Will Waspe
The Times is being extraordinarily coy about revealing who is to be the paper's new film critic, and naturally I dislike betraying a secret, but the anxious faces and bitten nails of all those who applied for the job — and still feel that the fickle finger of fortune may fall upon them — is too much for me. I must end their suspense and let on that the Times is raiding the Financial Times and bringing over David Robinson from Bracken House to Printing House Square. My compliments to him on his promotion (if that is how it is to be regarded), and similar felicitations to young Nigel Andrews who will take over from him at the FT.
Some weeks will pass before these changes take effect, ' guest ' reviewers filling-in in the meantime (this fortnight: Sheridan Morley), but the Times is not being coy about publicising its coming man. Last Saturday the paper devoted a whole page to an excerpt from Robinson's book World Cinema.
Adman's man
Meanwhile the advertisement copywriters' favourite film critic continues to be Alexander Walker, who saves them a deal of head-scratching by going on so thrillingly and in such explicit detail about the scenes that they themselves — if they didn't have his reviews to quote — could only hint at. It's really of no importance whether he is formally ' for ' or 'against' the film, although he gets quite upset when his adverse comments are blown up into promotional posters (as in the case of Straw Dogs).
This week United Artists have been happily reprinting in full his advance notice of Last Tango in Paris, headed with Walker's imperative: "This must be shown." I hope they at least paid for his trip to Paris to see the thing.
Inspired artist
While most artists take a year or two to get it together again, John Bratby seems to have paintings a-plenty to mount an exhibition whenever the opportunity offers, as well as provoking a few 'oldfashioned looks' at the Royal Academy by taking up the full quota of wall-space at the summer exhibitions to which his RA entitles him. Family man Bratby is decisively in the painting business.
His latest solo show opens at the Thackeray Gallery next week and seems mostly devoted to extravagant impressions of his young friend, Diane Hills. Even their car crash last year is celebrated in a picture called Diane and the Red Mercedes Benz 250SL That Crumpled. The inspiration for Diane and Nude Man and Flying Birds is more obscure.
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