Day: September 29, 2024

I Really Remember The Guy

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The great Kris Kristofferson — poet, troubador, songwriter, actor, hang-back guy — has passed at age 88.

Film acting-wise, Kris enjoyed a truly great peak period between the early ‘70s and early ‘80s. I think his finest all-time role and performance was in Paul Mazursky‘s Blume in Love (‘73).

His decade-long run: Cisco Pike (‘72), Pat Garrett and Billy The Kid (‘73), Blume in Love, Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore (‘74), Bring Me The Head of Alfredo Garcia (‘74), The Sailor Who Fell From Grace With The Sea (‘76), A Star Is Born (‘76), Semi–Tough (‘78), Heaven’s Gate (‘80), Rollover (‘81).

It’s been 43 years, but I seem to recall Rollover being a relatively decent effort. Second-tier Alan Pakula but passable. It more or less predicted the 2009 worldwide crash, and the legitimized-with-empty-bullshit reasons why it would happen. And it was made right as the Reagan administration was deregulating the crap out of everything.

David Shaber (The Warriors, Last Embrace, Hunt for Red October) wrote it. Key line: “Of course it’s a game…that’s ALL it is.”

But Rollover was largely sold as a hot-sex-in-high-places thing**. Wall Street hotshot Kris Kristofferson, looking buff and well-coiffed in one perfectly-tailored three-piece suit after another, giving Jane Fonda‘s chemical-company chairperson the old invitational eye-twinkle.

Hume Cronyn, as First New York Bank chairman Maxwell Emery, delivered the reality-check assessments, and very effectively.

Fonda and Kristofferson were allegedly involved during filming (i.e., one of those “what happens during filming stays there and goes no further” affairs), but I only heard this once from a second-hand source.

I checked Amazon and Vudu to see if it’s streaming in high-def…nope. I can’t roll with 480p any more.

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Genuinely Funny

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For me reel #1 is best between 4:50 and 5:23, and don’t miss Siskel’s anti-Protestant rant starting at 6:50.

And in reel #2, Siskel’s Roger-can’t-say-no-to-anything-at-McDonald’s starts at :55.

“Saturday Night” Forced-Deck Stategy Isn’t Believable

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“When I first heard about the premise of Jason Reitman’s Saturday Night — the entire film takes place in the 90 minutes leading up to the late-night comedy landmark’s first episode in 1975 — it seemed like there would be a backstage let’s-put-on-a-show “What can go wrong? Everything can go wrong!” real-time frenetic bustle to the thing. And that sounded like fun.” — from Owen Gleiberman‘s “What Does Saturday Night Think Saturday Night Live Is About?“, posted this morning.

It didn’t sound like “fun” to me for I knew what Chevy Chase has recently stated, which is that the material that would consitute the first episode (skits, jokes) had been very thoroughly rehearsed and worked out down to the tiniest little detail. So the final 90 minutes before the show went on the air live couldn’t be hellzapoppin’. Nobody on the show (Lorne Michaels, writers, performers) could or would have been that improvisational or self-destructive.

So the film is just dishonest about how this NBC counter-culture comedy show came together all those years ago. It’s a phony scheme, I mean. The performers (dull-as-dishwater Gabrielle LaBelle aside) are pretty good but I wasn’t buying the premise that it was all last-minute juggling. How could anyone?

Chevy Chase quote:

What Will Historians Say About Trump 50 Years Hence?

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They’ll be required to state the obvious, which is that there was something seriously wrong with the tens of millions who voted for Trump in ’24, despite knowing what kind of person he is and what he’s capable of, etc. Not that Kamala Harris doesn’t have issues and annoyances, but she’s at least sane and sensible and law-abiding. There are nonetheless millions of alleged adults who’ve been saying “no, I prefer the animal…I prefer the sociopath.”

“Daughters” Achieves Something Formidable

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I finally sat down with Azazel Jacobs‘ His Three Daughters on Netflix, and I have very little to add to what everyone else has been saying, which is that it’s a fairly delicious ensemble piece.

It’s about three adult-aged sisters (Carrie Coon‘s control-freak Katie, Natasha Lyonnes stoned-all-the-time Rachel and Elizabeth Olsen‘s space-casey Christina) tending to their dying dad (Jay O. Sanders) inside a dreary-looking apartment — almost all dialogue, great performances from everyone top to bottom but especially from Coon.

My favorite scene is when Katie and Rachel, who routinely get on each others’ nerves, lose their tempers and come damn close trading blows, but are prevented from doing so by a huddling, freaked-out Christina.

My only problem is with Sanders’ bulky, fleshy appearance. As soon as I saw him my suspension of disbelief went out the window. Sanders’ character has been dying for months and is very close to the end, and yet he’s got a fair amount of weight on him and his facial features have a jowly thing going on. The last time I checked older men who are cancer-wracked are fairly skinny and gaunt looking. Sanders is too beefy, too heavy-set….like a linebacker or a professional wrestler.

And I didn’t iike the Three Daughters apartment, which seems to be part of a Co-op City structure of some kind (fake-brick siding, chain-link fences, spindly trees, security guard downstairs). It appears to be located within a vaguely shitty Queens neighborhood that’e near an elevated subway line. Perhaps Washington Heighte but who wants to live in a soulless Queens or Bronx apartment complex…a place without any color or personality to speak of…generally lacking in real New Yorkyness?

And I wasn’t in love with Sam Levy‘s cinematography, which mostly emphasizss one color — amber gold– and always look soft and hazy to the point of the film almost seeming unfocused.