I’ve been swooning over Halina Reijn’s film since I first saw it two weeks ago, and these neghead responses have left me crestfallen. One of the absolute finest films of the year is a complete flop with too many women. A 54% grade is basically a thumbs down — it’s not much different than a 30% or 20% grade — fail! — people are holding their noses.
An overlong, way-too-costly leviathan of a film that (a) nobody wants to re-watch, (b) will go down in history as the only Martin Scorsese movie that represented a totalcapitulationtowokeidentitypolitics (and in so doing jettisoned the legendary vitality of the Scorsese brand) and (c) provided a springboard for anunfortunateidentitycampaignforBest Actressthatweallhadtotolerateformonthsonend, despite the effort being doomed to fail on Oscar night because the performance was obviously supporting. What a drag all around.
Only now can the tragic embarrassment of KillersoftheFlowerMoon be fully comprehended.
One-third of the way through ACompleteUnknown there’s a brief shot of Timothee Chalamet flipping through vinyl albums inside Bleecker Bob’s, and we see glimpses of Dylan’s first album with Chalamet’s photo subbing for the Real McCoy.
We also glimpse one of Joan Baez’s early albums with Monica Barbaro on the cover.
Chalamet and Elle Fanning posed last year for a substitute version of the famous cover shot for TheFreewheelin’Bob Dylan. I’d like to see cover replica keepsakes of all the early to mid ‘60s Dylan albums, right on through to Highway61Revisited and Blonde on Blonde.
How do you “fall off” a moving vehicle? Even if the vehicle is a motorcycle and you’re a rear passenger who’s had a few, it’s fairly hard to fall the fuck off.
You’d have to be so drunk that your arrogance has over-ruled basic survival instincts, and that’s pretty damn stinko.
Have the reports about the death of Hudson Joseph Meek mentioned booze? Have they stated whether or not Meek was on a friend’s motorcycle or riding on top of someone’s car or on the bed of a pickup truck? Ofcoursenot.
I have a slight insight into this careless tragedy as I once rode spread-eagled atop a Ford LTD station wagon in the dead of night. I was in my late teens and half-bombed, but held on to the chrome luggage rack for dear life. It wasn’t that physically hard but my full attention and concentration were not a subject for debate — they were fully required.
Remember that moment in Goodfellas when Joe Pesci shoves an ice pick into the back of the head of Chuck Low‘s “Morrie” Kessler, the hugely obnoxious wig guy who was part of the Lufthansa heist? And Morrie goes “ahrgggghhh“? That’s what happened to Madame Web on Rotten Tomatoes. Not to mention Metacritic.
…that the percentage of really good films he’s starred in has been fairly low. Hanks has said this plain and straight.
It’s a basic creative and biological law that only about 10% of your films are going to be regarded as serious creme de la creme…if that. Most big stars (the smart ones) are given a window of a solid dozen years or so in which they have the power, agency and wherewithal to bring their game and show what they’re worth creatively. We all want to be rich, but the real stars care about making their mark.
Most name-brand directors, producers and actors enjoy 12-year streaks when everything is cooking and breaking their way. Some directors and actors are lucky enough to last 15 or 20 years or even longer. Your task, should you choose to accept it (and I know I’ve posted about this before), is to list any number of Hollywood heavyweights and when their 12-year hot streaks (or better) happened.
I’m not talking about the ability to work or get work — I’m talking about the years of serious heat and the best years falling into place.
Cary Grant peaked from the late ‘30s to late ‘50s.
James Cagney between PublicEnemy and WhiteHeat — call it 20.
James Stewart between DestryRidesAgain and AnatomyofaMurder — 20.
Clark Gable’s hottest years were between ItHappenedOneNight (‘34) and The Hucksters (‘47).
Humphrey Bogart happened between High Sierra / TheMalteseFalcon (‘41) and TheHarderTheyFall (‘56) — a 15-year run.
Robert Redford peaked between Butch Cassidy (‘69) and Brubaker and OrdinaryPeople (‘80) — 11 to 12 years.
Elizabeth Taylor had 15 years — 1950 (Father of the Bride) to 1966 (Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf).
Jean Arthur — mid ’30s to early ’50s (Shane) — call it 15 years.
Katharine Hepburn — early ’30s to early ’80s (On Golden Pond).
Meryl Streep — 1979 (The Seduction of Joe Tynan) to today…40 years and counting.
Martin Scorsese is the king of long-lasting directors — Mean Streets (’73) to Killers of the Flower Moon (’22)…a half-century!
John Huston had about 15 years — 1941 (The Maltese Falcon) to 1956 (Moby Dick).
Alfred Hitchcock had 23 years — ’40 (Rebecca) to ’63 (The Birds).
Steven Soderbergh‘s had 23 years so far — 1989 (sex, lies and videotape) to 2012 (Magic Mike) and he’s obviously still kicking.
John Ford enjoyed 27 good years — ’35 (The Informer) to ’62 (The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance).
John Wayne had an amazing 37 years — 1939 (Stagecoach) to 1976 (The Shootist).
George Clooney‘s peak period lasted almost 20 years.
Tony Curtis‘s hot streak was relatively brief — 1957 (Sweet Smell of Success) to 1968 (The Boston Strangler).
Kirk Douglas had about 15 years — Champion (’49) to Seven Days in May (’64).
Richard Burton — 1953 (The Robe) to 1977 (Equus) — almost 25.
During my two viewings of A Complete Unknown I’ve understood and enjoyed a fair amount of Timothee Chalamet‘s Dylan dialogue. but only about…oh, 60% or 70% at most. But when I watch the YouTube teaser clips with headphones, I can hear each and every vowel and syllable. The Searchlight trailer makers have simply mixed the sound so you can really hear the words while James Mangold‘s feature mix…not so much.
Don’t tell me it’s my fucking hearing…the dialogue is sharper and cleaner in the trailers, and that’s all there is to it. No arguments and fuck off.
“Not happening…way too laid back…zero narrative urgency,” I was muttering from the get-go. Basically the sixth episode of White Lotus Thai SERIOUSLY disappoints. Puttering around, way too slow. Things inch along but it’s all “woozy guilty lying aftermath to the big party night” stuff. Glacial pace…waiting, waiting. I was told...
I finally saw Walter Salles' I'm Still Here two days ago in Ojai. It's obviously an absorbing, very well-crafted, fact-based poltical drama, and yes, Fernanda Torres carries the whole thing on her shoulders. Superb actress. Fully deserving of her Best Actress nomination. But as good as it basically is...
After three-plus-years of delay and fiddling around, Bernard McMahon's Becoming Led Zeppelin, an obsequious 2021 doc about the early glory days of arguably the greatest metal-rock band of all time, is opening in IMAX today in roughly 200 theaters. Sony Pictures Classics is distributing. All I can say is, it...
To my great surprise and delight, Christy Hall's Daddio, which I was remiss in not seeing during last year's Telluride Film Festival, is a truly first-rate two-hander -- a pure-dialogue, character-revealing, heart-to-heart talkfest that knows what it's doing and ends sublimely. Yes, it all happens inside a Yellow Cab on...
7:45 pm: Okay, the initial light-hearted section (repartee, wedding, hospital, afterlife Joey Pants, healthy diet) was enjoyable, but Jesus, when and how did Martin Lawrence become Oliver Hardy? He’s funny in that bug-eyed, space-cadet way… 7:55 pm: And now it’s all cartel bad guys, ice-cold vibes, hard bullets, bad business,...