There is an imperturbable grace about Stanley Kauffmann’s writing, a plainspoken clarity in the face of the onslaught that is the movies. Arriving for lunch in his favorite Italian restaurant in Greenwich Village, Stanley exuded that grace and clarity; he looked ageless in a beautiful sports jacket purchased in London decades earlier. Movies, plays, books! This was the air he breathed—together, of course, with his friendships and his great marriage with Laura.
The New Republic mourns the death of our beloved film critic, Stanley Kauffmann
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