Last September Indiewire‘s Eric Kohn wrote a problematic paragraph about George Hickenlooper‘s Casino Jack, to wit: “The opening shot finds Kevin Spacey in full-on Travis Bickle mode, staring at himself in the mirror and pronouncing a fatal one-liner: ‘I’m Jack Abramoff, and I work out every day.'”

“Fatal”? This line is not about laughter but showing a psychological core. It’s about the way plugged-in, full-of-beans guys like Jack Abramoff tend to see themselves. They’re special, they’re believers, they’re committed, they’re stronger and smarter than you or me, and if they can get paid what they’re getting paid then screw it — they damn well deserve it and Average Joes had better roll with that and get with the program.

For me, the greatest Blurays of older films are the ones that look much better than the finest projected image in a theatre could possibly achieve. And which look better, even, than what the director or studio guys saw in a private screening room when they were catching dailies fresh from the set. That’s what the just-out Psycho Bluray is like. It’s beautiful. Although I still say they should have issued two aspect-ratio versions — one in 1.33, the other in 1.78.

I can’t go to the 10.30 Stewart-Colbert D.C. rally. It’ll cost too much and I just can’t afford it. I don’t want to drive down. The Acela is too expensive, and the Huffington Post buses are too crowded. And I don’t believe in the message. They’re about projecting sanity and rationality, and I believe in putting Tea Party rurals into green re-education camps.

Former 42West Adam Kersh told me last summer he was starting his own p.r. and marketing company. And now, finally, the official announcement has been issued, and the company, co-launched and co-partnered with digital marketing guy Tom Cunha and Jean McDowell, is called Brigade. Sounds kinda Irish. They’re calling themselves a “next-generation” outfit, which is code for (a) “we’re looking to appeal particularly to the under-45 set” and (b) “our monthly fees aren’t as high as those for 42West or other long-established agencies…for now.”

Brigade is currently working with more than a dozen film and TV distributors in various capacities. The initial client list includes Anchor Bay, CBS Television, Elephant Eye, Film Buff / Cinetic Rights Management, IFC Films, Lionsgate, MPI Media Group, Phase 4 Films, Relativity Films, Roadside Attractions, Screen Media, Sony Pictures Classics and Universal Pictures as well as a number of independently released films, filmmakers and talent. Best of luck, full speed ahead.

(l. ro r.) Brigade’s Adam Kersh, Tom Cunha, Jean McDowell.

“I don’t think I’ve ever spent a more riveting or emotionally moving hour and a half in a theater as I did last night watching 127 Hours,” Sasha Stone wrote this morning. “It confirms that [director] Danny Boyle is a genius visually, intellectually, emotionally. He knows this film isn’t just the story of how Ralston got out of that canyon.

Rather, it’s about “that key bit of truth we all must remind ourselves of everyday. Life is not lived alone. We need each other. We need to be able to ask for help.”

Which is precisely what James Franco‘s real-life character, Aron Ralston, doesn’t believe in very strongly as the film begins. He’s no hermit but is pretty much the model of a rugged solo guy, and seems more than a little cocky about his ability to face and/or navigate around whatever tough situation that chance or nature may throw at him. Yes!

But then after putting himself into one of the worst situations any outdoor person could possibly face, he mans up and does what’s necessary. He cuts right through his arm with a nickel-and-dime pen knife, slicing through skin, muscle, soft meat, tendons and nerves, and fracturing his two forearm bones. Good effin’ God. But he does it and he lives, and watching him do this — living and screaming through it with Franco/Ralston — somehow makes you feel more alive.

Could I have done this? I don’t want to think about it. But there’s no way I’d do the lone-wolf thing in the wide-open wilderness. I’m thick but I’m not stupid. But I have to say I’m glad, very glad, for having “faced” this situation in a manner of speaking with a watching of 127 Hours. And I think I’m good for another viewing. I really think I am.

“Badass” is basically an insincere concept. It has to be used ironically. To me the best definition of a “badass” personality is Jack Nicholson‘s Badass Budusky in The Last Detail — i.e., a timid and boastful man looking to prove how tough he is, and other times just a regular shmoe who wants to hide out and drink. Which is why I’m down with Badass Digest.com, the new Alamo Drafthouse site that Devin Faraci is now running, and chuckling at the same time.

Badass Digest intends to “put the fun back in being a nerd,” Faraci writes. And yet the site isn’t about an attitude or a mode of behavior but about “the badass generation.” He’s presumably referring to the under-40 comic-book-reading geeks who go to San Diego Comic-Con…right? In all fairness and without intending to slag anyone, if you roam around San Diego Comic-Con the term that most frequently comes to mind is not “bad ass” but frankly (and I mean no harm) “fat ass.” Guys like Josh Gad and that line of country. Am I wrong?

“A badass is someone who is unique, uncompromising and dedicated to following their vision,” Faraci continues. “Someone blazing their own path, someone setting the standard…fashion and fads come and go but badass is forever.”

It’s okay with me. All the best to Faraci and fellow badasses Roger Erik Tinch and Moises Chiullan.

Boiled down, Michael Cieply‘s 10.21 N.Y. Times article reports that a solution has been found regarding Michael Douglas‘s performances in Anchor Bay’s Solitary Man and 20th Century Fox’s Wall Street 2 being possibly competitive in the Oscar derby.

“After toying with the idea of promoting Mr. Douglas as a leading man for his work in Wall Street 2, Fox executives in the last few days have leaned toward putting him in contention as a supporting actor,” Cieply writes. “That would stave off a potential conflict with Solitary Man, in which Mr. Douglas is clearly the lead, and with Anchor Bay, an independent company that has not previously been a major player in the Oscar game but is serious about it now.”

And what will most likely happen is that Fox’s Best Supporting Actor campaign will dominate, in part because Wall Street 2 is a bigger attention-getter than Solitary Man, and in part because many feel a sentimental attachment to Douglas’s original Gordon Gekko performance in Oliver Stone‘s 1987 Wall Street.

Douglas’s longtime publicist Allen Burry tells Cieply that his client is “doing well” after going through “a grueling course of radiation and chemotherapy that lasted for eight weeks,” adding that he “underwent the last, and heaviest, of the chemotherapy sessions only last week.” The “residual effects will probably put him under wraps again until at least the end of November,” Cieply explains.

And yet Douglas hopes to be ready for the public again “by the time the awards galas are in full swing,” Burry says.

Clint Eastwood‘s Hereafter isn’t just a critical bust. I think it’s his least satisfying film since Firefox (’82). Perhaps the biggest letdown aspect is that it doesn’t impart a sense of tranquility or acceptance about what’s to come, which is what most of us go to films about death to receive, and what the best of these always seem to convey in some way.

Terrence Stamp, John Hurt and Tim Roth in Stephen Frears’ The Hit.

They usually do this by selling the idea of structure and continuity. They persuade that despite the universe being run on cold chance and mathematical indifference, each life has a particular task or fulfillment that needs to happen, and that by satisfying this requirement some connection to a grand scheme is revealed.

You can call this a delusional wish-fulfillment scenario (and I won’t argue about that), but certain films have sold this idea in a way that simultaneously gives you the chills but also settles you down and makes you feel okay.

Here’s a list containing some top achievers in this realm. I’m not going to explain why they’re successful in conveying the above except to underline that it’s not just me talking here — these movies definitely impart a sense of benevolent order and a belief that the end of a life on the planet earth is but a passage into something else. I’ve listed them in order of preference, or by the standard of emotional persuasion.

1. Martin Scorsese‘s The Last Temptation of Christ. 2. Stephen Frears‘ The Hit. 3. Brian Desmond Hurst‘s A Christmas Carol. 4. Warren Beatty and Buck Henry‘s Heaven Can Wait. 5. Henry King‘s Carousel (based on Ferenc Molnar‘s Lilliom). 6. Tim Burton‘s Beetlejuice. 6. Michael Powell‘s A Matter Of Life And Death, a.k.a. Stairway To Heaven. 7. Albert Brooks‘ Defending Your Life.

I’m also giving a pat on the back to that old Twilight Zone episode called “Nothing in the Dark,” in which Robert Redford played a kind of angel of death in the guise of a wounded policeman.

For me the four worst films about death — the shallowest and most phony-manipulative and least reassuring — are Ghost, Flatliners, What Dreams May Come and Death Becomes Her. These are movies that pull down their pants and play cheap little games for the enjoyment of those in the audience who are scared shitless of death and need to fantasize or joke about it in order to allay their fears.

And the single most terrifying film about death as envisioned by fundamentalist Christian wackos is Michael Tolkin‘s The Rapture. One look at that film and you’ll be able to at least consider the idea that hardcore Christians have taken something naturally serene and peaceful and created a terrifying new-age mythology that would give Satan pause.

Update: I don’t know why I forgot to mention Wim Wenders ‘ Wings of Desire. Because it’s doesn’t fit the mold, I suppose. It’s not about passage from life to death as much as passage from death to life, being about an angel (Bruno Ganz) who falls in love with a circus girl (Solveig Dommartin) and wants to be mortal so he can experience love and pain and all the rest of it.

Sgt. Adam Sniffen from the 101st Airborne Division parachutes into Michigan Stadium just before the start of a Michigan vs. MSU game — 10.9.10. Posted 7 days ago.