Jeffrey Wells

Dear God, No…

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HE not yet having seen The Whale is entirely on A24 and their reps, who are totally playing “hide the ball” from certain viewers. The idea of seeing it in the city this weekend is an option, of course, but a conversation I had this morning with three friends gave me pause:

Friendo #1: “The Whale is very bad.”
Friendo #2: “It’s a tough sit, but I was sobbing at the very end.”
Friendo #1: “The Whale begins with Brendan Fraser jerking off to gay porn.”
HE: “Is that how the play version began?”
Friendo #1: “I didn’t see the play.”
HE: “Jerking off? Please tell me [Darren] Aronofsky‘s camera shows restraint.”
Friendo #1: “And then somebody walks in on him.”
Friendo #3: “I missed the first minute at my Toronto screening. I got in when he was naked in the shower. I didn’t notice any jerking off. Maybe I missed it.”
Friendo #1: “I don’t remember a shower scene, but the first scene definitely shows him jerking off, bro,”
Friendo #4: “Yes! That’s how it starts!”
HE: “Aaaggghh.”

I have always been an ardent fan of Mr. Aronofsky’s, but saying that I am genuinely fearful of seeing The Whale is putting it mildly.

Oscar Poker Reboot

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Sasha Stone and I have leapt back into the podcast fray — Oscar Poker, Part Deux. A weekly thing with occasional extras and detours. But on Substack this time. The usual strategy applies — free at first and then paywalled. And not just anti-woke rants and whatnot.

We spoke for an hour earlier today — (a) Avatar 2 vs. other Best Picture contenders that haven’t much chance. (b) how many more years will the woke plague endure?, (c) kicking around Nat’l Board of Review winners (what happened to Tar?), (d) this weekend’s White Lotus finale, etc.

Please join us in daring to give a shit. How can Sasha and I be a little different? Is there anyone in Media/Journo/Hunger Land who isn’t podcasting?

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“She’s On Her Way Home”

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After foolishly flying into Russia last February with a small amount of hash oil, which led to an arrest, a trial and a long prison sentence, WNBA star Brittney Griner has been swapped for demonic arms dealer Viktor Bout and is now flying back home. President Joe Biden approved the deal late last week — a big political win any way you slice it.

Farewell To Nature’s Shroud

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Bedroom window, 6:05 am. No leaves, bare trees, slush, sleet, scarves and overcoats for at least the next four months. Come late January or February the usual dreams will kick in. Flying south to Key West or better yet Belize for one. Actually that’s pretty much it.

I really admire anyone willing to learn anything new after 40, and particularly if it’s dancing the tango, playing piano or learning how to become a decent preparer of Northern Italian dishes. Snapped three or four days ago in a Los Angeles dance hall. Tatiana’s partner (not a boyfriend) is too tall for her, but he seems a good sport.

Okay, Not A Squeaker

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I was under the impression that Raphael Warnock would defeat Herschel Walker by…I don’t know, 51% to 49%? Slightly better as it turned out. Warnock finished with 51.2% to Walker’s 48.8%. Think of it — 48.8% of Georgia voters wanted to send Walker, that clown, to the U.S. Senate.

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Covid Again? C’mon…

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The first tingly, muscle-ache sensations of Covid were felt Friday morning. I went through it a year ago so I know the deal. Yesterday I took a Covid test…bingo.

It took me four days to get through it last December so I’ll probably be out of the woods by Monday evening.

Right now I feel so depleted that the mere thought of sitting up and writing something is exhausting.

12:25 am, Monday: I can feel the Covid starting to weaken, dissipate. The worst seems to be over.

9 am, Monday: Digital temperature gauge reads 98.4.

This morning’s recovery made think of Keith’s “98.6.” I shouldn’t need to remind, of course, that it’s no longer acceptable to address or refer to a girlfriend as “baby.”

HE vs. Alcott

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I was ready to move past the Jeanne Dielmann / Sight & Sound thing, but then I came upon a Todd Alcott Facebook riff that completely ignored the fact that the voting was largely political and that the system was almost certainly massaged and gamed.

This notion was aroused when Jordan Ruimy posted a link to Brian Jacobson’s L.A. Review of Books piece about the S&S poll (12.2), which had a vague “smoking gun” feeling.

First Alcott, then me and then Alcott’s progressive female Facebook pallies, who seem to think that I hate Chantal Ackerman’s 1975 film (I’m not that much of a fan but I don’t hate it) or that I don’t get it because of my gender (I understand exactly what it’s about and what the strategy is).

Friendly “Babylon” Screenings

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I’ve been working on launching a special industry-friendly film series at the renowned Bedford Playhouse, which is run by Dan Friedman. The program is called Bedford Marquee, and a 12.5 screening of Damien Chazelle’s Babylon will kick things off.

I’ll be offering a few observations (including some historical footnotes) a few minutes before the show begins at 7 pm.

Located within the Clive Davis Arts Center, the BP is one of the finest commercial screening facilities I’ve ever settled into — easily the technical equal of any upscale industry screening facility (including the Academy Museum theatre and/or the classic AMPAS theatre in Beverly Hills) in the U.S., Paris, Cannes or anywhere.

Esteemed restoration guru Robert Harris supervised the BP’s upgrade.

We’re also planning a special mid-January screening of the recently restored Invaders From Mars (‘53). The film was painstakingly restored by Scott MacQueen, who will present a master class about the film’s history and cultural influence.

A sprawling three-hour epic of 1920s Hollywood, Babylon opens nationwide on 12.23.

Beethoven’s Funeral March

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“The ‘Oscar Movie’ Is Dying,” an 11.28 lament by World of Reel’s Jordan Ruimy, was linked to yesterday (11.29) by Real Clear Politics — congrats.

Owen Gleiberman’s 11.29 review of the apparently loathsome Violent Night (Universal, 12.2) acknowledges the same dynamic — on top of 2022 award-season films exuding a curious “meh” lethargy, Joe and Jane Popcorn (especially the 40-plus crowd) have mostly shined the notion of seeing these films in theatres:

One key reason is that there’s zero overlap between elite industry sensibilities and the generally coarse, cynical and fed-up attitudes of popcorn inhalers.

The introduction to that brilliant 11.28 video essay on the Oscars’ 94 year history reminds that over the last decade award-season films have become their own separate and myopic genre — and with the pernicious SJW factor the vast majority has simply tuned them out.

The decisive gutshot bullet that killed the award-season brand (I’ve said this over and over) was fired on 4.25.21 by Steven Soderbergh, producer of the 93rd Academy Award telecast.

From “Norma Desmond: It’s The Oscars That Got Small,” posted on 9.30.21: