In the wake of Bo Goldman‘s passing I’m fully aware of what I’m supposed to say, which is that his screenplays were wonderful.

Well, I’m sorry but over the decades I never regarded Goldman as much more than a good, respected, dependable craftsman.

That’s not a putdown as very few screenwriters have made their way into that kind of pantheon, but I never thought of Goldman as one of the pip-pip-pips. I’ve understood for decades that everyone thought he was great, and I never offered an argument.

I’ve never mentioned that 34 or 35 years ago I was assigned to write coverage of Goldman’s screen adaptation of Susan Minot‘s “Monkeys“, and I honestly didn’t think it was all that rich or profound or even, to be perfectly frank, good.

Tonally Goldman’s Monkeys reminded me of the fractured and despairing family weltschmerz that Goldman’s Shoot The Moon was consumed by.

The best line in that 1982 Alan Parker film, which I never liked all that much, was when Albert Finney said that “San Francisco could die of quaint.” I also got a huge kick out of Finney destroying Peter Weller‘s backyard landscaping with his station wagon…crazy nuts.

But I loved Goldman’s script of Melvin and Howard, for the most part. And I admire his screenplays for Scent of a Woman and The Flamingo Kid (uncredited).

I never loved anything about Milos Forman‘s One Flew over The Cuckoo’s Nest (’75), Goldman’s adapted screenplay included, and I’m saying this as a guy who once played Dr. Spivey in a Stamford, Connecticut stage production of the 1962 play, written by Dale Wasserman and based on Ken Kesey’s 1962 novel.

Not coming to a theatre near you. Not even playing at a North American film festival (including Telluride!). Because the monsters are calling the shots on Maple Street, and that means Polanski’s The Palace has also been kibboshed.

You can immediately feel confidence and stylistic swagger in this scene from Roman Polanski‘s The Palace. The lighting and staging and whipsmart dialogue and generally disciplined atmosphere are aces…anything but rote. It’s obvious that a major-league director shot and blocked this scene out to the last precise detail.

If it wasn’t Polanski at the helm of this dark period comedy (shot in Gstaad), it could be early ’70s Bernardo Bertolucci or Luchino Visconti.

The cinematographer is Pawel Edelman (The Pianist, An Officer and a Spy, The Ghost Writer).

So that’s not Mads Mikkelsen as the top hotel guy? MM isn’t listed in the IMDB or Wikipedia credits, but it sure looks like him (or his twin brother).

I would much rather see The Palace than sit through Kate Winslet‘s Lee, which will debut in Toronto. Winslet trashed Polanski and Woody Allen three years ago, and I’m not about to forgive her any time soon.

With due respect and fond affection, I don’t find the prospect of watching The Great Escaper enticing.

Hanging with the seriously withered Michael Caine and Glenda Jackson, I mean. For reasons that need no explanation or elaboration. Very sorry. Give me Get Carter and Sunday Bloody Sunday, thanks.

From a recent Standard piece by Elizabeth Gregory:

“There was never any question that 89-year-old Bernard Jordan would take part in the 70th anniversary D-Day commemorations in June 2014. The British veteran, who had been a navy officer during the Second World War, had lost many of his friends in its bloody battles, and he planned to pay his respects.

“What was more unexpected, was that Jordan decided to attend the D-Day celebrations in France. And given that he lived in a nursing home in England, which he had to cunningly break out of to make the trip, it made his ambitions all the more surprising. But of course the ex-Mayor and town councillor succeeded, popping up in Normandy a couple of days after disappearing from his Hove care home.

“The film runs along two timelines. In the present day, octogenarians Bernard and Rene Jordan live together in a home and sometimes find themselves feeling disjointed from modern society. And the film flashes back to when they were young: it depicts their love story, as well as Jordan’s memories — or perhaps imagined memories — of his friends in peril on the beaches during the Normandy landings.”

Yesterday HE commenter “Correcting Jeff,” a consistently irritating bringer of nagging neghead vibes for several years, took issue with my…actually the world’s opinion that the sad legend of the late Sinead O’Connor was launched and powerhoused over an eight-year period — Dublin ‘85 to late ‘92, or between age 17 and 24.

HE reply: It’s a FACT, Clarabelle. I know, I get it…the concept of peak years and career arcs is so upsetting to you. Hell, to most of us. Why can’t we just say that Sinead’s career was simply and radiantly wonderful from start to finish?

Brilliant surges come and go, ebb and flow. What are artists but mere conduits of random lightning bolts?

What mental health issues, right?

Why can’t we at least agree that Sinead saved and freed herself by ripping up that Pope photo?

Well, here it is…

Like it or not, those of us with a semblance of drive and ambition tend to experience the same chapters — early stirrings, ascending, peak crackerjack, settle-down and gradual decline.

John Lennon’s peak Beatle years numbered seven or eight — ‘62 Hamburg to ‘69 or ‘70. His peak solo years came to four or five — Plastic One Band (‘70) to the L.A. lost weekend / Harry Nilsson phase of ‘74 and early ‘75. His last act rebound happened mostiy in late ‘79 and ‘80.

After charting her abusive childhood, the acclaimed 2022 Sundance documentary Nothing Compares focuses on Sinead’s mid ‘80s Dublin breakout and ends with the harshly negative reaction to her SNL Pope trashing in ‘92. It doesn’t dismiss her career since that climactic incident but it adheres to the basic summary, the basic rise-and-fall dynamic of those eight years.

“Oppenheimer was very good but EXTREMELY DENSE, and it’s kind of crazy how even though the movie was three hours long it felt like they didn’t have any spare time to add some expositional photography or moments of silence, except for the Trinity bomb test scene.

“Trinity aside it was pretty much a never ending chain of dialogue scenes. If they added some breathing room it could have been a solid miniseries but then it wouldn’t be on a big IMAX screen, which was nice but not 100% necessary. And honestly? The Trinity explosion seemed a tiny bit understated.

“So it’s good, yes, but something you really need to prepare yourself for mentally and physically.

“I could have used a more comfortable theatre chair, all things considered.”

Nobody knows why Sinead O’Connor has left this mortal coil at age 56, but there are indications that the legendary singer-songwriter, deeply depressed over the January 2022 suicide of her 17-year-old son Shane, may have taken her life over same.

I’m very, very sorry about this sudden tragedy. No one on planet earth ever quite compared with Sinead, particularly during her eight-year heyday between the mid ‘80s and early ‘90s. She was an Irish banshee genius of the absolute highest order.

“Sinead O’Connor’s Beautiful Scream,” posted on 1.28.22: