Pablo Larrain really needs to disengage from his cinematic obsession with bothered, conflicted, high-profile women.

First it was Jackie (’16), which starred Nathalie Portman as JFK’s widow — a film that I honestly didn’t care for. Five years later came Spencer (’21), a weird fantasy-laden psychodrama in which Kristen Stewart played Diana Spencer. And now comes Maria, a portrait of Maria Callas (Angelina Jolie) in the ’70s, directed by Larraín and written by Steven Knight.

Maria will probably debut in Venice and then play the Telluride Film Festival immediately after.

HE admired Jolie’s performance in A Mighty Heart, but turning her kids against their dad, Brad Pitt, to the point that a couple of them are looking to legally ditch the Pitt name… that’s just shitty. Abusive alcoholics who’ve gone sober and have cleaned up their act deserve a little slack, a little forgiveness. So if it’s okay HE’s basic attitude is “eff Jolie.” Which also means, for the time being, eff Maria unless it’s blazingly good or, you know, extra-special wowser.

… on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown. Alas, not directed by Pedro Almodovar.

Pablo Larrain’s Spencer (Neon, 11.5) is a simplistic, impressionistic head-trip film…a “poor free-spirited, pheasant-sympathizing, pearl necklace-loathing Diana vs. the cold, bloodless gargoyle royals” bullshit borefest.

A British critic has called it a “magnificent farce.” I’m sorry but that’s an absurd claim. It’s a surreal mindscape movie that has a half-decent singalong ending (“All I Need Is A Miracle”) but otherwise pretty much stays in the same place start to finish. It’s a kind of nightmarish Stepford Wives (or wife) in the country.

Kristen Stewart will be Best Actress nominated, I’m presuming. The narrative has already been written, right? The movie is appalling but she’s very good at what she’s been asked to do — let’s just leave it at that. Her Diana speaking voice is breathy and whispery and hard to understand, but that’s okay. We enjoy being in the dark about certain things.

Stewart plays the mad, close-to-cracking-up Diana to the unstable-adolescent-teenager, Julie Harris in The Haunting hilt — beset by visions & nightmares & the ghost of Anne Boleyn.

Spencer follows the wokester narrative that white elitism is evil and rancid and needs to be resisted at all costs. Because Diana needs to breathe, love, live, talk to pheasants and save her sons from those toxic royal traditions and soul-smothering attitudes.

Time and again and through Diana’s eyes, we see the royal family as frigid monsters. I was actually thinking back to The Ruling Class (’72) and Peter O’Toole’s “Mad Jack” impressions of the House of Lords being filled with decaying corpses.

But it’s all one note with no real shifting of tone or pace, and is mostly about gowns and servants and crates of delicious food and vast lawns and the shooting of skeet and birds by fine gentlemen… it’s a fairly monotonous film, I’m telling you. It’s weirdly trippy but it just lies there. Really.

In a sense Spencer is the return of Pablo Larrain‘s Jackie — another meditative, interior dialogue–y, “woe is me because I’m drowning in sadness” thing.

Welcome to the kingdom of morose moods and impressions…Diana’s tears and bulimia and resentments and escape fantasies.

What a flat, one-note, boring-ass hallucinatory downer by way of a character study (or is it the other way around?).

I didn’t care about poor Diana’s anguish at all…she’s unhappy amidst all the opulence and regimentation? Tough shit, girl…get shut of it, shut it out, drop it like a bad habit, whatever.

Life is hard, Diana, but you romanced and maneuvered your way into the royal family, and I’m sure you’ll figure some way to divorce Charles and snag your $22 million settlement and handsome monthly expense check & so on…you’ll be fine.

”Please, Lord…I wanted to be Charles’ wife but now I feel stifled and unloved and unable to follow the usual, par-for-the-course protocols…I need to be free so I can order some KFC with the boys.”

Watching it felt like an eternity. I was shaking my head time and again. Nope, doesn’t work, “what?”, c’mon.

Why exactly is there a tender lesbian moment when Sally Hawkins’ maid tells Diana that she loves her? (In response to which Diana more or less goes “oh, wow!”). Arriving near the end of Act Three, Hawkins’ confession is a non-starter and therefore mystifying. Why even bring it up?

We’re told that Diana’s childhood home (Althorp House in Northhamptonshire) is walking distance from Sandringham House, the Queen’s grand Norfolk residence and the site of a 1991 Christmas celebration — the film’s central setting. Diana Spencer spent 15 or 20 years growing up in this region, and yet, according to the film’s opening scene, she gets lost trying to drive to Sandringham herself? Doesn’t make a bit of basic sense. (The residences are actually about 100 miles apart, or roughly a two-hour drive.)

The film is a psychological dreamscape and therefore not bound by history or geography, but why defy reality to this extent?

Plus the overly aggressive air-conditioning in the Galaxy was giving me pneumonia.

9.5 update (7:20 am): I posted an initial draft of this review in some haste yesterday afternoon. I’ve since given it a polish.

Is there anyone out there who doesn’t feel Charles-and-Diana’ed out? Season #4 of The Crown (which I found rather good) has taken us through the whole, drawn-out decline of their relationship saga, chapter and verse. And now we have to endure Jackie, Part 2 — a feature-length study of Too-Short Diana’s emotional and psychological strain during a royal weekend in the country in which the decision to divorce is finalized. I don’t feel the fascination.

There’s an expectation that Pablo Larrain‘s Spencer (Neon), a drama about Lady Diana deciding to ask Prince Charles for a divorce during a weekend getaway, will play at the 2021 Telluride Film Festival. And so, being the conscientious type, I thought I’d better watch season #4 of The Crown, which deals significantly with that ghastly arctic relationship between them.

Kristen Stewart (aka KStew) and Jack Farthing play the Princess and Prince of Wales in Larrain’s film; Emma Corrin and Josh O’Connor play them in The Crown.

I watched the first three episodes of season #4 last night, and emerged deeply impressed by Corrin’s Diana (she not only resembles the late ex-royal but has the long-legged height factor, which is more than you can say for KStew) as well as O’Connor’s Charles.

Corwin certainly conveys Diana’s youth and naivete, and O’Connor’s Charles is the very essence of a human worm…a prissy, chilly, cowardly snob with a stooped-over posture and one of the coldest emotional cores I’ve ever felt from a series regular. Plus he closely resembles Charles.

KStew is said to be quite good in Larrain’s film, but she’ll have to do a lot to outshine Corrin.

Jordan Ruimy posts a research screening reaction: “Spencer sucks you right into Princess Diana’s head. It’s a chamber piece and one that will probably anger a lot of fans of The Crown, who will expect some kind of mainstream entertainment.

“Larrain’s movie isn’t the least bit ‘mainstream’ — it’s a Pablo Larrain film, and if you’ve seen Jackie then think of this as its spiritual successor, but in a very limited setting and with a lot more dialogue.

“Spencer is a sensory experience about the inner demons Diana had during her days with Charles, characters come and go but she remains firmly there in every scene. There will be a lot of pushback on this movie from royal apologists, who will claim that [some of] Steven Knight’s script is pure fiction, and maybe it is, but who are we to deny that Diana was basically stuck in this claustrophobic and highly stressful situation?”

HE reaction: She was the beloved Diana, Princess of Wales, with a certain agency — she wasn’t stuck in anything. Alas, this is EXACTLY what Larrain did with Jackie. He took Noah Oppenheim‘s straightforward script about Jackie Kennedy‘s experience from JFK’s 11.22.63 assassination to the 11.25.63 burial at Arlington, and turned it into a meditative, meandering metaphysical mood piece (i.e., “what’s it all about, Jackie?”.)

How anxious and paranoid could Diana have possibly been as she was telling Charles that their union was finished? Okay, she’s in a shitty marriage and the Windsors are a powerful family, but what are they gonna do? Have her strangled?

Two months ago Deadline‘s Michael Fleming reported that Pablo Larrain (Jackie, No) had cast Kristen Stewart as the late Lady Diana in Spencer, a stand-alone drama. It fell to Hollywood Elsewhere to point out the obvious, which was that Stewart (a) doesn’t look anything like the Real McCoy and (b) is way too short to fill Diana’s shoes with Stewart being 5’5″ and the late princess having stood 5’10” or thereabouts — a perfect physical fit for Charlize Theron if she was 12 to 15 years younger.

Now comes news (from Deadline‘s Bruce Haring) that the producers of Netflix’s The Crown have swung 5 inches in the opposite direction. The stork-like Elizabeth Debicki, who stands 6’3″ without heels, has been hired to play the tragic British heroine. Which means that the men cast opposite her will probably have to stand 6’3″ themselves, if not higher. (The only boyfriend-of-Diana who was clearly shorter was Dodi Fayed.) Does Debicki at least resemble Diana Spencer? Uhm, no.

Why did the Crown producers do this? Because Debicki is a highly respected, above-average actress, of course, but I’m also guessing they wanted to display their woke credentials by striking a blow for women of all shapes and sizes, which is to say a blow against size-ism, fat-shaming and any other -ism that applies.

Am I a size-ist? Not in my day-to-day life, although I do feel that if you’re portraying a historical figure you should bear a certain resemblance, or at least that your physical properties shouldn’t be wildly at odds with the original.

This morning a producer friend wrote the following: “What is your problem with Elizabeth Debecki’s height? Jerry Hall is six feet tall, and Mick Jagger didn’t have a problem with that. And speaking of Jagger, the late designer L’Wren Scott, with whom he had a relationship, was 6’3”. And Veruschka was the same.”

Deadline‘s Michael Fleming announced this morning that Kristen Stewart will play the late Diana, Princess of Wales (aka Diana Spencer) in Pablo Larrain‘s Spencer.

Due to roll in early ’21, the Steven Knight-scripted drama will “cover a three-day period in the early ‘90s, when Diana decided her marriage to Prince Charles wasn’t working, and that she needed to veer from a path that would put her in line to one day be queen,” Fleming reported.

Diana’s chosen path, as we all know, turned out to be sporadic and wayward, and was chiefly defined by a series of extra-marital and post-marital affairs (Barry Mannakee, James Hewitt, James Gilbey, Oliver Hoare, Theodore Forstmann, JFK Jr., Bryan Adams, Hasnat Khan). It ended tragically when she and the totally worthless Dodi Fayed died after a high-speed car crash in Paris on 8.31.97.

Right off the top, the Larrain-Knight project is flawed for two reasons.

One, nobody cares about Diana’s decision to bail on her marriage to Prince Charles in ’91 or thereabouts. What they want to see, of course, is a Harold Pinter-esque drama about her tragic, idiotic affair with Fayed with a special focus on (a) the particulars of her last few hours of life, and (b) the worldwide reaction to her death including the funeral and the Elton John performance of “Goodbye, English Rose.”

And two, the 5’5″ Stewart is way too short to inhabit the physical realm of the 5’10” Diana. Diana was seriously statuesque (5’10” in heels = six feet) and nudging the giraffe realm while Stewart — be honest — is smallish. It would be one thing if she stood 5’7″ or 5’8″ but she’s five full inches shorter than the Real McCoy — you might as well call it half a foot.

Plus Stewart doesn’t look anything like Diana in terms of eye shape or facial bone structure. She was a passable Jean Seberg as they shared certain similarities, but even the makeup guy who transformed Charlize Theron into Megan Kelly would be at a loss.

By the way: The 5’10”, 44 year-old Theron would be too old to play the 31 year-old Diana in Larrain’s film, but she could play the 36 year-old Diana in the Dodi Fayed version.

Larrain has twice cast too-short actresses as famous women — the 5’3″ Natalie Portman as the 5′ 7″ Jackie Kennedy (which didn’t work — Portman was simply too runty), and now Stewart as Spencer.

My pet theory is that Larrain, who himself only stands 5’7 1/2″, prefers to cast women who are shorter than himself.

6:02 pm:  Listening to post–screening cast discussion of Silence. Everyone knows LAFCA chose Moonlight, Barry Jenkins and Isabelle Huppert for Best Picture, Director and Actress.  Full respect, hats off, good work, no fishnets.

1:48 PM: Insisting on eccentricity, LAFCA members have named Paterson‘s Adam Driver as their Best Actor choice over the runner-up, Manchester By The Sea‘s Casey Affleck. LAFCA, trust me, is just looking to attract attention. Don’t misunderstand — Driver delivers a gentle, honestly spiritual vibe as a mild-mannered, bus-driver poet in Jim Jarmusch‘s much-admired film. There’s nothing slight about his accomplishment. But it’s nowhere near as shattering or dig-down or bi-layered as Affleck’s performance, not to mention Denzel Washington‘s Fences‘ performance as a bitter father. LAFCA is totally image-obsessed — these choices are all about promoting themselves, their brand, their contrarianism.

1:25 pm: There’s a report that a team of men in white coats carrying large fishnets are heading out to the private home where the Los Angeles Film Critics Association is currently assembled and voting.

1:16 pm: This is getting more and more laughable. LAFCA has awarded its Best Screenplay award to The Lobster, penned by Efthymis Filippou and Yorgos Lanthimos. HE to LAFCA: It wasn’t just my impression that The Lobster withers and dies around the 75-minute mark — a lot of Cannes viewers held the same view. Do you think the screenplay might have had something to do with this? Flip us off, LAFCA! Throw your heads back and shriek with laughter as you (a) revel in contrarianism while (b) giving the finger to the keepers of the reasonable flame (i.e., the Gold Derby/Gurus gang).

12:08 pm: Raoul Peck‘s I Am Not Your Negro, a intelligent recap of the life of the legendary James Baldwin, is a fine if somewhat rote-feeling documentary. But it can’t hold a candle to Ezra Edelman‘s O.J. Made In America. The LAFCA perversity continues unabated. And…it’s lunch time!

Pickles, potato chips, mozarrella, potato salad, roast beef and white wine — terrific. Get yourself a little buzz-on, guys.

11:54 am: Certain Women‘s Lily Gladstone, who has generated zero buzz among the Gold Derby and Gurus of Gold critics & blogaroos, has won LAFCA’s Best Supporting Actress award. C’mon! This settles it — LAFCA is on a total contrarian p.c. jag. They’re just being different to be different. Yes, I was aware that Gladstone was generating a persistent emotional undercurrent as she stared longingly and obsessively at her object of desire, Kristen Stewart. Yes, I felt all that. And yes, she does a good job taking care of the horses. LAFCA can discount Fences‘ Viola Davis over a conviction that she’s really playing a lead, but choosing Gladstone over Manchester‘s Michelle Williams is nothing short of perverse. This is just a nyah-nyah game to them, led by the Jen Yamato crowd, LAFCA is flipping us off. The word has gone out betweens bites of lox and bagels — if it’s a Manchester nom, it’s a no-go.

11:38 am: LAFCA’s Best Editing award goes to Ezra Edelman‘s O.J.: Made in America; runner-up tally earned by La La Land.

11:29 am: LAFCA’s Best Production Design winner is Ryu Seong-hee‘s work on The Handmaiden. It’s getting close to noon, guys. How many different kinds of cream cheese are being served, or are we just sticking to generic Philadelphia brand? Matt Neglia tweet: “LAFCA reeeeaaalllyyy likes La La Land, Moonlight & Silence.”

11:14 am: LAFCA, totally kowtowing to p.c. consensus, hands Best Supporting Actor award to Moonlight‘s Mahershala Ali, who gives a fine and memorable (if less than magnetic) performance. This is because he taught “Little” to swim in the ocean, right? Already things are feeling too Moonlight-y, too foo-foo. Silence‘s Issey (also spelled “Issei”) Ogata was voted first runner-up.

Earlier: Does LAFCA want to be brave and historic in its choice of Best Supporting Actor? Ralph Fiennes for A Bigger Splash. Manchester‘s Lucas Hedges, Fiennes’ only strong competition, would be my choice. The go-along pick would be Moonlight‘s Mahershala Ali, who projects a kindly vibe but has too little screen time (he’s gone after Act One).

10:53 am: Justin Hurwitz‘s La La Land score wins LAFCA’s Best Music award; Mica Levi‘s striking Jackie score is runner-up.

10:43 am update: LAFCA hands Best Cinematography award to Moonlight‘s James Laxton with La La Land and Silence as first and second runner-ups. This obviously indicates that Moonlight could take Best Picture. That or Barry Jenkins for Best Director. Or both. 10:40 am: Between LAFCA’s tortoise-like efficiency (took them 40 minutes to decide cinematography award) and the 30-minute brunch break, will they finish voting before I have to leave for the 3 pm Silence screening in Westwood?

Down to it: If LAFCA doesn’t give its Best Actress award to La La Land‘s Emma Stone (who gave far and away the most openly pained and affecting performance), the question will be “what non-industry group, if any, will give it up for her?” But honestly? If they give the prize to Elle‘s Isabelle Huppert, HE will approve. Within that Verhoevian realm, the red-haired mouse killed it.

Wait…Certain Women‘s Lily Gladstone as a dark horse contender for Best Supporting Actress? She (a) took care of the horses and (b) stared longingly and obsessively at Kristen Stewart without saying boo. She left a memorable impression, agreed, but let’s not get carried away.

The Los Angeles Film Critics Association (LAFCA) is the only prestigious film critic group that brazenly, even proudly interrupts its voting process halfway through so the members can chow down on bagels, scrambled eggs and whatnot. Other groups, mindful that people like myself are waiting with bated breath to report their winners, get down to business and do the job. If past procedure is any guide, LAFCA will cast a few votes this morning (starting around 10 am Pacific) until someone says “bagel and cappuccino time!” and the process stops in its tracks for 30 or 40 minutes. I know that guys like Daily News critic Bob Strauss derive great pleasure from goading blogaroos with this delay, but it’s a solemn duty, I feel, to hold LAFCA’s feet to the fire on this issue.

LAFCA members chowing down during 2015 voting — will someone please send me a photo or two of this year’s mid-vote food binge?

Early last evening I attended a London hotel gathering for Jeff Nichols‘ Loving (Focus Features, 11.4), and right off the top had an easy chat with costars Joel Edgerton and Ruth Negga. I’ve been snippy about some of Edgerton’s work in the past (though not his performances in Animal Kingdom or his 2009 BAM performance as Stanley Kowalski in Streetcar), but after five minutes of party chatter that whole attitude melted away. If you like somebody, you can’t help it. I’m still no fan of The Gift (which Edgerton directed and costarred in) but he’s definitely off the HE shit list. That phase is over.

I couldn’t get a decent shot of Joel and Ruth, but I was at least able to manipulate this one, taken without flash, into looking semi-decent with the help of PicMonkey (i.e., Adobe Photoshop for dumbshits like myself).

After seeing Loving in Cannes last May I immediately predicted some Best Actress heat for Negga’s quiet, sad-soulful performance, and I wasn’t wrong. Right now she’s neck and neck with La La Land‘s Emma Stone, Jackie‘s Natalie Portman, 20th Century Women‘s Annette Bening, Elle‘s Isabelle Huppert and Viola Davis‘s not-yet-seen performance in Fences.

Negga was wearing some killer Rodarte slacks with safety pins up and down the left-leg seam. I told her that last weekend Kristen Stewart was wearing a Rodarte suit with the same safety-pin signature at the Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk premiere.

Ruth Negga’s Rodarte safety-pin slacks, worn to last night’s Loving party.

Just reminding that while we sit and sprawl our way through the annual ritual of cinematic soul-draining known as the summer season, 57 films of at least some adult intrigue or constitution are sitting in the bullpen and waiting for the annual award season to open. Not 20, 30, 40 or 50 films — the number is 57, and all slated to open during a 14-week period between mid September and New Year’s Eve, which works out to three per week and closer to four.

What I’m basically doing is re-posting the Oscar Balloon rundown to ask about any disputes or write-downs that may have surfaced over the last several weeks. Please advise about anything I should add or subtract.

Straight from Oscar Balloon (in order of confidence or expectation): 1. Kenneth Lonergan’s Manchester-by-the-Sea [locked Best Actor nomination for Casey Affleck]; 2. Martin Scorsese‘s Silence; 3. Steven Gaghan‘s Gold (Matthew McConaughey, Bryce Dallas Howard, Edgar Ramírez); 4. Ang Lee‘s Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk; 5. Tom Ford‘s Nocturnal Animals; 6. David Frankel‘s Collateral Beauty (Will Smith, Keira Knightley, Kate Winslet, Helen Mirren, Edward Norton); 7. Olivier Assayas‘ Personal Shopper (Kristen Stewart); 8. Clint Eastwood‘s Sully (Tom Hanks, Aaron Eckhart, Laura Linney); 9. Denzel Washington‘s Fences (Washington, Viola Davis, Mykelti Williamson, Russell Hornsby). (9)

I’ll say it again for the fourth time — 2016 is looking like a relatively weak year in terms of potential review-driven, award-calibre features, particularly those destined to open over the last three months (10.1 to 12.31). I’ve previously posted a raggedy rundown of the films that appear to have the horses to compete, but now that this list is set to post tomorrow morning in the new 2016 Oscar Balloon I’d like another appraisal about what’s missing, what needs to be discounted, etc.

Highest Expectations (in order of confidence or expectation): Kenneth Lonergan’s Manchester-by-the-Sea [Best Actor nomination LOCK for Casey Affleck]; David Gordon Green‘s Stronger; Martin Scorsese‘s Silence; Steven Gaghan‘s Gold (Matthew McConaughey, Bryce Dallas Howard, Edgar Ramírez); Ang Lee‘s Billy Lynn’s Long Halftime Walk; Tom Ford‘s Nocturnal Animals; David Frankel’s Collateral Beauty (Will Smith, Keira Knightley, Kate Winslet, Helen Mirren, Edward Norton); Clint Eastwood‘s Sully (Tom Hanks, Aaron Eckhart, Laura Linney) (8)

Very Interesting, Slight Hedging of Bets (random order): John Hancock‘s The Founder (biopic of McDonald’s kingpin Ray Kroc); Charlie McDowell‘s The Discovery w/ Rooney Mara, Nicholas Hoult (a love story set one year after the existence of the afterlife is scientifically verified or a more thoughtful version of The Leftovers); Wim Wenders‘ Submergence (Alicia Vikander, James McAvoy); Woody Allen‘s 1930s period dramedy (Steve Carell, Jesse Eisenberg, Kristen Stewart, Blake Lively); David Michod‘s War Machine; Jeff Nichols‘ Midnight Special; James Ponsoldt‘s The Circle (Tom Hanks, Emma Watson, John Boyega), Pablo Larrain‘s Jackie (Natalie Portman, Greta Gerwig, Peter Sarsgaard). (9)

Highly Refined Horror: Juan Antonio Bayona‘s A Monster Calls. (1)

Cheers and salutations to The Playlist‘s Jessica Kiang and Oliver Lyttleton for having posted the most comprehensive list of 2016 films that I’ve seen anywhere. I’ve been updating my own 2016 rundown (the most recent re-edit appeared on 12.30) so I’ve isolated 31 of Kiang and Lyttleton’s titles that I’ve previously ignored. Several are intriguing; about half seem minor-ish or less than fully wowser but let’s not pre-judge. I’ve listed them in order of highest HE interest. All synopses written by Kiang/Lyttleton. A reposting of most recent 2016 summary follows:

The Salesman (d: Asghar Farhadi) Cast: Sahahab Hosseini, Taraneh Alidoosti. Synopsis: Two actors perform in Arthur Miller‘s Death Of A Salesman.

The Discovery (d: Charlie McDowell) Cast: Rooney Mara, Nicholas Hoult. Synopsis: A love story set a year after the existence of the afterlife has been scientifically proven.

American Pastoral (d: Ewan MacGregor). Cast: Ewan MacGregor, Dakota Fanning, Jennifer Connelly, Uzo Aduba, Rupert Evans, Molly Parker, David Strathairn. Synopsis: Based on the Pulitzer Prize-winning novel by Philip Roth, this is the story of Seymour “The Swede” Lvov, a successful businessman, former high-school sports star and scion of a Jewish upper-middle New Jersey family, whose life gradually disintegrates in the politically turbulent 1960s.

Loving (d: Jeff Nichols) Cast: Joel Edgerton, Ruth Negga, Michael Shannon, Marton Csokas, Nick Kroll. Synopsis: The true story of Richard and Mildred Loving, an interracial couple sentenced to prison in Virginia in 1958, and then exiled from the state for the crime of getting married, and their nine-year fight to be able to return home as a family. 

Salt And Fire (d: Werner Herzog) Cast: Michael Shannon, Gael García Bernal, Werner Herzog, Veronica Ferres. Synopsis: Two men on opposite sides of a clash over an ecological issue in South America must put aside their differences and work together to avoid disaster when a nearby volcano presents eruption signals.

Julieta (d: Pedro Almodóvar). Cast: Emma Suárez, Adriana Ugarte, Inma Cuesta, Rossy de Palma, Nathalie Poza. Synopsis: The life of the titular woman, told between two time periods, 2015 and 1985.

Jackie (d: Pablo Larraín) Cast: Natalie Portman, Greta Gerwig, Peter Sarsgaard, John Hurt, Max Casella. Synopsis: The story of Jackie Kennedy in the first days following the assassination of JFK.

Certain Women (d: Kelly Reichardt) Cast: Laura Dern, Kristen Stewart, Michelle Williams, Lily Gladstone, Jared Harris. Synopsis: The story of the intersecting lives of three women in present-day Montana.

The Neon Demon (d: Nicolas Winding Refn) Cast: Elle Fanning, Jena Malone, Bella Heathcoate, Keanu Reeves, Christina Hendricks. Synopsis: An up-and-coming model in Los Angeles becomes prey for a gang of beauty-obsessed peers who wish to drain her of her vitality and beauty.

20th Century Women (d: Mike Mills) Cast: Elle Fanning, Annette Bening, Greta Gerwig, Billy Crudup, Alia Shawkat. Synopsis: A story of three generations of very different women living in 1970’s Santa Barbara.

“That Runaways script has to be the biggest load of dog crap I’ve ever read. Every other word is ‘dog cunt’ or ‘dogshit, and Joan Jett is always taking a piss or rubbing her crotch. It is really a poor excuse for a screenplay, and I can’t believe that Dakota Fanning and Kristen Stewart are signed for it.” — Written by a moderately long-of-tooth mainstream journalist friend who read Floria Sigismondi‘s script a day or so ago.

This opinion obviously isn’t the last word, and I’m not so sure I found the idea of Kristen Stewart-as-Joan Jett acting coarse and vulgar unappealing, per se. At the very least this might prompt Sigismondi to consider the possibility that the script needs a little soul and refinement. Does anyone feel otherwise? There must be advocates out there.

The reason I was never into The Runaways is because very few in this country were. The band recorded five albums, toured around the world and met with huge success abroad, especially in Japan, from ’75 to ’79. But they couldn’t connect here. Jett was a headliner and co-founder. The others were Sandy West. Micki Steele, Jackie Fox, Lita Ford, and Cherie Currie.

I’d personally love to see a film about the rise and fall of Bow Wow Wow. I first heard them when I was in London in December 1980, where I’d flown for a Peter O’Toole interview piece I was trying nail down for GQ. I flew back to the States 100% totally mad for “Louis Quatorze” and “Sexy Eiffel Tower.”

I had heard of them a bit when I first arrived, and I remember being at loud party about a week into my stay with some Time Out friends. I was standing with a group of guys and there was this raunchy drum-heavy track playing, and I asked who it was. “You know who it is!” one of them said. No, I don’t, I answered — who is it? “Don’t hand me that shit…you know who it is!” he shouted. I do? “You know it, you know it!” Bow Wow Wow? “That‘s right!”