Month: September 2022

If I, Jeffrey Wells, were to suddenly be thrust into the living pages of Bethan Roberts‘ romance novel and thereby literally become Tom Burgess, a young British policeman in 1950s Brighton, I would not secretly fall in love with Patrick Hazlewood, a 40ish museum curator. I might find him excellent company and a good fellow, but no heavy breathing…sorry.

Primarily because (a) I’m not gay despite lifelong metrosexual tendencies, (b) because David Dawson (who plays Hazlewood) isn’t good looking enough, (c) because I’m more or less committed to being a good husband to Emma Corrin‘s Marion, even if she lacks the sensuality of Ingrid Bergman, (d) because I’ve never found men’s hairy legs the least bit attractive and (e) because I’ve always been profoundly fearful of or turned off by certain physical intimacies that would go with the territory. (Sorry but I don’t think I’m alone on that one.)

Amazon will give My Policeman a limited theatrical release on 10.21 and a streaming debut on 11.4.

Bernard Shaw was a first-rate TV news journalist who peaked during his time at CNN (1980-2001).

Shaw’s second most memorable moment with CNN was reporting from Baghdad on the 1991 Gulf War (“This feels like we’re in the center of hell“).

But there’s no question that Shaw’s most consequential moment happened when he drilled Democratic presidential candidate Michael Dukakis with a highly emotional question that by normal human standards demanded some kind of emotional response. Dukakis’s refusal to answer with his heart did a lot to kill his chances of being elected.

Shaw had asked if Dukakis would support an “irrevocable death penalty” for a man who had hypothetically raped and murdered Dukakis’s wife. Dukakis’s reply was logical, measured and legalistic, and so doing he defined himself as a chilly technocrat.

This debate answer plus Willie Horton plus Rocky the Squirrel on a military tank did the job. Dukakais is still with us at age 88.

In the wake of his mother’s passing at age 96, the 73-year-old Charles, Prince of Wakes, has unofficially become the King of England, to be ceremoniously crowned in due time. It was only two days ago when Queen Elizabeth received the new Prime Minister, Liz Truss, in Balmoral Castle. The moment has happened; no one is gut-punched; tradition soldiers on. Ten days of pomp and cirumstance to follow.

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Posted yesterday: “You know who radiated an undercurrent of sexuality along with a sexual past, and who would’ve been a perfect Lady Chatterly (albeit one with a slight Swedish accent)? The Ingrid Bergman of 1945, when she was making Notorious or, if you will, Spellbound. There was never the slightest question that Bergman knew her way around a four-poster and then some.

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6 pm update: I’ve been wised up about Don’t Worry Darling, and basically the ’50s thing is all bullshit. I won’t say how or why but it’s not to be trusted. So everything that follows is beside the point as the ’50s thing, and therefore the “presentism” I’ve spoken about, is off the table, so to speak.

Earlier today:

Don’t Worry Darling’s presentism was given a good going over in yesterday’s comment thread responses to “When A Film Has Issues.” Just for the record…

It began with HE’s “Humana Humana” taking issue with a line in Glenn Kenny’s 9.5.22 Venice Film Festival review, in which he lamented the film’s “condescending racial dynamic.” Darling is set in a 1950s desert community called Victory, and Kenny complained that “the sole Black female with a speaking part is relegated to a martyrdom prop.”

I don’t know what this means as I haven’t yet seen the film, but the mere presence of BIPOC characters in such a community is a woke projection thing.

“Within the suburban realm of 1950s homogenized America,” I wrote, “there were very few BIPOCS or Asian Americans living ‘next door’, so to speak.

“Outside of your liberal big-city enclaves, the US of A of the Eisenhower era was a largely segregated society**, and especially in planned Wonderbread communities like Victory.

“Where are the BIPOC residents in Martin Ritt’s No Down Payment (‘57)? There was a Black longshoreman in the Hoboken-based On The Waterfront (‘54) but not a single Black motorcycle rider in The Wild One (‘53), which was set in rural California.

“So if you’re making a film about an isolated suburban community in the mid ‘50s, you have to create an alternate vision of how things were. The key to this alternate vision is a little thing called ‘presentism.’”

At which point the erstwhile Bob Strauss chimed in:

HE reply: “Then why not set it in a more socially liberal time? In the ‘80s or ‘90s or early aughts, say?

“My presumption is that director Olivia Wilde and her screenwriter, Katie Silberman, fell in love with the affluent ranch-style or Kaufman House-inspired architecture of the ‘50s (displayed in No Down Payment as well as 1955’s The Big Knife) as well as the cool ‘50s retro cars and clothing fashions.

“In 1961’s Paris Blues (also directed by Ritt) Sidney Poitier plays jazz performer Eddie Cook, who lives in Paris, in part, because he despises the racist culture of the U.S. whereas racial attitudes are much more casual in the City of Light.

“When Poitier himself was making A Raisin in the Sun in Los Angeles in ‘60 or early ‘61, he was more or less obliged to stay at the liberal-minded Chateau Marmont because no one in the affluent nabes (including Beverly Hills) would rent their home to a black dude, even if he was a big-time movie star.

“If the exalted Poitier (Tony Curtis’s costar in 1958’s The Defiant Ones) wasn’t able to rent in the nominally liberal Beverly Hills, what are the odds that Kenny’s ‘Black female martyrdom prop’ would have been living in Victory a few years earlier?”

Son of Chateau “White Pants” Incident

** In the South and, I think, other regions, even public transportation was segregated in the ‘50s. Which, of course, is what triggered the Freedom Rider movement among black activists.

HE congratulates New York Film Festival chief Eugene Hernandez on being named the new director of the Sundance Film Festival and head of public programming, following the departure of Tabitha Jackson three months ago.

Hernandez has piloted the New York Film Festival for the past three years, and of course was the co-founder and editor-in-chief of IndieWire, the indie-focused news-and-opinion trade that has become synonymous with ardent. dug-in woke-itude.

Eugene certainly has his work cut out for him. Sundance has been stalling for four or five years now, but HE is hoping that he can turn things around. The Sundance glory era ran from the early ’90s until 2016 or ’17, but nothing is forever and all things must pass.

Here’s how I put on 12.27.21:

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Actors should be allowed to play whomever or whatever. In a perfect world none of us would or should have a problem with a straight actor playing gay or vice versa, or a non-Latino playing Fidel Castro or you-name-it.

Acting is about submitting and becoming, and whenever a particular effort succeeds it’s glorious. I can still enjoy Alec Guinness‘s Prince Feisal in Lawrence of Arabia, his actual ethnicity be damned. I’ve always believed in his storied brilliance. All Guinness has to do is speak a line or two…sold.

Then why, I was asking myself, did I have trouble submitting to Emma Corrin‘s lead performance in Lady Chatterly’s Lover (Netflix), which I saw Monday night (9.5) in Telluride?

Corrin was a perfect Lady Diana in The Crown, and yet I had difficulty accepting her as a wealthy cis British woman succumbing to runting passion in the 1920s blah blah. Nor did I believe that her earthy gamekeeper lover (Jack O’Connell) had any special passion for her. I felt only the effort.

This is probably at least partly because Corrin has been somewhat pronounced about being queer (she came out in July 2021) and adopting “they/them” pronouns and being nonbinary and wearing breast flatteners and whatnot.

Plus there’s just something about her that seems coy and stand-offish about sensuality in any form.

I said a somewhat similar thing about the late Olivia De Havilland when she passed in late July 2020. To me OdH always seemed to lack a sensual ignition switch. Too goody two-shoes or something. I was immediately disciplined for saying so. Variety‘s Steven Gaydos accused me of “pissing on her coffin.” I replied that detecting an absence of a sensual undercurrent in De Havilland was not dismissive or derogatory.

I’ll never not appreciate Corrin’s first-rate skills, but I just couldn’t believe that her Lady Chatterly was hungry for the proverbial thrusting loins. I kept telling myself “forget Corrin’s stated real-life identities” — just sink into her soul and absorb the feelings and let the movie wash over you and carry you along. But I couldn’t.

And I’m saying this as someone who truly loved Jonathan Groff‘s straight FBI guy in Mindhunter, Cate Blanchett‘s vampy lipstick lesbian in Carol, Kevin Spacey‘s miserable married suburbanite in American Beauty, Peter Finch‘s gay doctor in Sunday Bloody Sunday and so on. Great acting is great acting, but…well, I’ve said it.

…the Metacritic rating is almost always lower than that of Rotten Tomatoes, which tends to be slightly friendlier. It’s therefore surprising that Metacritic’s Don’t Worry Darling rating (48%) is higher than that of Rotten Tomatoes (43%).

From Glenn Kenny’s 9.5.22 review:

“Auteurism has always held that certain directors were able to exercise a style which imprinted their personality upon their movies. In this respect, Darling really is an auteur picture, replete with traits Wilde has let fly in recent interviews.

“It’s pompous (in its on-the-nose didacticism), humorless (satire doesn’t have to be funny, true, and this is one unfunny satire), condescending (the racial dynamic here, in which the sole Black female with a speaking part is relegated to a martyrdom prop, is a doozy), entitled (the recurring Busby-Berkeley-meets-Carnival of Souls bit has no utilitarian value, save saying ‘nightmare’).

“On the other hand, every now and then it latches onto a groove of narrative momentum and goes with it to some purpose. The premise might have made for a memorable episode of Rod Serling’s Night Gallery. This picture is nearly two hours, so that’s a problem right there.”

The Fabelmans (Universal, 11.11) is about the emotionally formative, occasionally traumatic upbringing of one Steven Spielberg (i.e., “Sammy Fabelman”) from age 7 to 19, or something in that region. And I really wish I could see it this Saturday in Toronto.

A Best Actress nom for Michelle Williams‘ performance as Leah, Sammy’s mom, seems pretty much assured. Along with a presumed Best Picture nom, and perhaps a nom for what may be composer John Williams‘ final score.

A few weeks ago I was told that Judd Hirsch‘s turn as an elderly uncle on Leah’s side of the family might generate Best Supporting Actor talk. Mostly prompted, I was told, by the tender nature of a scene between Hirsch and young Sammy, which “hits home.”

Witness: “Anyone who grew up watching movies will be a sure bet to love this. It’s a film-critic-friendly movie. It’s made for people of the film faith. I enjoyed it tremendously, and this is so rare.

“It’s set in New Jersey, Arizona, Northern California and finally, at the very end, in Los Angeles.

“A significant portion of the drama in the Arizona section of the film is Leah and “Uncle” Benny (Seth Rogen) having an affair.

“Prior to Sammy’s final year in high school the family moves to Northern California, and that’s where most of the anti-Semitism is shown. Sammy is called ‘kike’ and ‘bagelman’ and gets punched in the face. Jocks leave a bagel in his locker and the words ‘Jew hole’ are scrawled on his locker door.”

What will Telluride’s “whoa whoa” guy say when he watches this portion of the film?

I won’t discuss the allegedly tasty David Lynch-as-John Ford finale, but it sounds like a great wrap-up.

Last night The Ankler‘s Richard Rushfield posted a strong contrarian view of the whole Olivia Wilde-Florence Pugh-Harry Styles-Shia Labeouf + Move Over Darling contretemps.

Titled “Trades Gone Wilde,” Rushfield basically adopts a woke/#MeToo posture by accusing Variety and others of a semblance of old-school sexism by giving Wilde a much harder time than they would a male director in a similar situation.

Excerpt #1: “Imagine a male director was having a somewhat messy divorce. And had a relationship with an actress on his film, which annoyed another one of the stars who felt he wasn’t getting enough attention. Would this be a story that the trades would even mention? It would be more of a story on the set where that didn’t happen.” [HE recalls how Kirk Douglas shared a certain resentment over director Richard Quine favoring girlfriend Kim Novak during filming of 1960’s Strangers When We Meet.]

Excerpt #2: “Just for comparison’s sake, here’s an extremely partial list of male director/leading lady relationships, many of which began when the director was married: Peter Bogdanovich and Cybill Shepherd, James Cameron and Linda Hamilton, Steven Spielberg and Kate Capshaw, Tim Burton and Helena Bonham Carter, Woody Allen and Mia Farrow, Darren Aronofsky and Rachel Weisz, Joel Coen and Frances McDormand, David Lynch and Isabella Rossellini, Taylor Hackford and Helen Mirren, Martin Scorsese and Illeana Douglas, Danny Boyle and Rosaria Dawson, Sam Mendes and Kate Winslet. Shall I go on?”

Excerpt #3: “Of course, I wish that every time Olivia Wilde is asked [questions about her on-set affair with Styles and everything that has come from that] she would ask the reporter to stand up, repeat their names and the name of the editor who assigned them to fly across the world and ask this question and challenge them to reveal when they’ve ever asked a male director a question like that.”

Florence Pugh refuses to make eye contact with Olivia Wilde during the 4-minute #Venezia79 standing ovation for #DontWorryDarling. pic.twitter.com/Xi6lJyZHbj

— Ramin Setoodeh (@RaminSetoodeh) September 5, 2022

HE to Rushfield: Strong piece, well-written, striking viewpoint. But you side-stepped what I feel is a basic issue.

I agree that it’s no biggie if Wilde decided to have an on-set affair with Styles. Happens all the time, right? And yes, Don’t Worry Darling will probably make decent coin. The consensus is that it’s not very good but who cares as long as it brings in a handsome profit, right?

But as you well know, the most interesting aspect of the whole mishegoss is Pugh’s frosty behavior. That’s the thing, the all of it. Pugh, not Wilde.

What leading lady or man has ever conveyed to certain parties, weeks or months in advance of a film’s release, that he/she strongly disapproves of an on-set affair? Can you imagine Harrison Ford saying he didn’t approve of Spielberg and Capshaw during the making of Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom? Or one of the costars of Blood Simple (Jon Getz or Dan Hedaya) saying he didn’t approve of Joel Coen and Frances McDormand having it off during principal photography?

Who gives a shit if a name-brand director (married or not) has an affair with a star or costar during shooting? Certainly nobody who’s been around. It happens all the time. And yet since this whole thing blew up in July, Pugh has made no secret of her disdain for Wilde — not just the affair-with-Styles thing but the kind of film she was making**. And she’s kept it going. She wouldn’t get on the phone with Variety for a Wilde profile, and wouldn’t participate in the Venice press conference — only the Venice red carpet.

Pugh could have made the whole thing go away by simply pretending to be on good terms with Wilde (i.e., saying nice things on social media, making friendly eye contact with Wilde during the Venice Film Festival) but she refused.

An adult would have shrugged the Wilde-Styles affair off (“Whatever, none of my business, all’s fair in love and war”) and simply focused on delivering a strong performance. But Pugh threw a big judgmental hissy fit (second only to Keke Palmer‘s hissy fit over Bill Murray‘s alleged hair-tugging), and in so doing made this thing into a huge media mishegoss. There would have been nothing to write about if Pugh had just turned the other cheek and gone all noblesse oblige.

Jordan Ruimy: “Pugh’s beef seems to be about the awkwardness of having Wilde’s then-partner Jason Sudeikis visiting the set with their two kids while everyone knew she was cheating on him.”

HE: “Okay, sure, I get it. But that’s life. People cheat, hearts get broken, love stinks & marriages sometimes collapse under the burden of this. But when did the affair ignite? Sometime around October of ‘20, which is when filming began. And Pugh is STILL hanging onto this resentment, nearly two years later? You gotta move on and be a pro.”

Ruimy: “I suspect Pugh was going to let go of the feud until that video message from Wilde to Shia leaked online. In it Wilde basically says it’s Pugh’s fault that Shia decided to leave the film, plus she calls her the condescending name of ‘Miss Flo.'”

HE: “Probably but who knows?”

Ruimy: “I hope Ryan Murphy makes a TV miniseries out of this melodrama.”

HE: “A five-part Miss Flo Disapproves miniseries from Murphy is a GREAT idea! Did you post this? Everyone would totally watch it.”

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