MoMA , SHMoMA

The redesigned Museum of Modern Art in New York has sent the architecture critics into a swoon. Blair Kamen of the Chicago Tribune echoed the raves of many others yesterday when he called the $425-million renovation and expansion "serene, urbane and blissfully understated."

But even at those prices Straight Up poet Leon Freilich, who attended the MoMA opening Sunday night, was underwhelmed. He had to resort to prose for his review:

"The line for MoMA members (not benefactors, for sure) at last night's party snaked from mid-53rd Street up to Fifth Avenue and down to the end of 54th Street. My wife Rose and I passed someone who said the museum had signed up 47,000 new members. 'And they're all here,' Rose commented.

"Luckily it was a mild evening. And luckily again, my two-hour waiting-time estimate was off by an hour and a half. Not so bad. Rose saw someone she knows from the nabe, and I spotted an established Park Slope 'painteress' (her irascible realtor-husband's term) who exhibits in Soho and teaches at St. John's.

"Tiny sandwiches and tall drinks were served on every floor. And the place was manageable; certainly not like Saturday, when the doors were flung open to the public for a free day.

"The interior rises six floors to form a dullish atrium. Floor 2 consists of giant rooms with little on the walls. If only I'd remembered to bring a Magic Marker. The other floors have a series of smaller rooms, which worked better for me. Familiar Matisses, Picassos, Mondrians, Duchamps and a Man Ray (I didn't know he painted).

"I saw not a single chair or bench. Yet the older members -- and there were quite a few -- seemed comfortable enough. Toilets on every floor. The sculpture garden was closed; it looked good through the glass first-floor wall.

"Most people were dressed to the nines, maybe sevens. I thought I'd be the only sucker; Rose pressured me into putting on shoes, but I held fast on socks.

"MoMA talked 50 Bush Leaguers and billionair Democrats into shelling out the $425 mil for this enlarged building. But compare it to any of a dozen concert halls throughout the world and it looks like an art warehouse. Forgetting about the oranges and comparing it to apples, it lacks the Louvre's unique glass entrance and the Met Museum's grand staircases (inside & outside). But Rose is happy with the building and considers her $75-membership well spent. She loved the paintings -- especially Kandinsky, Miro, I forget who else -- immensely.

"In an exotic or ascetic touch, no red wine was served -- only white. I was unhappy with that last night. This morning I think I can make out the reason, and appreciate it. While I was backing away from a serving table with a glass of wine, a careless, or tipsy, woman bounced off me, spilling wine all over my jacket and shirt. I was thankful the wine was white. Next time, though, I expect to see a picket line of dry cleaners at MoMA's entrance."

Others, even some critics, have also been underwhelmed. Which reminds: The museum at the Getty Center in L.A. is/was way overrated. Great location, not so great galleries. And the garden? Way WAY overrated.

November 22, 2004 1:43 AM |

Categories:

Me Elsewhere

'WILD SIDE' STILL ROCKS 

Nelson Algren was one of the great American authors of the 20th century, it is no exaggeration to say, and among the most neglected. Consider his underrated classic, "A Walk on the Wild Side." The title -- popularized and co-opted as an idiomatic phrase by Hollywood and Madison Avenue (institutions Algren loathed) -- is familiar to most anyone who speaks English or knows Lou Reed's lyrics. But the novel itself? Hardly.

BUSTER KEATON REVISITED 
Buster Keaton: Tempest in a Flat Hat is not a biography. "This book is merely a fan's notes," Edward McPherson writes in the introduction, although his publisher ignores the disclaimer and calls it a biography on the cover. In fact, the book is a bit of both, a difficult combination to bring off unless you're David Thomson, who set the standard with Rosebud, his penetrating rumination on the life and career of Orson Welles, which was nothing if not a distillation of every obsessive thought he ever had about the myth and the man and all his movies.
LAUREN BACALL, STILL SALTY AT 80 
When Lauren Bacall writes that her singing voice ranges "somewhere between B minus sharp and outer space," she's being candid and funny. It's not every stage star with two Tony Awards for best actress in a musical whose vocal talent offers so little promise. (OK, Harvey Fierstein excepted.) Still less would one admit it.
THE STARS ACCORDING TO BOGDANOVICH 
Peter Bogdanovich's superb collection of movie-star profiles and interviews -- a sequel to Who the Devil Made It, his interviews of top film directors -- begins with an affectionate tale about Orson Welles that reminds us just how intimate the author's connection to Hollywood's greatest has been. But contrary to what we've come to expect from dime-a-dozen celebrities and celebrity interviews not worth two cents, the tale avoids bromidic egotism and journalistic platitudes.
HERMAN WOUK'S LATEST 
It's hard to say which comes off worse in Herman Wouk's latest novel, his first in a decade: the U.S. Congress or the American press. "A Hole in Texas" offers the choice between two emblematic stereotypes: a red-faced opportunist who heads the House Armed Services Committee and a mustachioed investigative reporter for the Washington Post.
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