Archives March 2024

Si aún no has completamente superado la escena de la bañera de Saltburn, tal vez sea mejor mirar hacia otro lado ahora: la provocadora ganadora del Oscar, Emerald Fennell, ha fijado su atención en su próximo proyecto, y su elección seguramente será divisiva.

El 12 de julio, la directora acudió a X para compartir una ilustración de un esqueleto fantasmal por la artista Katie Buckley. En su centro se encuentra el título Wuthering Heights, y debajo de él el lema “Una película de Emerald Fennell.” Encima de la imagen se lee: “Sé siempre conmigo. Toma cualquier forma. Vuelve loco,” las palabras inmortales que Heathcliff pronuncia tras la trágica muerte de Catherine Earnshaw.

Dado que su último largometraje, y Una joven prometedora antes de él, trataban sobre la obsesión—el primero sobre la fascinación de un estudiante con otro, y el segundo sobre la determinación tenaz de una mujer por vengar la muerte de su mejor amiga—la decisión de adaptar el cuento seminal de amor condenando de Emily Brontë, así como la línea que lo acompaña, tiene todo el sentido.

Sin embargo, esto también nos dejó con varias preguntas. ¿Será una adaptación fiel de época, o una actualización a los tiempos modernos? ¿Cómo se comparará con las innumerables demás versiones cinematográficas de esta historia particular, desde la versión de 1939 de Laurence Olivier y Merle Oberon, hasta la película de 1992 protagonizada por Juliette Binoche y Ralph Fiennes, y la reinterpretación de Andrea Arnold en 2011 con Kaya Scodelario y James Howson?

¿Sería Barry Keoghan, me preguntaba, quien se pondría un chaleco y melena desgreñada para interpretar a nuestro heroico Byronic melancólico? ¿Y quién podría encarnar a Cathy? Bueno, al menos en ese aspecto, ahora tenemos algunas respuestas: el 23 de septiembre, se supo que no era el nominado al Oscar irlandés sino, asombrosamente, su coestrella de Saltburn, Jacob Elordi, quien estaría entregando los apasionados monólogos de Heathcliff, mientras que Margot Robbie, ahora la rubia más ubicua del mundo después de la misma Barbie, presuntamente estaría oscureciendo su cabello para dar vida a su atormentada amante. Esta última también estará produciendo a través de su compañía, LuckyChap, tras haber respaldado las dos últimas películas de Fennell también.

Some mornings ago, I received an unusual email from someone I’d been communicating with regarding the US Open: “Could we have a conversation on your mobile at 4pm? Something incredible might be within reach.” That “something,” as revealed, was an opportunity to play—for 30 minutes solo—with the two-time US Open victor (and eight-time Grand Slam winner, Olympic gold medal recipient, Hall of Fame inductee, and an all-round legendary figure) Andre Agassi on the next morning at 7, in the Arthur Ashe Stadium, at the USTA Billie Jean King National Tennis Center, which is otherwise known as the most prominent venue at the Open—followed by a breakfast and a discussion in the Emirates Suite in Ashe.

Even pondering about it felt absurd: Although I’ve engaged in playing tennis for many years, I’m also several years distant from my short period of competing on the midwestern boys’ junior circuit. Nowadays, I’m an extremely average weekly player constantly on the brink of, you know, trying to get myself back into top condition. I absolutely delight in finding the rhythm on a powerful, big-finish crosscourt topspin forehand, I relish playing a few sets with companions, but I detest the idea of exposing myself to even a local club competition. Acting purely on innate instinct, everything in my being urged me to decline this (admittedly astonishing) chance.

Emotionally, I discerned I was experiencing a sort of reversal of the seven stages of grief, fixated on a peculiar kind of frustration at this unique opportunity landing on my doorstep. Not one of the numerous performers I’ve interviewed had ever suggested I step in front of the lens and recite lines, or leap through a window in a big chase sequence; none of the musicians I’ve conversed with over time have invited me to perform with them at Madison Square Garden and exchange guitar solos or assume lead-vocal roles during their sound check—so why this?

Yet here was this proposition: Engage in tennis, with one of the finest to ever play, in the largest tennis arena globally. I had 90 minutes to decide.

The initial move I made was to reach for a box laden with old snapshots on a bookshelf in my living area, where I located a photograph of Andre and myself—in 1994—at a pre-Open Nike gathering at a dining place close to Gramercy Park. I have no recollection of our conversation, and in any case, I didn’t want to inconvenience him or occupy too much of his time, as he was accompanied by Brooke Shields (they’d then been in a relationship for about a year and were to marry several years later), and it was apparent that they enjoyed each other’s presence. No—I was merely overjoyed to even be present: a devoted tennis enthusiast now, for the first time, among authentic tennis legends. (Apart from Andre, I also encountered John McEnroe, who arrived late, in a creased jean jacket and with a frown, holding a bundle of vinyl records—a.k.a. exactly the Johnny Mac from central casting that I hoped to witness.)