Day: July 4, 2025

July 4th Springsteen Reflections

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On Friday afternoon I asked Mark Kane, a friend since ‘80 and a devoted fan of Bruce Springsteen from way back, to write about the approach of Scott Cooper’s Deliver Me From Nowhere (20th Century, 10.24), a film about the making of Nebraska:

Kane: “Obviously, I love Bruce Springsteen.  I feel connected to him on many levels, and it’s been that way since 1975.  I buy all of his music and listen to it over and over.    

“That said, I’ve become a little uncomfortable with his increasing deification.   It reminds me a little, although the analogy is far from perfect, of what Noah Cross said in Chinatown: ‘Of course, I’m respectable…I’m old.’

“I guess there’s no getting around the fact that Bruce is old too. I don’t think we have many heroes these days, but Bruce seems to fit the bill. And yet rock and roll, as I understand it, wasn’t about being respectable.  It was about something much different, perhaps even the opposite of being respectable. 

“I also felt Bruce was a good guy, perhaps better than just good, but he wasn’t perfect.  He was a guy trying to figure it out, just like we all were, and that was one of the things I loved about him.  The evolution of his music showed him trying to figure it out. I could relate.

 “Which brings me to Nebraska, which came out in 1982 after The River.  At that point, it was another example of Bruce doing his thing.  Sure, it was different than his other records but it wasn’t that big a leap to follow Bruce down that dark and dusty road.  After all, Dylan had evolved and we all kept up.  So had the Beatles.   

“The songs on Nebraska were good, and some bordered on great: “Atlantic City”, “Nebraska”, “State Trooper”, “Open All Night”, “Highway Patrolman”.  Everyone has their favorites. 

“My brother-in-law, a banjo player who isn’t much into commercial rock, was a big fan of Nebraska.  I remember him saying that it was the one that made him impressed with Springsteen.  Movies have been inspired by the record.  The songs have been covered by many other artists, Johnny Cash, The Band, etc. Ryan Adams has covered the entire record.

“Nebraska isn’t a ‘respectable’ record.   It’s an outlaw thing.  A recording of someone exorcising demons.  The narrators of those songs are fucked up.  So it’s a brave record.  The lo-fi production values (it was recorded at home) seemed risky. And given the trajectory of Springsteen’s career at the time, just after The River and right before Born In The USA, it was a detour that was surprising and perhaps a little dangerous career-wise. 

“Interestingly, Nebraska sold well, soaring high on the charts and becoming certified Platinum.  It continues to be revered.

“Which brings me to Deliver Me From Nowhere. I haven’t worked up much enthusiasm so far. The trailer tells us that Springsteen has become such an icon in our society.  The movie, as far as I can see from the trailer, is part of the myth-making. 

“But the dialogue in the trailer is Hollywood-reverent in a way that makes me somewhat uncomfortable.  Jeremy Strong’s (Jon Landau) dialogue in the trailer is…well, I admire his commitment, but it seems kind of silly (‘He’s going to repair the world’).

“I’m sure Jeremy Allen White’s Bruce will be very good.  But if I want to see young Bruce Springsteen, I can rent the No Nukes concert video of his performance only, which is truly awesome.  I’m not sure I want, or need, to see someone playing Bruce Springsteen at this point.  There are still too many ways for me to see Springsteen himself at every stage of his career.   

“I also have my memories.  Perhaps that is the most important thing.  I don’t want the movie to interfere with my memories of what I thought and felt about Springsteen when Nebraska came out. 

“In his concerts, Springsteen told us about his relationship with his father.  I’ve read the interviews through the years about what he was trying to accomplish with the album.  I know about his struggle with relationships.  I’ve heard this story before.   It’s old news to me in one sense. 

“Perhaps the movie will be surprising in ways, but it will still be a movie with an actor and not the real thing.  In some ways, this isn’t a movie for me.  I guess it’s for a different generation.  That’s okay.  

“This is similar to the upcoming quartet of Beatles movies.  I’m not that interested in seeing actors play the Beatles.  A Hard Day’s Night is always streaming and it’s great to rewatch and admire it, and them.   

“Of course, I’ll probably end up seeing Deliver Me From Nowhere.   I’ve always assumed that there would be a movie made some day about Bruce.   But for some of the reasons above, I wish it hadn’t been made because Jeremy Allen White won’t be as good in my mind as the original, not even close, and it just interferes.”

Still Irked Over Shawn Levy’s “ew” Reaction to Holden-Lenz Relationship in “Breezy”

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In his just-published Clint Eastwood book, author Shawn Levy dismisses Breezy (’73), a gentle, deftly handled romantic drama about an affair between William Holden’s 50ish real-estate salesman and Kay Lenz’s free-spirited bohemian, with “ew, just ew” (actually pronounced “eeyooh”).

I really don’t like that kind of thinking or judging about a nicely honed, well-written film that isn’t even vaguely lewd, so here’s what I wrote this morning about the jailbait aspect:

“I think somewhat older guys (10 years older or less) should keep their distance until a woman has hit 20, or her junior year in college.

“That said, there are 30 states in which the age of consent is 16, and 7 states that determine consent can be given at 17. (Connecticut is one of the former.)

“Breezy happens in California (primarily the flush environs of Laurel Canyon and the surrounding hills), where the age of consent is 18. If you accept the film’s narrative about Lenz’s Breezy being 17, Holden is definitely outside the legal zone when their relationship becomes intimate.

“Then again the social perimeters of ‘70s culture, especially in the affluent regions of Los Angeles, were more liberal than in today’s post-#MeToo era, in which taking down or shaking down inappropriately frisky or even half-interested older guys is par for the course. In today’s culture adult males are deer, and every younger woman is armed with a rifle and ready to shoot at the drop of a hat.

“But it wasn’t like dudes in the ‘70s weren’t mindful of the dangers of jailbait. Holden’s real-estate shark is a fairly crusty and guarded type and obviously a social conservative, and yet he doesn’t have a line in which he even ALLUDES to the fact that the age of consent is 18. Does that make any sense?

“Plus it really doesn’t figure that Breezy is 17. She tells Holden that she graduated from high school a year prior to their meeing. It would have been fairly unusual if she’d graduated at 17, but let’s bend over backwards and say she did. It naturally follows she would be 18 when she meets Holden.

“On the face of it, this kind of age gap (roughly 40 years) is unappealing, granted. But it’s the singer, not the song. Eastwood directs and cuts it just so, and Jo Heim’s’ script is nicely sculpted with just the right amount of restraint.”

“Grand Prix” Again…No, Really

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Posted earlier today by gfoshizzle:

“Hey Jeff — I watched Grand Prix yesterday. For whatever it may be worth, it STILL is the quintessential car-racing film. Just a technical masterpiece from John Frankenheimer. I caught F1 in IMAX on the 23rd and enjoyed the hell out of it. But GP reaches for and finds a deeper place when it comes to super-fast, 180 mph racing and the competitive human spirit. The racing scenes are absolutely remarkable in their construction — you really do feel the speed in the final product. I had seen scenes of it before but had never sat for a full viewing, so glad I finally did. Thanks for recommending it.”

HE to MGM marketing (LBJ era): This 1966 poster art is shameless bullshit The mood of Grand Prix is tense, pensive, anxious, even melancholy at times. “I have a rendezvous with death” = nobody’s having a rollicking good time.

Hopper + Burroughs vs. Johnson

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Just for clarification’s sake, Dennis Hopper directed The Hot Spot. To further clarify, I don’t think I’ve ever seen it. Okay, maybe I did see it and put it out of my mind. But if not, maybe I should? A sexually simmering, small town noir-slash-potboiler, based on “Hell Hath No Fury“, a 1953 novel by Charles Williams, who also co-wrote the screenplay.

style=”color: #c9c8cd; font-family: Arial,sans-serif; font-size: 14px; line-height: 17px; margin-bottom: 0; margin-top: 8px; overflow: hidden; padding: 8px 0 7px; text-align: center; text-overflow: ellipsis; white-space: nowrap”>A post shared by Don Johnson Actor For Life | Admin: Bibi | 55 years with DJ (@donjohnson.actor.for.life)

Somehow Missed This Three Weeks Ago

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No firm release date for Apple’s The Lost Bus, but with Paul Greengrass directing you know it’ll be fairly decent, at worst. Greengrass (United 93) doesn’t fool around.

Based on Lizzie Johnson’s “Paradise: One Town’s Struggle to Survive an American Wildfire“.

A bus driver (Matthew McConaughey) has to navigate a bus carrying children and their teacher (America Ferrera) to safety through the 2018 Camp Fire, which became the deadliest fire in California history.

“Fantastic Four” Feels Like A Form of Cancer

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I’m not going to say that I loathe and despise Marvel’s Fantastic Four: First Steps sight unseen, as that wouldn’t be fair or wise, much less patient.

And yet I do kinda feel this way. The light-blue color scheme — it’s basically The Jetsons within a Marvel universe — makes me feel nauseous. But let’s not go there until it screens.

I can at least say this: As one of the Fantastic Four is played by Joseph Quinn, who is destined to sully, vandalize and perhaps ruin the memory of George Harrison when Sam Mendes‘ quartet of Beatles biopics comes out in ’27…I can at least call myself a Fantastic Four hater because of Quinn alone.

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Posted on 6.5.25:

Snapped last night inside the big Danbury AMC, prior to catching Ballerina. Obviously the people behind Fantastic Four: First Steps (Disney, 7.25) have no shame. Has Pedro Pascal ever said no to anything or anyone? And the gingered Joseph Quinn, who will play the physically dissimilar George Harrison for Sam Mendes later this year…this, ladies and germs, is whoredom personified.

Leaked Daily Beast Review Says Gunn’s “Superman” Blows The Big One

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My head is spinning from the mere effort of trying to make sense of Nick Schager’s summary of the allegedly jumbled, gravity-free, Jasper Johns-like, geek-splattered plot in James Gunn‘s Superman (WB, 7.11).

Schager’s leaked Daily Beast review posted yesterday before being hastily taken down.

Imagine trying to follow or make sense of this Warner Bros. release on its own terms (and with shitty AMC multiplex sound to boot!) when it opens next week.

So now that the cat is out of the bag and the Superman review embargo is totally blown, will the trades follow suit today with their own reactions (whether positive, comme ci come ca or negative)? Will trade reviewers try to go a little easy out of sympathy, given the vitriolic tone of Schager’s review?

Here’s Schager’s review: Just as the seemingly indestructible Man of Steel is fatally weakened by kryptonite, so too is the once-unbeatable superhero genre gravely threatened by audience fatigue.

Tasked (alongside Peter Safran) with reinventing Warner Bros’ DC movie brand with an all-new “DC Universe,” director James Gunn strives to combat such lethargy with Superman, a rambunctious reboot of the Action Comics icon that, tonally and narratively, is the exact opposite of Zack Snyder’s grimdark predecessors.

It’s a big swing in a polar-opposite direction, and one that, alas, turns out be as big a whiff, resulting in a would-be franchise re-starter that resembles a Saturday morning cartoon come to overstuffed, helter-skelter life.

Superman’s hero is no brooding Snyder-ian Christ figure; rather, he’s a sweet and sincere do-gooder who uses the word “dude,” takes time out of fighting behemoths to save squirrels from harm, and believes that viewing everyone as beautiful is “punk rock.”

The same goes for Gunn’s film, which is set on an Earth overrun by metahumans, the most powerful of which is Superman (David Corenswet), who at outset crash lands in the Arctic after losing his first-ever fight to an armored adversary known as the Hammer of Boravia—a country whose attempts to start war with neighboring Jarhanpur was recently thwarted by Superman.

Dragged to the Fortress of Solitude by his caped canine companion Krypto, Superman is nursed back to health by his lair’s robot minions, all as he listens to an incomplete recording made by his parents that accompanied him on his initial journey to our planet.

Superman is soon back in the fight, although he doesn’t initially realize that his true enemy is Lex Luthor (Nicholas Hoult), whose unparalleled knowledge of the Kryptonian’s moves and instincts allows him to successfully direct the Hammer of Boravia in their clashes. Following this battle, Superman wrestles with growing political and public outrage over his rash unilateralism, and bristles at the nasty social media campaigns ruining his reputation.

He receives merely moderate support from Lois Lane (Rachel Brosnahan), his Daily Planet colleague as well as his girlfriend, whom he grants an interview only to immediately regret it. Everyone has doubts about the noble titan, including Green Lantern Guy Gardner (Nathan Fillion), who dubs him a “wuss” for wanting to study rather than kill a fire-breathing goliath, and who is partners with genius Mister Terrific (Edi Gathegi) and warrior Hawkgirl (Isabela Merced) in a trio he’s desperate to dub the “Justice Gang” (and whose headquarters is the classic Super Friends Hall of Justice).

Luthor is in league with the president of Boravia, whom he visits via portals through a “pocket universe” that he’s created, damn its potential to beget a reality-destroying black hole. He’s also determined to turn humanity against Superman by executing a scheme that raises nature-vs.-nurture questions this tale doesn’t seriously address.

Despite his enmity for metahumans and, particularly Superman, Luthor is aided in his quest by two superpowered minions, the nanotechnology-enhanced Engineer (María Gabriela de Faría) and the mute, masked Ultraman, who partake in some of Gunn’s elastic, hyper-speed skirmishes.

Superman doesn’t skimp on the high-flying action, to a fault; the film is so awash in over-the-top CGI insanity that its slam-bang mayhem loses its punch. Not helping matters, the charming Corenswet looks the part but, in the shadow of Christopher Reeve (whose son Will cameos) and Henry Cavill, he comes across as relatively slight—a situation exacerbated by the all-over-the-place nature of his saga.

Superman doesn’t establish its scenario so much as it situates viewers in media res and then asks them to hold on for dear life as it whiplashes about from one out-of-this-world locale and incident to another. While verve isn’t in short supply, substantiality is; by not first building a foundation for its fantasy, the film feels as if it’s operating in a comic-book sandbox devoid of any (literal or figurative) gravity.

That continues to be the case as Superman finds himself at the mercy of Luthor and is compelled to partner with the Justice Gang as well as Metamorpho (Anthony Carrigan), a shapeshifting creature whom he meets in an interdimensional prison that boasts an “anti-proton river,” and who asks him to rescue his giant-headed infant son from Luthor’s minions.

DC Comics die-hards may delight in Superman’s endless geekiness but everyone else is apt to feel adrift or, at least, along for a frenetic, flimsy ride that only feigns interest in actual emotion. Superman and Lois’ relationship gets about as much attention as do sequences in which the Daily Planet reporter flies a spaceship. And interjected into the middle of colorful chaos and madness, a trip back to Smallville to visit Ma (Neva Howell) and Pa Kent (Pruitt Taylor Vince) is too sketchy to generate aww-shucks pathos.

Unfortunately, the proceedings aren’t better when it comes to humor; though Gunn continues to be adept at balancing multi-character concerns, his script — unlike his superior Guardians of the Galaxy trilogy and 2021’s The Suicide Squad — delivers scant amusing one-liners or gags, save for cute Krypto’s habit of excitably wrestling and licking Superman at the least opportune moments.

With a chrome dome and a cocky sneer, Hoult makes for a faithful Luthor. However, as with Brosnahan and Skyler Gisondo as Jimmy Olsen—who has a straining-to-be-funny subplot involving Luthor’s selfie-loving girlfriend Eve (Sara Sampaio)—his performance is overwhelmed by the material’s endless sound and fury.

Zipping this way and that, Superman gets tangled up in fanciful nonsense that soon renders the entire affair superficial and silly. Similar to Snyder and Joss Whedon’s misshapen Justice League, Gunn’s spectacular overpopulates itself with heroes and villains it has neither the time nor the inclination to develop. Consequently, everyone and everything is two-dimensional, no matter that the director’s imagery is sharp and vibrant.

John Williams’ classic theme from Richard Donner’s 1979 Superman is heard (in different forms) throughout, yet it’s incapable of lending the scattershot film the magic it needs. Biting off more than it can chew, Gunn’s wannabe-blockbuster eventually resorts to setting up future franchise installments via quick-hit appearances from Maxwell Lord (Sean Gunn) and Supergirl (Milly Alcock). That’s not to mention by highlighting second-banana figures like Mister Terrific at the expense of fully establishing the altruistic heart of its protagonist, whose path toward self-actualization is mostly an afterthought.

Looking ahead rather than focusing on the here and now, this attempt at reimagining DC’s movie series ultimately proves to be more of the same old interconnected-universe bedlam that, at this point, is perilously close to going out of fashion.

WB’s Superman review embargo ends on Tuesday, July 8 at 3:00 pm eastern.