If, like myself, you’re a foot man, you probably agree that the recent hoopla over that Barbie shot of Margot Robbie‘s arched feet brought about a certain realization. It reminded me of an unfortunate or at least a lamented reality, which is that over 99% of the female peds out there (and I often have my eyes peeled) are no match for Robbie’s.
Outside of the Hollywood and modelling worlds, exquisite, perfectly shaped feet are such a rarity that numerical percentages are almost unworthy of mention.
All hail the young anonymous woman behind Nerdworld, a YouTube channel that I discovered last night. She’s a brilliant 20something Canadian feminist of a different order — a woman who’s felt increasingly annoyed by aggressive feminist, anti-male posturing in movies and laments the trashing and diminishing of straight-up, non-toxic masculinity, not just in cinema but in all corners of the progressive community these days. She seems to have been strongly influenced by the great Camille Paglia, and for that alone HE is an instant fan.
…at Westport’s AMC Royale, and so far (5 pm) 31 seats have been sold. What does this tell you? It tells me that this James Mangold film will only do decent business this weekend…okay, better than decent, perhaps even brisk. But nothing to write home about.
Nearly ten months ago I saw Nancy Buirski‘s Desperate Souls, Dark City, and the Legend of “Midnight Cowboy” at the ’22 Telluride Film Festival. It’s a sprawling, large-canvas capturing of a revolutionary and fairly breathtaking moment in American cinema — a constantly probing look at not just the making of John Schlesinger’s 1969 classic but everything that was happening back then…culturally, creatively, the whole magillah.
It’s been noted that Buirski’s film doesn’t really answer why Midnight Cowboy received its X rating, which was later downshifted to R. I’ll tell you why — it was because of that scene in the 42nd Street theatre when Bob Balaban goes down on Jon Voight and gives him an off-camera blowjob. That was it, cut and dried.
Apart from Peter Glenville‘s oblique and non-sexual Becket (’64) and outside of Andy Warhol‘s experimental, barely-seen Blowjob and even Lonesome Cowboys, no mainstream film had ever grappled with gay activity quite as frankly as Midnight Cowboy, especially in its acknowledgements of down and dirty street life and gay street hustlers, not to mention Ratzo’s derisive reference to cowboy garb as “fag stuff”.
Variety‘s Rebecca Rubin is reporting that Universal has yet to announce a Japan release date for Chris Nolan‘s Oppenheimer, which opens everywhere else on 7.21.
I don’t know if Japanese distributors are åntsy about screening Oppenheimer or not, but it’s obviously understandable if they are. 200,000 Japanese civilians died after A-bombs were dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki on 8.6.45 and 8.9.45, respectively. If I was a Japanese citizen and my great-grandfather had been incinerated in one of those blasts, I would have issues.
And yet, oddly, Oppenheimer reportedly doesn’t dramatize these attacks upon Japan. It’s only fair to ask why. The essence of Oppenheimer’s personal tragedy and the A-bomb terror itself, after all, manifested less in the 7.16.45 Trinity explosion than in the murder of 200,000 Japanese civilians the following month. The story is the story.
Chris McQuarrie and Tom Cruise‘s film has 10 or 11 significant characters played by actors with facial and name-brand recognition, you see, and as I sat down at the AMC Empire two nights ago I hadn’t committed each and every name to memory, Atwell’s in particular.
So when I first laid eyes I thought “wait, who’s this again?” Then a thought flashed — “wow, Kate Mara must be around 40 but she’s looking good, except she looks chiselled…has she had work done?” Plus she was speaking with a hint of a British accent but I figured this was part of the performance.
In fact Atwell and Mara, who look like sisters, were born only 14 months apart — Mara on 2.27.83 and Atwell on 4.5.82.
Then Atwell’s name came to mind, but I haven’t paid much attention to her career. I don’t even recall her performance in Ant Man, nor do I remember her from Woody Allen‘s Cassandra’s Dream, and the only Haley that was coming to mind was Haley Bennett, except she’s a ginger and roughly five years younger than Atwell and Mara.
I put it all together when the film ended, of course, and I started researching.
I’m sure that HE’s wretched slimy bedbug commenters will call me a moron for mistaking Atwell and Mara, but they’re determined to be dicks no matter what. The photos speak for themselves. Maras’s nose is a bit smaller and narrower.
Yesterday the Supreme Court ruled to eliminate affirmative action — i.e., racial preferences in college admissions. In other words, no more college or university acceptances based on “this kid’s grades aren’t what they could or should be but he/she has experienced everyday racism and a culturally disadvantaged life in other respects so let’s cut him/her a break, and in so doing try to redress social wrongs.”
Affirmative action, in short, was about addressing the inescapable fact that life is unfair. From the vantage point of the early to mid ’60s, life had always been deeply unfair for persons of color.
The term was first heard via “Executive Order No. 10925“, signed by JFK on 3.6.61 — over 62 years ago. On 9.24.65, LBJ issued Executive Order 11246, which required government employers to “hire without regard to race, religion and national origin” and “take affirmative action to ensure that applicants are employed and that employees are treated during employment, without regard to their race, color, religion, sex or national origin.”
As a lad I was subjected to a standardized educational meritocracy, which I personally found brutal and exclusionary because the system back then wasn’t geared to recognize and accept, much less encourage, intelligent rule-breakers and clear-light-seekers like myself.
If you wanted to get into a top university you had to play along, ace your SATs and manage an excellent grade-point average…period. Alas, like Oliver Stone, Jim Morrison and others from a certain spiritual congeregation, I was more into the poetry of experience and upheaval and transformational rock music and pyschedelic Bhagavad Gita fulfillment than studying and brown-nosing my way into a sanctified community of Ivy League shitheads who play golf on weekends.
Affirmative action dismantled much of that for certain under-privileged youths, but now it’s back to struggling and scrambling and trying to out-point or out-maneuver those brilliant Asians and those smart white kids with rich parents. The unfairness of life has once again reared its head.
If I was a diehard progressive on a university admissions board, I would probably be telling myself “fuck those conservative Supremes…I’m going to finagle and pull strings and administratively pretzel-twist in order to approve disadvantaged kids of color anyway.” I can’t imagine that admissions criteria geared to favor non-whites and non-Asians whenever and wherever possible is going to just screech to a halt like that.
