You have to admire Martin Scorsese‘s “killer’ footwear combo….those shiny brown Italian loafers accented by violet socks…perfect. Especially compared to Steven Spielberg‘s whiteside lace-ups and maroon socks…atrocious. Older guys are allowed to wear comfort shoes, agreed, but whitesides are completely verboten.
Marty looks like an elegant resident of Bologna or Milan…Spielberg looks like Joe Schlubbo at the hardware store.
Brooklyn friendo to HE: “Now that Napoleon is out of the running, it’s Killers of the Flower Moon vs. Oppie….neck and neck until March. Maestro may have given you multiple orgasms but that’s not gonna be universal. Bitch and moan all you want but you’re not changing this narrative.”
HE to Brooklyn friendo: “Honest people are admitting all over town that Oppenheimer is a brilliant film but a long, punishing sit. And nobody really likes Killers of the Flower Moon, and the Ernest and Molly Burkhart relationship, though based on fact, seems nonsensical. Neither film is really daring or delicious or devastating…neither delivers the kind of emotional highs that win Oscars. Oppenheimer tires, exhausts, depletes, gives you a headache, makes your legs ache.
In the minds of average non-obsessives the top two contenders are The Holdovers and Maestro…hands down.”