Day: February 3, 2019

Rascally Insouciance

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Earlier today SBIFF devotees got a chance to see David Crosby: Remember My Name, the scaldingly honest doc from director A. J. Eaton and producer Cameron Crowe. It played at a 2pm show at Santa Barbara’s Lobero theatre, and was followed by remarks from Crosby (who lives near Santa Barbara) and producer Greg Mariotti.

Three or four days ago I asked Crowe if I could do a quick chat with Crosby after the show. He was down with this, but then I was told that Sony Pictures Classics, which acquired the doc two or three days ago, doesn’t want interviews until the film is about to open. Check, no worries. But I was introduced anyway.

The fun part came when Mariotti asked if I wanted a photo with Crosby, and I said “agghh, I’m not much for having my photo taken.” Mariotti said that Crowe himself wanted to commemorate the occasion, so I said “sure, if Cameron wants a shot…why not?” Crosby sensed my discomfort and said with a slight twinkle in his eye, “I get it…you don’t look that good any more and neither do I.”

Crosby was being 100% truthful. I love it when world-famous folks say stuff like this! 99% of the celebrities out there would never dream of telling…well, a somewhat long-of-tooth journalist that his peak attractiveness days are over, but this is what Type A impressionists do from time to time. The 77 year-old Crosby said it like water off a duck’s ass. Guys who share such words without blinking are worth their weight in diamonds. Candid, X-factor, let the chips fall.

Here’s my 1.27.19 Sundance rave of David Crosby: Remember My Name.


Snapped in Lobero Theatre green room — Sunday, 2.3, 4:15 pm.

Samuel Fuller’s “White Dog”

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There’s something about legendary actresses of a certain age and little white dogs. Specifically those of a Coton de Tulear pedigree.

Barbra Streisand so loved Samantha, her late Caton de Tulear, that she had her cloned and is now living with two Samantha duplicates. Jane Fonda has a 14-year-old Coton de Telear (a girl), and never goes anywhere without her. And today, for her sitdown with Leonard Maltin, Santa Barbara Film Festival award recipient Glenn Close brought Sir Pip (aka Sir Pippin of Beanfield or Pip Close) on stage with her.

Pip is a shameless exhibitionist. While Close was standing at the stage-right lecturn and delivering her “thank you so much” remarks, Pip strolled in front of her and rolled over three or four times. The audience approved.

Did I mention that Close is 100% locked to win the Best Actress Oscar? Have I reminded the readership lately that I was first blown away by her performance at the 2017 Toronto Film Festival? And that earlier in the season more than a few award-season cognoscenti (including Indiewire‘s Anne Thompson) had been somewhat cool to the idea of her winning. And that she cinched her Oscar win with that great Golden Globes acceptance speech? And that…okay, I’ve said it.


From Getty images.

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Bernstein Melodies Are Everything

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What could a movie about Leonard Bernstein possibly amount to without his music? Bradley Cooper‘s planned Bernstein biopic, which is partly backed by Steven Spielberg and Paramount Pictures, has secured music rights from the Bernstein estate. So that’s pretty much it for Jake Gyllenhaal‘s rival Bernstein project, right? Both were announced last May.

I respect Cooper’s intention to both direct and star. A comprehensive Benstein biopic would naturally focus upon Bernstein’s creative saga with West Side Story, and also upon his closeted life and conflicted marriage to Felicia Montealegre. A heavy smoker and emphysema sufferer, Bernstein died at age 72 in 1990.

Presumably Cooper’s pic will include the Black Panthers episode that Tom Wolfe wrote about in “Radical Chic: That Party at Lenny’s” (6.8.70). A Black Panther fundraiser was held at Bernstein’s Park Avenue apartment, and was attended by Donald Cox, a Panther “field marshal” from Oakland. Wolfe‘s famous New York article was more or less about the guilty-liberal syndrome among Bernstein’s social crowd.

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Ongoing Metaphor of Anthony Fremont

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Hollywood Elsewhere readers are requested to read a Hollywood Reporter piece titled “Critics’ Debate: What Is a ‘Sundance Movie’? 2019 Edition Broadens the Picture.”

It’s a discussion forum in which Todd McCarthy, David Rooney, Leslie Felperin, Jon Frosch and Beandrea July consider a few Sundance ’19 offerings.

Their comments frequently allude to the Sundance comintern platform — representation, diversity, political correctness, emerging female voices, LGBTQs, etc. They also cast subtle side-eyes in the direction of white-male filmmakers, who’ve been stinking up the joint for too many years.

Reaction from a journalist friend: “McCarthy reads like he doesn’t want to offend anybody. I understand his position, but that’s the thing about wokesters. Despite barely having any experience in writing, let alone cinema-watching, Beandrea’s resume is scant and only dates as far back as 2016 on Google, and yet she believes she has the authority to dictate what is right and wrong to veterans like McCarthy.

“Imagine if McCarthy, who’s been in the game since the ’60s and who made the definitive doc on cinematography (Visions of Light), spoke back to Beandrea about her opinions? She doesn’t care if he’s a film historian. He’s white and older and so she will set him straight.”

HE response: My impression is that McCarthy, Frosch, Felperin and Rooney sound like they’ve got loaded guns pointed at their heads. You can say what you think, fellas, as long as you don’t say the wrong things. McCarthy and friends are like that terrified family in that Twilight Zone episode, It’s A Good Life. Beandra and the wokesters are Anthony Fremont, and McCarthy, Rooney, Frosch and Felperin are the elders who are afraid to step outside the “happy” arena.

Rod Serling: “This particular monster can read minds, you see. He knows every thought, he can feel every emotion. His name is Anthony Fremont. He’s six years old, with a cute little-boy face and blue, guileless eyes. But when those eyes look at you, you’d better start thinking happy thoughts, because the mind behind them is absolutely in charge. For this is the Twilight Zone.”

Journalist friend again: “Throughout the fest I wanted journalists to be honest with me about why they thought this year’s program was lackluster, at least in terms of the narrative features. Almost all of them mentioned the fact that Sundance’s adamant stance on inclusivity was to blame. You won’t get these critics admitting this in print, of course, but many personally confessed that was a problem.”

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