Jeffrey Wells, Bill McCuddy and Ed Douglas vigorously examining new films, Cannes ’24, likely Best Picture contenders, the new King-Godzilla flick, the new Woody, “Sasquatch Sunset”, etc.

This is a Misfits “halfer” — a 30-minute freebie. For the full 65-minute-podcast, click here.

If you’re looking to make a left turn at a stop-light intersection that doesn’t have a special left-turn lane and there are three or four cars with the same goal in mind, you know that only three cars will make the turn.

Four cars never make it — three at the most and sometimes only two.

But the only way three can get through is for car #1 to drive into the middle of the intersection with its left-signal flashing, and also for car #2 to be right behind car #1 with its nose just ahead of the foot-traffic crosswalk, and car #3 right behind #2, usually behind the crosswalk.

When the light turns yellow and opposing traffic is coming to a halt is when everyone makes their move — cars #1 and #2 without breaking a sweat with car #3 barely making it through after the light has turned red.

But the whole system collapses if car #1 doesn’t nudge into the center of the intersection, and this is what today’s traffic rant is about — candy-asses who are afraid to move into the middle.

There are some who will only creep two or three or four feet beyond the white line as if they’re afraid of something bad will happen, and there are others who won’t move forward at all — who just stay in the left lane with their left signal blinking.

Meep meep…will you move ahead, please? Are you aware that if you hang back like a coward you’ll be condemning the third guy to wait for another light change? Show a little consideration and get out there.

“Bugsy would not have been the densely detailed and complexly imagined film that it is without the pooled-together contributions of producer-star Warren Beatty, screenwriter James Toback and director Barry Levinson.

“But one wonders what might have resulted had the authorial strands been pulled apart and had Mr. Beatty been able to make another of his studies of an American naïf (following Clyde Barrow of Bonnie and Clyde, George the hairstylist of Shampoo and John Reed, the radical journalist of Reds) blundering as best he can through the social upheavals of an era; or had Mr. Toback, with his fascination with sex, power and the romantic fatalism of the gambler; or had Mr. Levinson fully indulged his nostalgia for a lost era of sartorial elegance and tastefully lighted interiors.

“Levinson was the dominant force on the set, and the film duly reflects his fundamentally comic sensibility (even when the material dips into darkness) and affection for attention-grabbing period detail.” — from Dave Kehr’s 12.12.06 review of the Bugsy extended-cut DVD.

Two more observations about Francis Coppola‘s Megalopolis, which was seen last Thursday morning by an elite crowd of 300 or so at Universal City IMAX:

Observer #1: “Megalopoplis is about as non-Joe Popcorn a movie as one can imagine. But it is so startling, so original and sometimes downright confounding that there is a certain strata of moviegoer who will see it out of raw curiosity…especially if critics get behind it and if there is a major PR campaign.

“I don’t know if the print we saw [last Thursday] is finished or not. I hope Francis clarifies the story so audiences have something to hang onto. The first approximately 50 to 60 per cent of the film is much better than the last part because you lose track of the story and become bored.

“It is nonetheless a bold and utterly original film, and for that Francis will get tons of credit from some quarters.”

Observer #2: “There will be many and varied responses to this film. Those who love it for its boldness will be right. and those who dismiss it for the same reason will, if you insist, also be correct. And perhaps the film’s natural, eventual home will be in art museums.

“Megalopolis will require careful and loving handling, which may turn out to be an impossible task in today’s market. But here’s hoping otherwise.”

I haven’t written anything by hand in literally decades. Maybe an occasional sentence or two but I haven’t hand-penned so much as a paragraph, much less a personal letter, since the mid ‘70s. Professionally-speaking from the Jimmy Carter era onward it was all typewriting until word processing (Wordstar) began in the mid ‘80s.

Yesterday I bought a note pad and a couple of pens. It’ll take a while but I’m going to force myself into the practice of occasional hand jottings. The idea, I suppose, is that writing by hand is somehow more pure or direct or something. I only know that I want to re-learn or recreate the skill of what used to be called half-assed cursive.

Maybe I’ll branch out into occasional drawing — I used to draw faces and figures lot in my tween years. I took a drawing class at Silvermine when I was 16 or 17.

During last night’s SNL monologue, comedian-actor-writer Ramy Youssef, 33, said he’s not happy about voting for Biden or Trump, and would prefer a woman candidate (HE feels the same as long as the woman candidate isn’t Kamala Harris) or even a trans-woman.

Youssef is half-playing around and half-serious, and so am I. If there was a formidable biomale trans candidate as smart and practical-minded as Pete Buttigieg (i.e., not a woke lunatic), HE would vote for her. But of course, the odds of a formidable biomale trans candidate even getting through the primary process are negligible so what are we even talking about?

…for encouraging social standards that frown upon traditional male energy and identities in favor of politically cautious, laid-back girlyman attitudes, hence the phenomenon of depressed, drifting, girlfriend-less young men, hence “wokefish.”

…in a more profound and heartfelt way than most present-day “Christians” understand this all-but-superfluous holiday, and I’m bending over backwards in saying this.

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Another indication that woke terror ain’t what it used to be (i.e., back in ’19, ’20 and ’21) is that genius comic Anthony Jeselnik, whose material uses “ironic misdirection, non sequiturs, biting insults, low-key arrogance along with amoral or psychopathic stances,” is alive and well and un–cancelled.

Nobody pulls off the “icy but casual sociopath with a chuckle” thing better than Jeselnik.

His career started to really happen in his early 30s, or around the beginning of the Obama era. He had a nearly four-year relationship with Amy Schumer. I know the #MeToo brigade hates him, and that at the peak of their “cancelling careers and destroying lives” power in the late teens and early ’20s they would have loved to terminate Jeselnik with extreme prejudice, but somehow he’s still thriving.