I came along way too late in the 20th Century to savor the storied, once-glorious atmosphere of the RKO Radio Pictures lot (Melrose and Gower), which was right next door to the still-standing Paramount lot.

My only physical, professional association with the former RKO operation (the studio having peaked between the early 1930s and late ‘50s) was my horrific three-month stint as an Entertainment Tonight employee. E.T.’s offices were located near the Gower gate, and I worked there for two or three months in the spring of ‘98.

It was absolutely the most hellish job I’ve ever had in my life, in part because I had to be at work at 5 am and in part because of the acutely political vibe under exec producer Linda Bell Blue. Everyone who worked there was “schemin’ schemin’ like a demon,” and after a while I began to daydream about shooting heroin into my veins.

HE to self during E.T. employment: “Will they fire me next month, next week…tomorrow?

“Why are people always speaking in hushed tones behind closed doors? Is the work I’m doing of any value to anyone? Will I always have to wake up at 3:45 am? Is it too late to learn a new trade?

The daily salt-mine vibe at Entertainment Tonight was the most horrifically political and terrifying I’ve ever known in my life, bar none. It was all about petty office power games and anxiety and who’s up and who’s down.

Nothing in that environment was the least bit calm or serene. Nothing was devotional. It was all about fake–performing in front of your co-workers in order to convince them that you wouldn’t say anything bad about them when they weren’t around.

Women were always conferring and plotting in their offices with the doors closed, and the subject was always other women who were huddling and plotting in their offices, etc.

I naturally wanted to keep getting paid, but half the time I wanted to stick my head in a gas oven. I was 40% upset when I was canned but 60% relieved.

…for bike riding in the tri-state area…that’s my crimson bike on the right…recently washed it off, re-filled the tires, etc.

Next month Fathom Events will present that special 4K restoration (original negative VistaVision scan) of Alfred Hitchcock ‘s North by Northwest (‘59) on screens coast to coast (1 pm on Sunday, 5.19 and 7 pm on Tuesday, 5.22). All to promote the 4K UHD Bluray, which will presumably pop in mid-summer.

I visited Houston, Texas, in late April ‘06 or 18 years ago, and I frankly doubt if I’ll ever return. There are so many beautiful, soul-stirring cities, towns and regions out there worldwide (I could write chapters upon chapters) and I’m sorry but comparison-wise and with all due respect Houston just doesn’t knock your sucks off.

Here’s how I put it back then…deep in the Dubya miasma and roughly a year before Barack Obama launched his presidential campaign. The HE article was called “Texas Town.” The money quote (“Houston is L.A. without the soul”) came from Texas gal and good friend Cherry Kutac, who had invited me to cover the still-thriving Worldfest, the Houston-based film festival.

Because I hated David Leitch’s Bullet Train with exceptional passion, I’m 96% certain I’m going to loathe and despise The Fall Guy (Universal, 5.3). I know what Leitch is (ex-stunt man, delusions of adequacy) and what he’s basically about deep down (a quarter-of-inch deep aspirations). There’s an all-media screening in Manhattan on Monday evening (4.29) but I don’t feel that The Fall Guy is worth the hassle of travelling in and out. I’ll catch it locally on Wednesday, 5.1…like a dentist appointment.

“Loud Latino Construction Workers,” posted on 10.25.21: “There’s a Latino apartment renovation crew working in the building next door, three or four guys, and they’re being (what else?) obnoxious — shouting to the extent that their voices sound like sonic booms, playing loud sombrero ballads and singing along and occasionally going ‘whooo-whooo!’

“And it’s awful to listen to, man. It’s hell.

“I’ve asked myself if I should walk over to the worksite and ask these guys to consider the fact that this is West Hollywood and not East L.A. and would they mind giving the neighborhood a break with their awful Tijuana border crossing music, etc. But that wouldn’t accomplish much. I understand that.

“I’ve been all around the block with coarse Latinos so don’t tell me. My battles with the Hispanic Party Elephant in North Bergen. The “Loud Latinos” piece that I posted from Brooklyn in June 2010, and got in trouble over.

Posted on 6.26.10: “We all act thoughtlessly from time to time, but the mark of a real animal is someone who never considers that he/she might be giving offense.

“I’ve been all around Spain and I’ve rarely noticed this level of conversational obnoxiousness in cafes. Nor did I notice this element when I visited Buenos Aires a few years ago. The Latin men and women I’ve observed in other countries can be spirited and exuberant, of course, but they mostly seem to converse at moderate levels. People with money and/or accomplishment under their belts are always more soft-spoken.

“You can bet that if you were to go to a cafe with Paul Shenar‘s Alejandro Sosa, the Bolivian drug dealer in Scarface, that he wouldn’t be shouting and bellowing. Does Edward James Olmos bellow in cafes and cause guys like me to complain about him? I seriously doubt it.”

Longer version: Fuck your sentimental boomer attachments to riveting hot-button movies that ruled the roost between the late ‘60s and Iron Man (‘09). GenX is mostly running the show now but down the road we’ll be taking the fuck over, and if you think there’s too much third-rate, zone-out streaming content now, wait until we get our hands on the gears.

You want some attempts at old-fart, boomer-type flicks? There aren’t any. Try original content longform streaming, and if that’s not nourishing enough, tough.

All we care about are jizz-whizz fiicks — IP reboots, moronic romcoms and comedies, VFX and horror. And we definitely don’t want to adapt books or plays — eff that noize.

We are going to run this business into the ground, man.

A quarter-century hence the corpses of Ben Hecht, John Ford, Spencer Tracy, Daryl F. Zanuck, Gregg Toland, Jean Arthur, John Huston, Ida Lupino, Nicholas Ray, Agnes Varda, Tom Cruise, Howard Hawks, Billy Wilder, James Stewart, Stanley Kubrick, Alfred Hitchcock, Meryl Streep, Oliver Stone and Kevin Costner will be spinning in their graves on a permanent basis.

20 years from now people are going to be saying “wow, remember The Fall Guy? What a great film!”

…on Yorgos Lanthimos’s Kinds of Kindness said that it’s, like, heartwarming and touchy-feely and possibly the most inviting and emotionally friendly film he’s ever made? How would you respond to this scuttlebutt? Boredom, right?

…I had never seen Stanley Kubrick’s bare feet — not in real life, not in a photo. It’s not that big of a deal, but I immediately felt a twinge of regret. Let’s leave it at that. Male director toes should always be covered by animal leather or hip sneakers or at the very least socks. Especially if the male director hails from the Bronx. The only thing worse in this regard are mandals.

Filed on 10.31.11: Following a Savannah Film Festival screening of Barry Lyndon, James Toback told a funny story that happened during the cutting of Spartacus, which Stanley Kubrick directed and Kirk Douglas produced and starred in.

The story came from editor Robert Lawrence, who later edited Toback’s Fingers and Exposed.

“Kubrick and Lawrence were editing the finale when Jean Simmons, escaping from Rome with the help of Peter Ustinov, is saying goodbye to Douglas, who’s dying on a cross. Kubrick told Lawrence he didn’t want to use what he felt was a grotesque close-up of Douglas. Lawrence said the shot wasn’t so bad and in any case Douglas will surely complain when he notices that his closeup is missing. “I don’t care what he says,” Kubrick said. “I’m the director…take it out.”

They later showed the scene to Douglas, and his immediate comment was exactly what Lawrence had predicted — “Where’s my closeup?” Kubrick shrugged and said, “I don’t know, Kirk.” Kubrick then turned to Lawrence and said, “Where’s his close-up?”

It’s understood that everyone in Cannes is going to bend over backwards to be open-hearted and gracious in their reactions to Megalopolis, and where is the downside in doing so? I’m not saying anything yea or nay, but among those who may have issues with Coppola’s film, who will be so cruel as to blurt out truth bombs? Turn the other cheek, consider the risk factor, judge not lest ye be judged.

If you’re capable of feeling anything above and beyond the immediate and especially if you’ve been lucky and double especially if you’re been gifted with any kind of enviable insight or ability, it’s hard to not weep with gratitude…even with all the lumps and bruises and the endless parade of shitty people and craven impulses, not to mention the crushing, soggy banality that constitutes so much of civilized life on this planet…if you’ve had any kind of “ride” it’s still a gift.