Ted Cruz is finished and he knows it. In the wake of Donald Trump‘s sweep of Maryland, Delaware, Pennsylvania, Connecticut and Rhode Island, the Republican “shit show” convention in Cleveland just isn’t going to happen. Which is why it seems more than a little humiliating for Carly Forina to have accepted Cruz’s invitation to become his running mate for the Republican presidential nomination. I’d have politely declined if I were in her shoes. They have nowhere to go but down. But I guess Fiorina figured she could get some kind of psychic boost from the attention, something that would help down the road.

“Papa: Hemingway in Cuba holds the distinction of being the first Hollywood production to shoot on the island of Cuba since 1959. But other filmmakers looking to leave their mark need not fret, as there’s still an opportunity to make the first American film shot there since Fidel Castro came to power that isn’t a complete, mortifying embarrassment.” — from Jordan Hoffman‘s 4.27 Guardian review.

“Adrian Sparks, despite his undeniable physical resemblance, never quite projects the necessary charisma for his larger-than-life character. When his Hemingway lurches for his gun in a desperate suicide attempt, you don’t particularly want to stop him.” — from Frank Scheck‘s Hollywood Reporter review.

“Listen to Papa on YouTube clips. Short sentences delivered in a clipped bark. But Sparks doesn’t spark. Hemingway was an old 59 at a time long before 59 was the new 45. But this guy looks ancient. And sorry to be cruel, but he has all the screen presence of a third runnerup in a Key West Hemingway look-alike contest.” — Movie Nation‘s Roger Moore.

Robert Downey to Iron Man/Marvel fans: We’re all whores drinking at the Marvel trough. I can’t resist those Marvel paydays and you can’t resist paying to see me and the rest of the Marvel gang going through the same old motions over and over. Are we providing better product than the D.C. crew at this stage? You bet we are. Am I fool enough to say no to becoming that much richer for playing Tony Stark for the fourth fucking time in a stand-alone? Nope. Is there a snowball’s chance in hell that you, the fans, won’t flock to see Ironman 4, no matter how good or bad it is? No way. And while we’re on the topic, how about another Sherlock Holmes flick? The question is how much and for how many more years can I continue to franchise myself out? Will I ever do a Tropic Thunder or a Zodiac ever again, or am I just a ka-ching machine? You guys are the key. Or, you know, you need to tell me “when.” Because I can’t stop.

Mel Gibson‘s Hacksaw Ridge, a patriotic war film that recalls Howard Hawks‘ Sergeant York, is being research-screened this evening in Sherman Oaks. Pic is based on the saga of U.S. Army medic Desmond T. Doss (Andrew Garfield), a conscientious objector who earned the Medal of Honor for single-handedly saving the lives of over 75 soldiers during the Battle of Okinawa in 1945. Hawks film was about Alvin C. York, a Tennessee native whose 1917 application for conscientious objector status was denied. During a World War I battle in France York was given the Medal of Honor for capturing 32 machine guns, killing at least 20 German soldiers and capturing 132 others.

Despite the presumed jingoistic content of Hacksaw Ridge I’d rather see this in Cannes than Mel’s badass-dad-vs.-Latino-gangbanger flick, Blood Father. The action-thriller, directed by Jean-Francois Richet, will screen as a midnight attraction. The trailer indicates that it’s pure exploitation.

My initial response to this ugly-tweet video was to dismiss it. A friend who sent it to me said it’s “kind of amazing that people write tweets like this.” Amazing? Cro-magnon sports fans? “I’m wondering about the real value of the invention of Twitter as a more efficient way to be evil,” she added. “I have next to nothing in common with the life forms who wrote these tweets,” I said. “They’re sports guys — a different species.” She replied, “Okay, but I know you’ve expressed how horrible and upsetting the tweets are that are sent to you and I thought you’d really appreciate what these women sports writers have to put up with.” Okay.

A smattering of derisive tweets has greeted the trailer for Oliver Stone‘s Snowden (Open Road, 9.16). Some were snickering about Joseph Gordon Levitt‘s guttural speech (which reminded critic Sam Adams of Ted Levine‘s Jame Gumb in Silence of the Lambs), and some were thrown or amused by the appearance of Nicolas Cage in a supporting role.

But the main beef (certainly among the smart set) seems to be “who needs another Snowden movie in the wake of Laura Poitras‘s Citizen Four?” The Snowden/Open Road response is that (a) 90% of your popcorn-munchers have never even heard of, much less seen, Citizen Four, and (b) Snowden’s real-life saga transformed into a feature narrative = a Bourne movie without the fights, guns or car chases.

I don’t feel snarky about Stone’s film. Yes, the trailer suggests that Stone is using the usual devices to jack up the threat levels, but I’m half-persuaded that it might be a reasonably engaging thing. I too was taken aback by Cage popping up, and I didn’t even recognize Shailene Woodley, who plays Snowden’s girlfriend. And a brief snip of JGL staring at a computer eye while having sex with Woodley seems like a wrong call. I don’t want to think about Ed Snowden having sex with anyone, ever.

The real problem, I suspect, is not that some people are still critical of (or indifferent to) Snowden’s NSA whistleblowing, but that they really are okay with giving up their digital privacy in exchange for protection from Islamic bad guys. I’m not sure that the liberal media understands the degree to which Average Joes have decided “fuck those guys” when it comes to Islam. The common-man animus is probably equal to general feelings about the Japanese-Americans in the wake of Pearl Harbor, if not stronger. This is partly what the Trump vote is about.

From 1.25.16 post, titled “Deflating, To Say The Least”: “This morning I saw Josh Kriegman and Elyse Steinberg‘s Weiner, a fascinating, constantly up-close account of the two Weiner sexting scandals — the first in 2011, the second during his 2013 run for N.Y. Mayor — that ended his political career for life. I thought I knew the Weiner saga up, down, backwards and sideways, but this doc throws a new light upon it. A darkly funny one, I mean.

“It’s mainly about grimly strategizing and growing a tough hide while your staff sits around with neutral expressions and your entire life gradually melts into butterscotch pudding. YouTube videos of wildebeests being eaten alive by wild dogs have more human compassion than many of the events and conversations shown in this film. Oh, and the third-act McDonald’s escape run is a classic.

“And poor, put-upon Huma Abedin, Weiner’s wife and Hillary’s top aide who endured a form of spousal abuse during these two scandals that has rarely been equaled in any area. The looks she gives her husband throughout the film are indescribable.

“All I felt was sympathy for Huma, just as most people felt sympathy for Hillary during the Monica Lewinsky scandal or ’98 and ’99. Almost all politicians have the same ravenous appetites, and almost all men are dogs. All the public asks is that they keep their canine urges private and discreet and consensual. Is that really so hard?

The other night I was waiting in line inside George’s Greek Grill, or rather the West Hollywood branch (8807 Santa Monica Blvd.). It’s right next to a popular gay bar, and of course is part of the whole Santa Monica Blvd. party-boy strip. There were five or six guys in front of me, one brawny and bare-chested, and they were flaunting their sexual energy, to put it mildly. Dry humping, grab-assing, hormones, whatever. Unspoken thematic undercurrent: “We’re here because we’re hungry, of course, but we’re in the mood to joyfully express other things while we decide what to order because…well, because we fucking feel like it.” I was just staring at the menu and figuring this too shall pass. Then I noticed a guy off to the side giving another guy a kind of grinding lapdance, and then he stood up and started performing a simulated blowjob. Inner dialogue as I waited: “I like erotic abandon as much as you guys do but is there any chance you could give this shit a slight rest? This isn’t a fucking bar — it’s a place to order and eat and chill out. The bar is next door.” I really like that restaurant too — the food is cheap but quite good.

Six days ago I reported that the forthcoming Cannes Film Festival screening of a digitally restored version of Marlon Brando‘s One-Eyed Jacks would offer a mixed blessing. While the vivid, wider-than-ever VistaVsion images will surely look beautiful, the aspect ratio presentation will not be within HE’s favored 1.66:1 aspect ratio, nor 1.75:1 or even 1.78:1, but within the dreaded 1.85:1 — a cleavering of the film’s original VistaVision capturings of 1.5:1.

Is this a tragedy? No, but it’s a damn shame — in my view a rash slicing of a significant portion of Charles Lang‘s cinematography, which could have at least been cropped at 1.75:1 or 1.78:1. If you ask me whacking this 1961 Western down to 1.85:1 is damn near unforgivable.

A day after this post appeared on 4.20 HE nemesis Bob Furmanek, who has repeatedly urged DVD/Bluray distributors to crop non-Scope films shot in the mid ’50s to early ’60s at 1.85:1, posted the following in the comment thread: “We were consulted by the Film Foundation and provided documents on this film to insure presentation in the correct aspect ratio”, which Furmanek maintained was 1.85:1 because Paramount recommended this a.r. in a way-back-when message to exhibitors.

This despite the studio having admitted in the same statement [see above] that VistaVision is “flexible and compatible, and [can] be played in any aspect ratio from 1.33:1 to 2.0:1.”

I don’t know where the 1.33 option came from as basic VistaVision photography captures images at 1.5, but Universal and The Film Foundation certainly could have gone with a 1.66, 1.75 or 1.78 aspect ratio.

Bernie Sanders announced his White House candidacy almost exactly a year ago, on 4.30.15. He didn’t make it but oh, did he change the conversation. For the first time since the 1930s, it’s now completely legitimate and accepted to openly question the validity of balls-out Darwinian capitalism, which until recently was seen as being a hallowed, God-given system that has worked hand-in-hand with American democracy. The Sanders message has basically been that democracy is vital but not so much rapacious, blood-in-the-water Wall Street game-playing, which over the last ten years has led to many getting the shaft while favoring the very few. Who today would argue that analysis with a straight face?

European socialist democracies, Sanders has said time and again, deliver more fairness, more compassion and a better quality of life for a broader spectrum of people. It’s all there, chapter and verse, in Michael Moore’s Where To Invade Next?. The U.S. of A. is not #1 — we’re down in the middle of the list, at best. Which is entirely due to unbridled, unregulated market forces, which have been manifesting since the ’80s in the form of elite corporate gangsterism, plain and simple.

And it took a Jay Bulworth figure, a white-haired guy whose candidacy was initially regarded as eccentric and boutique-y, a guy whom the pundits said had almost no chance of even competing strongly against Hillary Clinton, to slip that message into the mainstream conversation.

A new trailer for Noah Baumbach and Jake Paltrow‘s DePalma (A24, 6.10.16) popped the other day. A24 is beginning to show it in screening rooms — a Manhattan viewing on Friday, 4.29, and an L.A. showing on Tuesday, 5.3, for openers. Neither of these fits with my travel schedule as I leave for New York on Friday night. I’ve been asking the A24 guys if I could have a looksee before I leave for France on Thursday evening, 5.5. (I like to acclimate in Paris for three days before training down to Cannes.) A lot of people are leaving for Cannes soon so I suspect I’m not alone. It would all be so simple if there was a willingness to allow for online viewings, but alas, not yet. There’s always early June when I return but…well, I’m jumpy, I guess.

A 5.6.16 Newsweek story says that Italian neurosurgeon Sergio Canovery is set to perform (no fooling) a human head transplant procedure. The guy whose head will be attached to a new body and thereby gain a new lease on life is Valery Spiridonov, a 31-year-old Russian software development manager who’s suffering from Werdnig-Hoffman disease, a muscle-wasting disorder.

Will the operation succeed? Perhaps not but then the next neurosurgeon will try it, and then the next and the next. And then one day head transplants will become routine. And then we’ll have vanity head transplants — old people looking to acquire a great new body so they can start all over. The possibilities! My head is spinning.

The procedure, which may happen next year, is the first real-world attempt in this vein. No one is likely to ever graft two heads on a single body, but the fact is that medical technology has actually begun to catch up with The Thing With Two Heads, a 1972 AIP film in which Roosevelt Greer and Ray Milland shared the same body (i.e., Greer’s). I confess to having had a couple of nightmares in which my head was removed and then re-attached…horrible. Canovero’s head transplant will be performed as a two-step procedure — a head anastomosis venture followed by a subsequent spinal cord fusion. This not a put-on — it’s real.