Day: March 25, 2014

A Variety story by way of AP states that (a) “investigators have determined that the Porsche driving Fast & Furious star Paul Walker was [speeding at] approximately 90 mph when it crashed and killed the actor and his business partner last November” and (b) “A person who reviewed the crash investigation report said it was unsafe driving, not mechanical problems, that caused the crash.” Are they certain? A similar report appeared in the 11.5.33 edition of the N.Y. Herald Tribune: “Investigators have determined that Carl Denham‘s giant ape, commonly known as King Kong, died as a result of falling from the top of the Empire State Building. A person who has reviewed the report said the cause of death was major body trauma when the ape slammed into the pavement on 34th Street at a speed well over 100 mph.”

The shot of a lion attacking Dwayne Johnson in slow motion is worrisome, to say the least. There’s no room in my life or my head for CG that looks this bad. It’s suddenly conceivable that Brett Ratner‘s Hercules (Paramount, 7.25) might be as bad as John Derek‘s Tarzan. Two-thirds through this caveat emptor trailer Johnson is wading chest-deep through a swamp and is suddenly yanked under the surface by a slimey super-snake, which soon after roars like a T-Rex. The swamp-yank thing is half Jaws and half R2D2 being swallowed by a Dagobah serpent in The Empire Strikes Back. Q: “Now tell me…who…are…you?” A: “I…am…Hercules!!”

I arrived in summer-hot Las Vegas at 12:45 pm. I left West Hollywood at 8:35 am and got on the 134 east around 9 am. I did a 10-minute stop for gas and a stretch so it really took me three hours and 35 minutes. I averaged 80 mph. My stalking horse method worked just fine. I saw a CHP hiding behind a bridge piling just beyond Baker but saw no bulls pulling anyone over. I’m staying in a spartan shitbag Motel 8 (opposite the Mandalay Bay) for $45 and I don’t care. I’m now sitting in the Ceasar’s Palace press room with my ADMIT ONE (i.e., first-class) press pass and Neighbors tickets in my pocket. The first screening is Ivan Reitman‘s Draft Day at 4 pm (an hour and 50 minutes from now). I don’t gamble and I never will, but I’m in like Flynn.

If I leave by 8:30 am I should be in Las Vegas by 12:30 or 1 pm, and picking up my Cinemacon pass by 1:45 pm or 2 pm at the latest. I haven’t done this drive since the late ’80s. I’m mindful, of course, of the notorious CHP speed-trap area approaching Barstow and then beyond to the Nevada state line. What I generally do is find a couple of “stalking horses” who are moving as fast as I want to go and then stay eight to ten car lengths behind them. If the bulls are going to pull anyone over they’ll go for the horses rather than myself — that’s the theory, at least.

The trick with Las Vegas is to stay there no longer than 24 hours. By the 36-hour mark the plasticity and toxins begin to seep into your system. 48 hours and you’re staggering around like Edmond O’Brien in D.O.A..

John Wayne‘s anti-Communist proclamations and behind-the-scenes maneuverings in the late 1940s and ’50s and were fairly relentless and strident. To go by some accounts he was a kind of swaggering Rush Limbaugh-like figure within the Hollywood community when it came to ferreting out “reds” and “pinks.” Wayne didn’t approve of Kirk Douglas having brought Dalton Trumbo out of the shadows as a screenwriter with Spartacus, and he resented High Noon. But alongside today’s rightwing nutters he wasn’t that extreme and was by all accounts an entirely decent guy on personal terms. As far as I can discern Wayne was a kind of Barry Goldwater conservative, which was defined as a traditional preservationist position and almost liberal by 21st Century standards. (The real liberal by 2014 standards is Richard Nixon, of course.)

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The 50% Rotten Tomatoes rating for Cesar Chavez (3.28, Participant) indicates that director Diego Luna was too impressed by the legend of the renowned labor leader to do anything exceptional or daring. Sight unseen I wrote last October that rote “biopics of revered political underdogs can only tell the tale — modest beginnings, protagonist shows mettle, rise to power, complications from adversaries, big climax, end coda.” The rule of thumb in making a good political saga is to avoid deification by concentrating on a challenging or traumatic episode that revealed or brought forth character. Two noteworthy examples: Stephen Frears‘ The Queen or Dore Schary‘s Sunrise at Campobello. Raoul Peck‘s Lumumba, Gus Van Sant‘s Milk and Oliver Stone‘s Nixon are probably the best political biopics that take the broader “this happened and then that happened” approach.

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Trailers for Jon S. Baird‘s Filth have been online for 11 months now. I took notice of the first one in April 2013. Last July I remarked that it’s been “over-trailered.” It opened in England last September and I know I saw it on a flight to Europe not long ago. It will finally appear domestically on VOD on 4.24.14 and then theatrically on 5.30.14. Filth is raw and rancid and not half bad. I’d like to see it in a decent screening room or theatre. Watching a film on a steerage mini-screen doesn’t cut it.