The most distinct thing I remember about Sam Peckinpah‘s Cross of Iron, which opened on 5.12.77, is the closing line of Gene Shalit‘s review on the Today show: “Cross of Iron is a movie of bad.” My reaction wasn’t as starkly negative, but I know I never saw it a second time and that I never even thought about getting the UK Bluray. N.Y. Times critic Vincent Canby called it “Mr. Peckinpah’s least interesting, least personal film in years.” It’s been a while, but I don’t recall disliking it as much as Convoy. But it’s since become a favorite of eccentric Peckinpah cultists….right? The first of these may have been Orson Welles, who allegedly got in touch with Peckinpah after seeing it and called it “the finest antiwar film since All Quiet on the Western Front.” Or words to that effect. The only way I could see it again cheaply is to watch a 480p version on Amazon. Maybe.

3:30 pm update: The fabled Miami-to-Key West drive along Route 1 felt like a letdown. After you leave the south-of-Miami mainland (i.e., Homestead) and start your journey south from Key Largo, the downscale tourist vibe starts to seep in.

With the exception of two or three longish, concrete-piling causeways over the water, the Overseas Highway is just a slowish, congested, two-lane graytop with very little to recommend or be intrigued about. Unless, you know, you want gas or some seafood. Most of the time there are no passing lanes, and there are too many traffic light stops. It’s real America, but in a proletariat downmarket sense. At times it almost reminded me of Elvis Presley Blvd. in Memphis.

The local municipalities are naturally trying to clear the roadside of Hurricane Irma damage — tree limbs and brush, destroyed chunks of foundation concrete, piles of soil and…what am I saying? I’m saying that after a half-hour on the O.H. I was muttering “this is it?” I’ve been hearing about this must-experience route since I was ten or thereabouts, and to realize there’s just not much there — nothing above and beyond the natural longing of local merchants to make money.

No subtle aromas, no yesteryear echoes, no samplings of Bahamian architecture, no “culture.” (Or not much of it.). I was so lethargic that I decided against stopping in Key Largo to see Humphrey Bogart ‘s original African Queen river scow. Maybe on the way back.

Earlier: “It’s 12:35 pm, and we’re two-thirds of the way to Key West. Arriving around…oh, 2 pm or thereabouts. At 6pm we’ll be catching the Key West Film Festival‘s opening-night attraction — Guillermo del Toro‘s The Shape of Water. And then a nice after-party somewhere. Unable to attend himself, Guillermo recently taped a special video introduction that speaks specifically to KWFF and the locals who’ve been cleaning up since Irma tore through. Thanks to Fox Searchlight for providing the film.

There’s no such thing as a bad Luca Guadagnino interview, but this one, moderated by Awards Watch‘s Eric Anderson, is more engaging than most. I’m sorry to add that Anderson gets two demerits for posting a photo of Guadagnino that must be at least ten years old (too much hair on top) and for alluding to A Bigger Splash as The Big Splash (Fritz Lang‘s The Big Heat meets Ron Howard‘s Splash).

The trip from Los Angeles to the Key West Film Festival proceeds as planned. It’s 6:52 am, and we’re waiting for an Orlando-to-Miami flight to depart in a few. Instead of taking a Miami-to-Key West shuttle, Team HE will do the scenic drive this time. It should take three or four hours. Key Largo, Tavernier, Islamorada, Marathon, Big Pine Key, etc. Warm tropical air, the original African Queen boat, the glistening sea, island to island, no big hurry.

Incidentally: There’s a guy sitting in front of me who keeps shifting his weight and pushing back on his seat and generally acting like an anxious five-year-old. Glaring daggers at the back of his head hasn’t helped.