English was, of course, a second language for the Mexican-born Ricardo Montalban (1920-2009) so no demerits for the “it’s” possessive or the misspelled “than”. What mattered was that he meant it.
Excerpt from Pauline Kael’s review of StarTrek: TheWrathofKhan (‘82):
“[Ricardo] Montalban’s performance doesn’t show a trace of Fantasy Island. It’s all panache; if he isn’t wearing feathers in his hair you see them there anyway. You know how you always want to laugh at the flourishes that punctuate the end of a flamenco dance, and the dancers don’t let you? Montalban does. His bravado is grandly comic.” — Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan, 1982
And that “thing” is that Maestro isn’t all that focused on Bradley Cooper’s Leonard Bernstein. Well, it is to a considerable extent, obviously, but Carey Mulligan’s Felicia has the spotlight. Duhh.
Speaking as a total freak for color snaps of classic era Times Square marquees and billboard ads, I was initially thrilled to find this color shot of the DeMille’s gigantic, two–sided PSYCHO wall promo.
Alfred Hitchcock’s seminalslasherpic opened on June16th, 1960. 63 years ago hit films would play for several weeks or even months on end, but let’s presume this nocturnal image was snapped sometime that summer when interest was peaking.
The below comment exchange appeared Sunday evening (8.13) in “MexicanObeisanceBefore Power,” otherwise known as the post in which Patton Oswalt settled the Barbie misandry dispute with one fell swoop…settled it with two drillbit words that will resonate throughout the known universe between now and the 2024 Oscar telecast — “manospherepiss–nado.”
“Sometimes there’s God, so quickly!!” — Blanche Dubois in AStreetcarNamedDesire.
I was asked why joyful reactions to certain audience-friendly films seem to rub me the wrong way.
“I’m not sure I want to be rubbed by you at all, young lady” — from Joseph L. Mankiewicz’s Cleopatra (Rex Harrison to Elizabeth Taylor).
And if you decided to mutually celebrate this huge cultural event, this amusing rite of self-flagellation for straight guys, this exuberant swan dive into Hollywood-stamped misandry, would you wear peach instead of proper pink?
It’s one thing to gracefully go with the Barbie flow while simultaneously shrugging it off, but I would never pull this shit with my 15 year-old son…never. Unless he was really, like, hot to see it or something.
The Robert F. Kennedy, Jr. thing REALLY isn’t happening at this stage. He’s too eccentric, too admired by toxic Trumpies, too disliked by MSNBC’s Laurence O’Donnell, too caught up in conspiracy interpretations, and his speaking voice is impossible.
If Woody Harrelson had worn this hat a few months ago, okay, but it’s kinda crazy to align himself now after most of the thoughtful centrists have said “naah, later.” It calls his judgment into question.
Kennedy is polling decently (i.e., around 17% or 18%) because many Dems and independents are profoundly uncomfortable with re-electing an octogenarian President — a guy who will be 86 when he leaves office on 1.20.29. They’re terrified of another Woodrow Wilson presidency, and especially of Kamala Harris stepping in if, God forbid, something were to happen.
You know what I would respect and salute? If Woody had worn a Chris Christie hat. Christie is the only Republican primary candidate who talks straight about The Beast. An adaptable, transactional politician, okay, but one with actual balls.
On top of which Bill Maher is rich and I’ve become relatively poor, thanks in no small part to industry banshees and the unhinged insanity of the identity-focused left since ‘19 or thereabouts. So there’s that.
Corrections: I meant to say (a) we were both “raised by liberal families who discussed politics at the dinner table” and (b) that Kenny was “raised by an Irish-Italian family.”
Earliertoday Variety’s ZackSharf, The Hollywood Reporter’s James Hibberd and Vanity Fair’s Savannah Walsh bitch-slapped Real Time’s Bill Maher for tweeting that Barbie is a “man-hating zombie lie.”
One, there’s absolutely no question that for all its spritzy satire and humor, Barbie positively seethes with contempt for guys. It’s a “fun” flick, a huge hit and a major cultural event, but there’s no arguing this.
Two, if a male director was suicidal enough to make a fantasy film that radiates the same degree of loathing for women that Barbie throws at men, Sharf, Hibberd and Walsh would be part of a mob calling for his immediate lynching and subsequent dismemberment.
But in my heart of hearts I can’t help regretting that Zapruder was the one who happened to be filming from that Dealey Plaza slope on 11.22.63. In my heart of hearts I wish that a more devotional movie nerd had been standing there instead of unexceptional, penny-pinching Abe.
8mm home movie cameras were the default choice for tens of millions of families in the mid 20th Century, but the 8mm images were jumpy and hazy and basically looked like shit compared to 16mm, and Abraham Zapruder KNEW that.
Did Zapruder care about the difference in quality? Above and beyond being a decent man who loved his family, I’ll tell you one thing Abe cared about. Like most responsible-minded fathers and business owners, he cared about SAVING MONEY.
You know who cared much more about visual values and cinematic quality? 17 year old Steven Spielberg, a fledgling filmmaker who in late ‘63 was living in Arizona with his family (and who shot his first feature, Firelight, the following year).
If only Spielberg had somehow made his way to Dallas (a school trip? a special family adventure?) and shot the assassination footage in 16mm color instead of Zapruder with his boilerplate 8mm family-man camera!
On top of which Zapruder’s amateurish eye for framing was atrocious. He allowed the Kennedy limo to sinktotheverybottomofthedevelopedimage during the low 300 cycle of frames (the final 15 or 20 before the explosive head shot). 85% to 90% of these frames captured almost nothing but greengrass and afewspectators.
The truth is that unexceptional, well-meaning Abe almost managed to eliminate JFK and Jackie plus John and Nellie Connolly altogether, but they clung to the bottom of the frame for dear life.
So Zapruder earned two failing grades — one for using a vagueiy shitty 8mm camera when he could have bought and used a vastly superior, professional-grade 16mm device, and the second for exhibiting piss-poor visual framing instincts.
I know this article sounds a bit silly, but imagine what the JFK assassination community would have had to work with if a serious cinema worshipper, a devotional, GreggToland-like crazy man with a 16mm Arriflex or Bell & Howell, had been standing in Abe’s shoes.
