The abysmal reviews for Vic Armstrong and Paul LaLonde‘s Left Behind indicated the arrival of a classic wackazoid stinker — a movie so bad it might be hilarious. Alas, no. I saw it last night in the East Village at 10 pm, and I only chuckled four or five times. It’s fairly awful but never that outlandish — it’s simply a mediocre film made by untalented, not-smart-enough people. Among the least intelligent is Nicolas Cage, who really, really must have a screw loose to have agreed to be in this thing. Is he that desperate for a paycheck? Does he…what, hate himself on some level? In all fairness I should note that the fetching Cassi Thomson, who portrays Cage’s blonde daughter, handles herself reasonably well and somehow sidesteps much of the awfulness. She has a certain planted quality…calm, presence, conviction. Plus a nice rack. (Which director Armstrong is definitely pushing or at least allowing us to notice — don’t kid yourself.) Where Cage mostly comes off as a whore and a fool, Thomson manages to exude dignity.

Two nights ago I caught Vanessa Lapa‘s The Decent One, a fascinating arm’s-length portrait of infamous Nazi exterminator Heinrich Himmler, at the Film Forum. Pic blends archival footage of Himmler and the his era (1900 to ’45) with actors narrating Himmler’s (and his family’s) private letters and journals. Discovered and then kept by U.S. serviceman, the documents were hidden in Tel Aviv for decades and sold to Lapa’s father. The doc is a portrait of the chief architect of the Holocaust who — naturally, what else? — saw himself as a decent, dutiful, sometimes heroic fellow. And whose family kept themselves ignorant of his evil as much as possible, if not altogether. I think we all understand that evil always figures out a way to justify or at least live with itself. I was fully engaged and never bored, but I would have preferred to see a detailed doc about Himmler’s strategic maneuverings and political relationships throughout the ’20s, ’30s and ’40s. The personal/family stuff merely affirms our capacity for self-delusion — what else is new? I stayed for Lapa’s q & a afterwards. Her film played Telluride a few weeks ago.

I’ve been looking to re-experience Rafi Pitts’ 2003 documentary since seeing it at the Locarno Film Festival, the attendants of which were sweltering in the midst of a legendary heat wave. Ferrara doesn’t like the film but it’s definitely worth watching. From Leslie Felperin‘s Variety review: “[Pic] gets so close and personal with one of U.S. cinema’s most erratic talents that the focus, metaphorically and almost literally, gets slightly fuzzy. Fascinating and frustrating in near equal measures, pic benefits from the extra-large personality of its subject, seen here prowling the streets of New York, explaining how he shot key scenes from some of his movies, shooting a pop vid, but most of all shooting the breeze with his posse of friends and collaborators.

I hereby apologize for being a bit late to a 5 pm interview yesterday with Pasolini director-writer Abel Ferrara and star Willem Dafoe. (I mostly blame the C train.) I was there for three reasons. I’ve admired both of these guys for exactly 33 years (Ferrara since 1981’s Ms. 45, Dafoe since Kathryn Bigelow‘s The Loveless). I was sufficiently impressed by Pasolini to warrant further inquiry. And I’ve been a lifelong worshipper of Pier Paolo Pasolini himself, or since I caught The Gospel According to St. Matthew on the tube with my parents way back when.

Abel Ferrara, Willem Dafoe — Friday, 10.3, 5:35 pm.

Our chat happened inside a small windowless room inside the Elinor Bunin Munroe Film Center on West 65th Street. Ferrara and Dafoe are amiable, easy-going guys who’ve spent their life scaling mountains and who know just about everyone and everything. Fascinating, occasionally flinty…nothing but the truth. They both live in Rome and, of course, previously collaborated on Ferrara’s Go-Go Tales (’07).

The sometimes wonderful Richard Brody has joined the ranks of those who understand that Gone Girl is about much, much more than a friggin’ airport-thriller plot. And is much more than just a film about the Five D’s — despisings, deceit, disgust, deception and disappearance. I tried explaining to a friend earlier today that Fincher’s film is not really about the tale. It’s about the broader (and yet highly particular) strokes. The tale is just the clothes line. It’s the socio-cultural stuff…the rotting-yuppie-hell-vile-media wash that Fincher hangs on it — that’s what the movie really is. Brody also floats a Stanley Kubrick analogy. Yes, I realize that Fincher-Kubrick comparisons have already been kicked around on this site but you need to be patient as these arguments tend to pop up when they pop up.

Gone Girl‘s Ben Affleck, Bill Maher, N.Y. Times columnist Nicholas Kristol, Michael Steele and author Sam Harris, a critic of severe Islamic repression and brutality, engaged in a spirited discussion on Friday night’s Real Time with Bill Maher. Watch Affleck’s body posture and particularly his hands — he’s very unhappy with what Harris and Maher are saying and is marshalling all his strength to keep himself in check. It should be noted that on three previous Real Time visits Affleck expressed frustration about Muslims and Arabs being unfairly characterized and/or painted with too broad a brush — on 10.18.12, 10.23.08 and 5.27.07.

Yes, it’s a bit early for East Coast theatregoers to have caught a commercial screening and walked around and collected their thoughts (it’s 2:20 pm) but as the day wears on…

Read this Cara Buckley N.Y. Times story about a fight that Ben Affleck had with David Fincher during the shooting of Gone Girl and ask yourself the following: if you were Fincher, how resolute would you be about Affleck wearing or not wearing a Yankees cap? I wouldn’t have cared. I would have actually had Affleck wear a St. Louis Cardinals cap, his character being from Missouri and all. I would never have agreed with the Boston-born Affleck wearing a Red Sox cap as that would have seemed too in-jokey, but I would have never said “you have to wear a Yankees cap!” That’s a bit nutty, but then again that’s what makes Fincher a world-class director…right?

Last night a friend slipped me a copy of Kino’s new True Confessions Bluray, which streets next Tuesday. I haven’t seen Ulu Grosbard‘s period noir since ’81, but in my mind it feels like burnished brass. Robert De Niro, Robert Duvall, Charles Durning, Kenneth MacMillan, Burgess Meredith, etc. And it has a serene ending that you don’t expect from a film preoccupied with the stink of corruption and the Black Dahlia murder case, etc. Produced by Chartoff-Winkler; screenplay by John Gregory Dunne (who used to pick up the phone when I would call in the ’90s) and Joan Didion, based on Dunne’s novel.

Abel Ferrara‘s Pasolini, screening this evening at the New York Film Festival, is about the last day or so in the life of the noted visionary Italian filmmaker — a brilliant writer and impassioned artist, upscale and refined, incredibly hard-working, the maker of one of the most rancid and perverse films of all time…and a guy with a thing for low-class, curly-haired boys. And an inclination on some level to flirt with danger. Ferrara is obviously in awe of Pasolini’s artistic bravery (or obstinacy) and has captured some of his visions and dreams by depicting portions of Pasolini’s “Petrolio,” a meandering unfinished book he was writing, and has depicted his violent death with a certain raw power but…how to best say this?…I was faintly bored by some of it. Not dead bored — it’s an intelligent, earnestly felt film about an interesting man — but my fingers were tapping on the tabletop. Too many shots are murky or underlit…not Gordon Willis dark but “you can’t see shit” dark. Willem Dafoe‘s performance as Pasolini is arresting — he obviously looks the part, and for whatever reason I didn’t mind that he and almost everyone else speaks English the entire time. I actually loved Ferrara’s capturing of three scenes from Porno-Teo-Kolossal, a film Pasolini intended to make as a follow-up to Salo, The 120 Days of Sodom. But it’s finally a mercurial film aimed at Pasolini devotees. I agree with Variety‘s Peter Debruge that “it’s not fair to require audiences to know Pasolini’s ‘Petrolio'” — if you haven’t done your homework some portions of Ferrara’s film will throw you blind. But it’s lively and unfamiliar and anything but sedate. It’s not so bad to be faintly bored; it also means that you’re somewhat engaged. I’m glad that I saw it. It has portions that work. My vistas have been somewhat broadened. Note: I’m sitting down with Ferrara and Dafoe later this afternoon.

Virtually none of the right’s dire predictions about Obamacare have come true, and the program is more or less a success. And now we have reports that U.S. employers added 248,000 jobs last month, in a burst of hiring that drove down the unemployment rate to 5.9 percent, the lowest since July 2008.” And gas prices are down to $3.33 a gallon — the lowest for the month of September since 2010. What will be the likely midterm election response be from hinterland voters? Throw the bums out!