“So he got it from the Russians. Cut to the hookers in the hotel. That’s what this whole thing is about. He’s in to them.”

Also: “That’s how all dictators do it. They have to destroy truth first. Because if people knew what was going on, then obviously they would be upset. But they don’t, and they especially don’t hear it inside the Fox News bubble. They believe him more than they believe what they read in the N.Y. Times, because they don’t read the N.Y. Times. So you’re left with this situation in which there is no truth, where you’re just going to pick sides, and that’s what we have. Forget about getting anything done in the country. We’re just fighting for our life now, as a country.”

Robert Redford sorta knows me from way back. Not as any kind of acquaintance or favored journalist pally, but as a guy who’s been in the game since the early ’80s, and as one of the Oscar handicappers who totally fell for his solo performance in J.C. Chandor‘s All Is Lost.

I realize that Redford is more or less in a retirement mode these days and is only slightly involved in the Sundance Film Festival, if that, but I figured it couldn’t hurt to tell him of my Sundance troubles. So I sent along the following email on 1.3.19. No response so far, and that’s okay. At least I gave it a shot.

DATE: 1.3.19
TO: Robert Redford c/o Sundance Film Festival
FROM: Jeffrey Wells, Hollywood Elsewhere
RE: Sundance ’19 press pass

Bob,

This is way below your station and pay grade, but please take a couple of minutes and read this over.

After covering Sundance with a press pass for 25 years (since ’94) I’ve had my press accreditation for the 2019 festival denied by the Sundance powers-that-be. I’ll be attending anyway and catching films by the good graces of publicist pals, but it’s my presumption that my pass has been deep-sixed because I’m regarded as insufficiently “woke” in my general attitude as a film critic and columnist.

I’ve been told that it was a matter of making room for new journalists and that the number of press passes are finite, etc., but nobody believes that. My guess is that it more or less boils down to a high-school-level thing — the cool kids don’t like me any more and I’ve been elbowed out of the “in” crowd. Another way of looking at it is that I’ve been politically blacklisted.

Last year I conveyed a critical impression about the festival that may have riled a couple of people. I wrote that the festival has largely become a politically instructive experience as opposed to a festival about general cinematic excitement and stimulation. I said that Sundance ’18 felt to me like “a socialist summer camp in the snow.”

Everyone laughed or sneered when Donald Trump announced his candidacy three and a half years ago. But when it became clear a few months later that he was connecting with the rural none-too-brights, people started to compare Trump to Lonesome Rhodes in A Face in The Crowd, the 1957 drama about the rise and fall of a country-boy demagogue and sociopath, played by Andy Griffith.

Trump is anything but “country,” of course, but he’s just as much of a media-attention whore and a bullshit artist as Rhodes became by Act Three of Budd Schulberg‘s script.

It could be argued that the fictitious Rhodes was a much savvier guy than Trump could ever hope to be, and that Trump is more of an unregenerate liar and a stone sociopath. And yet here we are in January ’19, and just like that woman at the end of Kazan’s film who says “why, he’s a monster!”, a fair-sized portion of the chumps who voted for Trump are scratching their heads and wondering why they fell for his act while pundits everywhere long ago agreed that Trump was Rhodes and vice versa. The analogy was undeniable in early to mid ’16, but now it’s a so-whatter.

In short Criterion waited way too long to release their 4K Bluray (due on 4.23.19). They should have released it right after Trump’s election.

On top of which I’m disappointed that they’ve chosen to present it at 1.85, which means they’ve sliced off the top (or bottom) of the 1.78:1 image that was delivered on the 2005 DVD version. But that’s what they do. Just as Marc Bolan loved to boogie, Criterion likes to cleaver.

Harry Stradling‘s needle-sharp, well-framed, occasionally atmospheric cinematography (he also shot Kazan’s A Streetcar Named Desire) has always looked great in previous formats; A Face In The Crowd should look extra snappy in 4K.

Sending a superhero to Europe to liven things up is, needless to point out, a sure sign of franchise fatigue. Imagine being so low on the aesthetic-genetic totem pole that you could watch this thing and say to yourself “Wow…I’m there come July!” I’ve no problem with Jake Gyllenhaal taking a paycheck role, but will Samuel L. Jackson‘s Nick Fury tell Tom Holland‘s Peter Parker that he has “no idea” what he’s up against? The idea of Hydron, lord of the waters, wreaking CG havoc in poor Venice, Italy…to paraphrase Frank Gorshin‘s version of Kirk Douglas, the very idea makes me sick to my stomach.

Just as “white male” has become a total epithet, the word “male” is also fraught with negative connotations. Obviously with ample justification when it comes to workplace sexism. Hence this Gillette ad, obviously made with an assumption that guys have a lot of bad stuff to make up for, and that now is the time to man up and fix that shit.

I feel two ways about this ad. On one hand it seems reasonable enough — I’ve always hated belligerent, beered-up machismo — but on another level primal male energy (conquest, courage, brawn, a willingness to fight battles and do dirty work) has always played an essential role in societies throughout history, and you don’t want to throw out the baby with the bathwater.

We’re obviously in a de-balling phase now (certainly in urban circles) and a concurrent rise in feminist power and influence. Outside of unfortunate social side-effects like the withdrawal of Hollywood Elsewhere’s press pass at the newly feminized Sundance Film Festival, this is probably for the best. These things happen in cycles. Then again…aahh, I don’t know what to think.

Consider the following Camille Paglia statement in a 2017 Vice interview: “One of my persistent quarrels with second-wave feminism is how male-bashing became its default mode from the start. Men have every right to determine their own identities, interests, and passions without intrusive surveillance and censorship by women with their own political agenda. [They] should be free to carry on and carouse there and say whatever the hell they want to each other, without snoops outside the door ready to report them to the totalitarian sexual harassment office.”

Paglia is the author of “Free Women, Free Men: Sex, Gender, and Feminism.”

When I look at William Barr, I see a chimpanzee version of the guy…orange hair, muttonchops, mustard Mao tunic…sitting next to Maurice Evans‘ Dr. Zaius in the original Planet Of The Apes. Because, frankly, Barr has a monkey mouth…a monkey mouth flanked by a jowly bulldog face. I hear intelligence and a semi-reasonable attitude, but his physicality suggests complacency and opportunism. The face that you have after age 40 is your own.

Why did Trump nominate Barr to succeed Jeff Sessions? Because he’s Mr. Integrity? Please.

YouTube comment #1: “I want to trust Barr but something tells me he’s a serpent under an innocent flower.” YouTube comment #2: “Hates exercise.” YouTube comment #3: “This guy’s smart enough to protect Trump in a number of ways without actually firing Mueller. He’s left his options wide open. I don’t trust him one bit.” YouTube comment #4: “Saying Russia ‘attempted’ to interfere in the election is bullshit…they did interfere.” YouTube comment #5: “Just another rich old man looking out for his best interests.”

The legendary Carol Channing made it to age 97 — no sadness or tragedy in that. She was a Broadway star, of course (she costarred in one semi-significant movie — 1967’s Thoroughly Modern Millie), and hugely popular among stage mavens. But Channing was relatively unknown to movie and even TV audiences for the most part. To them Marilyn Monroe was and always will be Lorelei Lee in Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, and Barbra Streisand was and always will be the star of Hello, Dolly. And to me, Channing was always the pizazzy but somewhat older performer who always played younger than her years. Channing’s Lorelei was launched in the 1949 B’way production of Gentlemen Prefer Blondes, when she was 28 or thereabouts. But her biggest role, that of Dolly Gallagher Levi in Hello, Dolly!, which opened on Broadway in 1964, happened when she was 43. Those eyes, those saucer eyes. And that gleaming smile.

My God, the writing on The Sopranos was so perfect, so incisive and strategic. And the acting, obviously. The way almost nothing is said during the first half of this scene, and then…