Pauline Kael‘s review of the original Planet of the Apes reminds that this science-fiction landmark and franchise-starter wasn’t released in May, June or July but in February — a dump month by the standards of 2014 or for that matter the 21st Century. February has had this rep since at least the mid ’90s. I know that Silence of the Lambs was released on 2.14.91 and that a small group of money-makers have opened during the same blah period (Cloverfield, Tremors…what else?), but February has been designated as a time of resignation for so long it looks like up to me.

This is going to sound petty and neurotic (what else is new?), but when I give an HE commenter the heave-ho as I just did a few minutes ago, I recite Richard Burton‘s excommunication speech from Peter Glenville‘s Becket (’64), and particularly this passage.

If a film is solidly well-made and affecting and eloquently written and acted, then it will acquire a reputation as a good or very good film. Nothing can ever take that basic fact away. But a film with one wrong scene — something miscalculated, under-sold, not quite there, overplayed — can take that film down a notch. It will always be haunted by “if only they hadn’t,” etc. Obviously a single tonal misstep can’t hurt that much but it can leave a bruise. In short, the flip side of the old Howard Hawks rule still applies. A first-rate movie has three great scenes, and no bad ones.

I got on this jag because a first-rate film I’ve just seen has one small wrongo. I’m not going to mention the film but I’m asking the readership for examples from the past. Name one scene in a universally praised film that could have been cut before the film opened, and without anyone noticing and the producers kind of glad that it’s gone and the star going, “Ahh, all right…I guess we didn’t need it.”

What is the essential quality of a wrongo in an otherwise excellent film? You’re not going to taste awfulness or mediocrity in a quality-level enterprise. What you might encounter, however, will be a scene that doesn’t need to be there. A scene that isn’t a necessary component but a “darling” — something that’s in the film because one of the principals is in love with it and doesn’t care if it contributes profoundly to the whole or not…it’s staying.

There hasn’t been much reaction to yesterday’s stalled Alamo restoration story that focuses on a mildly astonishing misrepresentation of the facts by an MGM spokesperson. I probably wouldn’t pay much attention myself if I was a reader. How many Alamo stories have I run so far, six or seven? But reconsider for a second. Restoration guru Robert Harris is too much of a genteel diplomat to just spit it out so I will. An official statement from an established motion-picture distributor has blatantly misrepresented the facts. They’ve been asked about the slowly rotting fruit on a pear tree, and their response has been “Well, those Magnolia blossoms sure look good to us!”

My attempts to see Craig Gillespie‘s Million Dollar Arm continue to frustrate. As regular readers know, the Hand of Kumudu kept me out of an early May press screening at Manhattan’s Regal E-Walk on 42nd Street. Today I figured I’d try to see an HDX version on Vudu, but (a) it’s not yet viewable and (b) their pre-order tickets are $22.99 a pop. That’s a bit rich, no? So I checked to see if it’s still playing in some sub-run craphouse theatre in Los Angeles. It is but too far away. It’s playing in Long Beach at the AMC Marina Pacifica 12 (afternoon shows only) and at the AMC Fullerton 20 (ditto)…no, thanks. If only that Regal manager had said to himself, “Aahh, what the hell…the guy’s a journalist, he came all the way from Prospect Park on a slow-arriving, slow-moving F train and he’ll just be missing the first-act set-up stuff with Jon Hamm‘s career on the ropes plus a scene or two with Lake Bell…the movie doesn’t really kick in until the 30-minute mark so I guess I can let him in.”