I didn’t feel all that aroused yesterday when a friend passed along that story about William Shatner claiming he couldn’t fly from Florida to Los Angeles in time for today’s Leonard Nimoy funeral service. If I’d been in Shatner’s shoes I would’ve moved heaven and earth to make it. There are some events in life you can’t blow off. On the other hand if you could talk to Nimoy he’d probably say, “Bill is living his life in the present in a way that he sees fit, and I take no offense. He’s always been a little self-absorbed but nobody’s perfect. Funerals are about offering comfort to family and friends so I’m sure those who were close to me will be giving him death-ray looks the next time they run into each other, but he’ll get no condemnation from me.” Shatner said over and over that he’s sorry but he felt obliged to attend a benefit he’d committed to, etc. Today he held a Twitter memorial service for Nimoy.  And then he flew back to L.A. anyway.

In their weekly Deadline chat, Mike Fleming and Peter Bart briefly discuss the occasionally tempestuous Tom Rothman being chosen to succeed Sony honcho Amy Pascal, and Bart says the following: “[Rothman] had a great record at Fox but he’s contentious. And he’s got a big voice. But is that a character flaw? Everyone in Hollywood has been reading everyone else’s emails these past few weeks, and if there’s one point that emerges, it is this: Packaging movies is akin to a barroom brawl. Deal making is like an episode of Survivor. Every offer is an insult. Every counter-offer is an affront. Every casting suggestion is ludicrous. Every star is really an idiot and every agent a terrorist. This is not an atmosphere for gentle people. So if Rothman has a temper, as the press suggests, it will come in handy.”

The night before last I tried to attend the initial Cinefamily screening of Liv Corifixen‘s My Life Directed by Niholas Winding Refn because, as mentioned previously, I have a kind of bit part in the film, and also because I wanted to see it with a live audience (watching it on a Macbook Air isn’t as engaging) and record Refn and Corfixen’s comments during the post-screening q & a. But there were no tickets (they’d sold out quickly).  It was possible, I was told, that a seat or two could open up but the lady I was with was more into seeing another film so we blew it off. But the folks at MPRM have graciously sent me photos of the q & a, which also included comments from the doc’s musical composer Cliff Martinez. The doc, a portrait of creative stress and uncertainty which struck me as tight and clean and rather good overall, will play at Cinerfamily until 3.5.

My Life Directed By Nicholas Winding Refn director Liv Corfixen, her husband and partner Nicholas Winding Refn during post-screening q & a at Cinefamily on Friday, 2.27.

You get tired of listening to the same old classic-rock cuts. We all do. The “never again!” saturation point is somewhere above…what, 100 plays but less than 300 or 400? I don’t know where it is exactly. I know that if you sit in any Starbucks in any part of the world you’ll hear nothing but ’60s and ’70s tracks, and that they’ll never play anything else. It’s crazy. But there are portions of certain classic cuts that you can never tire of and could almost listen to every day of your life. (Almost.) The jangly guitar opening of “It’s All Over Now” is one. And there’s something about those 12-string Rickenbacker chord changes (D-string second fret and then B-minor) on “Turn Turn Turn” that is just eternal bull’s-eye. It’s one of the most perfectly rendered guitar declarations of all time.

I don’t want to watch another drama about a seriously incorrigible drunk (played this time by Toni Collette) and all the pain that alcoholism brings to everyone in her realm. I was partially raised by an alcoholic dad and had my own bouts with booze…thanks all the same. I don’t want to see a movie about an old serial killer teaching a young serial killer the tricks of the trade. I’m actually not interested in seeing any more serial killer films, period, and that goes double for vampires, zombies and cannibals. I don’t want to see a doc about the 88 year-old guy who drew Eloise…fuck that. And I don’t want to sit through Neil Blomkamp‘s Chappie either. You can’t ignore Blomkamp so I have to sit through it but I’d love to skip it. And I don’t want to see Maggie Smith playing a homeless woman who lives in her van either. I’m obliged to see Lone Scherfig‘s The Riot Club but I’d rather not — I really, really don’t want to see another film about rich snots behaving badly and getting away with it in the end. And I don’t want to see Eva, a Spanish robot drama with Daniel Bruhl. I’ve seen Noah Baumbach‘s While We’re Young twice (the first time six months ago) and enjoyed it both times but I don’t want to catch it again…no offense.

Like Al Capone, Vladimir Putin evidently feels it’s necessary to elminate those who would threaten his empire. Capone’s Wiki bio says his palm prints were on 33 gangland murders between 1923 and 1930; it is believed that the Putin gang is directly or indirectly responsible for six killings. There can’t be much difference between a leader who kills six vs. one who kills 33. Ruthless is as ruthless does, and there’s clearly something afoot in Russia that’s similar to 1920s Chicago. The political arena is ferocious — increasingly defined by bullying, blood and bullets. Andrey Zvyagintsev‘s Leviathan was more on target than most people realized, and 99.5% of the American public couldn’t have cared less. It’s made a grand total of $874,000 since opening on 12.25.14.

In its daily revealings of the mental prowess of not-that-hip, slow-on-the-pickup types, Twitter is the gift that keeps on giving. Last night’s enraged reactions to SNL‘s brilliant “college girl going off to join ISIS” spot (which costarred Dakota Johnson and Taran Killam) are the latest example. I can only presume these tweets were tapped out by worldly sophisticates who haven’t read about the British and American youths who have have either joined ISIS or proclaimed themselves devotees. The satire is obviously aimed at anyone who would cast their lot with the most vile and subhuman militants to walk the earth this century. But you can’t explain satire to some folks, and public discourse really doesn’t get much lower than it does on Twitter. The bit is obviously one of SNL‘s best and boldest.