Repeating: Several White Lotus SPOILERS will follow…trust me!

The vaguely pear-shaped Sam Rockwell needs to slim down, no offense. Or at least not do any underwear scenes. Just saying.

Natasha Rothwell‘s Belinda Lindsey is too stupid to run her own business. Dumb as a rock. Thank God for her son, Zion — the smart, plain-spoken Nicholas Duvernay. The boy’s got a head for business.

No catharsis for Parker Posey! No nothin’, in fact. Except, maybe, a job at Wal-Mart when she gets back home.

The three girls deciding to be “happy together” like the Turtles is bullshit…total bullshit.

I’m glad that Sam Nivola‘s Lochlan Ratliff has had a mystical experience of some kind. Nearly meeting your maker (or, you know, nearly kissin’ the eternal) will do that.

I somehow never realized Scott Glenn‘s ears were as big as they looked tonight. The real Robert Evans: “When you get older your teeth get smaller, your nose gets bigger, your ears get longer and your dick shrivels unless you take Cialis. And women don’t want to fuck you as much, or at all.” Oh, and Glenn/Jim is somebody’s father (last-minute surprise!).

The last shot of Walton Goggins‘ Rick Hatchett — his face — is a portrait of serenity and acceptance, so at least there’s that. Not so much Aimee Lou Wood‘s Chelsea, but them’s the breaks.

Jason Isaacs‘ Tim Ratliff damn near Jonestowned himself, his wife, daughter and older son, and then his blender concoction came thisclose to killing his younger son, and suddenly he’s at peace with himself? Now he’s finally ready to tell the truth and face the FBI? His entire family will quickly put two and two together, of course, and realize he nearly murdered them all…he’ll never have their love or trust again. Ever. Obviously.

Lalisa Manobal‘s “Mook” Sornsin to Tayme Thapthimthong‘s Gaitok, the pathetically wimpy security staffer: “My hero with a gun!! Because you’ve killed, I love you.”

Bodies! Bodies! Five bodies!

And all the White Lotus luxury spas are going to experience a decline in business, I’m afraid.

Hugs and condolences to the fans, friends and colleagues of Jay North, star of TV’s Dennis the Menace series (1959-1963), who’s passed from colon cancer at age 73.

North felt miserable and mistreated during filming on the series. He totally spilled the beans about this when John Hughes‘ Dennis the Menace movie opened in ’93.

The series was never funny, of course, but Walter Matthau‘s bathroom-agony scene in the film was and is hilarious.

You know before their 4.1.25 podcast starts that Quentin Tarantino and Roger Avary are going to more or less cream in their pants about Steven Spielberg‘s calamitous 1941.

They love the Mad Mad Mad Mad World-style energy, and that’s fine.

Tarantino: “It’s not funny hah-hah, but it’s very impressive”

I tried re-watching 1941 a few years ago in the living room…no way. I started fast-forwarding almost immediately.

I’m vividly recalling a mid-November screening at Universal’s midtown Manhattan screening room, two or three weeks before the 12.14.79 opening. I could feel the disaster vibes less than 15 minutes in. At the very beginning Spielberg went with an homage to Jaws…winking at his own legend. I murmured to a friend, “Oh, God…this is bad, bad…really bad.” Sitting through the remainder was agony.

Michael O’Donoghue reportedly had some pin-on buttons made that said, “John Belushi — born 1949 — died 1941.”

It’s been repeatedly made clear that film connoisseurs aren’t allowed to like or even respect Mike Nichols‘ The Day of the Dolphin (’73). For most critics the mixture of cloying sentimentality and rote thriller plotting (bad guys try to use a pair of talking, trusting dolphins for evil purposes) was intolerable.

But despite the torrent of acidic putdowns (“A thinking man’s Flipper…Flipper meets The Parallax View…calculated sentimentality that evokes Lassie Come Home….the most expensive Rin-Tin-Tin movie ever made” and so on) some of us were taken in. Me for one. I accepted the scientific premise and (go ahead, call me a putz) bought into the sentiment.

Dolpin obviously doesn’t work altogether (it’s intriguing but lacks conventional dramatic tension…there are flat portions) but it moved me at the very end (c’mon, it melted everyone), and there’s a hugely satisfying Act Three moment when the bad guys get their just desserts. Go to the 4:00 mark on the top video.

You can be as cynical as you want, but you can’t totally trash a film that (1) the director of The Graduate and Carnal Knowledge poured his heart and soul into, (2) Roman Polanski wanted to make for a while, (3) Nichols directed from a script by Buck Henry (no sentimental slouch, he), (4) starred an emotionally persuasive George C. Scott, and (5) benefits from a gentle, beautiful score by Georges Delerue.

Dolphin incidentally costarred a 29 year-old Edward Herrmann (slender, suntanned), and a decidedly chubby, 33-year-old Paul Sorvino.

There was another 1973 thriller with a five-word title that (a) dealt with a planned presidential assassination, and (b) used the same four words (The Day of the…). It was directed by Fred Zinneman and was instantly recognized (and is still respected today) as a quietly gripping, highly intelligent, real-world drama.

Jackal opened in mid-May of ’73 — Dolphin came along seven months later (12.19.73).