Until last night I somehow didn’t realize that there’s a real possibility that TikTok might be forced to sell, at least as far as this country or North America is concerned. I thought it was just political sturm und drang. I didn’t think anything would actually happen.
Jonathan Majors (aka Kang the Conqueror) has stepped into a pile of domestic dogshit, and it doesn’t look good. The 33 year-old actor was popped this morning in Manhattan on charges of assault, strangulation, and harassment after a reported altercation with a woman.
NYC police statement given to IndieWire: “On Saturday, March 25, 2023, at approximately 11:14 hours, police responded to 911 call inside of an apartment located in the vicinity of West 22nd Street and 8th Avenue, within the confines of the 10th Precinct. A preliminary investigation determined that a 33-year-old male was involved in a domestic dispute with a 30 year-old female. The victim informed police she was assaulted. Officers placed the 33-year-old male into custody without incident. The victim sustained minor injuries to her head and neck and was removed to an area hospital in stable condition.”
An industry rep told IndieWire that Majors “has done nothing wrong…we look forward to clearing his name and clearing this up.”
The "rules" of high-powered action films over the last 20-plus years is that there are no rules. Life is worthless, death is immaterial, nothing matters, nothing sticks and everything's everything, baby. You can globe-hop at will and stage big set pieces and start fires and blast everything to bits and nobody blinks an eye...explode at will, kill dozens or hundreds of guys, jump out of three-story buildings, get hit by speeding cars, get shot two or three or eighteen times yourself...it's all a bullshit cartoon. There are no humans with recognizable characteristics...no behavior that makes a lick of sense.
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Almost exactly nine years ago it was reported that Michael Bay would be direccting a remake of Alfred Hitchcock's The Birds ('63). I didn't think that was a good idea. The Bay part, I mean. It sounded like a desecration waiting to happen.
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Eightheartattackswithin180minutes? I’ve never inhaled amyl nitrite — I’m stating that with a certain degree of pride. Wait…did I?
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I was going to avoid the nausea and the spiritual depletion of sitting through the nearly three-hour John Wick: Chapter4. I can sense what’s waiting for me, and I hate the mere idea of submitting to this shite. I “know” (i.e., am strongly suspecting) that my reaction will more or less align with David Poland’s 3.24review.
But too many fools and knaves are kowtowing, and so I’ve accepted the unfortunate burden of having to sit through the damn thing (allegedly a Gray Man-ish pummeling) sometime this afternoon. Talk about a ghastly prospect…
Nobody remembers that one version of the Tootsie ad copy (seen with my very own eyes a week or two before the 12.17.82opening) described Dustin Hoffman’s “Michael Dorsey” as a “desperate, out-of-work, hopelesslystraight actor.” Columbia marketers didn’t want anyone getting the wrong idea.