If somebody were to remake The Wild Bunch or re-shoot the climatic gun battle scene in another context, the one thing they couldn’t repeat is that moment inside the salon or bedroom when the pretty Mexican girl shoots William Holden in the back, and he delivers an angry verbal response before returning fire with a shotgun. That couldn’t happen today. Peckinpah was never better or more inspired than when he made this 1969 classic, but he was one of the most worst woman-hating guys to ever work in Hollywood. He was really diseased in that respect.

You can’t allow your site to not only vanish but re-direct readers to the IMDB, and then refuse to answer press queries, and then return a day and a half later and act like nothing’s happened. That’s chickenshit — not how a person of character would handle this kind of thing. If your site disappears for a couple of days you simply put out a statement and explain what happened…no biggie. The manly, responsible, considerate thing to do. It would appear that Ray Subers, webmaster of Box-Office Mojo, is not a man in this respect. All during the two-day disappearance of Box-Office Mojo he was hiding in the brush. Then all of a sudden BOM returns and Suber tweets (a) “I think it’s about time to resume normal programming here” and (b) “Actually, two things…(1) I am 100% OK….no health/family/personal issues whatsoever, and (2) I will not be answering any [questions] regarding the past 3 days.” Whatever you say, Betty Sue. A 10.12 L.A. Times story says that “neither IMDb nor Amazon responded to questions about [the disappearance of] Box Office Mojo.” Question: In what film was the headline spoken, and what actor said it?

Every time I think of a film I’d like to see I check with Vudu first because they have good high-def (i.e, HDX) versions. And with Hulu. And then as a last resort, Netflix. And every single time Netflix tells me they (a) don’t have the film I’m looking to see then and there (DVDs to mail but no streaming) or ((b) they don’t have it at all. Every damn time. Why am I paying for this service? To watch House of Cards, I suppose, and any new original programming they might have available down the road. It just seems that paying $8.99 every month to so can binge-watch House of Cards is a bit much. I’m honestly thinking of dumping it.

Hollywood Reporter award-season analyst Scott Feinberg and L.A. Times pulse-taker Glenn Whipp have voiced highly skeptical views about Gone Girl‘s Best Picture chances. The last time I checked Scott was saying ‘no way’ and ‘not going to happen’ about Gone Girl as a Best Picture nominee…is that still true, Scott? And Glenn, of course, poured a bucket of water all over the Gone Girl bandwagon a few days ago, particularly by making “Bob’s Burgers” a rallying cry for Gone Girl pushbackers.

Here’s the gist of an email I wrote to both of them today: “I know Gone Girl can’t win but you’re still saying no nommie? Have you really removed it as one of your Gold Derby Oscar possibles, Scott? Do you really believe it’s a non-starter, Glenn?

“I don’t know how to reach out to you guys but I think you’re ratifying and re-enforcing views of the stubborn softies and foot-draggers — the older people who want ‘their’ kind of movie to be nominated. You know the kind of people I’m talking about. You guys want to be accurate but in your mind that automatically means defaulting with the lowest common denominator types. It’s a vicious cycle. Trying to be ‘right’ in your tea-leaf readings means you always dive-bomb into the same question, i.e., “what are the half-brights and the harumphs saying?”

It was clear after seeing Dan Gilroy‘s Nightcrawler (Open Road, 10.31) a few weeks ago that it’s a real American original — a thriller about sensation and speed and indifference to anything except for the rush and the pay and the next calamity…”if it bleeds, it leads.” It’s about Lou Bloom (Jake Gyllenhaal), a fiendishly focused video-shooting nut who peddles footage to a KTLA-like TV station and in particular a certain news producer (Rene Russo) whom he has…uhm, designs upon. A drill-bit smart guy who knows how to suck up to those who can give him what he wants and not the slightest hesitation about cutting off his competitors at the knees, Lou is all glare, exactitude and cold calculus. A kind of monster, for sure, which is why Nightcrawler might be a perfect Halloween movie after all. It’s certainly unlike any other “Halloween movie” that will be debuting on the 10.31 to 11.2 weekend.

Following last night’s screening of Nightcrawler at Real D (l to r.): director-writer Dan Gilroy, star Jake Gyllenhaal, producer Tony Gilroy.

On top of which I realized during last night’s Real D screening in Beverly Hills that Nightcrawler played a bit cleaner, smarter and stronger than it did during the Toronto Film Festival. Partly because I was more rested last night (festivals deplete your energy after the fourth or fifth day — you start to look and think like a zombie) and partly because I’m always slow with any Gilroy brothers film. Dan directed and wrote but Tony Gilroy (director-cowriter with Dan of The Bourne Legacy, director-writer of Michael Clayton) produced, and John Gilroy edited.

The only disturbing thing that happened this morning was coming across a tweet by indie-realm happiness guy Ted Hope that spoke of Birdman, 99 Homes and Still Alice in the same breath. I haven’t seen Alice but the word on the street is that it’s “good but not great”…no worries. But 99 Homes doesn’t belong in the same paragraph with Birdman, and I just had to take issue. The instant I read his tweet the words of George Herbert Walker Bush welled up within: “This will not stand.”

“It’s obvious from the get-go that Garfield, known for his sensitive, doe-eyed expressions and an apparent preference for playing alpha good guys who would rather be fucked over than vice versa, is going to rebel against Shannon and the general venality. Because…you know, he has to do the morally right thing. This is what people do in films like this — they stand up like men and cleanse their souls at the end of Act Three. It’s a whorey-ass cliche, and one that is telegraphed, trust me, from the get-go.

Yesterday was a big-ass Birdman feast at the New York Film Festival…afternoon press screening, two publics, red-carpet paparazzi, two parties. Twittergasms, as expected. HE‘s Jett Wells attended the 9pm showing with significant other Caitlin — he was knocked out, she was “respectful.” It’s almost too bad that Glenn Kenny likes Mr. Inarritu’s film so much — now there’s nothing to argue about. Check the below clip — Edward Norton‘s Oscar nomination is going to be sealed by that look of smug self-delight that he gives Michael Keaton after delivering a passage from the play during rehearsal…trust me.

A third New Yorker piece extolling the virtues and intrigues of Gone Girl? On top of a Maureen Dowd column in the N.Y. Times about the myth of dangerous, manipulative women? Plus that intriguing Charlie Rose chat from a few days ago? Not to mention $78 million at the box-office after two weekends, making it the fall’s first big-time hit? That’s it, the die is cast, lockdown…Gone Girl is an Oscar nominee for Best Picture.

It won’t win, of course. The softies who have already decided to give the Oscar sight unseen to either Unbroken (curtsy to the Queen!) or Interstellar (“To break bayhhrriers, to reach for the stahhhrrs”) will see to that. But at least there’s no doubt about its nominatable-ness along with, obviously, Rosamund Pike for Best Actress, David Fincher for Best Director, Gillian Flynn for Best Adapted Screenplay, Tyler Perry for Best Supporting Actor and Kirk Baxter for Best Editing.