The basic idea is that ’80s Star Trek films smacked of maturity, character and grace under pressure while the Chris PineStar Trek films too often smacked of immaturity and impulsiveness, and were altogether whiny and enraged. And this devolution of a once-beloved franchise was primarily the fault of the coddled, wimpy, candy-assed writers (Simon Pegg Doug Jung, Roberto Orci, Alex Kurtzman, Damon Lindelof, et, al.).
Critical Drinker, 11.2.21, 12:46 mark: “The final and probably biggest strand is the people hired to write this stuff. I’ve said before that a character is only as smart, capable and resourceful as the person writing them, and…well, you don’t need me to tell you that Hollywood creators these days aren’t exactly paragons of tough, stoic, confident self-reliance. They’re the kind of people who consider mean tweets to be on par with mass murder.
“The end result of all this is a generation of writers who are weak, fragile, spoiled, narcissistic, emotionally insecure…basically children in adult bodies. The ridiculous infantile shite that today’s writers produce” — the plot of Edgar Wright and Krysty Wilson-Cairns‘ Last Night in Soho, for example — “[fortifies] the endless river of sludge that passes for modern entertainment.”
…but the paycheck. The paycheck matters. That and starring in the usual lightweight crap…Onward, Lego Movie2, infinite Guardians, Jurassic whatever, toxic Passengers, a bullshit MagnificentSeven remake, a bullshit Tomorrow War…nothing matters, keep earning, keep eating…me and Dwayne Johnson, man…we own this kind of attitude. Fuck it all, you only live once.
Soon after embracing sobriety on 3.20.12, I realized that my laughter triggers has stopped functioning, and I’d never been much of a hah-hah guy to begin with. This was where alcohol came in, and why I loved succumbing to the rude, silly, sporadic kind of beer-buzz humor that I’d discovered in my mid teens….a cackling, mad-hatter laughter on the fly, depending on the joke or circumstance or how many sheets to the wind.
Well, that kind of vocal laughter had left my system. Sobriety had shown it the door. I’d always been an LQTM type but now I was really living deep in the well. And whenever a table of younger people (or middle-aged sillies on their second glass of wine) would break into gales of laughter, I would turn and glare daggers. I’ve been sober nine and a half years, and I still do that. Hearty chuckles and moderate laughter are fine, but shriekers are obnoxious. And if I’m in the vicinity, you can bet they’ll feel my silent condemnation..
…how the Supremes upholding a Mississippi abortion law that states an abortion has to happen with 15 weeks of conception…how exactly does that undermine a woman’s right to choose?
The Texas abortion law is ridiculous, and yes, the Mississippi law, passed in 2018, is restrictive and problematic for low-income women, especially in its refusal to make exceptions in cases of rape or incest. If it were my determination I would certainly uphold Roe v. Wade.
Under present Mississippi law, women who’ve made their decision simply have to terminate a given pregnancy within 105 days. Let’s say that an unwilling mom doesn’t learn that she’s pregnant until the six-week mark — that gives her nine weeks or 63 days to do something about it.
A woman’s right to choose is the central thing, of course, and no civilized person would disagree with this. A 15-week timeframe will obviously make it harder for low-income women, and I’m not oblivious to an element of cruelty in the Mississippi law. Which is why it’s better, I believe, all things considered, to stick with Roe.
If Terry McAuliffe hadn’t fucked himself by siding with Virginia’s wokester-agenda educators, he’d probably be okay in the race against Glenn Youngkin. Instead he hinted that parents who object to portraits of Anglo-Saxon culture as hopelessly poisoned are doing so for subliminal racist reasons…that was a huge error.
If McAuliffe had just played it moderately liberal and sensible (i.e., like me) and not sounded like an obedient servant of woke transformationalists, he’d probably be leading slightly. At least that.
I hope to God Youngkin doesn’t win and that the most recent Washington Post poll turns out to be accurate, but if Terry loses he’ll be obliged to look into his bathroom mirror on Wednesday morning and say “okay, I fucked up, this was my fault and I helped the monsters to win.”
A Youngkin victory will certainly register as a warning gong to Democratic Senators and Congresspersons across the country. Historically Virginia has often gone blue, but McAuliffe managed to change that dynamic and fuck everything up in the bargain.
What’s happened to Bernard McMahon’s Becoming Led Zeppelin? In early September the 137-minute doc screened at the Venice and Telluride film festivals, which almost always signals some kind of imminent fall release, or at least early the following year. But then it disappeared. Either nobody acquired it or it was withdrawn for further editing or something. All I know is that there’s no word about anything.
HE wild guess: There’s been a general sense of frustration with the critical response to the doc. Most reviewers found it overly obsequious and not even slightly inquisitive, and so (again, purely a guess) some re-editing and re-shaping is going on.
Led Zeppelin headliners Jimmy Page and Robert Plant, who had apparently turned down previous proposals for a definitive Led Zeppelin doc over the years, presumably because they didn’t want a warts-and-all portrait (i.e., infamous drug use and groupie debauchery on the road + the drug-related death of dummer John Bonham), are presumably hammering things out with McMahon as we speak. Or not. Who knows?
I saw and reviewedBecoming Led Zeppelin at Telluride ’21. Like most many reviewers I found it satisfactory if (and I say “if“) you’re willing to just go with it and put away your cranky hat. Providing, in other words, that you’re willing to ignore the doc’s kiss-ass attitude and general lack of curiosity about anything other than how the band came together and how the early songs were created, etc.
Forty-eight words: Becoming Led Zeppelin is highly enjoyable but a bit under-nourishing due to control-freak conditions imposed by Page and Plant. Overly sanitized, dishonest by way of omission, totally obsequious. But I still “liked” it — i.e., had a mildly good time except during the last 20 or 25 minutes.
Excerpt: “The first hour relates the individual paths of the three remaining Zeppers, and straight from the mouths — Jimmy Page, Robert Plant, John Paul Jones (all currently in their 70s and in good spirits) as well as the late John Bonham, who is heard speaking to a journalist about this and that.
“The second hour is about the launch of Led Zeppelin — the early play dates, the creation of the first two albums, the acclaim, the power and the glory. It’s basically about good times, and there’s certainly nothing ‘wrong’ with that.
“The problem is that it doesn’t dig in. It’s not even slightly inquisitive. It’s way too obliging, almost feeing like an infomercial at times. It offers, in short, a really restricted portrait, and around the 110-minute mark (and with 27 minutes to go) I started to mind this.
Two big advance screenings this week — Ridley Scott‘s House of Gucci (UA Releasing, 11.24) on Wednesday and Paul Thomas Anderson‘s Licorice Pizza (UA releasing, 11.26) on Saturday. Scott’s film runs 157 minutes; Anderson’s runs 133 minutes with credits, 128 without.
“Denis Villeneuve and his collaborators do not call [or otherwise identify the Dune desert culture as] Islam, nor Arab or any other MENA culture. Part One presents the Fremen as generic ‘people of color.’
“For all the inclusivity of its 2021 ensemble — which includes Jason Momoa, Dave Bautista, Oscar Isaac, Stephen McKinley Henderson, Chang Chen and frequent Villeneuve collaborator and half-Iranian actor David Dastmalchian (under white makeup and a bald cap) as representatives of Houses Atreides and Harkonnen — not a single MENA actor was chosen to play Fremen.”
HE comment: I say cancel Dune right now. Villenueve and the other anti-MENA racists messed up, and they have to pay the piper. Cue Timothee Chalamet reaction: “I had nothing to do with the casting of Dune, but if you guys want Villeneuve cancelled or demoted, I’ll go along with it.”
“Instead, they are played by actors like Sharon Duncan-Brewster, Zendaya, Javier Bardem and Babs Olusanmokun. (As Dune super fan John Hodgman recently said, ‘I’m very conflicted about Javier Bardem. I don’t know what accent he’s doing. What’s that supposed to be?’)” — from Roxana Hadadi‘s “Dune Has a Desert Problem,” Vulture-posted on 10.29.21.
“What did Thomas Alva Edison know? He sure knew how to rain on people’s parades back in 1910, I’ll tell you that much! In any event we, the citizens of 2021, don’t want to hear his alleged insights either.”
Seriously, folks…when Tom O’Neill, Steven Gaydos, Guy Lodge and all the other wonderful people of our delightful mutual hellscape escape this mortal coil, I’m afraid that no cosmic residue will remain. Me too, I’m afraid. Lights out and adios, muchachos. Be here now.
So the moon’s on a collision course with earth due to…what again? Basically another Armageddon by way of When Worlds Collide (’51). The lead casting of scary movie guy Patrick Wilson is a tip-off. The fat Millennial guy with glasses is British actor John Bradley (Game of Thrones).
YouTube guy: “It’s been awhile since we’ve had a movie like this. I feel like we’re overdue for another fun and entertaining disaster flick. And leave it to the pioneer himself, Roland, to deliver!”
Theunnamed daughterof Jett Wells and Caitlin Bennett is due on 11.18. (I’ve just been told that Maeve is a placeholder.). My first reaction to the new ultrasound image was “part serenity, part Francis Bacon portraiture, part Rodin’s ‘The Thinker.’” It’s like she’s resting her face on the palm of her right hand.
