In fact, she once told me that there were three Claras in her soul: a little girl, an old crone enslaved by her family, and a young woman, the real Clara, who wanted to get out of that city forever, who wanted to paint, and take photos, and travel, and live.

NEWYORKER: Clara

At dinner with friends in a Greenwich Village restaurant, two playwrights, one tragic (Larry Pine), one comic (Wallace Shawn), offer alternate versions of the same story: Melinda (Radha Mitchell), a distraught young woman, shows up, unannounced, at a dinner party held by old friends and intrudes upon their lives.

NEWYORKER: Melinda and Melinda

Yes, a young and healthy 27-year-old woman.

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Her unease lasted through the introductions of two elderly Russian couples, two elderly Chinese couples, three middle-aged Dominican couples, one handsome young Haitian man, one very tall, very old, and very loud Haitian woman with a funny name Oolna and one dark-skinned woman who spoke so fast and with such a heavy accent that nobody could understand what she said or where she came from.

NEWYORKER: Luda and Milena