Month: November 2013

Nearly 31 years ago David Jones‘ Betrayal opened theatrically in the U.S. (On 2.18.83, to be precise.) And you still can’t stream it or buy it on DVD or Bluray. I would kill for a Bluray of this film, but the rights-owner (the family of the late producer Sam Spiegel, I was told some years ago) won’t deliver the elements or some shit. But I just found a full-length version on YouTube. It looks like a third- or fourth-generation VHS tape but at least it’s watchable.

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During Saturday night’s Out Of The Furnace after-party I asked Martin Scorsese‘s rep Leslee Dart when Wolf of Wall Street might screen. Late November screenings (11.28, 11.29, 11.30) would be necessary for Wolf to be voted upon by the National Board of Review and the New York Film Critics Circle. Dart said the schedule was being looked at daily but that it’s possible that the film might not screen for these groups in time. Scorsese will be serving as president of the jury for the Marrakech Film Festival, which starts on 11.29. You’d have to figure the film will be completely finalized at least a couple of days earlier, no? If not sooner?

Director Stephen Frears started out as a street-level social realist, and in that vein Bloody Kids (’79) was the first serious “Frears film” I saw. (I caught it at the old Magno screening room on Sixth Avenue near 55th Street, and I recall that afterwards Frears stood up and took questions.) For the next 10 years Frears was on a roll — The Hit (’84), My Beautiful Laundrette (’85), Prick Up Your Ears (’87), Sammy and Rosie Get Laid (’87), Dangerous Liaisons (’88), The Grifters (’90). The ’90s wasn’t the greatest decade for Frears, but he came back big-time with High Fidelity (’00). Anyway, I bought Bloody Kids on Amazon and watched it two or three days ago. I was surprised to discover that while it’s a reasonably interesting portrait of unruly British youths galavanting around, it’s not quite the knockout that I’d built up in my head. Memory does that sometimes.

My older son Jett says Dallas Buyers Club is at the top of his list so far, and he’s seen Gravity, 12 Years A Slave, All is Lost, etc. Will Jean Marc Vallee‘s film become the little Best Picture contender that could? What seems clear, I regret to say, is that a lot of older viewers I’ve spoken to are sneering and grumbling about Slave‘s brutality. Steve McQueen‘s film is a grand-slam stone classic in my book, but I keep hearing pushback sentiments. That leaves Gravity as the consensus fallback, but shouldn’t a Best Picture contender be about more than just wowser “ride” movie visuals, however brilliantly rendered by the great Alfonso Cuaron? This is where Dallas Buyers Club comes in. It tells an inspirational, true-life, indomitable-human-spirit story, and it’s got the craft, the performances (McConaughey, Leto, Garner), the brass balls, the social conscience, the eff-the-FDA attitude. What’s not to vote for?

from a Daily Beast photo-theme piece called “The Iconography of Bill Murray.”

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Every award season some columnist-blogger will point to a tawdry downmarket film starring an Oscar contender and ask, “Is this [fill in the blank]’s Norbit?” The term — a proper, non-italicized noun — refers to a belief that Eddie Murphy didn’t win a Best Supporting Actor Oscar for his Dreamgirls performance because Norbit, one of his coarse, low-rent comedies, was released on 2.7.07 — right smack in the middle of Oscar voting — and in so doing reminded Academy members that Murphy had never been especially committed to serious, quality-aspiring films or roles, and so a majority turned against him. But an exploitation film selling at the AFM can’t be a Norbit — it has to be a general theatrical release. And it has to open in January or February when the voting is actually happening. And it can’t be a one-off. A Norbit points not to a single paycheck role but to an actor’s continued downmarket inclinations. It reminds everyone that he/she has often wallowed in crap and that the current Oscar-calibre performance in question is an exception to the rule.

12-12-12, which I saw a couple of weeks ago, is a better-than-decent film about community. It’s basically a concert flick, of course, but it’s really a finely-woven patchwork thing about organizers and entertainers putting aside their agendas and working together to raise $50 million for the communities hurt by Hurricane Sandy (i.e., the Robin Hood Hurricane Sandy Relief Fund) and…well, about a big mass hug. Director Amir Bar Lev (The Tillman Story) conveys a strong sense of community, feeling, caring. Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band, Billy Joel (who needs to drop a few pounds), Alicia Keys, Paul McCartney (looks great), Dave Grohl, Roger Waters, Eddie Vedder, Chris Martin, Michael Stipe, Adam Sandler, Eric Clapton, Jon Bon Jovi, The Rolling Stones (Mick Jagger will always be the consummate rock and roll rooster), The Who, Kanye West, etc. A lot of musicians in their 60s, a lot of classic rock tunes, a lot of long stringy gray hair flopping around. At one point Billy Crystal, hanging around backstage, says it’s comforting to watch and listen to musicians who are older than him.

A couple weeks ago I bought the Inside Llewyn Davis soundtrack on Amazon. It arrived a half-hour ago. The song lyrics are printed on a leaflet inside. Here, obviously, are the lyrics to “Please Mr. Kennedy,” the show-stopper performed at roughly the halfway mark. The authors are Ed Rush, George Cromarty, T Bone Burnett, Justin Timberlake and Joel and Ethan Coen. One of the things I hate about listening to karaoke (don’t get me started) is that the singers never seem to sing tunes with ironic attitudes. “Got a red-blooded wife with a healthy libido / you’ll lose her vote if you make her a widow.”

“Blubbering upon re-entry”

Roughly 16 months ago Terrence Malick was shooting the Austin-based “musical drama” once known as Lawless but now called Untitled Terrence Malick Project (2014). You can never trust the IMDB about release dates but it has the Austin flick opening in the Netherlands in early September 2014. We all know Malick’s tendency to dither in post but this film, which costars Natalie Portman, Michael Fassbender, Ryan Gosling, Christian Bale, Rooney Mara, Cate Blanchett, Val Kilmer, Benicio del Toro and Holly Hunter, could possibly screen at next year’s Telluride or Toronto festivals…maybe.

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The transforming of the TCL Chinese (formerly the legendary Grauman’s Chinese) into a stadium-seating theatre with a fake IMAX screen is one of the best renovations of this type I’ve ever seen. The plush red seats blend in with the walls and the red curtains and the classic Chinese artifact ceiling and everything else. It looks like it’s always been a stadium seating theatre. If Sid Grauman‘s ghost could see this, I think he’d be pleased. It may be the most beautiful-looking theatre around now. (200 seats and the old balcony were sacrificed by the designer — c’est la vie.)

I posted a Craigslist ad for someone responsible (i.e., not a 20something Indian guy) to stay here for free and feed the cats while I’m in Vietnam for 10 or 11 days. The following text exchange happened two days ago. Interested party: “Hi — I’m responding to your [ad]. Please call me back at your earliest convenience, please.” Me: “Are you an animal, vegetable or mineral?” Interested party: “A little of each.” Me: “Okay.” [I figured this person would follow up with some details — gender, age, job, phone number, etc. But nothing was offered.] Me: “Later.” Interested party: “Later what?” Me: “I’ll let you stay here for free in your next life.” Interested party: “Okay, weird.” Me: “You’re weird, or haven’t you noticed?” Interested party: “Wow! I feel sorry for the person that stays @ your place.” Me: “Wow! I’m going to be away, asshole. It’ll just be the cat-sitter and the cats.” Interested party: “LOL — seems you have anger problems. I feel badly for your cats.” Me: “The cats are fine, Sam. My only problem right now is with people who like to be vague and mysterious when they ask about staying at my place.”