Most of the time I wash the car at one of those do-it-yourself, compressed-water-spray operations that cost about three bills. They also have quarter-in-the-slot vacuum deals. But every so often I splurge on a bells-and-whistles car wash facility. There’s one on the west side of La Cienega and just south of Melrose, called Royal Car Wash, that I visited today. I was there for only about 25 or 30 minutes and two unfortunate things happened in that time slot — (a) a case of sexual favoritism that I took exception to and (b) a bearish, gray-haired guy who moaned and “ahhh”-ed too loudly when he was in one of those quarter-in-the-slot massage chairs.

I was getting a massage myself in the chair right behind this guy and probably enjoyed it just as much, but being a New Jersey/Connecticut WASP, I hold that shit in. I really love it when those machine-fingers start working on my lower backbone but I don’t let go with “aaaahhh, God!,” “Aahhwwww!,” “Oh, Jesus…oh man, I don’t believe this!” and so on. His moans were so appalling I was starting to feel badly about experiencing the same device. You’re lowering the property values, dude.  If I hadn’t been facing the opposite direction I would’ve given him the old stink-eye. So many people treat public areas like their living rooms or bathrooms.

Press screenings of Child 44 and Unfriended happened last Tuesday (the former at 3 pm, the latter at 7 pm), and I missed them both. Naturally. God help me but I’m thinking about catching both today. Unfriended and Child 44 have 65% and 27% Rotten Tomato ratings, respectively.  Neither are likely to be pleasant experiences. Honestly? The more I think about this, the weaker in the knees I’m getting. One or the other, but not in tandem.  I need to man up or cut bait.  This is my life.  This is April.

Here’s a start-to-finish video of Thursday’s Stars Wars Celebration panel with The Force Awakens director J.J. Abrams, producer Kathy Kennedy and moderator Anthony Breznican of Entertainment Weekly. The show doesn’t begin until the five-minute mark. You will note that Abrams and Breznican are not wearing a Hitler Youth cut.

I don’t see how I can justify posting the full-boat trailer for Rick Famuyiwa‘s Dope (Open Road, 6.30) given my posting the teaser on 3.26 on top of reviewing (i.e., half-trashing) it a couple of times during Sundance ’15. I suppose the fact that the trailer is first-rate — nicely cut, timed, shaped and tone-hinted — is justification in itself. My view, to repeat, is that “for all its keep-it-comin’ energy Dope is “a fleet, Tarantino-like hodgepodge of fantasy bullshit in the vein of a New Line Cinema release from the ’90s (i.e., House Party), and adapted to the general sensibility of 2015. It’s fun as far as it goes but definitely not that great. An awful lot of tragically hip critics flipped for it at Sundance.