Flanked by his parents (Paul Dano, Michelle Williams), 7 year-old Sammy Fabelman (Mateo Zoryna Francis-Deford) is wow-wow-wowed by Cecil B. DeMille’s recently released The Greatest Show on Earth (‘52). It’s an early scene from Steven Spielberg’s semi-autobiographical The Fabelmans (Universal, 11.11), which will premiere during the ‘22 Toronto Film Festival.
The same seasoned director–writer who told me about reactions to the Batgirl screening (“It makes Catwoman with Halle Berry seem like Abel Gance’s Napoleon“) says that (a) “orders came from the highest Warner Bros. level to put the Batgirl dailies, elements and preview cut on lockdown”, but that (b) “any reports that it’s been deleted are not true. But it will never be leaked anywhere.”
8.23 Washington Post story by Faiz Siddiqui, Elizabeth Dwoskin, Cat Zakrzewski and Rachel Lerman: “Former head of security Peiter “Mudge” Zatko [has accused] Twitter of “lying about Bots to Elon Musk” in a whistleblower complaint filed in July with regulators, including the Securities and Exchange Commission, a copy of which was obtained by The Washington Post.
“Musk’s team is expected to use the complaint as a basis to argue for wider discovery into Twitter’s internal practices and data, something it could raise as soon as a hearing Wednesday, according to individuals with knowledge of the matter and legal experts who described the implications of such revelations.
“There is an analogy of an airplane. So you go on an airplane and [nearly half of the] passengers and attendant crew members…they all have access to the cockpit, to the controls…that’s entirely unnecessary…[and] it’s too easy to accidentally or intentionally turn the engine off.” — Zatko to CNN.
JUST IN: Twitter whistleblower alleges that the company is "lying about Bots to Elon Musk" and is a threat to national security.pic.twitter.com/yLPqPsDC92
— Watcher.Guru (@WatcherGuru) August 23, 2022
In terms of the acting awards, Spirit Award wokesters have announced an abandonment of gender categories. No more Best Actor, Best Actress, Best Supporting Actor or Best Supporting Actress categories. Which is what the Gotham guys did a year or two ago. It’s insane but real…they’re doing it.
Idea #1 is to emphasize how different New York and L.A. wokester culture is from tens of millions of Joe and Jane Popcorn movie lovers in every corner of the nation.
Idea #2 states that “non-woke film fans may love the idea of gender-based acting categories for now, but we are leading the way to a bold and brave new realm…henceforth we are living in a gender-neutral world, whether you like it or not. Wake up and woke up and join us…it’s a joyful revolution!”
I will say this straight and clear and true: If the Academy decides to go gender-neutral with the Oscar acting awards, the eclipse will be total and absolute, and I mean beyond the level of anything dreamt of by Michelangelo Antonioni …culturally and aesthetically, the Oscars will have slit their own throats.
Which award-giving org will succumb next to glorious trans fluidity-slash-equality? If the gender-neutral advocates within BAFTA, the Academy, the Golden Globes, the Critics Choice and the guilds…if they manage to eliminate gender-based acting awards, Average Joes and Janes will simply walk away and stay away…they will raise their fists and voices and say “stop this insanity, stop this bullshit…men are men and women are women and they generate different moods and expressions and ways of living and processing the ups and downs of living…stop this bullshit and come down to earth.”
Sasha Stone’s rant, posted an hour go, is a near-perfect thing:
The Spirit Awards have decided to move to “gender neutral” categories, thus stripping the last tiny bit of fun the awards race had left. the Gotham awards have already done this, and my guess is that BAFTA, with their committee-driven nominees, will soon follow suit. So now they’ll need committees to choose not just an equitable collection of performances, but nominees that must represent every single spectrum of every marginalized group. People of color, non-binary people, people with disabilities, perhaps plus-sized people — I mean, all we seem to do now on the left is argue about which words we’re all supposed to use to not offend a single person, or get called out as a problematic witch on Twitter.
I guess by now we have to ask “what is the point of any of this?” We’re all keeping it alive by bumping the chest and blowing air into the lungs. But activists are imposing their ideology on nearly every corner of the industry, making film awards — and films in general — something other than what their original purpose has always been. And honestly, what are these awards going to be but a ceremony inside of a devout religion?
Maybe clinging to the past, or pretending film awards are meant to do anything but serve their newfound religious ideology, seems a bit pointless by now. People aren’t really all that thrilled with “gender neutral” anything, except perhaps bathrooms. All you need to remind you of this is the success of Top Gun and Elvis. Why do you think the Kardashians are a multi-billion empire? You don’t think sexy females are a hot selling point? That is why there is much excitement around the Best Actress category. It is the All About Eve of it all. But no one is going to listen to me. This train has left the station and there is no bringing it back.
“When SNL made this parody ad five years ago they were obviously goofing on wokester fanatics. Who knew it would become an actual reality?”
It was almost exactly three years ago (8.25.19) that HE suffered through an early evening visit to Moonshadows, the obnoxious tourist-trap beachside restaurant in Malibu. Here’s what I wrote:
Last weekend I made the mistake of taking Tatiana to dinner at Moonshadows Mailbu. I hadn’t been there in decades, but it’s a famous Malibu mainstay as well as the place Mel Gibson got drunk in before being arrested for DUI in July ’06. It will always appeal to gawking tourists and Lookie Lous because of the surfside location.
I took an instant dislike to the place, and when I got home I made a list of the reasons why. There were five of them. (1) Too many loud people congregated in a tight setting and generating so much conversational racket that I had a headache almost immediately; (2) Too many unattractive people who were either over-dressed or lacked that certain je ne sais quoi X-factor coolness that everyone needs to project when they’re out on the town; (3) Seriously ugly decor (baby blue seating booths with small and kitschy amber-toned lamps); (4) Decent but far from phenomenal food; and (5) A bizarre table-seating policy that may or may not have involved some kind of unsavory arrangement.
All I know is that the hostess declined to seat us next to an oceanview window, and when Tatiana asked why the hostess explained that a certain table in question was being held for a party of four that hadn’t yet arrived. In the politest terms I could muster I asked, “Well, are they royalty? What’s the special dispensation? We’re here in good faith and money in our pocket, and we’d like to sit at that open table so why can’t we exactly?” The hostess said that the party in question has paid a thousand bucks to Moonshadows so they’d always get a windowside table when they ate there.
Me (slightly agog): “Really?” Hostess: “Yeah. A thousand sounds like a lot, I agree, but…”
For the rest of the dinner I couldn’t think of anything else except this alleged thousand-dollar payoff. I was wondering how it worked exactly. Was it a thousand a year or twice annually or…? We asked our friendly waiter but he didn’t know of any such arrangement. I called the next day and spoke to a manager, a guy who said he’s worked at Moonshadows for many years, and he also said he was unaware of any such system.
All I can tell you is that the hostess said what she said, and that I didn’t imagine it.
I will never, ever go to Moonshadows again. I would rather eat a hot dog while sitting on the beach. I would rather go to Jack in the Box. On top of which Pacific Coast Highway is such an aggressive, high-speed thoroughfare. They say that the ocean is calming and restorative but not out there. I’ve been to beachside communities all over the globe, and Malibu is easily the worst of them. It has no sense of peace or tranquility.
How many times do I have to repeat this? Lusty old-dog celebrities who may have enjoyed sampling available fruit back in the lascivious ’70s, ’80s, ’90s and even the early aughts…these stubborn old coots have to understand that their poon days are over and done with, and if they don’t listen they’re going to be accused and prosecuted and thrown into the wolf pit. Because if they make the slightest move on anyone under the age of 50 TMZ will be chasing them around parking lots and gas stations within 48 to 72 hours. And yet they won’t listen. It’s pathetic but they just won’t.
Last Saturday (8.20) Ben Affleck and Jennifer Lopez were re-married (following their quickie Las Vegas ceremony on 7.16) at Ben’s sprawling, semi-historic 87-acre plantation south of Savannah. Dozens of guests, catered up the wazoo, champagne on ice, no expense spared, a splendid time had by all.
All the press reports have described Ben’s spread as being either “in” Savannah or “just south” of it. In fact the Liberty County residence (which includes a 6,000 sq. ft. main house, a cottage house and a 10,000 sq. ft. guest house) is well south of Savannah, and in fact south of the Savannah suburb of Richmond Hill.
The hard truth is that Bennifer plantation is located between 35 and 40 minutes south of downtown Savannah…okay? Don’t lie about this. It’s way the hell out of town.
The luxurious spread sits on the banks of historic Blackbeard Creek — named after Blackbeard the pirate. It’s basically in the blue-collar boonies. The property isn’t that far from the moderately noisy interstate 95 and a little more than a mile south of a huge Target distribution center, and just east of Newport Timber in Riceboro.
Midway, Georgia is three or four miles to the northwest.
The home actually lies near an old settlement called Seabrook. Wikipedia says Seabrook “was originally built up chiefly by former slaves”…whoops! Couple this with Affleck’s Savannah-residing ancestor, Benjamin Cole, being a slave owner…okay, leave it there.
HE to Larry Karaszewski: Paul Newman aside, Cool Hand Luke (‘67) was an ensemble thing, and if you ask me the six…make that seven standout supporting players are George Kennedy, Strother Martin (“failure to communicate”), the icy prison guard with the reflector shades, Jo Van Fleet, J.D. Cannon, Clifton James and Joy Harmon, the soapy blonde who was washing the car.
I know Dennis Hopper was in it but I don’t recall him saying or doing anything especially stand-outish.
I recall young Lou Antonio’s face from the film, but he didn’t have any stand-out dialogue or business that leapt to the forefront. He’s 88 and apparently in a wheelchair — hope he’s feeling okay and everything’s cool. Is there any video of your discussion? Love to listen in.
Steven Soderbergh‘s Behind the Candelabra, which opened on 5.21.13, wounded up earning $23 million, or two million less than it cost. Not in the U.S. but Europe, where it played briefly.
According to a calculus passed along by costar Matt Damon, it would’ve cost another $25M to market it for a domestic theatrical run. Plus half the revenues (or $12.5 million) would have been pocketed by theatre owners.
This is how Damon laid it out, in any event. HBO saved the day, but without HBO the producers (Gregory Jacobs, Susan Ekins, Michael Polaire) would’ve taken a bath.
“Candelabra Counts“, posted on HE on 5.21.13: “Of all the major directors of the past 20 years, Steven Soderbergh has always seemed the least emotional. So it doesn’t sound like much to call Behind The Candelabra (HBO, 5.26) his most emotional and touching work. And I don’t mean it lightly.
“This HBO movie truly touches bottom and strikes a chord. It’s a sad (but not glum or downish), movingly performed drama about a kind of marriage that begins well and then goes south after five years.
“Richard LaGravanese‘s script is complex, fleshed-out and recognizably human at every turn, and performed with considerable feeling and vulnerability by Michael Douglas (easily the top contender right now for a Best Actor prize) and Matt Damon.”
Joe and Jane Popcorn presumably weren’t all that enthusiastic about Behind the Candelabra because they didn’t want to see a movie that was at least partly about Damon being fucked in the ass by Michael Douglas. It was about much, much more than that, of course, but Joe and Jane can be simplistic and stubborn.
Matt Damon explains why they don’t make movies like they used to. pic.twitter.com/BhWypzcsgQ
— SPENCE, TODD (@Todd_Spence) August 21, 2022
“Wokeness has permeated so deeply into the ethos of Hollywood.” — Joe Rogan on unsubstantiated suspicions that the new Game of Thrones and Amazon’s forthcoming Lord of the Rings have woked themselves up.
@hulkroganclips woke GoT [JRE-1850] #joerogan #joeroganpodcast #jre #jreclips #gameofthrones #lordoftherings #woke #hollywood #series #tvshow #podcast #amazonprime #hbo #funny ♬ Meme Song – Waveyy
It was reported yesterday that Gary “wild man” Busey, 78, is facing sex crime charges stemming from alleged groping incidents that happened earlier this month at the Monster-Mania Convention in Cherry Hill, New Jersey.
“It was about contact,” Cherry Hill lieutenant Robert Scheunemann told the Philadelphia Inquirer. “It was about touching.” Three women have filed complaints.
Today video surfaced of Busey sitting on a beach in Malibu’s Point Dume Park last Saturday with his pants down. The video allegedly shows him “putting one hand down the front of his pants and looking around to make sure no one was watching before committing a lewd act” — presumably jerking off.
Two possible scenarios: (1) Busey has become a proverbial dirty old man due to dementia, and is acting in weird sexual ways because he’s unaware of what he’s doing and simply has no self-control. Or (2) he’s pulling a Vincent “Chin” Gigante move — publicly pretending to be crazy and demented in order to persuade New Jersey authorities to go easy in terms of possible disciplinary action over the Cherry Hill thing.
It’s time for Racquel Welch, now 82, to step up to the plate and explain what happened a half-century ago during the making of The Last of Sheila (’73). Is she going to let the statements of costars James Mason and Ian McShane go unchallenged, or does she have fresh information that might alter the classic narrative?
According to an 11.12.72 Chicago Tribune piece titled “Raquel Plans Suit Against Director”, there were also complaints about Welch’s behavior. Welch announced she was suing director Herbert Ross for assault and battery as a result of an incident in her dressing room. She claimed she had to flee to London during the shoot “to escape physical harm”. Warner Bros later issued a statement supporting Ross and criticizing Welch for her “public utterances”.
Excerpt: “Shooting the monastery sequence just off Cannes proved to be troublesome for Welch. Gale force winds and rain disrupted the night shoot, and Welch was reluctant to leave her Venice hotel for fear of getting stuck in the storm.”
Mason said that Welch “was the most selfish, ill-mannered, inconsiderate actress that I’ve ever had the displeasure of working with”.
McShane: “Raquel Welch isn’t the most friendly creature. She seems to set out with the impression that no one is going to like her.”