Cause For Concern?

Two months ago I caught Bombshell at a packed guild screening in Westwood. The crowd loved it. Gleeful whoo-whoo ovations when Charlize Theron, Nicole Kidman, Margot Robbie and John Lithgow took a bow. Ever since I’ve been presuming it would do pretty well commercially.

A couple of HE commenters recently predicted otherwise, I realize, but I couldn’t forget that ecstatic early reaction. I recommended it to everyone who asked. “Not a great film”, I would say, “but a pretty good one…sharp, fast moving, well layered and aggressively cut.” 9:10 update: I just saw Bombshell for the second time, and it totally holds up. It’s a satisfying, fully believable corporate thriller.

But when the reviews appeared yesterday, I suddenly realized it might not go over as expected. Aggregate averages in the mid ’60s usually means trouble.


What Is Happiness?

What makes us feel happy or at least comfortable or semi-content about things? Apart from discovering satori or enlightenment, I mean. (I happened to find this realm at age 19 by way of LSD and the Bhagavad Gita.) So what makes us feel reasonably good and assured about things?

In five words, a belief in the future. And if you want to add nine more, the likelihood of a fair amount of sunny days.

Not a belief that a safe and semi-bountiful tomorrow is guaranteed (for that is promised to no one) but knowledge that I’ll have a reasonably fair shot at making good and necessary things happen…an ability to feed the fire and keep the wheels turning and in so doing sample the modest comforts of life (Italian shoes, scrambled eggs and a buttered English muffin, Criterion Blurays, an occasional trip to Rome or Hanoi or Key West) being more or less within reach.

Click through to full story on HE-plus]

Stone to Feminist Film Twitter: “Pity Votes Are Bullshit”

Let it never be said that Awards Daily‘s Sasha Stone doesn’t have a pair of cast-iron cojones. If you doubt this, read her Golden Globe reaction piece that went up late last night — “The Clickbait Outrage Machine Goes into Overdrive Post Globes.”

It’s one of the bravest and frankest essays ever written about the real-deal terms of female filmmaker empowerment in Hollywood. It’s a piece that only a tough woman columnist could have written. If I’d posted this on HE I would have been torn limb from limb by twitter jackals, and the buzzards would be feasting on the leftovers ten minutes later. But Sasha has the authority.

Yesterday I deftly debated the “gender parity watchdogs” who had howled in protest over four top-ranked female directors — Little Women‘s Greta Gerwig, The Farewell‘s Lulu Wang, Hustler‘s Lorene Scafaria and It’s A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood‘s Marielle Heller — not being nominated for a Golden Globe Best Director award, and their films not being nominated for Best Motion Picture, Drama.

I stated that The Farewell is a highly superior film, but also argued that a reasonably convincing case couldn’t be made for Little Women, A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood or Hustlers “being more transporting or historic or eye-opening” than Martin Scorsese‘s The Irishman, Sam Mendes1917 or Todd PhillipsJoker. I also said it would be a push to convince people that Little Women, A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood or Hustlers “are fuller meals or more humanist or more grounded in human vulnerability.”

That was as far as I felt I could go. But then Sasha’s piece appeared last night and made me look…well, like a guy who needs to be careful.

Because Sasha just said it. She basically argued that feminist industry progressives and their Film Twitter component are doing women no favors by insisting that a gender parity quota system should be observed when it comes to award nominations.

Film Twitter is basically declaring that (a) there must be some female award-show representation “so those involved can sleep at night, knowing that yes, Virginia, there is gender parity in Hollywood,” (b) not nominating women for awards is unacceptable, and (c) that those who defy this revolutionary mandate will have to pay a price.

“’Pick a woman, any woman‘ seems to be the message,” Sasha wrote. “Because if that happens [award-giving orgs] are shielded from attacks.

“I have no doubt that the clickbait cycle so prevalent today will seek to put Oscar voters on notice in the 11th hour, urging them to choose one of these [female-directed] movies for good optics, to shield them from the kind of heat the Globes got burned with [on Monday].

A Stone paragraph that will live forever: “If I were a woman I wouldn’t want anyone to do me any favors. I would want to make a movie SO GOOD that its value was undeniable. Like Kathryn Bigelow’s Hurt Locker, like Jane Campion’s The Piano, like Sofia Coppola’s Lost in Translation, like Ava DuVernay’s Selma.**

“Voters should focus on choosing the best films or the best directors or the best scripts. But none of that matters to Film Twitter, which then is the feeder trough for clickbait all over the web.

Another historic Stone statement: “It seems like in our overriding desire to level the playing field we’ve decided that there is no absolute measure of what’s good and what isn’t, and that’s been replaced by a sliding scale that adjusts to factor in equality, parity, and inclusion.”

Read more

If “Irishman” Had Gone All-Out Theatrical…

Earlier today Netflix content honcho Ted Sarandos shared some Irishman numbers. Over the first seven days (11.27 to 12.3), he said, the 209-minute gangster flick was streamed by 26.4 million account holders.

He added that Netflix expects that household number to hit or closely approach 40 million after 28 days, or as of 12.25.

Sarandos said that the 26.4 million viewers over the first seven days watched “at least 70%” of The Irishman. Good dogs! Give ’em a biscuit! So as far as Sarandos knows, an undetermined number of Netflix viewers have yet to see the other 30%, or roughly the last 60 or 70 minutes. Or, you know, they watched some of it, turned it off, watched a little more, turned it off, and then watched the last hour or whatever.

Sincere question: What kind of droopy-lidded slug stops watching The Irishman at the 130-minute mark, which is just after the point when things begin to get more and more entertaining (“People aren’t freezin’ to death in New York…it’s summer”) and just when the suspense element is kicking in (when and how will Hoffa be hit?) and which delivers the legendary jaws-of-death finale (getting older and older, “Peggy won’t talk to me”, “leave the door a little bit open”).

The reason that 40 million are expected to watch The Irishman by Christmas, obviously, is because it’s easy. Just turn it on and flop on the couch.

But what if Netflix had decided to delay streaming until 12.13 or thereby kept it in theatres all through November and half of December, or roughly 42 days? Or if it had delayed the theatrical release until Christmas day? What percentage of that 40 million might have trekked down to a theatre and bought a ticket?

Knowing that most people are as lazy as overweight cats, my guess is that 10% might have shown up. 4 million tickets x $9 average ticket price = $36 million. Maybe I’m being too conservative. Maybe 15% or 20%. You tell me.