Weinstein Co. co-chief Harvey Weinstein was in very good form when he spoke to TheWrap’s Sharon Waxman three days ago (Friday, 4.22) during TheGrill@Tribeca, a media and entertainment conference.

I don’t really need the TCM Classic Film Festival (4.28 to 5.1) to see venerated older films or wallow around in old-movie sentimentality — I can do that at home. But I am interested in seeing classic movies on big screens with presumably optimum (or at least signficantly better-than-average) projection in the company of large enthusiastic crowds — to me that’s special. So I’m feeling moderately cranked about this festival, which is now in its second year, and which I’m fully press-credentialed and ticketed for.

I have to hit the 7 pm Fast Five screening so I’ll finish this later, but dozens of extremely worthy older films are playing for four days. The question is “how good will they look and sound?”

For whatever reason I’ve been sent images of impressionistic paintings inspired by Joe Wright‘s Hanna. The copy implies that Focus Features paid three artists — Jock, Aaron Minier, Alan Brooks — to “capture the spirit of the characters and bring them to life in their own mediums,” etc. But what for? It reenforces the notion that Hanna is an art thriller but everyone understand that now. I don’t really get it but whatever.

Justin Lin‘s Fast Five (Universal, 4.29) will have its all-media screening at the Arclight in less than three hours. Hollywood Elsewhere will be there. The air is crackling with electrons. Some may have missed a riff I posted on 4.13.

I bought two large plants about a month ago, and in so doing condemned them. I’m more or less resigned to the fact that all plants that come to this apartment will die within four or five months. I’ve always made sure they get the right amount of water (i.e., every three weeks) and plenty of indirect sunlight, and every three or four days I mist their leaves. But the leaves inevitably turn yellow and then fall off, and before you know it the plants are stalks.

This is a House of Death and I am Vincent Price.

The guy in the apartment next to mine has been taking a shower for a good ten to twelve minutes so far. Will he go 15? Do we dare talk about 20? Now I know, in any case, who he is and what he’s made of. 9:09 am update: He finally turned the water off after 13 or 14 minutes.

Like fingerprints or snowflakes the best actors of any generation are always unique instruments, playing their particular music no matter what the role. Meanwhile the second-tier actors, lacking this uniqueness or particularity, tend to draw from a generic grab-bag of mannerist ticks and tendencies in favor at a given cultural moment. The tendencies of young male actors in the mid ’50s through the next 15 or 20 years were about trying to channel the sensitive anguish of Brando-Dean-Clift, etc. Every generation has its particular mode and attitude.

I’m saying this because I’m feeling more and more annoyed by second-tier GenY and younger GenX actors. I’ve been noticing behavioral similarities in their performances on cable (particularly in True Blood) and in crappy movies like Scream 4, etc. And I guess…okay, I’ll say it: they need to get off my lawn.

The ultimate acting style or manner, for me, is no acting style or manner. It’s about “being” and receptivity and constant vigilance in a quiet Zen way. Not being a sap but not shutting things out either. It means being Steve McQueen in Bullitt. It means Jean Paul Belmondo or Robert Mitchum in repose, or Meryl Streep in almost anything. It can’t get any better if you simply follow James Cagney‘s rule of “plant your feet, look the other guy in the eye and tell the truth.” Very, very few second-tier under-30 actors, it seems, try to do this. Perhaps they haven’t been told.

The common behavioral thread among young 21st Century actors performing second-rate material is a kind of cool disdain — a mannered chilliness, especially when these guys are acting with each other. Almost everything said to them except “dude, wanna party?” or “let’s go home…I want to make love with you” is an affont of some kind. It’s always about thinly veiled hostility and “oh, God…please.” Hayden Panattiere‘s behavior in Scream 4 is a perfect distillation of this.

The underling message when they speak with each other is always “you want some of my time and attention? I am so effing bored just anticipating what you might have to say! Okay, fine….what? Because before you start you need to understand you won’t be taking advantage of me. Because I will not be fucked by you…get it?” They all exude “pretend” put-on emotion by way of broadly faked feeling or their contempt for another character’s agenda or manner, and letting the other character know how, like, totally difficult it is and what a turn-off it is to even listen to what he/she has to say, much less take him or her seriously.

“Pretend” emotion, hostility, disdain, hidden emotional agendas, cynicism…they never just parcel it out straight and simply lay it on the line like St. Francis of Assisi or Charles Aznavour in Shoot The Piano Player or Oskar Werner in The Spy Who Came In From The Cold. There’s always the “cover” of frosty vibes, attitude acting, “mock” feeling. “I really can’t be bothered to talk to you straight so I’m going to let you know in unmistakable terms what a drag it is to even look at or listen to you…Jesus!”

They’re terrified of emotional even-steven, openness, vulnerability, plain straight talk and behaving in an unaffected manner. They are the sworn enemies of the James Cagney way. Spencer Tracy is looking down at these guys and shaking his head and throwing up his hands.