“Security officials and riot police engaged in violent clashes with demonstrators in Tehran today in what one reporter called an ‘unprecedented scene’ in Iran in recent years,” reports a HuffPost account. “NBC producer Ali Arouzi described the events on Saturday: ‘What started off as a small rally outside a pro-reformist newspaper swelled into a massive crowd of people chanting, ‘Death to the dictator, death to Ahmadinejad!’

Many or most pre-election polls favored pro-reform candidate Mir Hossein Mousavi, President Ahmadinejad‘s opponent who leads a powerful youth-driven movement, to win the election by a healthy margin. The general worldwide belief in every corner of the universe is that Ahmadinejad flat-out stole the election.

“A small amount of police pushing the crowd back turned into huge riot police in armored gear and motor bikes beating all the young students here with batons, knocking them back. The students responded by throwing stones, which the police then threw back. Now the police are coming off all the heart streets and main streets to try and disperse the crowd.”

Several injuries were reported after police officers hit protesters with batons. Witnesses said some demonstrators appeared to have been arrested. Black-clad police also gathered around key government buildings and mobile phone text messaging was blocked in an apparent attempt to stifle one of the main communication tools by Mousavi’s movement.

Mousavi “urged his supporters to resist a “governance of lie and dictatorship.’

“Secretary of State Hillary Clinton said Saturday that the United States hopes the outcome of Iran’s election reflects the “genuine will and desire” of its people, and that she will continue to monitor events as they unfold.Ahmadinejad has the apparent backing of the ruling theocracy, which holds near-total power and would have the ability to put the election results into a temporary limbo.

Mousavi “had not made a public address or issued messages since declaring himself the true victor moments after polls closed and accusing authorities of ‘manipulating’ the vote.

“‘I’m warning that I won’t surrender to this manipulation,” Mousavi said through on the web today. “The outcome of what we’ve seen from the performance of officials…is nothing but shaking the pillars of the Islamic Republic of Iran sacred system and governance of lie and dictatorship.'”

DVD Beaver frame capture from Universal Home Video’s Field of Dreams Blu-ray, which apparently is somewhere between okay and so-so looking. “More grain is visible and the hi-def visuals definitely export a texture that is not present in the DVD releases,” writes Gary Tooze. But I love the ebbing twilight atmosphere in this still. So few films have been willing to run with poetic concepts.

Food, Inc. (now at the Film Forum) is a stirring film, all right. It makes you never want to eat anything other than organic fruit and vegetables ever again. It quite rightly raises suspicions that poisons are coursing through your system. And let’s face it — if you’re any kind of meat-eater or frequenter of fast-food joints, they probably are. On top of which you’re probably a bit more of a porker than you should be. Don’t think corporate America isn’t down with that.

Food, Inc. director Robert Kenner and I talked things over for about 25 minutes yesterday. Here‘s the mp3.

Fatty carcinogen corporate food has been a part of the landscape for only about 30 years or so. I can remember when people generally used to be in shape in the ’60s and ’70s. We’ve since become a nation of carcinogenic seal lions. 64% of the U.S. is overweight, and a large portion of this group is flat-out obese. Young kids (even toddlers) are obese everywhere you look.

The victims, obviously, are the middle and lower-middle classes, who always eat the cheapest and worst food around. The fat and sugar and chemical levels in mass fast foods are appalling. That’s not an accident — it’s what the corporate food barons want. They’ve been living high off the hog from the profits for so long, and it’s hard to say no once you get used to a fatness in all its forms.

I love this David Edelstein quote in New York: “I gave up the thought of ‘reviewing’ the documentary and decided, instead, to exhort you: See it. Bring your kids if you have them. Bring someone else’s if you don’t. The sheer scale of the movie is mind-blowing – it touches on every aspect of modern life. It’s the documentary equivalent of The Matrix.”

The trailer for I Love You, Beth Cooper (Fox Atomic, 7.10) suggests that the film is coarse and vulgar and way overcranked. A ludicrous teenaged horndog wish-fulfillment plot, gross stupidity, a hissing raccoon, insanely overdone foley effects, every cliche out of the tits-and-zits high-school handbook. Truly repellent. An unfortunate comedown for Chris Columbus, whom I was starting to learn to like after the invigorating Rent. The screenplay is by Larry Doyle, based on his book. I mean, I wanted to throw up.

Last night around 6:45 pm I walked into Leows Lincoln Square and a mid-sized theatre playing The Hangover to see the Michael Moore teaser. Except I made the mistake of sitting behind an ugly bald guy whose seat was leaning way back, in the same way that thoughtless people in coach lean their seats right into your face. He was short and bald and rocking in his seat as he stuffed his face with popcorn. It was like sitting behind a rambunctious seven year-old. I hated him on sight.

The feeling was apparently mutual because he kept half-turning-around — i.e., the universal gesture that means “hey, quit what you’re doing because you’re bothering me.” I crossed my leg to re-tie my shoe and this asshole turned around. He bounced his seat back and it hit my left knee and this asshole turned around. I was sitting behind him doing nothing (except thinking what an asshole he was) and this asshole turned around.

After the fifth or sixth turn-around I said, “What…? What’s your problem?” He said I was breathing on his head and it bothered him. Nostril breath, he meant. “Well, you’re gonna have to deal with it, pal, because I’m not gonna stop breathing,” I said. “You wanna sit on my lap?” he said. No, I said, and why don’t you try just sucking it in and shutting the fuck up? “Just go…just get outta here,” he said. “I’m not going anywhere,” I said. “Find a way to live with it.”

But I didn’t want to be anywhere near this monkey so I looked around and noticed two vacant seats behind me, on either side of a pretty 20something girl. No clothing or markers on either seat so I got up and sat in the empty aisle seat. Beat, beat, beat. “This seat is saved for my boyfriend,” she said. “Oh, for God’s sake!,” I said as I got up. “I don’t know why you’d be mad at me,” she said. “Because if you’re saving a seat you mark it,” I said. “You lay…you know, lay a jacket or a handkerchief or a folded newspaper on it. As in basic jungle law?” She looked at me quizzically. “Like wolves marking territory with urine?” Nope, no clue, pointless.

After seeing the Moore teaser and watching the kids walk around with donation cups (the girl behind me who saved her boyfriend’s seat reached into her wallet and gave a dollar to “Save Our CEOs” — brilliant) and listen to a guy yell out “start the movie!,” Jett and I walked over to the Taking of Pelham 1 2 3 theatre for a 7:15 pm show.

They showed the Moore teaser again. We were going to sit somewhere in the fifth row but a 20something animal in shorts had his big ugly bare feet sticking through from his seat an aisle back. “I don’t wanna sit next to that guy’s feet,” Jett said. I looked over and felt contorted with digust. “What an animal,” I said to Jett. “Look at him.”

Then the trailers started playing, seven or eight of them. Deeply depressing, assaultive. I felt nausea after watching the trailer for I Love You Beth Cooper. Then a baby started crying about a half-hour into the film.

Steve Mason’s weekend projection says that The Hangover will win again and that Pelham will come in third with $26 million or so. The Lincoln Square was showing The Taking of Pelham 1 2 3 in their best and biggest theatre and The Hangover in a slightly smaller and shittier house — a large underventilated shoebox. The Hangover theatre was packed to the rafters, and the Pelham theatre was maybe 80%, 85% full. But a lot of people applauded at the end of it.

Robert Schwentke‘s The Time Traveller’s Wife, costaring Eric Bana and Rachel McAdams, comes out from New Line/Warner on 8.14. The trailer has an affable, settled and vaguely eerie atmosphere. It also radiates dreaded chick-flick vibes. Here, for simplicity’s sake, is a Publisher’s Weekly summary of Audrey Niffenegger‘s 2004 book.

“This clever and inventive tale works on three levels: as an intriguing science fiction concept, a realistic character study and a touching love story. Henry De Tamble (Bana) is a Chicago librarian with ‘Chrono Displacement’ disorder; at random times, he suddenly disappears without warning and finds himself in the past or future, usually at a time or place of importance in his life. This leads to some wonderful paradoxes.

“From his point of view, he first met his wife, Clare (McAdams), when he was 28 and she was 20. She ran up to him exclaiming that she’d known him all her life. He, however, had never seen her before. But when he reaches his 40s, already married to Clare, he suddenly finds himself time travelling to Clare’s childhood and meeting her as a 6-year-old.

“The book alternates between Henry and Clare’s points of view, and so does the narration. [It] expresses the longing of the one always left behind, the frustrations of their unusual lifestyle, and above all, her overriding love for Henry. Likewise, [it] evokes the fear of a man who never knows where or when he’ll turn up, and his gratitude at having Clare, whose love is his anchor.”

The German-born Schwentke is best known for having directed Flightplan, the Jodie Foster thriller.

A teaser for Michael Moore‘s upcoming financial meltdown doc, due on 10.2.09, preemed tonight in select theatres in New York, Washington, D.C., Chicago and Los Angeles. “The movie is not going to be an economics lesson,” Moore told USA Today‘s Anthony Breznican earlier today. “It’s going to be more like a vampire movie. Instead of the main characters feasting on the blood of their victims, they feast on the money. And they never seem to get enough of it.”

“Hi, I’m Michael Moore,” the teaser narration begins. “Instead of using this time to tell you about my new movie, I’d like to take a moment and ask you to join me in helping our fellow Americans. The downturn in the economy has hurt many people. People who have had no choice but to go on government assistance, yet our welfare agencies can only do so much. That’s why I’m asking you to reach into your pockets right now and lend a hand.

“Ushers will be coming down the aisles to collect your donations for Citibank, Bank of America, AIG, Goldman Sachs, JP Morgan, and a host of other needy banks and corporations. Won’t you please give generously?

“Now, I know what you’re thinking, ‘I already gave at the bailout’…and I know you did. But even if you’ve given in the past, give some more, it’ll make you feel….good.”

The lights came up and a team of eight or nine kids in white T-shirts that said “Save Our CEOs” came down the aisle to collect money after the teaser showed at Manhattan’s Leows’ Lincoln Plaza. Believe it or not, I saw six or seven women actually reach into their wallets and give a buck to the volunteers. Don’t they understand they’re participating in their own humiliation by doing this? It’s a joke, for God’s sake.

The untitled pic takes a comic look at what Mooore calls “the biggest robbery in the history of this country” — the massive transfer of U.S. taxpayer money to private financial institutions.

“If you go to see my movies, even if you don’t agree with everything in the movies, you’re going to have a good laugh,” Moore told Breznican. “I want them to walk out at the end saying ‘Wow, that was something!’ And in this case, maybe they also walk out asking the ushers, ‘Um, excuse me [but] where are the pitchforks and torches?’ ”

Last night I bought a fresh new copy of Michael Herr‘s Dispatches — easily the best written and certainly the most important book about ground-level grunts during the Vietnam War bar none, renowned for its rich conveyance of the surreal climate and mentality and particularly the special lingo that went hand-in-hand with that whole jungle slaughterhouse experience.

Pages 28 and 29 of relatively recent printing of Michael Herr’s Dispatches.

I bought it with the idea of persuading Jett to give it a read, which of course he refused to do after skimming the first two pages as we stood in the book store. Broke my heart, but every generation has its own way of seeing and processing things, and of course writing about them, etc. I never liked Ernest Hemingway all that much when I was 21, certainly never as much as my father did. But I got into him later on. Across the water and into the trees.

Mike Binder‘s Jokeyphone is up and rolling in Beta form. My three favorite jokes so far are (a) “No Politics,” (b) “American girls” and (c) “12 Year-old Scotch.”

Inspired by Jokeyphone I tried to find my all-time favorite joke — the one that some call “kiki” about two anthropologists captured by cannibals in New Guinea, etc.? — but I couldn’t find it anywhere. If anyone has seen this on YouTube under some other name, please advise. You know which one I mean….? Anthropologost #2, having seen what happened to his friend when he chose “kiki” says, “I’m not a brave man so I’ll choose death.” And the chief goes, “Very well, death…but first, kiki!”

The bottom line, of course, is that all the attention given yesterday to the problems of G.I. Joe: The Rise of Cobra (Paramount, 8,7) will turn out to be a blessing in disguise. The film is what it is and there are millions who will pay to see it no matter what, but among the fence-sitters two things are incontestable: (a) barring an unimagined catastrophe of some kind the worst is over in terms of bad buzz, and (b) the film’s rep has nowhere to go but up.

Once the sneak previews and media screenings start in July it’s entirely possible that the G.I. Joe word will be “wow, surprise…a lot less awful than I expected!” If G.I. Joe had accumulated nothing but positive buzz going into August it would have to meet those expectations, God forbid. Now the pressure is off. If it turns to be even half-tolerable the word will reflect that in a mostly positive way — “doesn’t suck that badly!,” “harmless!” “I got through it and finished my popcorn!” and so on.

Paramount owes guys like myself a debt of gratitude. Seriously — they’re better off for it. And they have eight weeks to put across the old counterspin — a snap.