Guy Gallo

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Cristian Mungiu by Guy Gallo
Mungiu 3 L Body

Romanian auteur Mungiu’s Beyond the Hills, which fuses naturalism with the escalating dramatic tension between two young women, won awards for best screenplay and best actress at Cannes.

Gifts from Nola by Guy Gallo

HOMECOMING. There’s something so elegiac about this trip to New Orleans. Traveling alone, to my childhood home, a home recently shattered and in ruins. I’ve been feeling ill and out of sorts. I am underslept. My head and back hurt. My stomach is sour. I cannot stop the thought, morbid, that I am returning home to die.

Shen Wei Dance Arts by Guy Gallo
Shen Wei Body

As of this writing, only a handful of New Yorkers have entered the delightfully mesmeric world of Shen Wei Dance Arts. As of your reading, the company will have premiered Rites of Spring and Folding at the Lincoln Center Festival.

Sitting Vigil by Guy Gallo

This First Proof contains the poem “Sitting Vigil.” 

Craig Lucas’s What I Meant Was: New Plays and Selected One-Acts by Guy Gallo

The plays of Craig Lucas are written with a keen awareness for theatrical space and theatrical silence and includes a wide spectrum of situations: mourning lovers, Hollywood assholes, street kids and more.

Three Poems by Guy Gallo

Subway

The IRT rattled the customed, ignored noises

William H. Gass’s Finding a Form by Guy Gallo
​William Gass

The man teaches by example. His essays are beautiful. They are what they attempt to understand: meticulous making of meaning by reinventing our ordinary language.

All Hallows by Guy Gallo

It is easy to sleep late in New Orleans. 

Maggie and Max by Guy Gallo

It was shortly after Maggie learned to drive the enormous car she bought for less than it cost to fill the tank from a Chicano on Sunset and La Ciénega that we met. 

Max’s Notebook by Guy Gallo

Accidental Rain

There was a brief moment once, as we reached the apex of the Manhattan Bridge, when the setting sun pierced the thin opening between rain clouds and horizon, casting the Westward side of Wall Street into a sudden blood orange glow, while the Eastern edges were all still and grey and pounded by black rain.

Guy Gallo by Betsy Sussler
Gallo 01 Body

“Some writers are definitely from a particular place. Others reside most comfortably in their language.”

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