TheWrap‘s Jeff Sneider reported earlier today that Baz Luhrmann is negotiating to direct an Elvis Presley biopic based on a script by Kelly Marcel (Saving Mr. Banks, Fifty Shades of Grey). Yes, I agree that Jared Leto would be a good choice to play Presley…or is he be too old to play him young? Because I’m guessing that Marcel’s script will be about the thin, 20something Elvis of the mid ’50s rather than the bloated, grotesque, drug-taking, peanut-butter-and-banana-sandwich-consuming, on-the-verge-of-death Elvis of the mid ’70s. (Banks showed that Marcel is not a fan of sprawling, multi-decade biopics.) If I were her I’d concentrate on ’54 (i.e, when Presley made his first Sun Records recording) to ’58, when he went into the Army and more or less “died” (in the view of John Lennon) as far as his sideburned, hip-shaking, rock ‘n’ roll sexual-dynamo persona was concerned. Who wants to see a fat Elvis movie? What is there to say about another rock star self-destructing? It’s an old, predictable story we’ve seen a hundred times.
I understand the motive for the National Basketball Association banning L.A. Clippers owner Donald Sterling for his ugly racial remarks. Just desserts. The guy is a known asshole, according to this 4.27 N.Y. Times story. But how do you order a guy to cough up $2.5 million because TMZ posted an initially private audio recording and exposed him for the creep that he is? How did the NBA decide upon $2.5 million as a fine limit? Why not $10 million? Why not $500,000? We all understand that if you blunder in public, you have to take your punishment. Dicks deserve to be treated like dicks. I recognize also that getting outed (i.e., assasssinated) by TMZ or some other gossip site is par for the course these days, but Sterling was talking privately. That means nothing by today’s standards, I realize, but perhaps it should. I’m not taking Sterling’s Jim Crow attitudes lightly, but he’s almost certainly representative of God knows how many old rich white guys who have lived in their own private membranes for most of their lives. They’re never going to change or re-think things. They’re just going to die one day and that will eventually be that. Update: Sterling has just declared during a Fox News interview that he’s not selling the Clippers and that the NBA can go stuff it.
Of the six features just added to Cannes Film Festival’s official selection, Pablo Fendrik‘s El Ardor, an Amazon-set action adventure, appears to be the hottie. Passion in the mist, verdant landscapes, green mansions. Pic stars Gael García Bernal as a heavy cat who emerges from the Argentinean rain forest to rescue the kidnapped daughter (Alice Braga) of a poor farmer after mercenaries murder her father and take over his property.
The great Bob Hoskins has died from pneumonia at 71, two years after retiring from acting due to Parkinson’s disease. Hoskins’ 40-year career (his first role was in ’72) was blessed with a ten-year hot streak (1978 to 1988) that boiled down, if you want to be ruthless about it, to four landmark performances. His breakout role was the luckless Arthur Parker in Dennis Potter and Piers Haggard‘s British-produced Pennies From Heaven miniseries (six episodes). This, for me, was Hoskins’ “okay, wait a minute, who’s this guy?” role. Then came Harold Shand, an old-school East London gangster, in John Mackenzie‘s The Long Good Friday (’80) — one of the best blustery tough guys of the crime realm. And then his all-time finest performance as George, the downmarket lovestruck chauffeur in Neil Jordan‘s Mona Lisa (’86) — a performance that Hoskins should have won the Best Actor Oscar for (he lost to The Color of Money‘s Paul Newman) but which resulted in Golden Globe, BAFTA and Cannes Film Festival honors. His fourth and final great role was as feisty L.A. private dick Eddie Valiant in Robert Zemeckis‘ Who Framed Roger Rabbit? (’88) — his most famous performance and a necessarily broad and hammy one, but nowhere near the level of his Mona Lisa turn. His other performances were…well, okay. Hoskins was a solid, dependable craftsman. Thank God, fortune and serendipity for that brilliant ’80s run and for all the paychecks that followed. Condolences to family, friends and fans. 71 is a little early to check out.
I saw Carl Reiner‘s Dead Men Don’t Wear Plaid at an all-media screening in Manhattan 32 years ago, and for whatever reason I’ve never re-watched it since. I liked it then and this clip assembly reminds me it was moderately funny. The dialogue, I mean. I guess I never cared to re-visit because it’s fundamentally thin. A nostalgia piece. No palpable undercurrent of its own. An Italian Bluray has been available since early this month. There’s also an HDX version on Vudu.
A romantic comedy called In Your Eyes, written by Joss Whedon and starring Zoe Kazan and Michael Stahl-David, is currently rentable for a meager five bills on Vimeo. A Rotten Tomatoes rating of 64% isn’t unheard of, but it’s a little unusual. If a movie has problems it usually earns a rating in the 40something range or lower. 64% means “maybe give it a tumble…maybe.” It certainly doesn’t signify outright dismissal. It can also mean, obviously, a degree of approval. From A.V. Club‘s Jesse Hassenger: “At its frequent best, In Your Eyes provides a potent metaphor for a life-changing relationship, cleverly literalizing the way a new romantic connection can feel like a voice in your head that you never want to stop hearing.”
I’ve finally seen last weekend’s debut episode of Last Week Tonight with John Oliver, and yes, I agree with A.V. Club’s Erik Adams — “It’s not The Daily Show With John Oliver, despite the fact that the bulk of its premiere episode features Oliver dissecting the news and the news media from behind a stylish anchor’s desk. [And] It’s not Oliver’s answer to The Colbert Report, because even though he’s the primary face and voice of the program, he’s not playing a character.” My liking of the show is all about this interview with retired General and former National Security Agency director Keith B. Alexander. This is how you get down to things.
In yesterday’s “Hide Godzilla Ball” piece, I mentioned a decision by Warner Bros. domestic publicity to not screen Gareth Edwards’ film (5.16) for all-media schlubs like myself until Wednesday, 5.14, or four days after my arrival in France, and how this would force me to see it at a commercial cinema in Cannes on 5.14 (i.e., the day it opens in France), even though that would mean taking time off from the opening day of the Cannes Film Festival. Well, guess what? Godzilla is having a public-access premiere in Paris a week from Saturday, and I’ve got a ticket. It’s happening at Le Grand Rex (1 Boulevard Poissonniere, 75002 Paris, France) on the evening of Saturday, May 10th. I’ll arrive in Paris that morning so I’ll have plenty of time to rest and get ready. As far as I can see I’ll be free to review as this is not a private screening. All bets are off once you start selling tickets to the public. Perfect.
Flannel-shirt-wearing beardo sci-fi geeks are much more admiring of John Carpenter‘s The Thing (’82) than they are of Matthijs van Heijningen Jr.‘s 2011 version with Mary Elizabeth Winstead, Joel Edgerton and Ulrich Thomsen. They don’t even want to discuss the 1951 Howard Hawks-Christian Nyby version even though it’s the smartest and best-written version of the three. (Not to mention the most engagingly performed as well as the Thing flick that provides the most metaphorically reflective portrait of the culture from which it emerged.) But consider these two endings and tell me — honestly, no evasions — which one has the pizazz?
J.J. Abrams‘ Star Wars, Episode VII cast was officially announced this morning, and the two biggest guys are Llewyn Davis and Lena Dunham‘s half-psycho actor boyfriend? I don’t know, man. I was hoping for a bigger name or two…something. I wanted the 21st Century Steve McQueen to play a major role…but who would that be? Attack The Block‘s John Boyega (where’s he been for the last three years?), the completely unknown Daisy Ridley (Mrs. Selfridge), the half-psychotic Adam Driver, Oscar Isaac (i.e., Llewyn), Andy Serkis, Domhnall Gleeson and Max von Sydow. I read a rumor about Harrison Ford expected to play much more than a cameo as Han Solo. Profoundly dreaded cameos by Carrie Fisher, Mark Hamill, Anthony Daniels, Peter Mayhew and Kenny Baker are also locked in.
In 1950 the world population was 2,525,778,669, give or take. By 1964 it had risen by nearly a billion to 3,263,738,832. Today’s approximate tally is 7,243,784,121 — close to triple the 1950 figure. By 2075 the globe will be struggling to sustain 10.5 billion souls. The needs of today’s population are obviously bruising and polluting the planet as is. Life is going to be much more of a 1% vs. 99% equation — 1% will live well or semi-decently and everyone else will be doing without and/or struggling to varying degrees. Blade Runner and then some. The downmarket cultural trends of the last couple of decades (lower and lower education levels, shallower and shallower entertainments) will almost certainly worsen. Right now only a small percentage have any kind of developed or semi-enlightened aesthetic appetites and appreciations. I don’t want to think about the cultural climate that will probably exist 50 or 60 years from now. No more “movies” as most of us know them (i.e., no more dramas or story construction…mostly jizz-whizz interactive crap for the masses). A world full of empty distractions and gross Timur Bekmambetov types and Multicultural Party Animals. Good God.
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