Paul Schrader


    Pauline Kael, the New Yorker’s film critic from 1968 until 1991 (save for a brief hiatus in 1978, when she took a short-lived job at a Hollywood studio), died on September 3, 2001. With all of the predictable eulogizing behind us, we asked five critics—Gary Indiana, Annette Michelson, Geoffrey O’Brien, Paul Schrader, and Craig Seligman—to step back and take the long view on Kael’s celebrated if contentious career. Contributing editor Greil Marcus leads off by introducing Kael’s first published essay—inexplicably excluded from her eleven collections of reviews—which we reprint here in its


    “I always wanted to make the teenage movie that America never made,” says Larry Clark, and from the first frames of Kids, his forthcoming feature-length film about a day in the intertwined lives of a handful of New York street teens, you’ll think he may have done it.

    Kids opens on a next-to-naked teenage couple locked in a deep kiss, interrupted only by the young-looking seducer’s insistent rap aimed at talking his even-younger-looking partner out of her virginity. Unnerving in its studied predatoriness, his coaxing prevails. A brutally-too-few moments after the slam-bam confirmation, Telly (Leo