A new trailer for Rod Lurie‘s Straw Dogs will go out attached to Priest (Sony, 5.13). After a release-date delay that has lasted for eons, I’ve been eager to see an indication of how Lurie’s remake of Sam Peckinpah‘s 1971 classic (which 99% of the mega-mall sophistos have never heard of) might play. Sony is presumably unwilling to let the trailer out prior to 5.13 so here’s the oldie-but-goodie.

Update: I’m told that the new Straw Dogs trailer will be online “a few days” before 5.13.

From Israeli movie columnist Yair Raveh: “If you’re collecting Cannes hints, here’s another one: Shlomo Bar-Aba, the lead in Joseph Cedar‘s Footnote.

“Bar-Aba is one of Israel’s better known stage and TV comedians — a truly wacky performer in the Robin Williams sort-of-way. (I had the privilege of writing some of his material in the past.) He rarely does movies and here he is at his most quiet, subdued and disciplined role. But just like when Peter Sellers or Jerry Lewis did a straight role you can feel the chaotic energy bustling underneath. And because he’s a virtual unknown outside of Israel (here he’s a huge, huge star) I believe he’ll be one of the big finds in the festival in terms of acting. So check him out and the movie as well.”

Yesterday’s big Twitter meme was “Terrence Malick’s Thor.” You always know something is cool if Matt Zoller Seitz and James Rocchi are on it. But 24-plus hours later “Malick Thor” brings up nothing on Google. No art, no tweet compilations, nothing. The next step, of course, is a mashup video linking dialogue, themes, obsessions, etc. But is this thing even taking off?

The two main sources of 2011 Hollywood agony are (a) the studio bosses and underlings who are afraid to make anything other than comic-book movies, sequels or reboots of old franchises, no matter how lame or disconnected from the zeitgeist these remakes might be, and (b) the millions of moviegoers out there who refuse to patronize anything other than comic-book movies, sequels or reboots of old franchises.

If I could get away with throwing all the afore-mentioned studio bosses and execs into a burlap bag filled with rocks and then throw the bag into a lake in northern Scotland, I would. Not that it would solve anything (i.e., they’d only be replaced), but it would feel good and “right” and the Movie Godz would send me a magnum of good champagne.

Last night’s flight was hell. The agony of sitting in a too-small seat and almost sleeping but not really (i.e., sporadically dozing on the surface of the pond rather than slipping below and sinking to the bottom) was more acute than usual. The price for an exit-row seat was having to sit between two big guys. One was large-bellied and a bit of a wheezy breather and wearing poolside flip-flops (why do people who don’t believe in pedicures do this?), and between his girth and my broad shoulders it wasn’t a good fit.

I’m staying in a 31st floor apartment at 310 Greenwich Ave., or about three blocks west of the Chambers Street A stop and a two or three blocks south of the Tribeca Grill. I’m here for the weekend and a day. A detour into Connecticut tomorrow and then back to the city on Sunday, and then a flight out of JFK on Monday afternoon for Paris and then Cannes with an expected early-morning arrival on Tuesday.

Tonight Jett and I are catching the B’way revival of John Guare‘s The House of Blue Leaves with Ben Stiller, Edie Falco, Jennifer Jason Leigh, et. al. I planned to see a revival back in the late ’80s in Pasadena but something got in the way, so this is my first time.

The two somewhat larger bags aren’t light but at least they’re not steamer trunks out of the stateroom scene in A Night at the Opera, which is what I’ve seen a lot of people lugging around at airports. Always travel with small-ish bags. Either you get it or you don’t.

Apologies to Peter Guber and Brett Ratner for failing to post this last Sunday. It was taken prior to a TCM Classic Film Festival discussion about the relentlessness corporate hunger for sequels (and the cowardice exposed by this). Pete Hammond moderated.

“I enjoy your writing. I enjoy your themes. But your ‘community’ of commenters are like the worst idiots from a Union Square or Santa Monica cafe where the wifi works and the coffee is cheap. I’ve tried only reading your bits but it doesn’t work. If I see you in Cannes I’ll say hello, but I’m afraid I won’t be coming back here.” — Mark Tierney, producer, photographer and general get-around guy, in an email received at 2:16 pm Eastern.

My response: “I share your pain but what precisely pushed you over the edge? Something today or yesterday? What comment in what thread? Because except for the spewings of an occasional loon or loser HE comments are fairly sharp and spot-on.”

With the exception of one or two apparent omissions (i.e., where is the Wednesday, 5.11 morning press screening of Woody Allen‘s Midnight in Paris?), this looks like one of the coolest online screening schedules for the Cannes Film Festival I’ve ever come across. Almost the whole magilla. (I think.) Now, if someone could throw together one of these plus a cool-party schedule…

“A Cannes hint: watch out for Michel Hazanavicius‘s The Artist — a silent movie that will make a lot of noise!” — HE reader Deydou.

“Released a few weeks ago in the UK, TT3D: Closer To The Edge is a documentary following three young motorcycle riders as they tackle the world famous Isle of Mann TT. It’s beautifully shot and cut, uses 3D sparingly and only to enhance the sensational race scenes, and in Guy Martin (one of the riders) has found a genuine star — think Northern English Wolverine, complete with sideburns.

“The most exhilarating film I’ve seen since C’etait Un Rendezvous.” — Dylan Glover, London.