Gogh, Vincent van: Portrait of Joseph RoulinPortrait of Joseph Roulin, oil on canvas by Vincent van Gogh, Arles, France, early 1889; in the Museum of Modern Art, New York City. 64.4 × 55.2 cm.Photograph by Stephen Sandoval. Museum of Modern Art, New York City, gift of Mr. and Mrs. William A. M. Burden, Mr. and Mrs. Paul Rosenberg, Nelson A. Rockefeller, Mr. and Mrs. Armand P. Bartos, The Sidney and Harriet Janis Collection, Mr. and Mrs. Werner E. Josten, and Loula D. Lasker Bequest (all by exchange)
The name of van Gogh was virtually unknown when he killed himself: only one article about him had appeared during his lifetime. He had exhibited a few canvases at the Salon des Indépendants in Paris between 1888 and 1890 and in Brussels in 1890; both salons showed small commemorative groups of his work in 1891. One-man shows of his work did not occur until 1892.
They contain a wide array of physiognomical representations.[231] Van Gogh's mental and physical condition is usually apparent; he may appear unkempt, unshaven or with a neglected beard, with deeply sunken eyes, a weak jaw, or having lost teeth. Some show him with full lips, a long face or prominent skull, or sharpened, alert features. His hair may be the usual red, or at times ash coloured.[231]
Now, I'm not saying that European artists are kind of crazy, but Hitler was known to paint from time to time, and while that isn't to say that Vincent van Gogh was as crazy as Hitler, it is to say that he has mutilated himself for some girl he had a crush on, and that's all that needs to be said. Well, I don't know about any other kind of European artist, but the French appear to be insane when it comes to the art filmmaking, what with all of their weird and melodramatic experiments with storytelling, which is why this film's writer and director, Maurice Pialat, is trying something different by keeping things realist and, by extension, kind of dull. No, people, this film isn't really all that bland, or at least it isn't up until an admittedly kind of dull final act, and not just because you can't help but wonder just how slow the final product would have been if it was yet another overly arty French filmmaking mess, but the fact of the matter is that real life isn't too terribly exciting, even when the real life you're meditating upon is that of a somewhat disturbed... Dutch painter of the 19th century. Well, shoot, now that I think about it, this film's subject matter doesn't even sound all that exciting on paper, so I reckon that's why Pialat got Jacques Dutronc, a French pop-rock star, to play van Gogh, as he hoped that Dutronc would get people to think of delightful French diddies to keep them from getting too bored, which would be great and all if it wasn't for the fact that I kept expecting van Gogh to bust out an acoustic guitar and start singing "Et Moi, Et Moi, Et Moi". I wonder whose facial expression is the most hilarious: that of the few people who think that I'm serious about expecting a van Gogh musical number, or that of the countless people who have absolutely no idea who in the world I'm talking about. So yeah, Dutronc was essentially the French Bob Dylan, and then he moved into being the French Syd Barrett-era Pink Floyd, then your regular old traditional French pop-rock star, then a French crooner, then, I don't know, the prime minister of France or something, and now, well, I don't know what he's up to. Quite frankly, I don't carry, just as long as he's still a good actor, because he sure could carry a film as sure as he can carry a note, and yet, with that said, it's not like this film can fully paint over its problems. Don't let this film's fairly broad title fool you, as this film chronicles, not the full life and times of the late, great Vincent van Go, but the painter's notorious last 67 days, during which an enging story is found, though, in this film, not quite as fleshed out as it probably should be, for although we're all hopefully aware of Vincent van Gogh, and although I'm not asking that this film crowbar more material into its already overlong two-and-a-half-hour runtime to give more flesh-out to our characters, the film feels underdeveloped. Sure, eventual exposition does a decent job of getting you used to the happenings and humans who drive this drama, while Maurice Pialat's realist atmosphere further bonds you with the film's humanity, but more immediate flesh-out stands to be more abundant, because as things stand, development shortcomings in this film do damage to engagement value, which further suffers at the hands of the very realist approach that helps in compensating for exposition issues. There's only so much dramatic kick to this dramatization of a dramatic period (Drama, drama, drama and more drama), as Pialat wishes to not water down subjet matter of this type with histrionics and articifial emotional resonance, and more often than not this dramatic formula works, but it's not without its problems, including an atmosphere that isn't as dry as I feared, - thanks to reasonably spirited writing and acting keeping entertainment value up, at least to a certain extent - but not exactly frantic, being just restrained enough to, after a while, lose you, at least momentarily. If this film's atmospheric slow spells do nothing else, they call more to attention the film's biggest issue: padding, because at 158 minutes of only one segment out of a story that is undoubtedly rich with dramatic potential, this film outstays its welcome a bit, reinforcing realism with the occasional needless moment of nothingness, if not more than a few moments in which material gets to be a bit too fatty around the edges, typically of a somewhat familiar nature. It's not monotonous, but this film's excessive formula gets to be repetitious, leaving the film to wander along, seemingly in circles, with enough intrigue to keep you compelled through and through, though not with enough dynamic kick to keep you really locked in. This film is a very human one, and I commend it for having such humanity, and spicing it all up with an active attention to genuineness over melodrama, but much too often, this film's realist meandering goes a bit too far, slowing down the momentum of the film, both in atmospheric pacing and plot structure, but still not taking as much time as it probably should to really flesh things out, and that does a number on the final product. Of course, when it's all said and done, the film's issues, while undeniable, aren't quite as considerable as they could have been, so it's not like you should go into this film expecting the usual underwhelming misfire you can find on a list of Cannes Film Festival highlights, but rather, a genuinely rewarding film, with effectiveness than can be found even within the smallest of aspects. Actively resistent against overly cinematic sensibilities, this film very rarely plays up musiciality, which, upon actually coming up, outside of a nice little jingle at the credits, is found, not in post-production, but in first-party audio, something that is, as you can imagine, rarely accompanied by the piano and occasional band that drive what musical aspects there are in this film, so it's not like this film is driven by its soundtrack, but when music is, in fact, played up, it makes its limited time with us count by livening up atmosphere, though not so much so that Pialat contradicts his noable realist intentions. These musical moments, as well as all too limited occasions in which cinematographers Gilles Henry and Emmanuel Machuel find an attractive visual to play up, are rather rarely explored in this opus whose artistic value is most driven by storytelling artistry, but they are here, punching up the engagement value behind a story that is strong enough to carry itself on its own, as reflected by the fact that it, well, mostly has to carry itself on its own. There's not a whole lot of build-up to this particularly intriguing final chapter to an intriguing life, yet that doesn't stop the chapter in question for running a touch too long, but no matter how underdeveloped or overlong this film's story is, it is intriguing on paper, alone, with plenty of dramatic potential that isn't too extensively played up, but played up just enough within Maurice Pialat's clever script for you to gain an adequate understanding of this film's characterization and progression. Pialat's writing isn't outstanding, but it is commendable in its wit and realism, which helps in bringing the intriguing behind this film's worthy subject matter to life, and is itself brought to life by inspiration with Pialat's direction, whose restraint all too often does damage to pacing and atmospheric bite, but all but works wonders when heavier material falls into play and is not overplayed, but rather presented with enough inimtate genuineness for you to bond with the film's happenings and dramatic aspects, no matter how realistically restrained they are. No, people, the film won't exactly be jamming on your heartstrings, as this is not that kind of film that would play up cinematic dramatic touches, going driven by a very realist genuineness that could have been executed all wrong and left you utterly distanced from the final product, but is ultimately backed by enough inspiration for you to be sold on this world. What further sells you on the humanity behind this very human drama is, of course, the acting, which is strong in most everyone, but arguably at its strongest within leading man Jacques Dutronc, who, even then, isn't given a whole lot to work with, thanks to this film's being relatively held back in its portrayal of Vincent van Gogh's infamous mental and emotional health issues, but convinces consistently as the legendary artist, and when material is, in fact, called in, Dutronc plays with effective emotional range to further convince you of the layers and depths behind this brilliant and unstable soul. The film isn't thoroughly enthralling, nor is it even as powerful as it probably would have been if it was tighter, more fleshed out and - dare I say it? - more celebratory of dramatic aspects, rather than entirely realist, but where this effort could have fallen flat as underwhelming and too carried away with its uniqueness, like so many other meditative dramas you find at Cannes, inspiration behind restrained artistry proves to be compelling enough to make this film a reward one. When the final stroke comes, you're left with a portrait of Vincent van Gogh that stands to take more time with immediate development, and less time meditating on excess material that is made all the worse by a somewhat dryly slow atmospheric pacing, and sparks the repetition that could have driven the final product into underwhelmingness, but is ultimately battled back enough to keep you compelled, because whether it be spawned from such ever so rare atmospheric compliments as lovely music, or spawned from inspired writing, direction and writing that bring an intriguingly worthy story to life, there is enough kick to engagement value to make Maurice Pialat's "Van Gogh" a surprisingly consistently engaging realist drama that may have its natural shortcomings, but ultimately stands as worth watching. 3/5 - Good
“As for me, I shall go on working, and here and there something of my work will prove of lasting value - but who will there be to achieve for figure painting what Claude Monet has achieved for landscape? However, you must feel, as I do, that someone like that is on the way - Rodin? - he does not use colour - it won't be him. But the painter of the future will be a colourist the like of which has never yet been seen.
It took Walt twenty years to talk Travers [P.L. Travers, author of the Mary Poppins novels] into giving him the rights for the picture and then she fought him tooth and nail all the way through it. She hated me, she hated Julie Andrews, she didn't think either one of us were right. After the premiere she met Walt in the lobby and said, 'All the animation has to go.' Walt said, 'Pamela, the boat has sailed.'

The borough with the most neighbourhoods is Ville Marie, which includes downtown, the historical district of Old Montreal, Chinatown, the Gay Village, the Latin Quarter, the gentrified Quartier international and Cité Multimédia as well as the Quartier des Spectacles which is under development. Other neighbourhoods of interest in the borough include the affluent Golden Square Mile neighbourhood at the foot of Mount Royal and the Shaughnessy Village/Concordia U area home to thousands of students at Concordia University. The borough also comprises most of Mount Royal Park, Saint Helen's Island, and Notre-Dame Island.
Montreal is at the centre of the Montreal Metropolitan Community, and is bordered by the city of Laval to the north; Longueuil, Saint-Lambert, Brossard, and other municipalities to the south; Repentigny to the east and the West Island municipalities to the west. The anglophone enclaves of Westmount, Montreal West, Hampstead, Côte Saint-Luc, the Town of Mount Royal and the francophone enclave Montreal East are all surrounded by Montreal.[76]
Montreal is in the southwest of the province of Quebec. The city covers most of the Island of Montreal at the confluence of the Saint Lawrence and Ottawa Rivers. The port of Montreal lies at one end of the Saint Lawrence Seaway, the river gateway that stretches from the Great Lakes to the Atlantic.[74] Montreal is defined by its location between the Saint Lawrence river to its south and the Rivière des Prairies to its north. The city is named after the most prominent geographical feature on the island, a three-head hill called Mount Royal, topped at 232 metres (761 feet) above sea level.[75]
During this era of the Vincent van Gogh's life, a failed love affair, his father's death and a short-lived period of study at the Antwerp Academy formed a bleak backdrop for Vincent's ongoing artistic development. During a stay in the northern village of Nuenen in late 1883 through 1885, the painter focused on agrarian scenes of peasants working the soil and weavers plying their craft. In 1885, the artist produced The Potato Eaters, a work many consider to be his first masterpiece. In this depiction of a farm family seated around their humble table, Vincent invokes the influence of Rembrandt by virtue of the shadowy setting that is nevertheless filled with personality and life. A heaping plate of potatoes illustrates the simple wealth of those who earn their living on the land. The companionable atmosphere, lit by the warm glow of a single lamp, inspires in the viewer a yearning to take part this lowly yet companionable scene.
I've found a home here because actors have always said, 'He's really a dancer', and dancers said, 'No, no he's a singer', and singers said, 'No I think he's an actor.' I don't know, I was never that good at anything but I did a little bit of it all. I've never studied dancing but I've always loved to dance. I never sang anywhere except the shower and it took me forever to get into the high school choir. When I auditioned for Bye Bye Birdie (1963) I did a song and a little soft-shoe and for some reason they saw I could move. And I've never studied acting - which is maybe lucky otherwise I'd just be a copy of everybody else.
During the late 1940s, Van Dyke was a radio DJ in Danville, Illinois. In 1947, Van Dyke was persuaded by pantomime performer Phil Erickson[13] to form a comedy duo with him called "Eric and Van—the Merry Mutes."[14] The team toured the West Coast nightclub circuit, performing a mime act and lip synching to old 78 records. They brought their act to Atlanta, Georgia, in the early 1950s and performed a local television show featuring original skits and music called "The Merry Mutes".[15]
As he was preparing a room in his Yellow House to accommodate Gauguin, who planned to visit Arles for an extended stay later in the year, Vincent was also working on his second series of the Sunflowers paintings. He had created the first series while staying with his brother in Paris. The artist's sunflower paintings featured various backgrounds and arrangements of the large, golden flowers, each one similar yet distinct. Art experts especially appreciate these works for their innovative expansion of the yellow color spectrum. Others appreciate the paintings for their unique blend of simplicity and richly evocative detail.
In April 1876 he returned to England to take unpaid work as a supply teacher in a small boarding school in Ramsgate. When the proprietor moved to Isleworth in Middlesex, Van Gogh went with him.[36][37] The arrangement did not work out and he left to become a Methodist minister's assistant.[38] His parents had meanwhile moved to Etten;[39] in 1876 he returned home at Christmas for six months and took work at a bookshop in Dordrecht. He was unhappy in the position and spent his time doodling or translating passages from the Bible into English, French and German.[40] He immersed himself in religion, and became increasingly pious and monastic.[41] According to his flatmate of the time, Paulus van Görlitz, Van Gogh ate frugally, avoiding meat.[42]
The Montreal Oil Refining Centre is the largest refining centre in Canada, with companies like Petro-Canada, Ultramar, Gulf Oil, Petromont, Ashland Canada, Parachem Petrochemical, Coastal Petrochemical, Interquisa (Cepsa) Petrochemical, Nova Chemicals, and more. Shell decided to close the refining centre in 2010, throwing hundreds out of work and causing an increased dependence on foreign refineries for eastern Canada. 

Van Gogh returned to Cuesmes in August 1880, where he lodged with a miner until October.[53] He became interested in the people and scenes around him, and recorded them in drawings after Theo's suggestion that he take up art in earnest. He travelled to Brussels later in the year, to follow Theo's recommendation that he study with the Dutch artist Willem Roelofs, who persuaded him – in spite of his dislike of formal schools of art – to attend the Académie Royale des Beaux-Arts. He registered at the Académie in November 1880, where he studied anatomy and the standard rules of modelling and perspective.[54]
Among Van Dyke's high school classmates in Danville were Donald O'Connor and Bobby Short, both of whom would go on to successful careers as entertainers.[10] One of his closest friends was a cousin of Gene Hackman, the future actor, who also lived in Danville in those years.[10] Van Dyke's mother's family was very religious, and for a brief period in his youth, he considered a career in ministry, although a drama class in high school convinced him that his true calling was as a professional entertainer.[10] In his autobiography, he wrote, "I suppose that I never completely gave up my childhood idea of being a minister. Only the medium and the message changed. I have still endeavored to touch people's souls, to raise their spirits and put smiles on their faces."[10] Even after the launch of his career as an entertainer, he taught Sunday school in the Presbyterian Church, where he was an elder, and he continued to read such theologians as Buber, Tillich, and Bonhoeffer, who helped explain in practical terms the relevance of religion in everyday life.[10]

Where as some trusting fans believed the post, others were immediately skeptical of the report, perhaps learning their lesson from the huge amount of fake death reports emerging about celebrities over recent months. Some pointed out that the news had not been carried on any major American network, indicating that it was a fake report, as the death of an actor of Dick Van Dyke's stature would be major news across networks.

Nicknamed la ville aux cent clochers (the city of a hundred steeples), Montreal is renowned for its churches. As Mark Twain noted, "This is the first time I was ever in a city where you couldn't throw a brick without breaking a church window."[187] The city has four Roman Catholic basilicas: Mary, Queen of the World Cathedral, the aforementioned Notre-Dame Basilica, St Patrick's Basilica, and Saint Joseph's Oratory. The Oratory is the largest church in Canada, with the second largest copper dome in the world, after Saint Peter's Basilica in Rome.[188]


Visible minorities comprised 34.2% of the population in the 2016 census. The five most numerous visible minorities are Blacks (10.3%), Arabs, mainly Lebanese (7.3%), Latin Americans (4.1%), South Asians (3.3%), and Chinese (3.3%).[119] Visible minorities are defined by the Canadian Employment Equity Act as "persons, other than Aboriginals, who are non-white in colour".[120]
Van Dyke was born on December 13, 1925, in West Plains, Missouri,[4] to Hazel Victoria (née McCord; 1896 – 1992), a stenographer, and Loren Wayne "Cookie" Van Dyke (1898–1976), a salesman.[5][6][7] He grew up in Danville, Illinois. He is the older brother of actor Jerry Van Dyke (1931–2018), who is best known for a role on the TV series Coach. Van Dyke has Dutch, English, Irish, and Scottish ancestry,[8] with a family line that traces back to Mayflower passenger John Alden.[9]

In April 2013, Van Dyke revealed that for seven years he had been experiencing symptoms of a neurological disorder, in which he felt a pounding in his head whenever he lay down; but despite his undergoing tests, no diagnosis had been made.[55] He had to cancel scheduled appearances due to fatigue from lack of sleep because of the medical condition.[56] In May 2013, he tweeted that it seemed his titanium dental implants may be responsible.[57]
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