When Ken Loach‘s I, Daniel Blake won the Cannes Film Festival’s Palme d’Or, I posted the following: “WHAT? Wrong call, gents. A good film, but not my idea of a really good one, and a long way from greatness. It’s a sturdy, downish Loach-wheelhouse thing about an older craftsman (Dave Johns) with a heart condition getting the humiliating run-around by the system. Except it’s also about an obstinate fellow who’s more committed to venting frustration than playing the system for his own benefit. It’s a sad tale but the world is full of guys like this.”

On 5.13 I had an argument with a critic friend about Blake, and I posted it later that day:

Me: “You need to calm down on I, Daniel Blake. He’s a carpenter, a joiner, a delicate craftsman, and a would-be employer offers him a job around the two-thirds mark and he turns it down because he’d rather just keep pretending to look for work so he can keep getting government checks?

“Don’t tell me it’s because he’s afraid that working will give him a heart attack because he’s already leading a life of considerable stress plus the anguish of feeling depressed. When he said ‘no, thanks’ to that job, I checked out. No sympathy. If his heart is going to fail anyway then it’s better that it fail while he’s working and earning a living with a sense of pride than to die a miserable government dependent.

Nearly every critic in town has fallen for Ken Loach‘s I, Daniel Blake, which screened yesterday afternoon at the Salle Debussy. I noticed a couple of women dabbing tears from their cheeks as I shuffled out. It’s another one of Loach’s social injustice sagas, this time about a 59-year-old carpenter (Dave Johns) who needs state assistance after suffering heart trouble and losing his job. The Cannes party line is that it’s about a poor guy being slowly strangled in red tape, but it’s also about an obstinate fellow who’s more committed to venting frustration than playing the system for his own benefit. It’s a sad tale but the world is full of guys like this.

Here’s a debate that ensued this morning between myself and a critic friend:

Me: “You need to calm down on I, Daniel Blake. He’s a carpenter, a joiner, a delicate craftsman, and a would-be employer offers him a job around the two-thirds mark and he turns it down because he’d rather just keep pretending to look for work so he can keep getting government checks?

“Don’t tell me it’s because he’s afraid that working will give him a heart attack because he’s already leading a life of considerable stress plus the anguish of feeling depressed. When he said ‘no, thanks’ to that job, I checked out. No sympathy. If his heart is going to fail anyway then it’s better that it fail while he’s working and earning a living with a sense of pride than to die a miserable government dependent.

“Plus he’s got an obstinate attitude all through the film. It seems more important to him to express indignation and loathing for the bureaucracy than to man up, play it smart and make things a little better for himself. He’s full of grief when Hayley Squires‘ Katie turns to prostitution but he can’t pick up a saw and some nails and do a little honest work?

“When poor Dan died at the end I was muttering ‘tough break and I’m sorry, but with your attitude and the state’s obstinacy things weren’t going to get any better, were they?

…and in recent years have tended to vote for films that have promoted the right kind of politically correct message, especially since the woke virus began to infect everything six years ago.

I therefore wouldn’t be surprised if Greta Gerwig‘s jury declines to give the Palme d’Or to Sean Baker‘s wonderfully un-wokey Anora and hands it instead to Jacques Audiard‘s Emilia Perez, primarily because of the trans thing.

Failing this, they will most likely give the Best Actress trophy to Karla Sofía Gascon, the transitioned biomale actor who plays the titular character. There’s really no question that Anora‘s Mikey Madison gives a more compelling, dynamic, high-throttle performance, but cultural political matters are a bigger deal these days.

It is also worth recalling that Palme d’Or winners have often triggered WTF responses in the past. Case in point: Ken Loach‘s I, Daniel Blake, which won eight years ago.

When Ken Loach‘s I, Daniel Blake won the Cannes Film Festival’s Palme d’Or, I posted the following: “WHAT? Wrong call, gents. A good film, but not my idea of a really good one, and a long way from greatness. It’s a sturdy, downish Loach-wheelhouse thing about an older craftsman (Dave Johns) with a heart condition getting the humiliating run-around by the system. Except it’s also about an obstinate fellow who’s more committed to venting frustration than playing the system for his own benefit. It’s a sad tale but the world is full of guys like this.”

On 5.13 I had an argument with a critic friend about Blake — here it is:

Me: “You need to calm down on I, Daniel Blake. He’s a carpenter, a joiner, a delicate craftsman, and a would-be employer offers him a job around the two-thirds mark and he turns it down because he’d rather just keep pretending to look for work so he can keep getting government checks?

“Don’t tell me it’s because he’s afraid that working will give him a heart attack because he’s already leading a life of considerable stress plus the anguish of feeling depressed. When he said ‘no, thanks’ to that job, I checked out. No sympathy. If his heart is going to fail anyway then it’s better that it fail while he’s working and earning a living with a sense of pride than to die a miserable government dependent.

The sacrificial departure of Alissa Heinerscheid, the Budweiser marketing vp who pushed the incendiary Dylan Mulvaney promotion, was reported last Friday night (4.21) by Ad Age‘s Jon Springer.

Two days later Last Week Tonight‘s John Oliver taped a segment that criticized the American bumblefuck brigade for their bigoted reactions to the Mulvaney campaign. The show typically tapes on Sunday at 6:15 pm. Given Oliver’s stated concern about dealing with old news (or failing to deal with new news), it seemed derelict that he didn’t at least mention Heinerscheid’s decision to take a “leave of absence“, which of course was not voluntary and clearly reflected concerns by Anhauser-Busch senior management.

It was reported yesterday by The Wall Street Journal that Heinerscheid’s boss, Daniel Blake, has also been made to walk the plank.

Yorgos Lanthimos‘ The Favourite is apparently a perverse, absurdist Peter Greenaway film, albeit with a less of a static framing aesthetic and more action fluidity. It’s actually seems to be a mixture of Greenaway and early-’70s Richard Lester with a sprinkling of Ken Russell.

For specific influences study Lester’s The Three Musketeers (’73), Greenaway’s The Draughtsman’s Contract, Russell’s The Devils (’71) and John Alcott‘s lensing of Barry Lyndon (’75).

The basic idea is that royalty is eccentric bordering on insane, and that people around the royals are obliged to behave or respond accordingly or, you know, follow suit in some fashion.

Boilerplate: “A bawdy, acerbic tale of royal intrigue, passion, envy and betrayal in the court of Queen Anne in early 18th century England. At the center of the story is the Queen herself (Olivia Colman), whose relationship with her confidante, adviser and clandestine lover Sarah Churchill, Duchess of Marlborough (Rachel Weisz) is turned upside down by the arrival of the Duchess’s younger cousin Abigail (Emma Stone). Soon the balance of power shifts between the women as they jockey for influence with the Queen and the court.”

Cowritten by Deborah Davis and Tony McNamara. Costarring Mark Gatiss, Joe Alwyn and Nicholas Hoult. The dp is Robbie Ryan (American Honey, I, Daniel Blake). A Fox Searchlight release, opening on 11.23. A likely Venice, Telluride and/or Toronto attraction.

Hollywood Elsewhere will make its annual visit to the Savannah Film Festival between Friday, 10.21 and Thursday, 10.27. I can’t wait to savor the shady, 19th Century serenity that this beautiful old town owns. SFF films are often award-season favorites, and this year the hotties are Pablo Larrain‘s Jackie, Damien Chazelle‘s La La Land, Kenneth Lonergan‘s Manchester By The Sea and Denis Villeneuve‘s Arrival. Other big-draw screenings will include Paterson, Christine, 20th Century Women, American Pastoral, Bleed for This, Moonlight, Lion, Loving and I, Daniel Blake. SFF is sponsored by the Savannah College of Art and Design.

La La Land, Arrival, Jackie, Moonlight, Nocturnal Animals, Barry, Free Fire, Toni Erdmann, Neruda, Paterson, Amanda Knox, Norman: The Moderate Rise and Tragic Fall of a New York Fixer, Snowden, Lady Macbeth, The Salesman — these, according to most media hotshots, were the absolute cream of the 2016 Toronto Film Festival.

I asked a lot of people during the festival and everyone mentioned these films. Sum-up articles by Variety‘s Owen Gleiberman and Peter Debruge, The Hollywood Reporter‘s Scott Feinberg and Stephen Galloway and Rolling Stone‘s Charles Bramesco and David Fear include the above titles. Feinberg’s list included Lion, which wasn’t acclaimed by anyone I spoke to.

Many of these films had previously played Cannes (Salesman, Toni Erdmann, Paterson, Neruda), Venice (La La Land, Moonlight, Arrival, Nocturnal Animals) and Telluride, but the hotshots nonetheless categorized them as Toronto films.

There’s just one little thing that bothers me. The absolute best film of the year thus far, a little masterpiece called Manchester By The Sea, also played in Toronto. Several times in fact, and it floored many critics and Average Joes. (I took a Toronto friend to see it at a public screening and I felt the room, trust me.) But many if not most of the hotshots have totally ignored Kenneth Lonergan‘s film in their Toronto summaries.

By their own standards the fact that Manchester played a couple of weeks ago in Telluride couldn’t have been a disqualifier. So what did seem to disqualify it? My best guess is that the hotshots ignored Manchester because it had its world premiere at last January’s Sundance Film Festival.

I’m telling you that it blows away nearly every other 2016 Best Picture contender in terms of emotional impact, knockout performances and drillbit dramaturgy. The only film that delivers on a similar level of feeling and expertise is La La land, which has won, by the way, the top TIFF audience prize, which makes it, to go by precedent, the leading Big Cowabunga Kahuna in the Best Picture race.

There’s no question about Manchester‘s powerhouse chops, but in the minds of Gleiberman, Debruge, Feinberg, Galloway, Bramesco and Fear, this Amazon/Roadside release is an “oh, yeah, we forgot to mention it” flick.

Sorry to point this out, guys, but your collective decision to treat Manchester as an invisible Toronto film is derelict.

Note: Feinberg has pointed out that THR‘s Toronto sum-up article excludes films seen at Telluride, and yet it doesn’t exclude films shown in Cannes like Toni Erdmann and Ken Loach‘s I, Daniel Blake, both of which are praised in the body of the THR piece. Again, Manchester by the Sea was a major, major presence in Toronto, and yet it isn’t even mentioned in Feinberg and Galloway’s article.

For those who didn’t attend the 2016 Sundance and Cannes festivals and who don’t plan on hitting Telluride or Toronto, the just-announced slate for the 54th New York Film Festival (9.30 to 10.16) will be full of the usual excitement and nutrition shots. The NYFF is always a great thing to settle into. To attend this annual gathering is to sense that you’re alive and attuned and a reveller in a very rich Manhattan scene, a celebration and meditation about movies that matter most, just as those who attended this festival in 1963 or ’78 or ’99 were also plugged into the films and currents that were essential back then. For two weeks in early October it’s the ultimate well, the place to be.

But for festival veterans like myself it’ll mostly be a “greatest festival hits of 2016” recap. Not entirely but mostly.

If I were attending I’d be focusing on a combination of unseen curiosities and special faves: Barry Jenkins‘ buzzed-about Moonlight, Paul Verhoeven‘s Elle (which I missed at Cannes, partly due to my schedule but also because Sony Classics refused to screen it before the official debut), Kenneth Lonergan‘s Manchester by the Sea, Olivier Assayas‘ Personal Shopper (one of a handful of 2016 films that I consider to be truly riveting and extra-level), Ava Duvernay‘s The 13th (not a study of the 13th amendment but “an in-depth look at the prison system in the United States and how it reveals the nation’s history of racial inequality”), Mike Mills‘ 20th Century Women (I’ve heard good things but also a meh comment), Pablo Larrain‘s Neruda and James Gray‘s The Lost City of Z (the Charlie Hunnam factor gives me concern).

There may also be a special sneak preview (a highlight that NYFF director Kent Jones hasn’t included for the past couple of years) and perhaps an extra sidebar attraction or two.

When he was Variety‘s lead film critic Justin Chang would deliver his opinions with as much tact and finesse as possible. He would sometimes pan films, of course, but in a way that might prompt a reader to say, “Well, I guess this film has certain merits as well.” “Blunt” and “direct” may have been in Chang’s toolbox, but they were rarely used. But they are now that he’s a big-dog critic at the L.A. Times.

In a sharply phrased piece about Sunday’s Cannes Film Festival awards and particularly about the shortcomings of Ken Loach‘s I, Daniel Blake and, more odiously, Xavier Dolan‘s It’s Only The End of the World, which won the festival’s Grand Prix (or second place) award, Chang has let go Sam Peckinpah-style.

“In handing Ken Loach his second Palme d’Or for I, Daniel Blake (he won the first Palme in 2006 for The Wind That Shakes the Barley), Miller’s jury, deliberately or not, wound up favoring an angry, relevant message rather than a great work of cinema. Loach inadvertently seemed to confirm as much when he noted in his acceptance speech that film is ‘exciting, it’s fun, and as you’ve seen tonight, it’s also very important.’

“Still, better for the Palme to have gone to Loach than to Quebec’s Xavier Dolan, the 27-year-old world-cinema enfant terrible who pretty much horrified the press audience by inexplicably winning the runner-up Grand Prix for It’s Only the End of the World.

“In my 11 years of attending Cannes I cannot recall a worse jury decision than this one. A badly shot, shrilly performed and all-around excruciatingly misjudged dysfunctional-family torture session that felt far longer than its 97-minute running time, World was by far the least endurable film in competition (and that includes Sean Penn’s dreadful but dreadfully entertaining The Last Face).

Palme d’Or: Ken Loach‘s I, Daniel Blake. HE comment: WHAT? Wrong call, gents. A good film, but not my idea of a really good one, and a long way from greatness. It’s a sturdy, downish Loach-wheelhouse thing about an older craftsman with a heart condition getting the humiliating run-around by the system. The award, I presume, was partly intended as a political statement on behalf of the despairing and dispossessed, and perhaps partly intended as a career achievement award for Loach, as he said his previous film would be his last, etc. Here’s an argument I had with a critic friend about Blake.

Grand Prix: Xavier Dolan, It’s Only The End Of The World. HE reaction: The jury is serious. They really thought this underwhelming pain-in-the-ass film was the second best of the fest. I’m absolutely stunned and appalled. Dolan is an impudent envelope pusher — now this tendency will be even more aggravated. Stop weeping, Xavier. Man up.

Jury Prize: American Honey, dir: Andrea Arnold. HE comment: Divided reactions among journalists/critics but I was down with this film from the get-go.

Best Director: tie between Olivier Assayas, Personal Shopper and Cristian Mungiu, Graduation/Baccalaureat. HE comment: Yes! Shopper was my #1 pick of the festival (I would have given it the Palme d’Or), Graduation was my #2. I love that the jury stood up to the press-screening booers by honoring Assayas.

Best Screenplay: Asghar Farhadi, The Salesman. HE comment: Full, absolute & total approval.

Best Actor: Shahab Hosseini, The Salesman. HE comment: Excellent choice, fully deserved. Earlier today I predicted without much certainty that Paterson‘s Adam Driver would win for Best Actor but then I added, “If it was my call I’d give the award to The Salesman‘s Shahab Hosseini.”

Best Actress: Jaclyn Jose, Ma Rosa. HE comment: I avoided the Mendoza so no comment. Jose overdid the teary, cracky-voiced emotional surprise. (Read: Sally Field, Halle Berry‘s speeches after winning their Best Actress Oscars.) “Oh, they chose me!…oh, oh, oh!…I can’t believe this is really happening!,” etc.

All hail the dismissal of Toni Erdmann, which I hated. Almost the entire press gang was predicting it would win the Palme d’Or. Egg yolk! Okay, not egg yolk but sublime satisfaction in this corner.

Attended 11 am screening of Jodie Foster‘s Money Monster (no time for a review it’s reasonably decent for what it is) and then ran over to the 12:30 pm press luncheon for Woody Allen‘s Cafe Society at Nikki Beach — a gloriously pleasant and relaxing affair attended by Woody, Kristen Stewart, Jesse Eisenberg, Vittorio Storaro, Blake Lively, Corey Stoll. Ran back for 2pm Money Monster press conference, which lasted about 50 minutes. There’s just enough time to load some Woody luncheon photos before 4:30 Salle Debussy screening of Ken Loach‘s I, Daniel Blake. Don’t even have time to insert captions…sorry.

Today’s slate includes an 11 am Money Monster screening (roughly 100 minutes from now) followed by a Cafe Society luncheon (sitdown chats with Woody Allen and cast) at Nikki Beach from 12:30 to 2 pm, or more precisely from 1 to 2 pm as Money Monster ends at 12:40 pm and then I’ll have to hike it all the way down. A little filing time will follow, and then a 4:30 pm screening of Ken Loach‘s I, Daniel Blake.

George Clooney in Jodie Foster’s Money Monster, screening today at 11 am.

Nikki Beach, a restaurant/club on the beach in front of the Carlton Hotel.

Later tonight there’s a private screening of Mean Dreams, a Director’s Fortnight attraction, that I’d like to attend.

A few days ago I mentioned that a friend who saw Money Monster back in Los Angeles “really” liked it, and that it feeds into both the Bernie and Trump narratives. (I wasn’t aware their narratives were synonymous but whatever.) Well, I’ve spoken to another friend who’s seen it, and his view is that it rates a solid two stars out of four. Not bad, he says, but not as good as he wanted it to be.