Two days ago a Daily Mail piece reported that while Harrison Ford could make up to $34 million for playing Han Solo in Star Wars: The Force Awakens (i.e., $25 million plus a sliver of the film’s gross earnings after it passes $1 billion in ticket sales), Daisy Ridley and John Boyega were paid a flat fee of $450,000. Carrie Fisher pocketed around $1.5 million. Force Awakens director J.J. Abrams was reportedly paid $5 million plus a 2% share of gross earnings. The worldwide grosses of The Force Awakens are expected to pass $2 billion.

The same day Variety‘s Justin Kroll reported that the fees were somewhat less. He stated, however, that Ford was paid over 50 times more than Ridley and Boyega, whose fees were between $100K and $300K. Ford’s paycheck was somewhere between $10 and $20 million, Kroll reported, but probably closer to $15 million if not higher.

This Rumors-inspired album jacket is by London-based HMV employee Steven Lear, who is otherwise known for WhyTheLongPlayFace? on Facebook and Instagram. It was highlighted by Ryan Steadman in a 12.22 Observer piece.

“It is not for that reason, however, that I salute your courage in going to see The Force Awakens. Something more urgent than metaphysics is at issue, namely this: paying to watch a new Star Wars movie, in the wake of its predecessors — The Phantom Menace, Attack of the Clones and Revenge of the Sith — is like returning to a restaurant that gave you severe food poisoning on your last three visits. So, be of good cheer. The Force Awakens will neither nourish nor sate, but it is palatable and fresh, and it won’t lay you low for days to come. Worshippers of the older films will have every right to feel cosseted and spoiled. [And] heretics and infidels, like myself, will be gratified to have avoided a more parlous fate. Please forgive us if we snort into our sodas when Han Solo remarks, ‘The Dark Side, the Jedi — it’s true. All of it.’ Actually, Han, it’s not. It’s baloney. But the Force is with us forever, whether we like it or not.” — from Anthony Lane‘s New Yorker review.

Paramount will release Richard Linklater‘s Everybody Wants Some on 4.15.16 after its South by Southwest debut a month earlier. A “spiritual sequel” to Dazed and Confused, the ’80s-era pic revolves around a group of college baseball players — Blake Jenner (Glee), Wyatt Russell, Zoey Deutch, Tyler Hoechlin, Ryan Guzman, Glen Powell, Ernest James, et. al. And the gut reaction is…?

I understand why the Broadcast Film Critics Association has added Star Wars: The Force Awakens to its roster of Best Picture nominees. A lot of members got a pleasurable bounce from it (as have many others) and they felt enormously relieved that it’s better than the prequels and they’re figuring that perhaps a sizable percentage of Star Wars fans will now tune into the 21st annual Critics’ Choice Awards show (1.17.16 at 8 pm eastern on A&E, Lifetime and LMN). No real harm in this, I suppose. Just a nice ceremonial gesture.

The official release states that Force Awakens “was not screened for BFCA voters in time for the initial nominations balloting, but after members of the nation’s largest film critics group saw Star Wars: The Force Awakens last week it was decided to hold a special referendum yesterday to determine if it would have been nominated if the BFCA membership had been able to consider it.

This TV spot has been named “bear attack.” We know why the Fox ad guys called it this. They’re playing with the nonsensical Matt Drudge bear rape thing. Which is arguably the biggest selling hook this film has, apart from the fact that, you know, it’s a drop-dead masterpiece.

The Hateful Eight‘s approval ratings (86% on Rotten Tomatoe, 82% on Metacritic) are an unfortunate portrait of the effete, perverse tastes of too many film critics. I’m a hard-working, subway-riding, clear-light guy who enjoys an occasional slice of pizza when I visit New York, and I absolutely worship the idea of reviving Ultra Panavision 70. But I’m telling you that anyone who totally creams over this film without at least including a reservation or two is just not being honest. The first two thirds of The Hateful Eight are fairly tasty and acceptable, but that final third…wow.

From Matt Zoller Seitz‘s Hateful Eight review, posted on 12.22: “Eight feels half-assed, but it carries itself like another masterpiece, swaggering and stubbing its toe and then swaggering some more. It has superb photography, music, set design and performances (particularly by Kurt Russell, Walton Goggins, Jennifer Jason Leigh and Samuel L. Jackson), but no fervor, no framework, no justification for its nonstop insults, provocations and atrocities. It has a bully’s mentality. It’s hard to shake the suspicion that, deep down, Quentin Tarantino believes in nothing but sensation, and that he’s spent the last decade or so stridently and publicly identifying with oppressed groups so that he can get a gold star for making the kinds of films he’d be making anyway, if those meddling social justice types weren’t all up in his grill about responsibility.

“In the end, The Hateful Eight is less reminiscent of any single Western than of a certain episode of Seinfeld — the one where Bryan Cranston plays a gentile dentist who makes Jewish jokes but insists it’s okay because he’s converted. ‘I have a suspicion,’ Seinfeld says, ‘that he’s converted to Judaism just for the jokes.'”

Last night I caught my second glorious performance of the New York Oratorio’s Carnegie Hall performance of Handel’s “Messiah.” Jett and Cait attended also. My ex-wife Maggie Wells, part of the superb soprano chorus, provided the tickets. Special congrats to conductor Kent Tritle, the orchestra, soprano Leslie Fagan, mezzo-soprano Sara Murphy, tenor Nicholas Phan and bassy-voiced Matt Boehler. From my 12.24.13 review: “I must say that the piece itself, which ran about 2 hours and 45 minutes with intermission, felt a bit trying at times. ‘Messiah’ is an astonishingly complex work that soars and swirls and reaches for the heavens, but it is rather taken with itself. Handel was basically saying (a) ‘get down on your knees and stay there until this is over’ and (b) ‘if you’re a devout Christian, this shouldn’t be a problem.’ The lyrics, boiled down, are a pious repetition of Christian platitudes about the absolutely glorious, mind-blowing divinity and wondrousness of Jesus Christ and the Holy Father and the archangels and so on. All right already. But it’s a ‘great’ work and I let it all in. Happy for that.”

Last Friday David Poland posted a piece about five major irritants in Stars Wars: The Force Awakens — 1. The Giant Supreme Leader Snoke; 2. Fake-out deaths; 3. Anyone can use a light saber; 4. Those Kylo Ren destruction tantrums; and 5. Why does Kylo Ren have the mask? For me the lightsaber complaint strikes closest to home. Me: “This film is also big on people with no experience being naturals at the tasks that they are suddenly thrust into. Remember how Luke took pretty much all three episodes to mature into Jedi-dom? Forget that. Apprenticeships are for suckers in this new universe.” Friend: “Luke was training to be a Jedi master — Rey is not. The force is in her already because, as you probably figured out, she’s [spoiler redacted]. You know, passed down trait?” Me: “Not buying that.” Friend: “Well it doesn’t matter if you buy it or not — that’s the story as written.” Me: “Luke has to learn about the force, acquire his powers stage by stage. Rey just jumps right in. C’mon!”

Link #1 and link #2. Inarritu to Zeitchik in 12.4 piece: “I find it hilarious, and pathetic in a way. You have one guy in a garage inventing something that’s then shared by somebody else. And then a newspaper acknowledges it as news, and then it triggers papers around the world. What’s unbelievable is the validation. When I first saw it I thought it was a joke. But then it gets validation, and the studio actually has to release a statement that there was no bear rape. It’s like a crazy mad comedy. In the 140-character world it doesn’t matter if it’s true. There’s no complexity or conversation. Just certainties. It’s the same with politics. Everybody is so certain. We just need Trump to say the raping bear was Mexican and we’ll be done.”

The 11th annual Black List (i.e., 2015’s best unproduced screenplays according to 250 film executives) was posted about a week ago. I’d like to read all of them, but I have a list of favorites — Spring Offensive, Blackfriars, Chappaquiddick, 105 And Rising (inspired by Last Days in Vietnam), All The Money In The World, I Believe in America/Francis and the Godfather, Mayday 109. Anyone with PDFs is requested to pass along the following:

SPRING OFFENSIVE by Matthew McInerney-Lacombe / Dr. Liz Scott, a British epidemiologist with the World Health Organization, fights to contain an outbreak of Ebola in Afghanistan’s war torn Helmand province as the Taliban’s assault on allied forces threatens to turn the localized outbreak into a global catastrophe.

STRONGER by John Pollono / The true story of Jeff Bauman, who after losing his legs in the 2013 Boston Marathon bombing, was an integral part of helping police to locate the suspects. (Now being made with Jake Gyllenhaal starring, David Gordon Green directing.)

BUBBLES by Isaac Adamson / A baby chimp is adopted by pop star Michael Jackson. Narrating his own story, Bubbles the Chimp details his life within The King of Pop’s inner circle through the scandals that later rocked Jackson’s life and eventually led to Bubbles’ release.

ROCKET by Jeffrey Gelber, Ryan Belenzon / Roger “The Rocket” Clemens, one of the greatest pitchers of all time, has 4672 strikeouts, 354 wins and a record 7 Cy Young awards. This is the story of why he is not in the Hall of Fame.

THE LIBERTINE by Ben Kopit / After the Head of the French National Assembly is placed under house arrest for accusations of sexual assault, he must live in a guarded apartment with his estranged wife until the case comes to a close.

MISS SLOANE by Jonathan “Jonny” Perera / A powerful lobbyist sacrifices her career on Capitol Hill so she can push through an amendment enforcing stricter federal laws regulating guns.

SEPTILLION TO ONE by Adam Perlman, Graham Sack / While a former FBI agent is working in the fraud unit of the Texas State Lottery investigating a woman who has mysteriously hit the lottery jackpot three times, he falls in love.

Back in the 20th Century people used to ask actors for autographs instead of cell-phone selfies. Eccentric as it may sound, fans would actually carry around autograph books for this purpose. It’s been suggested that now and then hardcore fans would ask for more than just a signature — they would ask the celebrity to write a quote he/she is famous for uttering in a film. If you ran into Gloria Swanson, let’s say, you would ask her to write “I am big…it’s the pictures that got small.” If you ran into William Holden you’d ask him to write “if they move, kill ’em.” Or so goes the legend.

Today Daily Beast contributor Tom Teodorczuk posted an interview with 45 Years costar Tom Courtenay, and about halfway through Courtenay mentions that he was recently approached by an autograph hunter asking him to sign a piece of paper underneath the words “the personal life is dead” — one of the utterances of Strelnikov, his character in Dr. Zhivago. Courtenay tells Teodorczuk that the quote is “a load of bollocks,” but did he oblige?