The film received critical praise, particularly for Pacino's and Williams' performances. It grossed more than $113 million worldwide against a production budget of $46 million. Insomnia premiered at the Tribeca Festival on May 3, 2002, and was theatrically released in the United States on May 24, 2002. After the killer witnesses an accidental shooting committed by one of the detectives, they create a plan for both parties to mutually avoid prosecution. The film follows two Los Angeles homicide detectives investigating the murder of a teenage girl in Nightmute, Alaska. A remake of the 1997 Norwegian film of the same name, it stars Al Pacino, Robin Williams and Hilary Swank with Maura Tierney, Martin Donovan, Nicky Katt and Paul Dooley in supporting roles.
It is the only film directed by Nolan that he did not write or co-write. He is the author of, among others, The Secret Library: A Book-Lovers’ Journey Through Curiosities of History and The Great War, The Waste Land and the Modernist Long Poem.Insomnia is a 2002 American psychological thriller film directed by Christopher Nolan and written by Hillary Seitz. The author of this article, Dr Oliver Tearle, is a literary critic and lecturer in English at Loughborough University. The title of this early Larkin poem (he wrote it in 1950, when he was in his late twenties) says it all: the poem sees Larkin contemplating the best way to get himself to sleep: should he sleep like a child in the womb, or a saint in a tomb? (In other words, on his side in the foetal position, or on his back like a saint depicted in a stone effigy.)Īlong with Gerard Manley Hopkins’s ‘ I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day ’, perhaps the best depiction of a sleepless night ever expressed in poetry.ĭiscover more classic poems with these poems for birthdays, these c lassic religious poems, and these great poems about work. For more classic poetry, we recommend The Oxford Book of English Verse – perhaps the best poetry anthology on the market (we offer our pick of the best poetry anthologies here). A modern lullaby for all lovers – gay, straight, young, old. ‘Lay your sleeping head, my love …’: so begins this, one of the tenderest, and most honest and sincere, love poems in all of twentieth-century literature. Is he better off out of the harsh world of war, or would it have been better if he’d lived? Owen muses on the soldier’s death, and wonders about this deeper sleep into which the man has now sunk. Originally titled ‘Killed Asleep’, this poem by one of the leading poets of the First World War is about a soldier falling asleep – but sleep gives way to a deeper unconsciousness, as ‘in the happy no-time of his sleeping’ death comes for the soldier and ‘took him by the heart’. Then chest and sleepy arms once more fell slack … There, in the happy no-time of his sleeping,ĭeath took him by the heart. Sleep took him by the brow and laid him back. The ‘long, long sleep’ is the sleep of death: death is imagined as an unbroken slumber for centuries, where the sleeper doesn’t ‘once look up for noon’. This short poem by one of American literature’s greatest poets is actually about death – but then death is probably Dickinson’s greatest theme. Sleep wraps us up in lovely delicious rest, and allows us to forget the world. Housman referred to as the sour taste of ‘all I ever did’, when one’s conscience begins to prick us, keeping us awake. This sonnet by one of the leading second-generation Romantic poets addresses sleep as a ‘soft embalmer of the still midnight’. Our gloom-pleas’d eyes, embower’d from the light, Shutting, with careful fingers and benign,
The poet knows that soon he will hear the birds singing outside, and know that he will never get to sleep and it’ll be time to get up and go about his daily life again. So begins this, another poem on this list of the best poems about sleep which is actually about sleeplessness: it’s a sonnet which sees Wordsworth listing the various ways he’s tried to lull himself to sleep (such as counting sheep), all to no avail. Must hear, first uttered from my orchard trees Sleepless! and soon the small birds’ melodies I have thought of all by turns, and yet do lie Smooth fields, white sheets of water, and pure sky Murmuring the fall of rivers, winds and seas, One after one the sound of rain, and bees
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