Posted earlier today on Awards Daily:

Without a permit or even a great deal of preparation, photographer Robert Sebree shot this legendary Sunset Boulevard snap of Farrah Fawcett, 52, on a warm morning in 1999.

What kind of crew did Sebree have? What was she standing on? What painting was it based upon? What kind of stretch wrap? How was it lighted? How long did she pose? Any trouble with gawkers? In a 4.7.14 essay about working with Fawcett, Sebree reveals no technical shooting details at all.

Fawcett passed 10 years later from cancer, aged 62.

Demi Moore winning a Best Comedy/Musical Actress Golden Globe award was the only heart moment during last Sunday’s GG broadcast. She is therefore the only presumed Best Actress nominee with a compelling narrative, the handcicappers are all saying. But how genuine was the story that Moore recited?

“Thirty years ago, I had a producer tell me that I was a ‘popcorn actress,’ and at that time, I [took] that to mean that…I could do movies that were successful and made a lot of money, but that I couldn’t be acknowledged, and I bought in and I believed that. That corroded me over time, to the point where I thought a few years ago that maybe this was it, maybe I was complete, maybe I had done what I was supposed to do.

“And [just] as I was at kind of a low point, I had this magical, bold, courageous, out-of-the-box, absolutely bonkers script come across my desk called The Substance. And the universe told me that ‘you’re not done.’”

Except over the last 40 years Moore wasn’t pushed and bullied into a mainstream megaplex career, which is what that producer meant when he used the term “popcorn.” I’ve never read or heard that she tried to prove her arthouse mettle by appearing in edgy Sundance films, and as far as I know she wasn’t kept down and put in a confining box by big, bad studio execs — she went for big, attention-getting, high-paying roles in mainstream films, and she became rich and famous and lived a very flush life. She chose this path while the choosing was good.

She did Brat Pack roles, sexy hottie parts, romantic relationship roles, femme fatale roles…Blame It on Rio, St. Elmo’s Fire, About Last Night…, Ghost, A Few Good Men, Indecent Proposal, Disclosure, Striptease, The Scarlet Letter, The Juror, G.I. Jane. True, she played a small part in the arthousey Margin Call but that was 14 years ago after her career flame had cooled. And last year she did Feud: Capote vs. The Swans.

In short, Moore never tried to be in a critically-approved, Cannes-worthy, outside-the-box feminist statement film, and certainly not in a body-horror film. She only took the lead in The Substance when she calculated that she’d aged out (duhhh) and a role like this was her only likely shot at prominence, just like Bette Davis and Joan Crawford signed up for hag horror in the ’60s.

Moore played it smart, and the gamble has obviously paid off. Coralie Fargeat knew how to make a David Cronenberg film, although The Subtance ie not an emotional, soul-baring film…far from it.

Moore’s Elizabeth Sparkle character is basically a scream queen role…except she doesn’t scream. It’s essentially about ghastly stuff that happens to the poor woman because she’s desperate to stay in the game. It’s a film driven by feminist smirk-rage about a system rigged by exploitive male assholes, and yet a system that just about every Type-A woman has bought into and tried to compete in. Including Demi Moore herself.

It’s not about Moore reaching into her soul and delivering the performance of her life, but about Moore playing a victim…a desperate character reacting to horrific things that are happening to her. The Substance never strays from that path.

Posted last September:

If Demi Moore scores an Oscar nom for going all body horror in The Substance…fine. But it’ll be one of those gold-watch, career tribute deals…a gesture that says “40 years, Demi!…we’ve all loved you since your Brat Pack heyday and your ‘90s heyday and here you still are,” etc.

The Substance is basically a slick, David Cronenberg-ian social satire, and it doesn’t ask Moore to do much more than deliver extreme reactions to the extreme things that happen more and more to her body. It’s not a heart-and-soul thing — it’s a freak-out thing.

We all know how the old virtue-signalling two-step goes. It’s been a common refrain since ’16 or thereabouts.

Boiled down, critics and columnists aren’t allowed to dismiss or pooh-pooh performances by actors of color. Most of us also understand that the spark and strategy behind fascinating (as well as less-than-fascinating) performances have no tribal component, but try telling that to the scold brigade. On the other hand since the Obama era there’s been a kneejerk tendency to praise any and all performances by non-white actors, just to be on the safe side.

For the sin of not being a fan of Sing Sing and feeling a tad sleepy about Colman Domingo‘s lead performance in that underwhelming film, “bentrane” tried yesterday to indict Hollywood Elsewhere for the usual racist discrimination, etc.

“It’s truly amazing that nearly every time a POC is nominated, you declare it a DEI choice,” he wrote. “First of all, Domingo totally deserves his nomination for his searing, uplifting performance. And the way you relate to nominations like his is truly ugly.”

HE reply: Many actors have given, currently give and always will give performances that are praiseworthy for reasons that have nothing to do with DEI instincts among lockstep virtue signallers like “bentrane.” I won’t take the bait or push back against his punitive tactics by listing several of these actors, some of whom are non-Anglos but are all pro-level artists, conveyers and communicators.

Sing Sing was/is a sensitive whiff. I saw it inside the AMC Lincoln Square last summer, and while it was effective in a certain heart-baring, docudrama-ish way it also just fucking LAID THERE. Domingo’s “I feel it so deeply…this is what I do as my eyes glisten and moisten…can you FEEL ME feelin’ it, not just in my performances but during interviews on the red carpet?” schtick is fine as far it goes, but don’t tell me it’s not patented schtick. His lead performance in Rustin was all about that.

What is empathy schtick? It’s when you can sense and at times literally SEE the gears moving.

Remember the twitchy, neurotic Jack Lemmon schtick that he used in damn near every film (and often effectively — don’t get me wrong) once he became the patented, Oscar-approved “Jack Lemmon” in the mid ‘60s? Colman Domingo is doing the exact same thing these days.

Imagined bentrane: “You can say that about Lemmon and other actors who’ve developed a certain dependable schtick that has worked with many critics and often with Academy voters, but you CAN’T say that about Colman Domingo because if you do you’re a truly ugly racist, not to mention a homophobe.”

”Bentrane”, in short, is not only practicing but enforcing a form of award-season identity admonishment — think and say the right things about certain distinguished actors of color or you’ll be tied to the whipping post.

Inner “bentrane” frustration: “If only I could use some kind of race-card admonishment to castigate Wells for his expressions of pique and annoyment about Adrien Brody’s ‘Brutalist’ performance, but I can’t, dammit! Wait…maybe if I call him an anti-Semite? That might work!”

Less than two hours ago (1.59 pm Eastern) TMZ reported that the sprawling Mediterranean home of Steven Spielberg has not succumbed to the Palisades fire! Forbes had reported otherwise but good news!

Earlier this morning: Until this morning I hadn’t heard that the Palisades fire has reduced Steven Spielberg’s Pacific Palisades home (Amalfi Drive near Spoleto Drive, adjacent to Santa Monica Canyon) to cinders. Update: Casa Spielberg is safe!

I had never visited, of course, or even looked past the tall hedges (Tatiana and I would stroll right by during our weekend Pacific Palisades hikes) but photos tell us it was a beautiful, sprawling, old-world Mediterranean palazzo. Actually “a little Spanish, a little French and a little Italian,” Spielberg told his redesign architect Harry Newman.

Renovated by Newman in the late ’80s and profiled in ’89, the place was thoroughly infiltrated with Hollywood legend. Previous residents included Douglas Fairbanks, Jr., David O. Selznick and Cary Grant. “The history of the house attracted me instinctively,” Spielberg says. “It was important for me to know that Selznick had lived there during the time he produced Gone With the Wind.”

Homes can be rebuilt, of course, but the vibes of history (i.e., ghosts) can’t be replicated. Not to mention Spielberg’s own history. Think of the many movie-shoot artifacts that Spielberg or his staffers may not have had time to carry out. Think of the leather-bound scripts, the old photos and 3/4″ tapes, the Bluray collection, etc. Was the original Rosebud sled saved?

In 2018 Spielberg told BBC1 that the Indiana Jones whip and fedora, props from 1981’s Raiders of the Lost Ark, are kept in his office.

“This house was a burden of dreams,” Spielberg told Architectural Digest in a May 1989 article. “It was not an easy house to do. Somewhere in the back of my mind is the challenge of doing another house, but that’s far in the future.”

The home of Miles “don’t be a pervert, man” Teller was also eaten by the Palisades fire. Ditto the homes of Billy Crystal, Anthony Hopkins, James Woods, Mark Hamill, Mandy Moore, Adam Sandler, etc.

@michaellevitt_1 #greenscreen #hollywood #fire #pacificpalisades #palisades #malibu #la #celebrity #wildfire #famous #rich #fyp ♬ original sound – MICHAEL LEVITT

I generally go through my day-to-day without thinking about this kind of activity (i.e., sex between sea lions), but if I could clap my hands three times knowing that this would eradicate any and all thoughts of such arrangements…