Month: February 2020

“Americans are always worried that when we lose our freedom it’ll look like the movie Red Dawn, with tanks in the streets. That’s not how a republic ends. We keep the names on the institutions, [but] we change what’s inside. We still have trials — we just don’t have witnesses. We still subpoena people — they just don’t show up. There’s still an EPA — it just works for the coal companies now. It’s like the way TV channels sometimes completely change formats but keep the name? MTV — music television — hasn’t had music videos for years. The Learning Channel has no learning — it has Honey Boo-Boo and American’s Worst Tattoos and Family By The Ton.

“When Rome stopped being a republic, it didn’t stop having a Senate. And neither have we. It’s just more like student government now. Because that’s what dictators do. Russia has a pretend parliament. So does China. And North Korea.”

“If You Think It’s Bad for Mainstream Democrats Now, Just Wait“, posted on 2.6 by Jonathan Chait:

“It is always darkest, John McCain used to say, before it gets totally black. So it is for the American center-left right now. Bernie Sanders is currently favored to win the nomination, a prospect that would make Donald Trump a heavy favorite to win reelection, and open the possibility of a Corbyn-esque wipeout.

“While Sanders has not expanded beyond a minority of the party, he has consolidated support of the party’s left wing, and while its mainstream liberal wing is split between numerous contenders, it is hard to see how the situation is likely to improve soon. Indeed, it could get worse, much worse.

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While I don’t happen to personally agree that Parasite deserved the Best Picture Oscar (if I was an Academy member I would’ve voted for The Irishman), I respect what happened last night. The fervor, I mean, was obviously strong and Bong Joon-ho ruled the roost with four Oscars — Best Picture, Best International Feature, Best Director and Best Original Screenplay.

I am, however, bothered by the double shot overlap between Best Picture and Best Int’l Feature.

So here’s what seems to have happened, and please correct me if I’m wrong on some level. Even with the preferential ballot dynamic, which meant that a clear majority of Parasite Best Picture supporters didn’t necessarily manifest on the first round of vote counting, most Academy members decided to simultaneously give the Best Picture Oscar AND the Best International Feature Oscar to Parasite.

They didn’t consider the double-shot overlap factor. They mentally compartmentalized, and in so doing refused to consider the overall equation. Not enough of them said “as I strongly believe in Parasite for Best Picture” — which is totally fine, of course — “then I’m going to spread the love around by giving the Best Int’l Feature Oscar to the absolutely deserving Les Miserables or Pain and Glory.“

Instead an apparent (or preferential ballot-ized) majority said to themselves “an overlapping double-shot of Parasite love works for me! Parasite is sooo overwhelmingly good and sooo much better than Pain and Glory or Les Miserables that it deserves both Oscars.”

Am I allowed to say this way of voting is highly questionable? And that the Academy should take steps to prevent it from happening again?

How would you feel about this if you were Ladj Ly or Pedro Almodovar?

Additional question: To what extent (if any) was Parasite’s overwhelming triumph attributable to lingering resentment among the diversity-above-all crowd (i.e., the New Academy Kidz) over Green Book’s Best Picture win last year? How many Parasite supporters said to themselves “above and beyond my genuine affection for Parasite, this will teach those older-white-person supporters a lesson, or at least will balance things out”?

An excerpt from Owen Gleiberman’s post-Oscar assessment piece, filed this morning:

8:27 pm: Parasite wins the Best Picture Oscar? So it’s won (1) Best Picture, (2) Best Director, (3) Best Original Screenplay and (4) Best International Feature? Look, guys…c’mon. Oh, forget it. You can’t fight City Hall. But it’s lopsided. I respectfully believe that The Irishman is a much better film overall. Much. Indisputably. But what’s done is done. History has been made. So how did 1917 win so conclusively elsewhere (especially with the guilds) and yet lose the Big One? Sasha Stone, please explain.

8:18 pm: Jordan Ruimy to HE: “You’re at the right party tonight.”

8:12 pm: And of course, Renee Zellweger takes the Best Actress Oscar. Her acceptance speech is…well, Joaquin’s was deeper, stronger. Who’s the large girthy guy sitting next to her? Thin gray hair. Just asking.

8:05 pm: It’s now time for Joaquin Phoenix to accept the Best Actor Oscar. This a great speech he’s giving. Against this or that species, race or nation choosing to dominate and exploit other species, races and species. I heard the words, especially about how we’re at our best when we give people a second chance. To those few and far between readers who’ve strayed or gone cold on Hollywood Elsewhere (and you know who you are) — give me a second chance! Come back to the fold! And don’t eat hamburgers!

8 pm: The late F.X Feeney should have been in the death reel. His unbridled love for cinema lifted so many boats.

7:51 pm: The possible Best Director upset is upon us — and it happens! 1917‘s Sam Mendes goes down, and Bong Joon-ho takes it! BJH: “I would like to get a Texas chainsaw and share this Oscar with all of my estemeed co-nominees”, or words to that effect. Very classy and gracious fellow.

7:42 pm: And now for the Best Musical Score Oscar, which naturally goes to Joker‘s Hildur Gudnadottir. Well deserved, totally forecast. And now teh Best Song Oscar goes to Elton and Bernie. Again, widely predicted.

7:30 pm: Indefatigable, sausage-fingered, purple-jacketed Elton John banging out “I’m Gonna Love Me Again” on a beautiful red piano. Except he’s wearing thick-soled silver-sides — a variation on your dreaded whiteside footwear. Correction: Yellowsides and pinksides.

7:23 pm: As totally and universally expected, Parasite takes the Best International Feature Oscar. Bong Joon-ho: “I’m ready to drink tonight.”

7:16 pm: Ray Romano gets bleeped for saying an eff word. Bombshell wins the Best Makeup Oscar — totally expected. Basically for making Charlize Theron look like Megyn Kelly.

7:14 pm: In a surprise, 1917 takes Best Visual Effects Oscar instead of Avengers: Endgame.

7 pm: Tom Hanks is wearing the same kind of tux as Brad Pitt — black velvet/valour jacket, medium-gray slacks. Announcing that the Academy museum, which just invited press people to look around, won’t open for another 11 months, or on 12./14.20.

6:50 pm: Will Ferrell and Julia Louis Dreyfuss handing out best Cinematography Oscar. To absolutely no one’s surprise, 1917’s Roger Deakins takes it. Best Film Editing Oscar. Ferrell and Dreyfuss’s “pretending to be dumbfucks” routine is…well, harmless. Two Ford v. Ferrari guys win for Best Editing. A bald guy and a slender, bearded guy from South America…congrats!

6:40 pm: Ford v. Ferrari wins for sound editing – 1917 wins for sound mixing. Or something like that. Designing, mixing, shifting, spritzing. Split vote.

6:30 pm: Love that Eminem voice! I’ve missed it! He’s 47 with a belly now, and his black jeans are dropping below his butt cheeks, ’90s-style. Martin Scorsese is squinting….waiting for “it” to happen.

6:16 pm: “Give the Best Supporting Actress Oscar to Laura Dern” time has arrived. And she gets it. No offense but you’re not allowed to use the word “magic” when speaking of the prowess of creative collaborators. Kudos to Dern for delivering a heartfelt, fresh-sounding acceptance speech, which had to have been difficult given that she’s been winning winning winning for weeks now.

6:09 pm: American Factory (i.e., sucking up to the Obamas) wins Best Feature Documentary. Yeah! The Skateboarding Is Hard If You’re A Girl (or something like that) short doc wins. I voted for this on my ballot!

6:02 pm: Chrissy Metz has great pipes. Another in the plus-size cavalcade. Nice choral background behind her.

5:55 pm: Best Production Design Oscar goes to Once Upon A Time in Hollywood. Hollywood Elsewhwere approves, claps, high fives. The Kristen Wigg-Mrs Paul Thomas Anderson patter sucks…not funny. Not even a little bit. And Little Women wins Best Costume Design. Expected, predicted.

5:47 pm: I didn’t vote for The Neighbor’s Window on my Oscar ballot. Considered it, thought better.

5:37pm: Keanu and Diane. Great hat, gleaming white teeth, nice complexion. Best Original Screenplay. Keaton: “I’m gonna open this. No, no…not yet, that’s what I mean.” Parasite will win, of course. The Oscar goes to Bong Joon-ho, and the entire Parasite party crowd goes “whooooaaaaaaaa!!!” Hollywood Elsewhere approves except for letting the fired maid inside while the family is drunk, etc.

Best Adapted Screenplay Oscar is expected to go to JoJo Rabbit. I’m sorry but I hate that little kid — I have from the get-go. Taika Watiti wins for JoJo! Totally predicted.

Timothy Chalamet‘s “tux” looks like one of those outfits that gas station guys used to wear in the ”40s and ’50s.

5:28 pm: Josh Gad (the latest plus-size award presenter) announces a musical number.

5:21 pm: Best Animated Feature Oscar won by Toy Story 4 — predicted, expected, no surprise. Will there by any surprises this evening? The Gold Derby experts are hoping for this but don’t count on it. Hair Love (which I voted for on my party ballot) wins Best Animated Short.

5:13 pm: Best Supporting Actor time. Brad Pitt waits calmly, patiently…no worries. Nice tux — black velvet jacket, dark gray pants. 45 seconds to deliver acceptane speech, “which is 45 seconds more than the Senate gave John Bolton [last] week.” Best line: “Once Upon a Time In Hollywood…indeed.” Or “you bet.” or “yup, that’s me.” Or “whoda thunk it?”

5:10 pm: Conversational noise levels at Soho House viewing party are semi-defeaning. I’m sitting on a small gray stool in front of a 70-incher. Steve Martin, Chris Rock co-hosting (for a while). Martin: “No screw-ups this year because the Academy has switched to the new Iowa caucus app”…good one.

The only possible surprise this evening would be Parasite‘s Bong Joon-ho taking the Best Director Oscar rather than 1917‘s Sam Mendes. That’s the only serious upset that seems feasible. Otherwise everything has been fully figured, sussed, estimated…next to no suspense at all.

Jordan Ruimy and I talked it out just after 10 am this morning.

Below are Ben Zausmer‘s (Oscarmath) predictions, which are more or less the same predictions that everyone else is touting.

Again, the mp3

Best Picture / 1917. Best Director / Sam Mendes or Bong Joon-ho. Best Actor / Joaquin Phoenix. Best Actress / Renee Zellweger. Best Supporting Actor / Brad Pitt. Best Supporting Actress / Laura Dern. Best Original Screenplay / Parasite. Best Adapted Screenplay / Jojo Rabbit. (Seriously?)

Best Animated Feature / Toy Story 4. Best Documentary Feature / American Factory or Honeyland. Best International Feature / Parasite. Best Production Design / Once Upon A Time in Hollywood. Best Cinematography / Roger Deakins, 1917. Best Original Score / Hildur Gudnadóttir, Joker. Best Original Song / Elton John and Bernie Taupin‘s “I’m Gonna Love Me Again.” Best Film Editing / 1917, Parasite or Ford v. Ferrari. Best Visual Effects / Avengers: Endgame.

That’s all I have time for now….getting dressed for Parasite viewing party. The weather is cool, raining, bone-chilling.

Jo Van Fleet won a well-dserved Oscar for playing a tough, bitter, white-haired bordello madam in Elia Kazan’s East of Eden (’55). By today’s standards she could be in her 60s or 70s but Van Fleet was only 39 during principal photography. Excellent makeup or something. Roughly five years later the 44-year-old Van Fleet played an 89-year-old matriarch in Kazan’s Wild River (’60).

It was a travesty, by the way, that Kazan was up for Best Director while the film itself wasn’t Best Picture nominated. The 1955 Best Picture five were Marty (which won), Love Is a Many-Splendored Thing (tepid interracial romance drama), Mister Roberts (definitely hasn’t aged well — one of John Ford’s stinkers), Picnic (steady-as-she-goes, well-acted small-town drama, based on the William Inge play) and The Rose Tattoo (Tennessee Williams having adapted his own play, which also costarred Jo Van Fleet).

East of Eden was better than all five 1955 nominees put together, and still is.

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Okay, that’s it — Burger King has taken up permanent residence in the HE shithouse.

The Gay Men’s Choir of Los Angeles was doing great (the best moment of the show) until they tipped into Laura Dern mania.

It would be a positive thing, I feel, if this country could somehow adopt the Bernie Sanders program by gradually shifting into a kind of Denmark- or Finland-styled socialism — i.e, a benevolent system in which corporations and the obscenely rich would be taxed at higher, Dwight D. Eisenhower-level rates while at the same time providing social services that Americans deeply need (Medicare for all, free or inexpensive college, forgiving much of the college debt) in exchange for higher taxes.

This will never happen, of course, because Bernie is not running for King. If he’s somehow elected President he might be able to nudge things leftward, slightly, but that’s all. But he can’t win, of course. Bernie capturing the Democratic nomination will be a catastrophe, and The Beast will have four more years.

Sanders is not a “socialist” — he’s a left-leaning social Democrat, which shouldn’t scare anyone. The night before last Chris Matthews mentioned Castro-styled leftist firing squads in Central Park, which was funny but in a strange way brave. Because at least he was admitting to an old-shoe prejudice that is undeniably rooted in historical precedent — successful hard-left 20th Century revolutions did result in executions in Russia (Bolshevilks vs. “white’ Russians), China, Cuba and Cambodia (Khmer Rouge).

And hinterland Trumpsters are weeds in the garden — an angry, malicious and destructive social cancer. Any thinking person who doesn’t admit that the country would be a much better place if they were to suddenly disappear is simply being dishonest.

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I understand the trite thinking about Pete Buttigieg and Michael Bloomberg being height-challenged as far as Presidency is concerned. Pete is presumed to be 5’8″ — Bloomberg has claimed the same but is suspected to be closer to 5’7″ or even 5’6″. American voters haven’t elected a president shorter than six feet since Jimmy Carter (who was between 5’9 and 5’10”) in 1976.

Obviously either candidate would look small on a debate stage with the 6’2″ Donald Trump. (The 6’3″ claim is bullshit.) But you also need to compare Trump’s repugnant obesity to the fact that Pete has a 24-Hour Fitness physique with washboard abs.

Typical voter: “Big and obese with dyed blonde viking hair and an orange tan vs. mid-sized and in great shape with a Richard Nixon five o’clock shadow, especially above the lip. I feel better about bloated and grotesque, frankly, because everyone I know has bulldog jowls along with a sizable belly overhang. When you go outside the cities we’re a nation of sea lions…be honest. I don’t trust trim physiques. They seem un-American on some level.”

Buttigieg on Bernie mantra: “We’re also facing the most divisive president in modern times. Which is why I’m equally concerned with a message [from Bernie bruhs] that says if you’re not for a revolution then you must be for the status quo. I think that equation leaves most people out.”

On Bernie attack about Buttigieg being supported by “40 billionaires”: “My campaign is where it is today because hundreds of thousands of individual donors…two-million-plus contributions that have averaged around $40 bucks. [On the other hand] I’m not a fan of the current [campaign] finance system, but Trump’s allies recently raised $25 million in one day. I’m insisting that we go into this fight with all the support we can get.”

I’ve begun to read Sam Wasson’s “The Big Goodbye: Chinatown and The Last Years of Hollywood.” It’s the story of how four semi-legendary fellows in the prime of their lives — director Roman Polanski, Jack Nicholson, screenwriter Robert Towne, producer Robert Evans — lucked into one of the most charmed collaborations ever, aided by an especially fertile time in Hollywood. It produced one of the finest ‘70s films and arguably the greatest dark-underbelly-of-Los Angeles noir ever made.

I’ve only read three or four chapters, but man, it’s delicious. Wasson’s writing is so choice, so lean and clean, so wise and sharp and cultivated to a fare-thee-well. But I have to say that I’m having trouble remembering the title. Probably because it doesn’t sound right. What constitutes a “big” goodbye (or for that matter a small one)? Goodbyes can be sad, long, drawn-out, tearful, sudden, etc. But I’ve never once contemplated the idea of a big one.

mooth,