This well-cut trailer for Douglas McGrath‘s Infamous (Warner Independent, 10.13) is fascinating and strange. An undeniable “here we go again” feeling — Truman Capote, Perry Smith, “Nell” Harper Lee, etc. — with a somewhat brighter, less austere tone than Bennett Miller’s Capote.

Toby Jones, Hope Davis in Douglas McGrath’s Infamous

A friend says it’s quite good — I won’t see it for another two weeks or so. Toby Jones is obviously much more of a close physical emodiment of Capote than Phillip Seymour Hoffman was. The costars are Sandra Bullock, Daniel Craig, Peter Bogdanovich, Jeff Daniels, Hope Davis, Gwyneth Paltrow, Isabella Rossellini, Juliet Stevenson and Sigourney Weaver.
I still say Warner Independent should have released this last year along with Capote. It may or may not have competed in terms of Oscars, but anybody who saw one would have had to have seen the other. It would have been fascinating with everyone comparing the two. It would have been wild…trippy. But corporate egos got in the way.

In Friday’s Entertainment Weekly, Danel Craig — the new Casino Royale 007 guy with the blond hair and the boxer’s face — has been quoted as saying that “if I went onto the internet and started looking at what some people were saying about me — which, sadly, I have done — it would drive me insane.”
This is a very queer sentence — a suppositional “if” that turns into a blunt admission that leads back to a conditional “would”.
Craig then says that the old-school, pot-bellied, going-online-in-their- parent’s-basement 007 fans “hate me….they don’t think I’m right for the role. It’s as simple as that. They’re passionate about it, which I understand, but I do wish they’d reserve judgment.”
Ahhh, but Craig is right for the role because he’s got that cold-streak thing, and because he’s not the sort to toss off those lame little Roger Moore-like 007 quips, which bozo Bond producers Michael Wilson and Barbara Broccoli couldn’t divest themselves of.
It doesn’t matter, of course, because the Bond movies are dead. There are milllions who will pay to see Casino Royale when it comes out later this year, but we’re living in a Matt Damon, Paul Greengrass and Jason Bourne world. They own the rough-and-tumble secret-agent realm of 2006 and into the foreseeable future, and that’s that.
That said, Craig sound as if he hasn’t been around online verymuch. Online posters are extremely passionate about everyone and everything — it doesn’t matter who or what the topic may be. If you’re being discussed by onliners, you’ll be dissed and then some. You’ll be poked, punched, mocked, bitch-slapped, humiliated and disembowled.
The internet community is actually one of the healthiest places to hang these days because at least everyone’s rage is being openly expressed. A few years ago I asked a psychologist from Pacific Palisades what was the most common malady he noticed among all his patients over the years. “Oh, that’s easy,” he said. “Suppressed rage. That’s the #1 thing that everyone is not dealing with, and which is causing more problems than anything else.”

When a big-name client star (like, say, Mel Gibson) screws up big-time, a smart publicist should (a) urge him to “go fast, go humble” in terms of admitting guilt and showing remorse, (b) suggest a one-on-one mea culpa interview with a single reporter (i.e., Larry “cottonball” King) who will allow the client to make as good a case as possible” and “then go radio silent and not keep flogging that wild beast “, (c) urge him to say he’ll “never do it again, but [he] also has to say it to himself and mean it”, or (d) all of the above.
This is some of the sage advice passed along by various crisis publicists in a New York Times piece by Dennis McDougal about the lessons of the Gibson mess.
Veteran publicist Richard Lewis says Gibson’s problem isn’t insurmountable, adding that both the Rev. Jesse Jackson and former California congressman Robert K. Dornan “were eventually able to rise above” notions that they held anti-Semitic beliefs. “The next step in[Gibson’s] rehabilitation is to get him in front of Jews,” Mr. Lewis tells McDouglal.
But Hollywood p.r. legend Michael Levine says Gibson is looking at a very long and arduous process. “Some things are so egregious that you can’t get out of it in a day or two,” he tells McDougal. “This will take 20 years to fix, not 20 minutes. [Gibson] has a long walk up a steep hill.”

It does seem earlyish for Dawn Hudson‘s Film Independent (formerly known as IFP West) to be announcing a final submission date of 10.6.06 for fimls to be considered for the 2007 Independent Spirit Awards. That’s more than three weeks before Halloween…whoa. It’s also eight days earlier than last year’s 10.14.05 deadline, but then the ’07 Spirits are happening earlier also. I’m sure thought was given to this. If you’ve got an indie-type feature coming out in mid-November or early December, you’ll probably have some kind of watchable rough cut on a DVD by early October…no? It doesn’t feel as if the ’06 Spirits happened that long ago, does it? It’s like the world is spinning faster on its axis and we’re all part of a big Superman movie.

It’s fair to say that Emilio Estevez‘s directing abilities were amply exhibited in Rated X (’00), which I felt was pretty awful after seeing it at Sundance six and half years ago. This is one reason I’m not all that enthused about seeing Bobby (Weinstein Co., 11.17) at the Toronto Film Festival. Estevez’s film (he directed and co-wrote) is about how Robert Kennedy‘s shooting on 6.4.68 affected various people (i.e., not just campaign workers) who were inside L.A.’s Amassador Hotel when it happened.

Sharon Stone in Emilio Estevez’s Bobby

Between the Estevez directing resume (which also includes Men at Work and Wisdom) and that hugely entertaining, frequently funny story written by Bobby screenplay polisher John Ridley in Esquire last year, I’m not seeing indications of great artistic assurance. I don’t think anyone is.
Take the Bobby one-sheet,, for example. It uses three lines that Sen. Ted Kennedy spoke in his eulogy speech for his slain brother during the funeral service at St. Patrick’s Cathedral: “He saw wrong and tried to right it. He saw suffering and tried to heal it. He saw war and tried to stop it.” Fine…but this obviously makes the film sound like a drama or a doc about Kennedy himself, as opposed to a story about how others were affected by his death or influenced by his example. It’s a dishonest ploy that leads you on.
The fact that Bobby is going to be screened as a gala (i.e., Roy Thomson Hall) showing at the Toronto Film Festival as a “work in progress” (per a press release issued today) obviously infers that somebody at the Weinstein Co. feels it’s not in a state of maximum readiness.
That said, I’m hearing that Sharon Stone gives the pop-through performance among the large ensemble cast.
Estevez has given himself a role in the film along with Anthony Hopkins, Helen Hunt, Stone, Harry Belafonte, Nick Cannon, Laurence Fishburne, Heather Graham, Joshua Jackson, Ashton Kutcher, Lindsay Lohan, William H. Macy, Demi Moore, Freddy Rodriguez, Martin Sheen, Christian Slater and Elijah Wood.
Let’s at least give the Weinstein Co. credit for changing the Bobby release date from Wednesday, 11.22.06 — the 43rd anniversary of JFK’s assassination — to Friday, 11.17.06. The former date has absolutely nothing to do with Bobby, and trying to use JFK’s murder as a springboard was a rancid thought, to put it mildly.

Todd Field‘s Little Children (New Line, 10.6), a suburban marital-relations drama with Kate Winslet, Patrick Wilson and Jennifer Connelly, will have its debut at the Telluride Film Festival.

Kate Winslet, Patrick Wilson in Todd Field’s Little Children

I presume it’ll also play at the Toronto Film Festival (why wouldn’t it?) but just for safety and assurance it would be good to catch it here before Toronto begins, as Telluride is never an option because of the oppressive cost. Fields (In The Bedroom) directed and wrote the screenplay, which is based on the novel of the same name by Tom Perrotta.
The title of the film doesn’t refer to various minors living with the characters played by Winslet, Wilson and other over-21 types.

A guy I know has been told by a guy who’s part of the N.Y. Film Festival crew that Stephen Frears‘ The Queen (Miramax, 9.30 in NYC –10.6 limited) is “the best Frears film since Sammy and Rosie Get Laid and that Helen Mirren is definitely a Best Actress contender” for her portrayal of Queen Elizabeth. The film has been given an opening-night (9.29) berth with the N.Y. Film Fest, which means it won’t be at Telluride, Venice or Toronto. Journos who won’t be attending the Manhattan festival are naturally appealing to Miramax staffers to arrange for screenings sometime this month so everyone will be up to speed.

Eight “special presentations” — seven world preems and a North American debut — have been slotted for the 31st Toronto Film Festival. The films are Tony Goldwyn‘s The Last Kiss (a remake of Gabrielle Muccino‘s 2001 Italian-language original) with Zach Braff; Marc Forster ‘s Stranger Than Fiction with Will Ferrell; Leon Ichaso‘s El Cantante with Jennifer Lopez and Marc Anthony (yipes!); Mark Palansky‘s Penelope with Christina Ricci and The Last King of Scotland‘s James McAvoy (a modern-day fairy tale produced by Reese Witherspoon…proceed with caution); David Von Ancken‘s Seraphim Falls, a Civil War-era drama with Pierce Brosnan and Liam “whatever happened to that Steven Spielberg/Abraham Lincoln movie I was supposed to star in?” Neeson which promises to be visually arresting at the very least due to the work of cinematographer John Toll; Roger Michell‘s Venus, from a Hanif Kureishi script about septugenarian sex, romance and parenting with Peter O’Toole, Jodie Whitaker, Leslie Phillips, Richard Griffiths and Vanessa Redgrave; Kenneth Branagh’s The Magic Flute with a fantasy-trip World War I backdrop; and Darren Aronofsky‘s emotional, finely rendered The Fountain with Hugh Jackman and Rachel Weisz.

The honorable Roger Michell will not direct the next Daniel Craig 007 film (a.k.a. “Bond 22”) for caretaker producers Michael Wilson and Barbara Broccoli due to “creative differences.” This could mean anything, but Michell told a London reporter he wanted Craig’s Bond to have “an element of cruelty” and there’s speculation that Wilson-Broccoli — who time and again have blocked fresh ideas and innovations from filmmakers regarding the 007 character, and are regarded industry-wide as total stooges and creative “stoppers” — were against this. This Dark Horizons story blends the original Nicole LaPorte/Michael Fleming Variety story with a Michell quote provided by the Daily Mirror‘s Ryan Parry, to wit: “I think there has to be an element of cruelty [in the Bond charatcer]. Certain things he does should be questionable. I think you should go, ‘Fuck, that’s not nice’. He is an assassin.” Wanted: technically talented go-along director in need of a sizable paycheck who doesn’t want to mess with the formula too drastically.

World Trade Center didn’t exactly rock the U.S. yesterday with $4,499,000 haul in some 2803 theatres, or about $1605 per print. (A friend went to a 5 pm showing in a big L.A. plex yesterday in a 400-seat theatre, and there were only about 25 people there.) And I can’t imagine that today’s liquid-bomb news from London is going to help. WTC will do less today — figure $3.6 or $3.7 million, maybe a bit more — and the prognosis is that it’s looking like a push to bring in $20 million over the coming three-day weekend.
The five-day tally may be closer to the mid 20s rather than the vicinity of $30 million, which is apparently what some analysts projected. (A piece by critic Glenn Whipp mentioned a possible $31 million haul a few days ago.)
The reviews were (68% on Metacritic), the conservative patriot crowd didn’t manifest as strongly as hoped, and the same cowards who stayed away from United 93 held to form yesterday. World Trade Center is a heartfelt, very well made film and I’m sorry, but the numbers are in, there’s not a whole lot of heat under the pot and it’s probably fair to say there’s not a lot of joy floating around the Paramount lot this morning.
MCN’s Leonard Klady is reporting a slightly higher Wednesday figure — $4.7 to $4.9 million.

Let’s presume that by the time everyone travels to the Toronto Film Festival a little less than four weeks from now, the airlines won’t be prohibiting carry-on luggage out of London or anywhere else. Today’s news from London about a coordinated plot to blow up airliners traveling between Britain and the United States (the 21 British Muslim suspects intended to build bombs in mid-flight with liquid explosives and detonators) means that normal air-travel misery levels have worsened dramatically. If there’s a carry-on luggage ban when it’s time to fly to Toronto, that’s it — no computers means no Toronto and no coverage. I’m not uninterested in or unaware of the greater potential horror, but that’s an obvious area of concern for me and hundreds of other journalists and distributors.

Roddy McDowell‘s “Antony lives no more!” speech from Joseph L. Mankiewicz‘s Cleopatra (’63) — one of the few really good moments from an otherwise tiresome and pretty much discredited film.