness for one particular transgression. I almost gave up my life for a good haircut. It’s not like my intellectual bona fides aren’t in order. Since graduating from Oak Park High School (Class of ’70), I’ve done my due diligence (or served my time, depending on how you feel about such things) in the library. Besides a B.A. in English, I have a master’s degree in journalism, as well as an ill-fitting law degree I have barely used. I’ve clearly hung around in universities for too much of my life. But all of that book learnin’ hasn’t prevented my hair from becoming a central part of my being. I’ve done it all, baby — set my hair in hot rollers, straightened it with Curl Free, ironed it surreptitiously in Home Ec at Robert Frost Junior High, slept on pop cans, ratted it, brushed it, parted it, combed it, slathered it with gel and other goop and otherwise tortured my tresses. Unlike T.S. Eliot, I’ve measured out my life not with coffee spoons, but with spritzes. So naturally, from the day that my first gray hair surfaced at 29 years old, I have dyed my hair. As any other Pandemic American Princess would tell you — oh yes, I know you girls are out there — that’s a habit that keeps getting more expensive as time goes by, like heroin. My current pusher in Manhattan is a chic (or chichi, depending how you feel about such things) salon on Fifth Avenue just above the Village. You could tell time by my pre-pandemic appointments there — a dye job every four weeks, rain or shine, and a haircut every eight weeks. Given the advanced state of my hair jones, it is hardly a surprise that my locks quickly became a defining part of my pandemic journey. As soon as it became clear in March 2020 that we were in for a long stay behind closed doors, I ordered a stockpile of hair dye from Amazon: 12 boxes of L’Oréal Paris Superior Preference Fade-Defying + Shine Permanent Hair Color, 6R Light Auburn. (My brother the economist had mentioned that there were likely to be shortages of goods as the pandemic proceeded, so I wasn’t taking any chances.) Forget the fact that I had never once in decades of going grey ever dyed my own hair. A pre-pandemic princess-in-training? As long as I have been pulling in a paycheck, I have been laying down big bucks in overpriced salons. But since I live alone, who exactly did I think I was going to see in quarantine? Never mind that. My mother had her hair done every week until she was 89 years old. It’s genetic. Despite my outsized Amazon purchase, I never opened any of the L’Oréal boxes. I was afraid that I was going to spatter dye on my bathroom walls. So several months into the pandemic, my inevitable roots began to appear. For a while, I told myself that I was beginning to resemble the famously gray-streaked author, Susan Sontag, who was once described by Playbill as “a striking woman whose mane of dark hair was bisected by a dramatic streak of white.” But after six months sans chemical enhancement, even that piece of self-deception was no longer working. I looked like I had been dipped headfirst into a vat of vanilla frosting. I was now half and half — half gray and half some other now-faded indeterminate color. Having gone that whole time without having had a haircut either, I put one in mind of a 21st century Medusa. But I was too terrified of COVID-19 to return to my Fifth Avenue salon. Despite their precautions — taking the temperature of each customer, separating the stylists’ stations, limiting the number of customers allowed in at any given time — there was no way I was going to make that risky trek. But mirabile dictu, something else was happening. My hair was coming in a pretty shade of silver, and I rather liked it. I started reflecting upon the fact that I had no idea what I would look like if my hair were its natural color. Exactly who was I? I was intrigued — what was under all of the overpriced coloring anyway? The matter was clinched the night I spoke by phone with Anita, my longtime friend and fellow PAP in Scottsdale. (Please don’t tell her that I described her that way; she wouldn’t like it.) Anita had her ear to the Arizona ground, and told me that a few friends of hers were letting their hair go grey. At that moment, I had an epiphany. The pandemic was the optimal time to transition. I was not going out to dine at the palace anytime soon, to say the least. I was totally energized by my decision. As I approached 70, it was time to let my freak flag fly! I thought of the exuberant words from the 1968 musical Hair: I want it long, straight, curly, fuzzy Snaggy, shaggy, ratty, matty Oily, greasy, fleecy Shining, gleaming, streaming Flaxen, waxen Knotted, polka-dotted Twisted, beaded, braided Powdered, flowered, and confettied Bangled, tangled, spangled, and spaghettied A few days later, in one fell swoop of competence, I convinced my longtime hairstylist (whom I’ll call Georges, because he wouldn’t like me telling you this story either) for a breathtaking amount of money to come to my apartment and cut my hair safely out on my terrace. Oh, yes — since writing this is the Jewish equivalent of going to confession, I have to tell you the whole truth. I also paid him to go and get a COVID test beforehand. Yes, I was that determined to have the final remnants of my old dyed hair clipped off and be made glam. And yes, he did it — and did it again in June and then again in August. It felt positively pre-pandemic to be back on my eight-week haircut schedule! I loved my silver pixie cut and felt reborn. So that’s the happy ending of this story, right? Not so fast. Two weeks ago, I received a text from Georges: HI ANDREA, I WANT TO LET YOU KNOW I TESTED POSITIVE FOR COVID TODAY. I’VE BEEN VERY SICK FOR THE LAST 3 DAYS. YIKES! When I picked myself up from the floor, I recreated our recent rendezvous in my mind’s eye. It had been ten days earlier, still within the contagion zone. Worse, I thought about how relaxed we had been in our mutually vaccinated state, eating a maskless lunch in my apartment before the haircut. Good God, what was I thinking? Believe me, there’s nothing regal about getting a COVID test. I stood in line on Broadway and 71st at the Lab Q truck, waiting for my turn to be poked up the nostrils by a masked nurse. And there’s nothing remotely royal about spending 12 hours waiting for test results in a panic, imagining that my vanity was going to land me in the ICU. At 2:59 pm on August 12, I finally got a text from Lab Q. By then, I had entered a state of heart palpitations. Naturally, it took 10 minutes in my frenzied state to figure out my username and password so that I could access my test results. On the screen, I saw the loveliest word that this English major had ever seen: NEGATIVE. I had dodged a silver bullet. So much for gray hair being a sign of wisdom. I had risked my health and welfare for a few stylish snips. If that’s not being a Pandemic American Princess, I don’t know what is. I’d like to believe that I’ve reeled in my reign, that I’ll be cutting my own hair with a garden implement next time and that I won’t put my life on the line again. I’ve been looking at my nails lately, and my cuticles are nothing if not corroded. I am still afraid to go into Dashing Diva, my glitzy nail salon on the Upper West Side; it’s dangerously congested there. But maybe I could convince Connie to come to my apartment.

September 20, 2021 Jeffrey D. Sachs | Project Syndicate Governments of countries where vaccines are being produced – the United States, European Union members, the United Kingdom, India, Russia, and China – need to cooperate under United Nations leadership to ensure that a sufficient supply of COVID-19 vaccine doses reaches the poorest countries. Five steps are especially urgent. NEW YORK – The world stands at a critical juncture of the COVID-19 pandemic. Countries that lack the first round of vaccine coverage are extraordinarily vulnerable to the highly infectious Delta variant, and are also seedbeds for new variants that could quickly spread worldwide. The Lancet COVID-19 Commission, which I chair, is working urgently with the United Nations system to strengthen the multilateral response. Governments of countries where vaccines are being produced – the United States, European Union members, the United Kingdom, India, Russia, and China – need to cooperate under UN leadership to ensure that a sufficient supply of vaccine doses reaches the poorest countries. The high-income countries now have more than 50% of their population fully vaccinated. Yet the fully vaccinated population in Africa remains under 4%. This lack of vaccine coverage in Africa, and in low-income countries elsewhere, poses an imminent danger to these populations. US President Joe Biden has called for a vaccine summit on September 22. This is potentially a highly significant step forward. It is important that the US hold this meeting in cooperation with China, India, Russia, and the other vaccine-producing countries, and with the UN system. Only the UN, with its universal membership and its operational capacity in low-income countries, has the ability to coordinate the rapid global scale-up of vaccine coverage. In April 2020, the UN created the COVID-19 Vaccine Global Access (COVAX) facility to provide vaccines to lower-income countries. These countries expected COVAX to provide timely deliveries. Yet COVAX has been unable to buy a sufficient volume of vaccine doses mainly because high-income countries have repeatedly cut to the front of the queue. Moreover, the vaccine-producing countries’ governments have imposed export quotas so that COVAX is often unable to secure even the vaccines for which it has contracts. The company shareholders are of course happy with these arrangements, because the rich countries pay more for the doses than COVAX would. The supply crisis facing low-income countries in Africa and elsewhere will not resolve itself. On the contrary, high-income countries are now beginning to offer a third dose, even before highly vulnerable groups in the poorest countries (the elderly, health workers, the immunocompromised, and others) have received their primary vaccination. Global opportunities for scaling up vaccine production are also being hampered by some governments’ continued insistence on enforcing the patents on key vaccine technologies, even though these patents are held by academic institutions that were funded by the governments (notably by the US National Institutes of Health). Likewise, public money funded the clinical trials and rollout of the vaccines. Despite the global urgency of the pandemic, life-saving public goods have been privatized. The World Health Organization has set minimum targets for vaccine coverage in every country – at least 10% of the population by end-September 2021, 40% by end-2021, and 70% by end-June 2022 – that the current vaccine allocation system will not achieve. At this moment of great global peril, the governments of the vaccine-producing countries should take the following steps: First, when governments meet this week at Biden’s vaccine summit, they should chart a path to achieve the WHO targets in all countries, including 40% global coverage by the end of this year. The vaccine producers should cooperate fully by disclosing all existing orders (and prices) on their books, so that the UN and governments can prioritize under-served countries. Second, the UN system, with the full support of governments and companies, should set delivery timelines for every low-income country aligned with the WHO targets. The WHO and COVAX, and other UN agencies such as UNICEF, should work with the recipient countries to scale up the “last-mile” deployment systems for the arrival of the vaccine doses. Third, the new $650 billion allocation of special drawing rights just approved by the International Monetary Fund should be used, in conjunction with other emergency financial resources, to ensure that short-term financing constraints pose no obstacles to the supply of vaccines. Fourth, the governments of the vaccine-producing countries should agree, in line with long-standing trade agreements on public health, to waive intellectual property rights and to promote technology sharing in order to increase global vaccine production. Promising vaccines that are now in clinical trials should also be supported with official financing for rapid production and deployment upon regulatory approval. Lastly, governments in all countries should make clear to the public that the vaccines are not sufficiently effective on their own to suppress the community transmission of the coronavirus. Additional public health measures – including face masks, physical distancing, contact tracing, and limits on indoor gatherings – are still needed. The bottom line is that we must treat universal vaccine coverage as an urgently needed global public good, not as an eventual outcome of market forces. Biden’s vaccine summit this week can provide the vital breakthrough we need, by empowering the UN with the vaccine doses and finances it needs to ensure immunization for all. https://www.project-syndicate.org/commentary/covid19-vaccine-summit-five-steps-to-global-coverage-by-jeffrey-d-sachs-2021-09 Jeffrey D. Sachs, University Professor at Columbia University, is Director of the Center for Sustainable Development at Columbia University and President of the UN Sustainable Development Solutions Network. He has served as adviser to three UN Secretaries-General, and currently serves as an SDG Advocate under Secretary-General António Guterres. His books include The End of Poverty, Common Wealth, The Age of Sustainable Development, Building the New American Economy, A New Foreign Policy: Beyond American Exceptionalism, and, most recently, The Ages of Globalization.

By Naomi Serviss As some pet owners have already discovered when shopping at Chewy.com or Petco, a wrench has been thrown in the pet food industry’s business-as-usual routine. Industry reports, including one from the American Pet Products Association, cite myriad reasons for the current pet food shortfall, which has especially affected prescription pet food. Across-the-board cost increases of raw ingredients, processing, manufacturing and aluminum packaging, as well as labor and delivery systems, have jammed up the flow of goods. The Pet Food Institute is already anticipating a 5.4% jump in consumer prices this year. More companies are investing in renewable food sources, according to the Better Food Institute. Container shortages, high cost of pallets and crumbling infrastructure further challenge the delicate balance. The labor shortage during the pandemic is adding to an already difficult situation. The combination of raw material shortages, and newly installed worker safety Covid protocols at production facilities have also interrupted business as usual. Additionally, bad weather has affected vendor expectations. To top it off, there are simply more hungry dogs and cats. Pandemic pet adoptions broke records, straining the food chain. More than 12.6 million U.S. households added new pets from March through December 2020. Should you start hoarding Fancy Feast or 9 Lives Meaty Paté? Short answer: No. The current pet food shortage will hopefully not last long. Much depends upon the weather. Storms, floods, hurricanes and tornadoes impede the delivery chain from supplier to vendor. Naomi Serviss is a New York-based award-winning journalist whose work has been published in The New York Times, Newsday, The Philadelphia Inquirer, Highroads (AAA magazine), in-flight publications, spa and travel magazines and websites, including BroadwayWorld.com

By Bonnie Fishman One of my favorite sayings of the past decade is: “It’s enough already!” These words have many applications these days. The fires and drought out west; the floods in the south and east; and Congress deadlocked and polarized in Washington. It’s enough already! And then there’s the pandemic, the pandemic, the pandemic, being on hold for an hour because there’s nobody working anymore, waiting for a letter or package from the U.S. Postal Service that may never arrive, watching the price of food and gas rise to unheard of heights. It’s enough already! If I take these global problems to a micro level and apply this phrase to my own life and those around me, I can begin to let go of the stuff that’s, well, enough already. Coloring my hair (I’ve gone gray), getting a spiffy manicure, buying a new car (mine is 11-years-old and still runs great), thinking about food that may not be good for me (too bad, I’m eating it anyway). It’s enough already!. I hear people say, “my kids whine” …”I can’t balance my checkbook”…”I’m working past retirement age because you can’t make ends meet on Social Security’”…”I have to wait in line for everything.” IT’S ENOUGH ALREADY! You get the picture. I say, let go of what is enough, you’ve had it up to here, you deserve the freedom of being unencumbered with certain people, things, or situations that are enough. Can you just hear Idina Menzel singing “Let It Go” from Frozen? She’s not wrong. But when it comes to the vegetable garden, I have a different spin on enough is enough. I can't complain.. I have mountains of the ripest, sweetest cherry tomatoes. The best thing about our garden is that it was effortless to plant. No really. NO effort because our sweet contractor, Vince (Javier to his insiders), built us a huge raised cedar garden in front of our barn house, planted it, and put in an irrigation system. It was a surprise, put up while we were away packing up our Michigan house. Vince planted only two tomato plants: beefsteaks and cherry tomatoes. He used seeds from his past crop. These plants are ginormous. They have been producing fruit for almost four months and don’t seem to be letting up anytime soon thanks to the sunny California climate. The gift that keeps on giving. This week’s recipe features the glorious, sweet cherry tomatoes. You can use any variety, such as grape or pear, or any color of small tomatoes, even mix them. This recipe gives you the opportunity to infuse your own creative input on the ingredients. I’m offering a vegan dish but I personally think the addition of feta cheese makes it “pop” with flavor and umami. Consider using pistachios in place of the almonds, chopped dates instead of raisins, or add briny olives for an over-the-top finish. I’m wondering what Insiders might consider a nice addition to this tasty salad. And more importantly, what is your personal “It’s enough already”? Cherry Tomato Rice Salad Yield: 4-6 servings 1 1/2 c. water 3/4 c. basmati rice 1 tsp. salt 2 Tbs. olive oil 3/4 tsp. cumin 3/4 tsp. coriander 1/4 tsp. cinnamon 1/4 tsp. crushed red pepper flakes 1 generous pt. cherry tomatoes 1/4 c. slivered toasted almonds 1/4 c. dark raisins 1 small orange, rind removed, cut into 1/2” pieces 1/4 c. chopped fresh mint 1/4 c. thinly sliced scallions, green part 2 Tbs. lemon juice 1 Tbs. olive oil 3/4 c. crumbled feta (optional) salt and fresh ground black pepper to taste In a small pot, bring the water and salt to a boil. Add the rice. Stir once, cover, turn down to a simmer for about 15 minutes or until all of the water is absorbed. Place the rice in a large bowl to cool, breaking up with a large spoon. While the rice is cooking, heat the oil over high in a cast iron skillet or large sauté pan. Add the cumin, coriander, cinnamon, and red pepper flakes. Cook spices for 1 minute or until fragrant. Add the cherry tomatoes. Toss them about in the hot oil until they begin to burst, about 1-2 minutes. Remove from heat. Reserve. When the rice has cooled, add the almonds, raisins, oranges, mint, and scallions. Blend in the lemon juice and oil. Add the cherry tomatoes, scraping in the seasoned oil from the pan. Adjust the seasoning. Add feta if desired. Serve at room temperature. Bonnie Fishman attended the Cordon Bleu Cookery School in London. Later, she owned and operated Bonnie’s Patisserie in Southfield, Mich. and Bonnie’s Kitchen and Catering in Bloomfield Hills, Mich. She has taught cooking for over 35 years and created hundreds of recipes. She is now living in Northern California.

By Naomi Serviss My daily communion in Central Park has nothing to do with religion, even during Rosh Hashana or Yom Kippur. It’s a sensory attunement sought. For 11 years I’ve been overstimulated by relentless construction cacophony, brain-piercing sirens, air horns, jackhammering and car horn leaners. Equally opportunity, Upper West Side Peace offenders. Aurally assaulted before leaving our 10th floor apartment. A half-block away is the Upper East Side transverse. Traffic magnet. Been getting up by 5 a.m., a quirk turned habit. I caffeinate, ruminate, ‘til darkness lifts. Then head out. M96 bus passengers are queued up at the stop across the street. I carefully cross Central Park West after diligently double-checking for rogue cyclists. The hint of clove essence drifts, crickets herald dawn’s approach, marking time before birdsong. A feathered friend-loving cab driver stopped on the transverse shoulder, darted out with a wild bird seed sack poured it out on the shoulder, jumped back into his car and merged seamlessly into eastbound traffic. His kindness was duly noted. Musicians and artists find refuge and inspiration for drumming, strumming, sketching and en plein oil painting. Very good dogs with owners close, stop at will, unleashed until 9 a.m. They roll on dewy grass like blissed-out lunatics. About a mile in, I pause at a bank of green benches anchored by black wrought iron legs. By 7 a.m. foot traffic builds. This is a popular people-watching, prime real estate perch. Gloved boxers jab, rope jumpers skip and bench-pressers work it. A diverse community of familiar strangers has become my tribe. I’ve learned names and back stories. Sharone bemoans her roommate plight. Her mischievous pup Mr. Bentley, is not as dignified as his moniker suggests. Monica has a favorite bench she shares with her gorgeous golden retriever Mara. A lupus-battling sister troubles her. Blair and Yuki leave nut buffets at tree bases, eager squirrels scoop up hazel and walnuts, twitchy tails telegraph their bounty. The couple has known one another 19 years, married for nine. Three paths flow through this juncture. There goes the 100-pound weight-carrying man, whose lean, reddish hound trailblazes ahead. Parents with school-uniformed, backpacked, masked kids in tow rush along before 8 a.m. Yehuda’s screaming beagle Bean commands attention in every dog pile he crashes. Overheard conversation makes good copy. A voice behind me snapped, “Keep moving, keep moving.” I turned and asked nonchalantly: “Are you talking to me?” Her classic New York retort: “Why would I talk to a stranger?” One day a swiftly moving, statuesque figure with pixie-cut salt-and-pepper hair, black tunic and flowy black wide-legged slacks, floated by, a white poster board tucked under her arm. Tan Italian leathered sandals skimmed the path. Her wide smile welcomed me before I reached her side. Meet Sylvie Bruandet, my new Yoga guide. She’s a French native whose family recently moved to the Upper West Side. A Samara Yoga instructor-in-training, Sylvie’s striking black tunic and pants designate teaching status. An all-white ensemble is worn by students. Samara Yoga is a traditional art of meditation in movement, taught for centuries in the Samara valley, in the Russian Steppe. Sylvie’s high hopes encompass growing a neighborhood practice from scratch, beneath majestic pines, near swings, picnic tables and the Great Lawn. We agreed to meet at 7:30 the following morning. For two weeks, I was her lone student before curious onlookers approached shyly. This yoga flavor is a gentle movement practice, with concentration on Chakra balance and flow. I’m learning cheerful poses like: Alphabet in Space and The Stretch of the Joy of Life We’re lulled into harmony by her melodious accent and beguiling, infectious smile. Sylvie radiates joy as we echo her contemplative movements, meditative music playing softly from her iPhone. We breathe mindfully, with positive intentions and gratitude for our journey. Naomi Serviss is a New York-based award-winning journalist whose work has been published in The New York Times, Newsday, The Philadelphia Inquirer, Highroads (AAA magazine), in-flight publications, spa and travel magazines and websites, including BroadwayWorld.com

One film journalist’s stream-of-consciousness cinematic journey through the pandemic, Part 51 By Laurence Lerman / New York City Ingmar Bergman’s landmark 1973 television miniseries Scenes from a Marriage made quite the impression upon its premiere nearly 50 years ago. A five-hour, six-part TV production that explored the disintegration of a marriage and its aftermath over a ten-year period, it chronicled its subject with an intimacy, intelligence and raw power that had never been seen to such effect on the small screen. That it was written and directed by one of the international cinema's premiere filmmakers for television—at a time when his reputation was in need of an artistic boost and the Bergmans of the world didn't work in television—was even more remarkable. As Scenes from a Marriage brings a whole lot of history and respect and a helluva reputation with it, the idea of remaking it could be looked at as ambitious and exciting, just as easily as it could be derided as risky and unnecessary. This consideration, of course, can be said about any remake, or “re-imagining,” as they like to slot it in Hollywood. But that artistically nervy step has been taken. The first chapter of HBO’s adaptation of Bergman’s series (and subsequent film version) debuted on the cable giant and its sister streaming platform HBO Max on September 12. The 2021 edition of Scenes follows the lives of Mira and Jonathan, a married couple living in a Boston suburb, who are portrayed by Jessica Chastain and Oscar Isaac. Presented as a five-part limited series, it is scheduled to run on consecutive Sunday nights through late April. This time around, the writer-director is Hagai Levi, whose previous projects include HBO’s In Treatment and Showtime’s The Affair, which certainly establishes his credibility in the multi-part romantic drama TV series arena. But can he out Bergman Bergman? The original Scenes from a Marriage stars Bergman mainstays Liv Ullman and Erland Josephson as an affluent and seemingly content Stockholm couple, Marianne, a lawyer, and Johan, an academic. But that’s only the entry point in the early goings-on of the series (and considerably shorter theatrical film version) as things don’t ever look much rosier for the two as a couple as the extended story unfolds. Bergman penned the teleplay for Scenes over several months, drawing on his own experiences, including his then-rocky relationship with leading lady Ullmann and two of his previously unhappy marriages. It was made on a relatively small budget—reportedly a third of the cost of his previous film, the 1972 costume drama Cries and Whispers—and shot with up-and-close-and-personal intimacy by Bergman’s peerless cinematographer Sven Nykvist. Though he was still considered a master abroad, by the early Seventies, Bergman had fallen a bit out of favor in Sweden. There was a rising feeling among the cinematic cognoscenti, particularly the younger generation, that Bergman was increasingly out of touch with modern society. A particular sore point was his ongoing interest in the metaphysical and religious themes that defined such classic works as The Seventh Seal (1957), The Virgin Spring (1960), Through a Glass Darkly (1961) and The Silence (1963), among many. The critical and commercial pendulum swung back in Bergman’s direction when the first installment of the contemporary and very intimate Scenes of a Marriage premiered on Swedish television in April, 1973, with five more installments broadcast weekly through the middle of May. The love and anger and joy and turmoil that percolate over the years of a marriage were all on display in the impeccably acted, precisely written, lengthy chronicle. It’s not hard to imagine that viewers whose marriages weren’t destined for dissolution must have raised their eyebrows when watching the union between thoroughbreds Ullmann and Josephson slowly unravel. “On Wednesday nights the streets were empty because everyone was at home watching Scenes from a Marriage," wrote Swedish-born Scandinavian cinema scholar Birgitta Steen of Scenes TV rollout in 1973 and Bergman’s resurgence. Bergman was the master, the icon. He was so important he was practically sanctified." An instant sensation in its native country and then across the continent, Scenes may have had an even more-lasting effect: it reportedly led to higher divorce rates throughout Europe, with Swedish divorces allegedly doubling one year after it premiered. If that’s true, perhaps the feeling among inward-looking couples was, “If it’s good enough for Liv and Erland…” A much-truncated, 167-minute theatrical version of the miniseries was released in the U.S. in September, 1974. (In New York City, it opened at the Cinema I on the Upper East Side, with the complete series being aired by PBS a few years later in the spring of 1977.) In addition being edited down from its six original 50-minute installments, the series was blown up from a 16mm film negative to a more theater-friendly 35mm. This gave Nykvist’s tight close-ups a far grainier and textured appearance that it had on television. The New York Times’s Vincent Canby described that veneer as “a kind of pointillist effect” in his review. On the big screen, its appearance was akin to that of old home movies, adding what feels like even more adjacence to our fly-on-the-wall observations of the couple’s most personal moments. While there’s no evidence that Scenes undermined the institution of marriage in America, it certainly made its mark on homegrown U.S. cinema and television. Renowned Bergman-worshipper Woody Allen took a cue from Scenes for a handful of his films, including Annie Hall (1977), Another Woman (1988) and particularly Husbands and Wives (1988). Then there’s Paul Mazursky’s 1991 serio-comic Scenes from a Mall, costarring Woody and Bette Midler, which followed the crumbling union of a couple as they traversed the Beverly Center. Richard Linklater’s Before Midnight (2013) took Bergman's one-on-one as a prime inspiration while, more recently, Noah Baumbach’s Marriage Story (2019) clearly used Scenes as a jumping-off point. Even TV’s beloved nighttime soap Dallas can be traced to Scenes. Its creator David Jacobs once offered that his Seventies staple was initially based on Bergman’s series. “Yeah, I had high aspirations,” Jacobs admitted. Based on its premiere episode, the new Scenes from a Marriage broadly parallels the original series. The primary difference, at least at this point, is that Mira, the business executive wife played by Jessica Chastain, is the primary bread winner and seemingly unsure marital partner, while Isaac’s Jonathan, still an academic, is a satisfied stay-at-home dad. It’s a gender swap that clearly reflects that the perceptions of marriage and its responsibilities have radically changed in the nearly half-century since the original. The performances by Chastain and Isaac in the first installment are first-rate and carefully calibrated, while writer/director Hagai Levi’s methods include lots of long takes, close-ups and static tableaus. It’s a style that definitely recalls many of the strengths of Bergman’s series, There are still four more installments on tap, so there may very well be some radical departures from Bergman's vision. The next several weeks will tell. So tune in next month to see how it all wraps up—and check the divorce filings in a year to find out just how much the audience has taken it to heart. Laurence Lerman is a film journalist, former editor of Video Business--Variety's DVD trade publication--and husband to The Insider's own Gwen Cooper. Over the course of his career he has conducted one-on-one interviews with just about every major director working today, including Martin Scorsese, Quentin Tarantino, Clint Eastwood, Kathryn Bigelow, Ridley Scott, Walter Hill, Spike Lee, and Werner Herzog, among numerous others. Once James Cameron specifically requested an interview with Laurence by name, which his wife still likes to brag about. Most recently, he is the co-founder and editor-in-chief of the online review site DiscDish.com.

Opinion by Jeffrey D. Sachs | CNN.com September 22, 2021 Editor's Note: Jeffrey Sachs is a professor and director of the Center for Sustainable Development at Columbia Universit and president of the United Nations Sustainable Development Solutions Network. His most recent book is "The Ages of Globalization" (Columbia University Press, 2020). The opinions expressed in this commentary are those of the author; view more opinion on CNN (CNN) - With 678,000 deaths and rising, Covid-19 is now the deadliest epidemic ever to hit the United States, surpassing the death toll of the 1918 flu, and indeed the combined US military deaths in World War I, World War II, the Korean War, the Vietnam War, the Gulf Wars and the Afghanistan War. There is one overwhelming and grim reality: most of the Covid deaths could have been prevented, but America's fractured culture -- political, economic and personal -- mainly delivered death rather than life. With our 330 million-plus population, the pandemic has caused about 2,048 deaths per million population. This is one of the highest mortality rates in the world. Several South American countries have higher rates, as do a few countries of Europe. Yet the death rate is shockingly high, considering that the US mass produces Covid-19 vaccines that prevent most deaths. Instead of an orderly lifesaving response to the epidemic, the US response has been unruly and disorderly from the start. Many lives would have been saved if the US had only implemented basic public-health protections until mass vaccine coverage was possible: mask mandates, physical distancing, testing-tracing-isolation procedures and closing large events. Once the vaccines arrived, continued use of precautionary actions would have helped to keep the virus at bay. (Vaccines save lives but only partly prevent infections and transmission.) This is the route that Australia, China, Hong Kong, Korea, New Zealand and Taiwan have scrupulously followed. Their deaths rates per million are a tiny fraction of the US death rate. All those countries have suffered fewer than 50 deaths per million population, or less than one-40th of the US death rate. If the US had kept deaths to 50 per million rather than the actual 2,048 deaths per million, the US would have saved 650,000 lives from Covid-19. US culture has repeatedly showed itself to be too self-centered, shortsighted and poorly informed to forestall mass deaths and continued surges of infection. Even with lifesaving vaccines in prospect or in hand, politicians -- and notably Republican politicians -- and too much of the public demanded complete, immediate and untrammeled personal freedom: the freedom to not wear face masks, the freedom to attend large gatherings, the freedom to eschew vaccines and the freedom to infect others. Many right wingers have treated even the most modest and limited protections as an attack on freedom. No immediate gratification should be denied; no face masks warranted even in schools, where children face the threats of infection. The message is now, now, now, without a pause for informed reflection and safety. The selfishness of it all has been staggering. Poor people and people of color in disproportionate numbers, and frontline workers, were repeatedly ordered to go to work in unprotected settings at workplaces where even basic face mask protections were widely flouted. We have watched as brave public health workers have faced abuse and even death threats, and of shop clerks and customers have been pummeled, simply for asking others to put on a face mask. We have seen clergy endanger their congregants by demanding the right to hold indoor church services even as the pandemic rages in their community, even when they could have moved the services outdoors or online. We have been deluged by the infodemic of fake news on right-wing and social media. The US has proved itself to be the land of a very peculiar notion of freedom: the freedom to harm others, to put the poor and frontline workers in mortal danger, and to spread misinformation. Freedom, in short, without a glimmer of responsibility. In recent weeks, the culture of irresponsibility has played out in especially dangerous and vulgar ways in Florida, Texas and other states where Republican governors have fought against even basic public health measures. Governors Ron DeSantis of Florida and Greg Abbott of Texas have, through their policies, been effectively leading their citizens toward death. Not only have they eschewed state-level mandates on the use of face masks, they have aggressively prevented local school districts from doing so. Across the 50 states, those with Republican governors and those with chronically weak public education systems, notably states in the South, have had much lower vaccine uptake than the states with Democratic legislatures and with better performing schools, notably those in the Northeast. These facts reflect the two aspects of our broken culture: the Republican ideology of irresponsibility in the name of freedom and a culture prey to misinformation that results from chronically low-quality public education. We are not at the end of this story. Covid-19 deaths in the US continue at an average of around 1,900 per day (during the last seven days). Long ago, the US Covid deaths ceased to be a tragic fact of nature, but became a fact of a fractured culture. America needs to embrace life, not death. https://www.cnn.com/2021/09/22/opinions/staggering-selfishness-pandemic-surpasses-deaths-1918-sachs/index.html

By Tony Shields and Fayth Yoshimura We went to Rwanda last month to visit our son Ryan. He is working in a rural hospital there providing care as an OB/GYN. They take Covid-19 very seriously in Rwanda. We had to get tested four times throughout our 10 days of travel. This included having a PCR test before leaving the U.S.,and then being swabbed at the Kigali International Airport upon arrival. We were then transported to a hotel for quarantine overnight until our tests came back negative. At that point, we were free to travel around, but they had a curfew at 8 p.m. and you could get arrested for not wearing a mask. People even wore their masks while walking around outside. Rwanda’s Covid rates are about 1/10 those in the U.S, even with the limited availability of vaccines (an 8 percent vaccine rate). They have prioritized vaccination to health care workers and people working with tourists. We did a trek to see the gorillas. Since gorillas can get Covid, the Rwandan government takes special precautions; more than most of the U.S. has done in dealing with humans. We had to get tested before seeing them. They have a national system to track Covid tests, so the results of our swabs were available online and we got a QR code along with our reports. When we initially checked in at the ranger station, they scanned our QR codes and matched them with our passports to make sure that we were Covid negative. The guides and trackers have all been vaccinated against Covid. When we went into the forest to see the gorillas, we had to be socially distanced from them and had to wear masks. Undoubtedly a once-in-a-lifetime experience! Tony is a medical oncologist and Fayth is a retired virologist. They met working in virology labs at MIT. They live in suburban Detroit.

By Susanne Dzodin, with Photos by Joel Dzodin / Tel Aviv Israel was acclaimed as a poster child for getting country out of the COVID-19 pandemic. After vaccinating about 50% of the country over a couple of months, Israel’s numbers plummeted and we had hardly any severe cases or new cases, and no deaths. But now we are a country at risk and many countries require us to quarantine when entering, even the fully vaccinated. We went from a few cases to 10,000 new cases a day in late August and 7,776 on September 13. What happened? First, after half of the population over 16 years old had been vaccinated and the numbers had gone down, the government dropped the ball in not pushing for the rest of the people to get vaccinated. When vaccinations were opened for children between 12-15, instead of strongly urging parents to take their children to get vaccinated, the Israeli Health Department told parents to make a decision with their doctor, in effect saying it was not that important to vaccinate children.  At the same time, cultural and sport events were taking place again, theaters and movie cinemas opened again, and restrictions of the size of events were dropped. Initially, one needed a green pass to enter these events, but that was dropped, too. While all this was happening, the Naftali Bennet and Yair Lapid (Yamina and Yesh Atid parties, respectively) government was forming and the outgoing Netanyahu government seemed to stop caring about any restrictions still on the books, such as the tests and quarantine requirements for Israelis returning to the country. And Yuli Edelstein, the outgoing health minister, removed the mask mandate a few days before the new government came in. But it was too late. By that point, the numbers were rising again, most likely because the Delta variant entered the country via unvaccinated travelers who did not quarantine properly. When the new government assumed power, they were busy with other things at first, but quickly realized that the numbers were going up. After 10 days, the mask mandate for indoor spaces was reinstituted but the numbers kept climbing. At that point, health officials realized that the immunity of people six months after their second shot was waning, and that was mostly for the population over 60, many at high risk. Because not enough people had been vaccinated, the Delta variant was able to spread, and also cause breakthrough infections among the vaccinated.  So  the government debated which restrictions were now needed, but refused to declare a lockdown, which was very unpopular. Now, we again need to use our green pass, this time in a more organized manner, for libraries, museums, theaters, sport events, and restaurants. There are again restrictions on how many people can congregate indoors at the same time, and the police have again started giving tickets to people not wearing their masks properly. At the same time, the authorities have intensified the campaign to get the unvaccinated vaccinated and since the beginning of August, to get as many people as possible to receive a third booster shot. The first people eligible were the 60+ group: now anyone over 12 years old who is five months beyond their second shot is also eligible. Is it helping? Maybe. The Health Department says that the numbers are reaching a plateau and some indicators seem to show that we are coming out of the fourth wave.  But nonetheless, it might be an uphill battle. A health official said in the middle of August that in order to conquer this wave, 5 million people will need to get the booster shot; at this point, fewer than 3 million have received it. Schools across Israel opened on September 1st, and 12- to 15-year-olds are still not sufficiently vaccinated (under 50%). Fully one-third of teachers are not vaccinated at all. They are supposed to have themselves regularly tested at their own expense, but the teachers’ union, is protesting this rule. Although we are making good progress with the fourth wave, what is going to happen now that kids have returned to school? The High Holidays are now underway, and at this point we have no restriction on family gatherings and synagogue attendance. As a result, unvaccinated children are bringing the virus home. Hundreds of thousands of people are in quarantine, including our children and grandchildren at this moment, and thousands, God forbid, will get sick. People who have gotten their booster shots already seem to have regained strong immunity, but the government was unable to give 3 million booster shots within the two-week period before the holidays. While I am usually an optimist, in this case I am quite concerned about the upcoming few months. I don't see how we are going to get out of this, unless by a miracle all these unvaccinated people see the light. And that is probably the only way of keeping another, even stronger variant from spreading. I also expect in about six months, we will need another booster. It is also somewhat depressing, as we are again restricting our activities in order to minimize our chances of exposure. All the adults in our family (the grandchildren are all below 12) did get the third shot, but since there is still some uncertainty as to how strong our immunity is, we are being cautious. Every time a grandchild has a fever or the sniffles, we wonder. We are again wearing our masks, even when outdoors in larger crowds. It’s been a long, hot uncomfortable summer. At the beginning of this year, after getting both shots, we were filled with hope that things were getting better. And now it seems we are back at square one.

By Laurence Lerman / New York City The headline says it all. Prior to Covid-19, in my capacity as an entertainment journalist and film critic, I was good for somewhere in the neighborhood of 60 film screenings a year in theaters and screening rooms around the city. Recent years have found studios big and small more often sending pre-release streaming links to journalists (a number of screening rooms have closed over the past five years, victims of both streaming technology and the skyrocketing NYC realty market), but theatrical screenings remain part of the experience and one of the nicer aspects of my profession. Of course, I also went to movies for the pure pleasure of it at least as often. I wasn’t able to catch a press screening for Tarantino’s Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood, but I wasn’t about to let it slip by when it was in theaters. There’s so much pleasure to be derived from a widescreen epic shot in 35mm when it’s projected on the silver screen. So when Covid hit in late February, 2020, and I was given the opportunity to write about all things cinematic for the newly formed online weekly The Insider, I quickly decided that the streaming experience would be the focus of my column. It wasn’t a time for theaters and what was new, but rather adventures in digital streaming and the wide, wide variety of choices it affords. During those first critical months, watching the newest or buzziest feature-length films wasn’t very appealing for me. It was all about the news, news, news in our household—mostly from CNN, with occasional color commentary by the good people at MSNBC. Supplementing the news and updates and public health directives were the regularly broadcast bellicose blatherings of our former president—an angry, uncaring and hollow soul whose rantings were generally trashier, dumber and less coherent than any kind of fiction that even the most bottom-feeding creator in Hollywood could possibly craft. By late March theaters were closing en masse. There were a swath of movie lovers horrified at the immediate prospect of a drought of first-run Hollywood pictures and the movie theaters they could be seen in. But I myself immediately anticipated a season of endless streaming possibilities at my fingertips, with my eyes focused on a trove of films produced over the past century, many made in the U.S. and even more from around the world. Going back to my very first “Reel Streaming” column for The Insider in April, 2020, right out of the gate I set out for the far reaches of the seemingly infinite streaming universe. I covered a 1978 Suzanne Somers TV movie, two Bergman films, a Bob Hope movie from the Forties, a couple of bad Chevy Chase vehicles (one, 1981’s Under the Rainbow, that featured over 100 midget performers) and John Boorman’s 1968 World War II adventure Hell in the Pacific starring the mighty duo of Lee Marvin and Toshiro Mifune. All in a weekend. I continued surveying the celluloid of days gone by as one weekly Insider column became a month of them, then a season, until finally I had contributed some two dozen of them. This, just as the year came to an end and a violent assault on the nation’s capital unbeknownst to us loomed a week into 2022. Looking back over those first two dozen columns, I can clearly see how my initial focus on older films set the tone for the rest of the year. During those days of growing public crisis, political unrest and the horrible statistical reality of Covid-19, the present had become an unhappy blur that demanded succor from the past. Ditto for newer films that the studios began to cautiously roll out for premieres on streaming outlets. But older films, now that was a different story. And a more comforting one. So, through December, I found myself taking a few steps backward and filling in some glaring blank spots on my cinephile resumé, checking off a number of works by the lions of the international cinema that had made it past me over the years. Ingmar Bergman and his formidable catalog, for example. Sure, sure, I was covered in terms of Bergman’s biggies, but I hadn’t taken nearly a big enough bite out of the other ones in his oeuvre. So, for every Fanny and Alexander (1982), Cries and Whispers (1972) and Persona (1966), there were such less-heralded entries as the drama-romance Port of Call (1948) the experimental psychological drama The Rite (1969) and The Devil’s Eye (1960), one of Bergman’s few comedies (and not a very funny one). No, I hadn’t seen them either, until this year. I followed the call of minor films from major filmmakers into autumn, which included detours into the world of lesser Fellini (1955’s The Swindle, 1976's Fellini's Casanova, 1987’s Intervista), peripheral Fassbinder (1971’s Beware of a Holy Whore, 1979’s Despair) and second tier Antonioni (1980’s The Mystery of Oberwald, 1953’s I Vinti). I wish I could say I did the same with the major Hollywood filmmakers of yesteryear—there’s plenty of Billy Wilder, Frank Capra and John Ford that I haven’t seen—but the American cinema of the Greatest Generation and Baby Boomer eras weren’t appealing to me as the world continued to hold its collective breath. As for homegrown legends of the Seventies and beyond, I was pretty up to date with them as those were the filmmakers I grew up with. My biggest get in this category was probably Spielberg’s 1985 The Color Purple, which I watched for the very first time after my wife and I screened Jonathan Demme’s 1998 adaptation of Toni Morrison’s Beloved. For the record, I enjoyed Demme's effort for more than Spielberg’s candy-colored take on Alice Walker’s novel. I managed to do a healthy number of write-ups on more recent American fare, Woody Allen’s latest, 2020’s A Rainy Day in New York being one, and the previous year’s zombie action-comedy sequel Zombieland: Double Tap being another (mostly because I’m crazy about Zoe Deutch). But by and large, I steered clear of most recent Hollywood commodities. By the end of the 2020, most of the studios had come up with a viable day-and-date plan for their big guns. That included Warner’s Wonder Woman 1984, which arrived both in theaters and on home screens (via Warner-owned streamer HBO Max) on the same day in December. That was also the month I inked my first column solely dedicated to new films that were released in 2020. As we crept through the winter of 2021 and into the spring, and the state of all things began slowly to look up with the plan of wide theatrical openings in the upcoming summer, the films of the day took on a more prominent role in “Reel Streaming.” The ensuing six months of vaccinations, falling Covid numbers and, yes, theater reopenings, inspired Americans to look to the immediate future with optimism and excitement. It was time to write about all the big movies that were slated to open theatrically in the upcoming summer and fall. Hollywood deserved it! I inked a quartet of “Coming Soon” articles for The Insider in March and May, along with accompanying write-ups of current films, both domestic and imported. Oh, I continued to traverse the streaming currents with coverage on everything from vintage Esther Williams pictures to the original Planet of the Apes cycle to the continuing physical appeal of DVD and Blu-ray discs. But at that point, I would have to have been one helluva negative columnist to not keep an eye on the hopeful reemergence of what was new, fresh and exciting. Then began the rise of the Covid Delta variant, which was first detected in India back in March and began rearing its ugly head in the States in early June. And so, like a game of Monopoly (which I always eschewed while growing up in favor of a good movie), it feels like we’re all going back to the start. So, what are we looking at now? While this year’s domestic theatrical box office is certainly coming in stronger than it did in 2020, it can’t be considered any kind of triumph. U.S ticket sales for the year are down 74% from 2019’s pre-Covid receipts, which came in at $11.3 billion. (For context, the domestic box office rang up a disastrous $2.9 billion in 2020.) And just as a number of big movies are coming this fall, there are also a handful that are once again being delayed, led by Paramount and Tom Cruise’s Top Gun: Maverick, which is moving from this November to May, 2022, and Mission: Impossible 7, which is being pushed from May to September, 2022. Meanwhile, the studios are continuing to experiment with hybrid day-and-date theatrical/streaming release patterns, the options for which include streaming new films for free, offering them for a “premiere access” fee (which experts and studios agree cannibalizes potential theatrical dollars) or simply making them available on streaming platforms and cable networks after a significantly shortened theatrical window. The future of the theatrical experience still all comes down to the audience, to the people who watch movies, and when they’ll feel comfortable enough to go to movie theater with any kind of regularity. As if Covid-19 factors regularity into its mutation patterns. There are some hopeful signs. Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings, the latest Marvel Comics superhero extravaganza, broke a slew of box office records in the two weeks since its opening in early September. (It will begin streaming on Disney+ following an abbreviated 45-day exclusive run in theaters.) A few other recent theatrical releases—the horror film Candy Man and the visual effects-driven Free Guy—have proven to be modest box office hits. And the upcoming Halloween Kills, the latest installment in the 43-year-old slasher franchise (and still starring original scream queen Jamie Lee Curtis), which is already getting some seriously good buzz. Then there’s the case of Bond, James Bond. The final chapter in Daniel Craig’s five-year, 15-year portrayal of Her Majesty’s favorite secret agent, No Time to Die, is already a landmark as it is the first Hollywood blockbuster to be yanked in response to the pandemic. It was originally scheduled for release in April, 2020, and is finally scheduled to open wide on October 8. It remains for me the only film that could stir me off my couch and into the theaters, as Bond films have been a consistently thrilling theatrical experience since the day my father took me to see a revival (remember those?) of Dr. No and Goldfinger in the early 1970s. The upcoming release proposes a slew of possibilities: Will such a wildly popular international property coax even more people back to theater? Might the Delta variant wreak even more havoc over the coming weeks and curtail those on the fence? Could there be another last-minute alteration to the release schedule? And will I finally take the movie house plunge and pen my first Insider review for a film that I’ve seen in a theater? I can promise you that whether it’s on the big screen or in my home, I’ll have something to say about it in The Insider. And with it, a cross-section of related write-ups of film from years past—undoubtedly a number of foreign ones—that I’ve streamed in my living room in recent months. The new films are here and they’re not going anywhere, but the older, equally accessible ones will continue to lure me and hopefully Insider readers, too. Be sure to read the other half of this week's cover!