In a way I’ve always regarded Ben Stiller‘s Zoolander as a kind of 9/11 film. The fashion-realm satire, largely based in Manhattan, opened only 17 days after that slaughter, and Stiller’s film, which is quite funny and actually inspired at times, just seems fused to that end-of-an-era feeling, that sense of shock that descended upon Manhattan in mid to late September of ’01. That was 13 and 1/2 years ago, and yet that recently released footage of Stiller and costar Owen Wilson walking the runway in footage for Zoolander 2 (Paramount, 2.12.16) indicates they haven’t aged a day. Justin Theroux‘s script is set in Europe; much of the filming will happen at Rome’s Cinecitta. Will Ferrell‘s “Mugatu” character (another holdover from ’01) is part of the new mix. Penelope Cruz and Christine Taylor costar. Four years ago Stiller said it’s basically about Derek and Hansel’s “lives [having] changed…they’re not really relevant anymore…it’s a new world for them.” If you define “relevance” as directly influencing or at least contributing to the shaping or flavoring of a given culture, what percentage of the population qualifies? At any point in time over 99.5% of humanity is along for the ride.

Last Monday I went back again to the Hollywood DMV office on Cole, this time to get my regular Class C driver’s license. I had flunked the motorcycle driver’s written test for the sixth time three days earlier, and I just couldn’t stand the feeling of failure any longer. I hadn’t felt that badly about myself since I was flunking history and science exams in high school. (I’ll try to get the motorcycle license again after I return from Europe next June.) Anyway I was waiting for my number to be called when a guy who looked a lot like Richard Benjamin walked in. He seemed older than I expected (wanted?) him to look and a wee bit haggard, but it was Benjamin, all right. I checked his Wiki bio and realized he’s now 76.

The last time I had spoken with Benjamin was during a 1982 New York press event for My Favorite Year, which was the first film Benjamin directed and which is still arguably his best ever. During our chat I remember telling him that I liked his performance in Paul Sylbert‘s The Steagle (’71), which was kind of a wipe-out but which had, at the time at least, a certain cult following. 

Benjamin walked right in front of me on his way to the DMV bathroom, and on the way back I was seized by a very slight impulse to say “Yo! The Steagle!” but I suppressed it, thank God. A voice told me this wasn’t the right moment. The DMV is not for socializing. It’s for sitting around and filling out forms and feeling grim.

Benjamin had a hot run as a leading actor between ’69 and ’75 — Goodbye, Columbus (’69), Catch-22 (’70), Diary of a Mad Housewife (’70), The Marriage of a Young Stockbroker (’71), The Steagle, Portnoy’s Complaint (’72 — the peak), The Last of Sheila (’73), Westworld (’73) and The Sunshine Boys (’75). During this time Benjamin was the proverbial “interesting guy” or more particularly one of the main “Jew Wave” guys along with Dustin Hoffman, Elliot Gould and George Segal before the Italian-Americans moved in.  Donald Sutherland was also on a roll back then.

If I was Alex Gibney and I was filming this interview footage with Bob Belleville, former director of engineering at MacIntosh from 1982 to ’85 under Steve Jobs, I would stopped and said “cut” after he started to weep a little bit. I then would have said to him, “Look, I feel the same things about people and experiences from the past, things that I loved…we all do. But from a dramatic point of view it’s much better to muffle or suppress emotion. You can let it leak out a bit but only a bit. Okay? It’s very human of you to feel what you’re feeling and I totally respect your history with Jobs, but I need you to read this again without the whimpering. Fair enough?” I wouldn’t tell Belleville what I’m really thinking, which is that whimpering sounds awful. I hate it when people start to cry while trying to talk. Do one or the other, but not both. Suppression is the thing. Walter Cronkite as he officially announced the death of JFK at 2:38 pm Eastern…that’s what I’m talking about.

I’ve spoken with several name-brand comedians in my time, and I’ve never felt the slightest trace of silly, goofy, slap-happy vibes from any of them. From each and every one I detected caution, guardedness and a general sense of gloom. (Especially from Billy Crystal.) One would presume, therefore, that Kevin Pollak’s Misery Loves Comedy, a doc about what comedians are really like deep down and whether they’re all in fact depressives, might be…well, at least somewhat interesting in this regard. Unusual. Revelatory. Not the usual joking around but perhaps some musings and reflections that, say, the ghost of Fyodor Dostoyevsky might relate to.

I’m not of the opinion that Jaume Collet-Serra‘s Run All Night (Warner Bros., 3.13) is second-rate crap — it is second-rate crap. Just as I knew that Collet-Serra’s Non-Stop was a second-rate airborne thriller, and that Scott Frank‘s A Walk Among The Tombstones was and is pretty close to gold-standard urban noir. Each of these films stars Liam “back to being a paycheck whore” Neeson, and you can bet that Neeson recognizes, along with most discriminating movie fans, that Frank’s film is far superior to the other two. I toughed it out during last night’s Grove screening until almost the very end, and then I said “fuck this” and got up and walked into a nearby book store. I had to. I was feeling icky and soiled and exhausted.

I hate the darting-and-swooping videogame CG shots that Collet-Sera uses to roam around New York City with, and I despise his atrocious disregard for action logic, particularly during an idiotic, flim-flammy, speeding-bumper-car scene in Brooklyn that totally alienated me. I also hate the faithless, Philistine way Collet-Saura directs fight scenes, particularly how he never actually shows anyone getting punched (he always cuts away a half-second before the moment of impact) and the way his guys always groan each and every time they get slugged. (Will you take a punch like a man just once?) There wasn’t anywhere near as much action in J.C. Chandor‘s A Most Violent Year, but when it happened you believed each and every frame of it. It was glorious for that.

A work-in-progress version of Judd Apatow‘s Trainwreck (Universal, 7.17) will screen at South by Southwest late Sunday afternoon. And if a tweet posted this morning by The Hollywood Reporter‘s Seth Abramovitch is any indication, spiritually deep people with wonderfully wise and enlightened perceptions are going to lob hate grenades in my direction all over again. The “leave poor Amy Schumer alone and die, you rancid asshole” thing has been going on for 30 days now — an eternity in today’s ADD realm. I tried saying I’m sorry for the piece that posted on 2.11 but the haters wouldn’t have it. I said Schumer is obviously a first-class talent who deserves more respect than what I gave her, and the haters said “oh, yeah? Well, you’re demonic and fuck you!” I wrote that I could have played this one with a little more delicacy and diplomacy, and I might as well have poured kerosene on the fire.

The kids are always model-pretty and instinctually promiscuous in any Larry Clark film, but in my experience people of any age who live in bumblefuck towns like Marfa, which has been losing population and revenue sources since the ’90s, tend to be on the pudgy, plain, unattractive side. Then again the fact that Marfa has a thriving art community might allow for an exception. Shot in 2012, Marfa Girl was directly exhibited on Clark’s website until Spotlight picked up rights. Costarring Adam Mediano, Drake Burnette, Jeremy St. James, Mercedes Maxwell. 3.27 in theatres, 4.3 on iTunes/VOD.

When will mainstream media editors stop spelling internet with a capital “I”? Almost every day I deal with this infuriating stipulation. However you want to define the worldwide web — an environment, a digital information delivery system, an intergalactic atmosphere — “internet” is a generic term like “highway” or “radio waves” or “broadcast.”

And why do editors insist on using “O.K.” rather than “okay”? Perhaps O.K., the usage of which apparently dates back to 1839, was once an abbreviation of something or other (perhaps Old Kinderhook) but no one seems to know or care these days, and if the apathy levels are as high as they seem then what’s the point? “Okay” has been generic term for as long as anyone can remember (“Ladies, it’s okay with me”) but a certain community of editors won’t budge.

I don’t know how I missed the Sundance showings of Brett Morgen‘s Kurt Cobain: Montage of Heck (HBO, 5.4) but I’m sure I managed it in the usual fashion. I wanted to see this or that film instead and suddenly there were no more Montage of Heck screenings in Park City proper. I guess on some level I was also wondering what can possibly said about Cobain that’s fresh or startling or even semi-surprising. Not that I’m averse to seeing Morgen’s film. A limited theatrical run will happen before the HBO debut.

I’d like to find the courage to eliminate my monthly Time Warner cable service and just keep the wifi. Stand-alone streaming options for HBO and Showtime are either on the table or close to that. But I’m hesitating for some reason. Why? Habit, I guess. Despite my hating almost everything on basic cable. HBO and Showtime are the only premium pay cable stations I watch, and the only basic cable stations I visit are MSNBC, CNN and CSPAN. Movie-wise I stream from Vudu, Amazon, Hulu, Warner Archive and Netflix (via my Roku or Apple TV players) or I watch Blurays. Today TheWrap‘s Sharon Waxman quoted CBS President and CEO Les Moonves saying yesterday at “an investor conference” that “the days of the 500-channel universe are over…people are going to be slicing it and dicing it.” At the very least I’m going to demand a lowered monthly rate from Time Warner right away and then I’ll make a decision.

What’s the big deal about the British Film Institute theatrically re-releasing the absolutely last and totally final cut of Ridley Scott‘s Blade Runner (2007, 117 minutes) in England on 4.3? It’s been available on Bluray for a little more than seven years so who gives a shit? Warner Bros. screened this version (unicorn, no narration, no happy ending) in October and November 2007 at special venues in New York, Los Angeles, Washington, D.C., Chicago, Toronto, Austin, Boston and Melbourne. 33 years ago. Fiddled and re-fiddled with ad infinitum. Played out. Over. Let it go. On to the “Silver Deckard” sequel.