Andy Grieve‘s Can’t Stand Losing You (3.20 NY, 4.3 LA), a doc about the nine-year ride of The Police from the perspective of guitarist Andy Summers (and based on Summers’ “One Train Later: A Memoir“), has been a long time coming. The film’s website says it “brings together past and present as the Police members reunite, two decades [after breaking up], for a global reunion tour in 2007-’08.” (Sting formally quit The Police in 1986 but the group had been on hiatus starting sometime in ’84.) So the bulk of it was apparently shot seven or eight years ago. Plus it was first screened at DOC NYC in November 2012. Why did it take almost two and half years to open this film commercially? There’s a hint why in John DeFore‘s 11.12.12 Hollywood Reporter review: “Of interest to Police fans but hardly a rock-doc for the ages, it’s best suited to small screens.”

“I’m not talking about ‘following your dream’ either. I never liked the inspirational value of that phrase. Dreaming is a way of trivializing the process, the obsession that carries you through the failure as well as the successes, which could be harder to get through. It’s important and imperative to always be awake to your feelings, your possibilities, your ambitions. Every day is a re-dedication. Every step is a first step. Every brushstroke is a test. Every scene is a lesson. Every shot is a school. So let the learning continue.” — Martin Scorsese

All 13 episodes of House of Cards‘ third season are up and rolling. The idea, of course, is to binge-watch between now and Sunday night. The plan, ideally, is to watch two today or tonight, and then six on Saturday and five on Sunday. It’s my earnest hope that Kevin Spacey‘s Frank Underwood will out-connive or out-bludgeon his enemies and slither away from all his troubles like the black snake he is and always will be. I know Frank deserves to go down and be eaten by predators, but there’s something perversely enjoyable in watching him turn the tables and eat them.

Posted today by Rupert Murdoch, roughly around 11:15 am Pacific.

I’m sorry that Leonard Nimoy has left the earth, but know that his soul is moving at light speed through the heavens, an element in the cosmos, serene and absolute and soaring and eternal. I’m glad Nimoy, 83 when he died, had a long and fulfilling life for the most part, and that Mr. Spock meant so much to so many millions of Star Trek fans during the ’60s, ’70s, ’80s and ’90s even (the last Star Trek film starring Nimoy was Nicholas Meyer‘s Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country in 1991). I mostly hated Phil Kaufman‘s Invasion of the Body Snatchers (’78) but I thought Nimoy was quite good as a San Francisco spiritual psychobabble guru type. And I’ve always loved his “Highly Illogical” song. The poor guy passed from the after-effects of smoking. Nimoy reportedly stated on Twitter that “I quit smoking 30 years ago…not soon enough.” Zachary Quinto, the 21st Century Spock in JJ Abrams‘ two Star Trek films, has posted the following on Instagram: “My heart is broken. I love you profoundly, my dear friend, and I will miss you everyday. May flights of angels sing thee to thy rest.”

I suppose I need to add Tom Hooper‘s The Danish Girl (Universal) to the hot list, although it may be a February 2016 release. Eddie Redmayne is playing transgender “pioneer” Einar Wegener, who later became Lili Elbe. Alicia Vikander and Amber Heard costar. Tomas Alfredson was the first director on the project, then Lasse Hallström.

Eddie Redmaybe as Einar Wegenar/Lili Elbe in Tom Hooper’s The Danish Girl.

10 months hence we’ll see Harrison Ford bring Han Solo back to life, and then sometime in 2017 Ford will revive Blade Runner‘s coolest replicant, Rick Deckard. Maybe in a lead or supporting capacity, but definitely in a Blade Runner sequel that’ll shoot in the summer of 2016. Denis Villeneuve (Prisoners, Incendies) will direct from a script by Michael Green and original Blade Runner co-author Hampton Fancher, based on an idea by Fancher and producer Ridley Scott. My usual response is to say “why?” and “1982 was then, this is now” and so on. But maybe. Reactions?

From a 1.8.10 N.Y. Times article by the late David Carr, called “Me, Campaign? Just Go To The Film”: “Mo’Nique, 42, says she cares deeply about Precious and is thrilled to be among the mentioned, but she is not about to reorganize her life or her priorities to get her mitts on an Oscar. The Mo’Nique Show, her daily talk show on BET, just began in October, and while other hopefuls are criss-crossing the country for all manner of events, chatting up Oscar bloggers and making sure that everyone knows that they want it, Mo’Nique is mostly here in Atlanta, tending to her show, this past year.

A friend has been applying for a job he’d really like to get and has gone through a series of interviews so far, the last being with the head of the company. He just got a call saying that the honcho wants to meet again, apparently because my friend seemed a little nervous and the honcho felt he was off his game on some level. Right away a suggestion came to mind but I hesitated before sharing it. If you don’t want to be nervous before a job interview just slip into a bathroom stall about 20 minutes before the interview and jerk off, and you’ll be as centered as Buddha. I seem to recall reading that Bill Maher does this before taping Real Time. Matthew McConaughey told Leonardo DiCaprio in The Wolf of Wall Street to have a wank once or twice a day because it leaves you in a Zen place.  Chris Elliot said the same thing to Ben Stiller in There’s Something About Mary when Stiller said he was nervous about going on a date with Cameron Diaz.

Well, it turns out that all the bellyaching and predictions of doom about the demise of net neutrality and the advent of “fast lanes” and all those assumptions about FCC Tom Wheeler being a cable-industry toady were wrong. For this morning the Federal Communications Commission did the right thing by voting 3 to 2 to regulate broadband internet service as a public utility, which is a major milestone and a blow for equal internet access and cause for dancing in the streets.

This is excellent news for everyone out there and easily one of the proudest accomplishments of the Obama administration. If David Carr was still with us he’d write a hell of a column about this. Sasha Stone owes Wheeler an apology.

The new rules ensure that no content will be blocked and that the net will not be divided “into pay-to-play fast lanes for big media companies that can afford it and slow lanes for everyone else…[which] are hallmarks of the net neutrality concept,” in the words of the N.Y. Times story. Wheeler said the F.C.C. was using “all the tools in our toolbox to protect innovators and consumers” and preserve the internet’s role as a “core of free expression and democratic principles.” He added that interest access was “too important to let broadband providers be the ones making the rules.”

An instinct told me to put off seeing Lone Scherfig‘s The Riot Club (IFC Films, 3.27 theatrical/VOD) during last September’s Toronto Film Festival. I had gone cold on her after enduring One Day, which I found almost shockingly tepid and underwhelming after Scherfig’s highly enjoyable Italian for Beginners and especially An Education. The Riot Club is based on Laura Wade‘s Posh, a 2010 stage play about a swaggering attitude of entitlement and imperviousness known to the sons of the British conservative upper classes. (British Prime Minster David Cameron is a former member.) The play and the film (which Wade also wrote) are based on the real-life Bullingdon Club, an exclusive all-male dining club at Oxford University, going all the way back to 1780 and known for its grand banquets and trashing of restaurants.

I think we all know about rich assholes, don’t we? Do we really need to be told again that they’re all quite arrogant and loathsome?

To non-Brits, The Riot Club “will play like Brideshead Revisited meets Donna Tartt’s The Secret History meets Lord of the Flies,” wrote Hollywood Reporter critic David Rooney. “An anesthetizing inevitability creeps into the film as damning evidence stacks up that these ‘Wild Boys’ believe they can buy their way into any pleasure of their choosing and out of any scrape of their making. The far-from-revelatory conclusion is that the deck remains stacked in the class war. Duh.”