I caught Peter Berg‘s Deepwater Horizon (Lionsgate/Summit, 9.30) a few hours ago. It’s not subtle but not too difficult to sit through, and at least it’s over in 107 minutes. It’s an FX-driven fireball thing, mostly predictable in terms of story beats and cloying emotion. Call it a blend of Godzilla, Backdraft and The Towering Inferno. And based, of course, on a true story many of us know backwards and forwards — the April 2010 Deepwater Horizon explosion. Yes, just the explosion and how all those oil-rig workers in red jumpsuits managed to escape the resulting inferno, and then a little postscript info over the closing credits.

The film isn’t interested in the massive oil spill and the environmental catastrophe that followed. Sorry, that’s for your earth-friendly lefties. Deepwater Horizon is a megaplex movie for pizza-eating Americans.

The reason Berg has directed this film and not J.C. Chandor (who was canned off the project in early ’15) is because the Lionsgate/Summit guys wanted it kept simple and popcorny. Who cares about that boring ecological stuff? All the popcorn-munchers and Coke-slurpers want are those oil-rig inferno effects (crash-bam-BOOM!) plus a few hero-saves-the-day moves by Mark Wahlberg as real-life survivor and truth-teller Mike Williams…right? And that’s what this is — one of those event films that leave your head and become vapor 90 seconds after you leave the theatre.

But like many Hollywood films about complex subjects, Deepwater Horizon requires two immersions — one, the watching of the film and two, researching the facts online. Because the film is mainly for the grunts (morons, lazybrains, teenagers, under-educated 20 somethings, viewers from the People’s Republic of China) who want their boilerplate elements — explosions, fireballs, mud, grease, good-guy workers, asinine BP execs, guys screaming and groaning, etc.

Two nights ago I visited the La La Land party at the ultra-swanky Lavelle, an open-air rooftop club with a pool and great views of the city. I didn’t see Damian Chazelle but costars Ryan Gosling (currently filming Denis Villeneuve‘s Blade Runner sequel) and Emma Stone were sitting wihin their own private banquettes, surrounded by the usual array of friends, sycophants and lookie-lous.

Before venturing into the elite area I was standing outside near the pool. I noticed right away there were almost no waitresses offering the usual hor d’oeuvres. Without something to nibble on people who haven’t had dinner get hungry around 9:30 or 10 pm. Lavelle management knew that, of course, but they were almost solely focused on taking care of the swells.

Twice I asked a waitress near the pool “are you guys serving any food?” and I was twice told “it’s coming right out.” Translation: “We’ll get around to serving hors d’oeuvres for pool-hangers like yourself only after the specials have been given their fill.”

I eventually gave up and wandered into the swell space, and of course there were trays upon trays of luscious sushi and whatnot being placed on top of various reserved-banquette tables. Other starved guests had the same idea as myself and were hovering like starved urchins in Calcutta. All at once we pounced on those trays like locusts. One waitress looked concerned as a tray of food meant for some producer or La La Land costar was devoured in a matter of seconds.

HE to Lavelle management: If you don’t want your invited celebrities getting upset because the serfs are eating their food, try giving the serfs some food at the same time. Don’t over-cater to the lah-lahs. The battle between Average Joes and the 1% rages on.

On 5.22 I posted an opinion that Joseph Biroc‘s cinematography in Robert Aldrich‘s The Flight of the Phoenix (’65), while professionally handled as far as it went, never seemed distinctive enough to warrant any special excitement, and certainly didn’t seem to be prime Bluray material. Quote: “I’ve seen it two or three times on the tube, and as best I can recall it just looks sufficient…it’s nothing more than a professionally shot, decently framed desert-locale thing…I certainly don’t remember any mesmerizing visuals.”

And yet DVD Beaver’s Gary W. Tooze writes that Eureka Entertainment’s Region 2 Bluray (which popped two days ago) looks “amazing” and “magnificent,” certainly compared to the unexceptional DVD from 13 years ago. “This 1080p looks fabulous — richer colors, far superior contrast and some impressive detail on the film’s many close-ups…our highest recommendation!”

A legendary Roy Orbison tune plopped onto a soundtrack always adds an agreeable vibe, some kind of haunted yesteryear feeling, as this trailer makes clear. The buildup to HBO’s Westworld has gone on forever, but the 10.2 debut is nigh. Side issue: I’m a bit confused about the romance between James Marsden‘s Teddy Flood and Evan Rachel Wood‘s Dolores Abernathy. Robots aren’t supposed to fall for each other — they’ve been built strictly and entirely for tourist diversion, and have surely been programmed not to fraternize in any way, shape or form. Okay, I’m not 100% certain that the gunslinging Flood is a robot, but what else could he be? He’s clearly no tourist visitor or Westworld administrator. Imagine if Yul Brynner had begun an affair with one of the hotel prostitutes in Michael Crichton‘s 1973 version. James Brolin and Richard Benjamin would’ve looked at each other and gone “what the fuck is going on here?”