“To my mind, this embracing of what were unambiguously children’s characters at their mid-20th century inception seems to indicate a retreat from the admittedly overwhelming complexities of modern existence. It looks to me very much like a significant section of the public, having given up on attempting to understand the reality they are actually living in, have instead reasoned that they might at least be able to comprehend the sprawling, meaningless, but at-least-still-finite ‘universes’ presented by DC or Marvel Comics. I would also observe that it is, potentially, culturally catastrophic to have the ephemera of a previous century squatting possessively on the cultural stage and refusing to allow this surely unprecedented era to develop a culture of its own, relevant and sufficient to its times.” — Watchmen author Alan Moore speaking to Slovoboooks’ Pdraig O Méaloid in January 2014 interview.

My first thought was, “This doesn’t seem noisy or urgent or hooky enough.” (I’m sorry but I trust my trailer instincts.) My second thought was that I’ll always be wary of movies titles composed of two cutesy nicknames (Tango and Cash, Minnie and Moskovitz). My third thought was, “Michel Gondry is a respected, brand-name director so why didn’t this film, which opened in France 10 months ago, at least play the festival circuit”? Answer: Certain festivals blew it off. So there you go.

From Peter Debruge’s Variety 7.9.15 review: “If Michel Gondry’s movies were books, they’d come with hand-stitched covers, fold-out pop-ups and a progression of flipbook-style doodles in the bottom corner of every page. With Microbe and Gasoline, the French writer-director has wisely restrained his usual flourishes, allowing the two teenage leads in his relatively calm summer-vacation coming-of-age comedy to assume centerstage, imbuing them with creative agency rather than forcing them to compete with the film’s own style. What emerges is an admittedly small but wonderfully sincere portrait of two adolescent outsiders determined to pave their own way in the world.”

… for tomorrow it all begins. At precisely 10 am, that is, with Woody Allen‘s Cafe Society. La Pizza was loud and packed. The mood leaned toward euphoric. Formidable gathering of journalistic reach and power sitting at just two makeshift banquet tables. Hail fellows well met. The total tab was 670 euros, or roughly $32 euros per person. “Who didn’t throw in?” It began to rain starting around 9:15 pm or so. Weather projections are shifting by the hour, but precipitation-wise things are expected to be moody or spotty over the next four or five days.

(clockwise) National Post‘s Chris Knight, Deadline‘s Pete Hammond, Village Voice critic Amy Nicholson, Time‘s Stephanie Zacaharek, Talk Cinema‘s Harlan Jacobson (all but obscured by shadows, not my fault), Hollywood Reporter critic Todd McCarthy, Toronto Star‘s Peter Howell, Film Society of Lincoln Center’s Eugene Hernandez, MacLean‘s Brian Johnson (red sweater).

Indiewire film editor Eric Kohn, senior Indiewire editor/columnist Anne Thompson.

Snapped by Svetlana Cvetko.

(clockwise) The Guardian‘s Nigel M. Smith, Vulture‘s Kyle Buchanan, New York‘s Jada Yuan, Voxdotcom’s Gregory Ellwood (green T-shirt), unknown (apologies), Cinetic’s Ryan Werner.

(l. to r.) Editor/producer David Scott Smith, dp Svetlana Cvetko (Red Army, Inside Job), friendly but unnamed p.r. associate of Ryan Werner, amiable guy known not to me by sight but quite possibly via Twitter or byline.

(l to. r.) Cvetko, Werner p.r. associate, L.A. Times critic Justin Chang, amiable guy.

The 7:30 pm La Pizza journo gathering starts now so I’ll maybe file a bit when I get back. I arrived in Cannes around 12:30 pm and did the usual-usual — lugged bags over to 7 rue Jean Mero, unpacked, picked up the press pass, forked over a small fortune for Palais Wifi ($190 euros for 12 days), hit Carrefour for groceries, napped. The first press screening (i.e., Woody Allen‘s Cafe Society) happens tomorrow at 10 am, and then it’s off to the races. I was too excited about this morning’s early morning train trip to sleep much last night — I might’ve gotten two hours’ worth, if that. I need a little night air — that’ll put the color back in my cheeks.

In a recent chat with Rachel Maddow, Bernie Sanders alluded to what has been obvious for some time, which is that (a) MSNBC is no longer the lefty Fox News channel (which it more or less was in the pre- and early-Obama era) due to corporate displeasure with revenue, and (b) that for the sake of fair and open debate such a channel needs to exist, either with the assistance of Democratic-allied interests or whomever. There’s nothing about Cenk Uygur’s assessment of the present situation that is, in my view, wrong or slanted or incomplete — this is exactly the state of MSNBC and the corporate gutting of liberal-progressive views on mainstream cable right now.

I’ve just received a late ’15 draft of Aaron Sorkin‘s Molly’s Game, an adaptation of Molly Bloom’s same-titled 2014 book about running the hottest 20th Century poker game in Hollywood (the one that Leonardo DiCaprio, Tobey Maguire and Ben Affleck frequented) until she was popped by the government for some infraction. The film is a go with Sorkin directing. Jessica Chastain will play Bloom and Idris Elba will play her attorney. I’m thinking about reading the Sorkin during this morning’s train ride to Cannes, but I’m also looking to read Tully, the new Diablo Cody-Jason Reitman project. If anyone can pass this puppy along…thanks.

I somehow missed the 5.4 announcement about Variety‘s hiring of former Entertainment Weekly critic Owen Gleiberman as their co-chief film critic in New York. Sharing co-chief status is Peter Debruge, who’s returning from Paris to review out of Los Angeles. Serious congratulations and particularly to Owen, one of the most highly charged and insightful critics around, and one of my personal favorites for the last 25 years. Owen and Peter will be reviewing at the Cannes Film Festival starting tomorrow (i.e., Wednesday). Will they be attending tonight’s La Pizza journo-critic dinner in Cannes? The odds are 70-30 favoring.

Yes, Hillary has it wrapped up. Yes, even though Bernie is ahead of Hillary in six of the nine Democratic primaries yet to come, he can’t beat or outflank her. But…but. The statistics are real — they don’t lie. There is ample data to suggest Bernie is the most favored candidate among Americans. Hillary’s favorables have fallen over the past six months, and Bernie’s have risen. I know, I know. It’s over, Hillary wins, shut up. I’m not disputing the likelihood of Hillary’s Philadelphia triumph, and I’m not saying she won’t beat Trump handily. But polls say Bernie can beat him by a greater margin. So I’m not shutting up about Bernie. Listen to last night’s Michael Moore interview with MSNBC’s Chris Hayes and [after the jump] an analysis of the situation by The Young Turk‘s Cenk Uygur.

Obviously I’ll feel like hell if I watch this film next fall, but I really don’t get what the big threat to humanity amounts to. A “switch”, a map of Hades by Dante, a big blood flood, possible extinction…and only Tom Hanks has the smarts and the instincts to get to the bottom of it all. Aw, hell…help. On top of which I always seem to have problems with films set in Firenze (i.e., Florence). Okay, with the exception of A Room With A View. I can’t say I’m especially enamored of Firenze itself. I’ve been there twice — way too many fat, sandal-wearing tourists off the bus.

Speaking of vigilante murder and unseen art, this cover of Kino’s forthcoming Bluray of William Wellman‘s The Ox-Bow Incident (7.12) is fairly striking. And unusual — Henry Fonda‘s bearded face has always been used in previous posters or DVD jackets. It seems to have been taken from a vintage early ’40s movie poster. The same art was used for the German Bluray but rendered with a mix of faded color and sepia.

When I posted HE’s 160 Greatest American films last summer, I ranked The Ox-Bow Incident at #120, just after Mean Streets and just before Scarface. Which means nothing. I could wake up tomorrow and rank it at #27 or #48 or #73.

Watching and reviewing All The Way the other night led to some web-surfing about the civil rights struggles of 1964, which in turn led to a Norman Rockwell painting that I’d somehow never seen before. It’s a depiction of the infamous Mississippi murders that year of three civil-rights workers (James Earl Chaney, Andrew Goodman, Michael Schwerner). Called “Murder in Mississippi” or “Southern Justice”, it appeared in Look magazine. I’ve never thought of Rockwell as a painter as much a gifted illustrator with a sentimental streak. (A painter friend derided Salvador Dali as “Norman Rockwell on acid.”) So yes, it’s an illustration, but an exceptional one. Those shadows sink right in. (Note: Chaney is on his knees because he’d been savagely beaten before being shot.)