“…not necessarily on the business side but certainly [in terms of] the art.” — Martin Scorsese speaking last night at the 60th New York Film Festival.
Marty didn’t point the finger of blame, but if he had who would have been the recipient? You know who. We all know who.
Not any one group of filmmakers or producers or distributors, but the under-40 couch potatoes…Millennials, Zoomers…the easy-streaming content generation. The ones most responsible for the abandoning and closing of movie theatres. Be honest…who else can be blamed as squarely?
— Ellen Houlihan (@elliehoulie) October 13, 2022
Glenn Ford is one of those classic-studio-era movie stars whom nobody seems to care much for today. Even I don’t care much for the guy.
My favorite Ford films are not So Ends Our Night, Gilda, The Big Heat, Teahouse of the August Moon or The Blackboard Jungle. My favorites are actually Cowboy, Cimarron and especially Experiment In Terror.
Ford’s career peaked in the ’40s and ’50s; he seemed to fall off a cliff in the mid ’60s. He died at age 90 on 8.30.06.
What I honestly didn’t know until an hour ago was that off-screen Ford’s life was, to borrow a Quentin Tarantino-ism, largely about dick dick dick dick dick dick dick dick dick dick dick dick dick dick dick dick dick dick.
According to “Glenn Ford: A Life,” a 2001 bio by his son Peter, the allegedly well-endowed Ford put the high hard one to no fewer than 146 actresses during his heyday, and that’s not counting the little side affairs that are never written about.
The biggest extra-marital love of Ford’s life was Rita Hayworth; their off-and-on, 40-year affair began during the filming of Gilda and lasted until the ’80s.
Ford also “knew” Maria Schell, Geraldine Brooks, Stella Stevens, Gloria Grahame, Gene Tierney, Eva Gabor, Judy Garland, Connie Stevens, Suzanne Pleshette, Rhonda Fleming, Roberta Collins, Hope Lange, Susie Lund, Terry Moore, Angie Dickinson, Debbie Reynolds, Jill St. John, Brigitte Bardot, Loretta Young and Barbara Stanwyck.
He allegedly had a one-nighter with Marilyn Monroe in ’62, and did a duh-doo-ron-ron with Joan Crawford in the early 1940s. Ford’s affair with stripper and cult actress Liz Renay was mentioned in her 1991 book “My First 2,000 Men.”
He does so by using the expression “so-called” twice in a single sentence: “Tar is a regressive film,” he writes, “that takes bitter aim at so-called cancel culture and lampoons so-called identity politics.”
In short, Brody’s use of “so-called” means he’s highly suspicious of even the existence of wokeism and cancel culture, which of course completely invalidates his review of Tar.
A good portion of Field’s film deals with wokester investigations of improper sexual behavior on the part of Lydia Tar (Cate Blanchett), and so Brody being highly skeptical of even the presence of woke terror is like a critic reviewing a James Bond film while holding a view that there are no such things as guns.
Tar, says Brody, “presents Lydia as an artist who fails to separate her private life from her professional one, who allows her sexual desires and personal relationships to influence her artistic judgment — which is, in turn, confirmed and even improved under that influence.
“[Tar] presents the efforts to expand the world of classical music to become more inclusive, by way of commissioning and presenting new music by a wider range of composers, as somewhere between a self-sacrificing gesture of charity and utterly pointless. It mocks the concept of the blind audition (intended to prevent gatekeeping conductors, musicians, and administrators from making decisions on the basis of appearance). It sneers at the presumption of an orchestra to self-govern (which the one that Lydia unmistakably conducts in the film, the Berlin Philharmonic, does in real life). It derisively portrays a young American conducting student named Max (Zethphan Smith-Gneist), who identifies as ‘a bipoc pangender person,’ and who says that he can’t take Bach seriously because he was a misogynist. The film looks at any social station and way of life besides the money-padded and the pristinely luxurious as cruddy, filthy, pathetic.”
The slightly puzzling fact is that Tar doesn’t portray Lydia as a pure victim (although she is certainly pounced upon and destroyed by woke-deferring officials within the Berlin and New York orchestras) but also as a catalyst. So Tar is simultaneously saying the wokesters are beasts of prey but also that Lydia made her own bed.
Brody: “The film seems to want it both ways: it sustains Lydia’s perspective regarding music, her professional relationships, and her daily aesthetic, while carefully cultivating ambiguity regarding what Lydia is charged with, in order to wag a finger at characters who rush to judgment on the basis of what’s shown (or, what isn’t).
“By eliminating the accusations, Field shows which narrative he finds significant enough to put onscreen. By filtering Lydia’s cinematic subjectivity to include disturbing dreams but not disturbing memories, he shows what aspect of her character truly interests him. By allowing her past to be defined by her résumé, he shows that he, too, is wowed by it and has little interest in seeing past it.”
Like the film, Brody himself seems to want it both ways.
Nine months ago The New York Times‘ Isabella Grullón Paz reported that a rumor about school-age furries using litter boxes in a Midland, Michigan, elementary school was apparently bullshit, at least according to Midland Public Schools superintendent Michael Sharrow.
I don’t know if this is the same rumor that Joe Rogan mentioned yesterday…or not. Further investigation is required.
Joe Rogan tells Tulsi Gabbard about a teacher he knows who said her school was forced to install a litter box for a student who identifies as a cat. pic.twitter.com/jqU4T1V9Nl
— Libs of TikTok (@libsoftiktok) October 12, 2022
Austin Stoker, the star of John Carpenter‘s Rio Bravo-ish action thriller Assault on Precinct 13, passed last Friday (10.7) on his 92nd birthday. HE has long admired Stoker’s performance as Lt. Ethan Bishop, the steely, fair-minded L.A. cop in charge of an about-to-be-abandoned police station in some hellish South Central region of Los Angeles.
Stoker was around 45 when Assault was shot — he looked a good ten years younger.
I first saw John Carpenter’s Howard Hawks-inspired film at the Museum of Modern Art in ’78 or ’79. I’ve re-watched it at least nine or ten times since.
In my book Stoker and costars Darwin Joston (who played the allegedly fearsome but essentially honorable Napoleon Wilson) and Laurie Zimmer (who played a brave Hawksian woman named Leigh) were a much more compelling trio than John Wayne, Dean Martin and Ricky Nelson in Rio Bravo.
- All Hail Tom White, Taciturn Hero of “Killers of the Flower Moon”
Roughly two months ago a very early draft of Eric Roth‘s screenplay for Killers of the Flower Moon (dated 2.20.17,...More »