It’s now 2017 across most of the globe, and particularly in Paris. The second video is an alleged capturing of the midnight Eiffel Tower fireworks that happened roughly an hour ago. (It’s now 4:09 pm Pacific, 1:09 am in Paris.) Obviously the city fathers weren’t the least bit interested in competing with the 1999 blowout that I witnessed with the kids 17 years ago.
Day: December 31, 2016
Hoping To Attend The Memorial, Which I Presume Will Be Soon
It took me a day and a half to pay attention to Oscar Isaac‘s Facebook photo of Carrie Fisher and Mark Hamill on the set of Star Wars, Episode VIII. Copy: “She had no patience for pretense or small talk. She saw through things, at a different angle, with the gritty wisdom that comes from the hardest lessons. And, man, did she make me laugh. Will miss you dearly, Carrie.”
“Just A Dead Wet Blonde Hangin’ Around In A Block of Cement”
A wetsuit-wearing Frank Sinatra flashes a knife, tells a shark to get lost! But seriously, what a lazy piece of shit this movie is. Okay, not atrocious but obviously one of Sinatra’s “fuck it, roll film and pay me” movies. No effort, no edge or pizazz. Costarring Raquel Welch, Dan Bonanza Blocker and Richard Conte. Directed by Gordon Douglas, a hack journeyman who got lucky between ’53 and ’55 when he directed three half-decent films in a row — Them!, Young At Heart and The McConnell Story. He bounced back again with The Detective (’68), also starring Sinatra. Blocker: “Stay loose, pal.” Sinatra: “Again?”
Carly Simon’s “Anticipation”
2017 is knocking… pic.twitter.com/Arv942q0RZ
— Bruce LaBruce (@BruceLaBruce) December 31, 2016
Thanks, Bumblefucks!
240 miles below and across the seas and continents, Donald Trump and his gang of thieves, robber barons and ideologues are preparing to fleece and pollute this blue planet for the enrichment of themselves and/or the fulfillment of their rancid philosophies. Really. Right now. No joke. (This is real-deal livestream video from the International Space Station. Crewed by NASA astronauts, Russian Cosmonauts and a mixture of Japanese, Canadian and European astronaut-tecchies.) Also: The title of this post in no way dilutes or argues with what I posted on 12.28 — it complements it. Also: Hollywood Elsewhere supports Kevin Sessums and deplores Facebook’s banning his posts for the sin of “using the term fascist to describe the Putin/Trump/Pence triumvirate and its supporters,” in Kevin’s words.
Honestly? I’ve Never Re-Watched Leaving Las Vegas
Posted on 2.16.05: There are at least three ways to have a depressing time at the movies, and one is worth the grief.
You can sit through something shoddy, inept, sub-standard, and do everything you can to flush it out of your system when it’s over. You can also sit through a smooth, studio-funded, well-made enterprise that everyone’s loving and is making money hand over fist, but which you happen to despise with every fibre of your being.
But watching a quality downer can be edifying. (Naturally.) I’m speaking of a movie that’s totally comfortable with the idea of bumming you out, because it’s trying to be thoughtful, profound or in some way affecting. Which saves it from being a bummer.
Movies that relay or reflect basic truths will never be depressing, but those that tell lies of omission by way of fanciful bullshit always poison the air.
Sadness in good movies is not depressing — it’s just a way of re-experiencing honest hurt. Ordinary People is sad, but if you think it’s depressing as in ‘lemme outta here’ there’s probably something wrong with you. 12.31.16 Update: Ditto Manchester By The Sea.
Wrongo
“Does anyone except Sasha Stone seriously believe that Donald Trump might prevail in November? Hillary is naturally and unstoppably self-destructive, agreed, but there are no more threats hanging over her now. No more emails, no more Benghazis…nothing except the unfortunate fact that millions and millions of people don’t like her much.” — from 7.12.16 HE post called “Bernie Finally Endorses Hillary.”
I couldn’t have foreseen, of course, the three subsequent news events that closed the deal for Trump. One, Hillary collapsing like a sack of potatoes during a 9/11 memorial event in downtown Manhattan. Two, FBI director Comey. And three, Trump voters shrugging their shoulders in the wake of the Access Hollywood tape.
To Whomever Created This…
Good work. Hat tip to Mark Ebner for tweeting it sometime yesterday.
Flashback: In February or March of 1995 Oliver Stone and his publicist Stephen Rivers (who has since passed) arranged for me to pay a brief visit to the Nixon West Wing — Oval Office, cabinet room, hallways, various offices, etc. Production designer Victor Kempster had built the amazingly detailed set (including an outdoor portion with grass and bushes) on a massive Sony sound stage.
I was let in just after Stone and his cast (including Anthony Hopkins) and crew had finished filming. I wrote up my impressions for an L.A. Times Syndicate piece. Nixon opened on 12.20.95.
The Nixon unit publicist (or somebody who worked for Rivers) escorted me onto the stage and left. Nobody was around; I had the place all to myself. I had a video camera with me and shot all the rooms, and took my time about it. I was seriously excited and grateful as hell for the opportunity because it was, in a sense, better than visiting the real Oval Office in the real White House (which I would have never been allowed to do even if I’d been best friends with someone in the Clinton administration).