Defiance as art. There’s an indescribable elegance to James Marsh’s Man on Wire, one that practically forces me to reverse course on everything I ever thought about performance artists.

To say or not to say, that is the question.

It seems I don’t have much luck in trying to expand my horizons with the frown-inducing stuff. Convoluted Italian class struggles, suicidal Holocaust survivors,

Let’s say you’re Lillian Hellman. Brilliant writer, captivating intellectual, companion of the equally legendary Dashiell Hammett. You spend your days in a seaside manor, pounding away at assorted keys while smoking enough cigarettes to keep Philip Morris in silk sheets for a millennium