I missed Alexandre Moors‘ Blue Caprice (9.13 theatrical, 9.17 iTunes/VOD) at last January’s Sundance Film Festival. 100% Rotten Tomatoes rating. I’d like to see it before leaving for Telluride on 8.28. Hello, Brigade Marketing — can I get a screener? “A chillingly plausible and responsibly handled attempt to dramatize the disturbing bond between the two men behind the 2002 Beltway sniper attacks” — Variety‘s Justin Chang.

There are two ways to pronounce “villa.” If you’re in Italy looking to rent a villa, it should rhyme with “Godzilla.” But if you’re managing an old-style, Spanish-flavored, pre-war hotel in Santa Barbara called the Villa Rosa Inn, you obviously need to pronounce it like a Spaniard or a Mexican and call it the “Veeya Rosa.” It’s not rocket science. I’m mentioning this because I’m staying at this Santa Barbara establishment next weekend, and twice when I called a woman picked up and said “Villa Rosa Inn” like she was Raymond Burr in Tokyo.

Santa Barbara’s Villa Rosa Inn.

I hate being stuck at the end of a line of cars inside a large, multi-level underground parking lot. Everyone is looking for an empty space, of course, and it takes forever — cruising the same lanes, driving really slow, floor to floor to floor. Occasionally the line stops and nobody moves because somebody three or four cars ahead is waiting for a person who’s just gotten into their car to leave, except that person…excuse me, that sociopath isn’t leaving but just sitting in the driver’s seat and diddling around, knowing full well that he/she is making all the empty-space seekers wait. This person will typically sit and sit and sit and finally turn on the ignition and then sit there some more. Four or five minutes later he/she will finally back out. If there was a God…

I watched a slightly watered-down version of the forthcoming Bluray of Elia Kazan‘s East of Eden (Warner Home Video, 11.5) on Vudu last night. I’ve been watching this film on laser disc and DVD since the ’90s and know it backwards and forwards, and the Vudu HDX version is a very significant upgrade in terms of clarity, sharpness, color vibrancy. It’s never looked this good. Straight out of the lab and robust and clean and tied together with a big red ribbon. The Bluray will have a lot more data and will presumably look that much better

Thoughts of guy in white hat who eventually gets shot: “Wow, lotta gunfire ’round here. Hundreds have been killed by the military over the past two or three weeks and I might be next. Why tempt fate then? Because if I die I’ll be sent to paradise with 100 virgins waiting to caress me with their tongues. Maybe if I just raise my arms peacefully and act like that kid in front of the tank during the Tiananmen Square protests…fuck! I’m shot! Everything is turning black. Oh, look…a white light. A feeling of peace and serenity has come over me, but no virgins…where are the virgins? At least I died well.”

I don’t mean to sound cavalier about the carnage going on in Egypt right now, but what do these guys think is going to happen? They know the troops have been given “shoot to kill” orders. They’re obviously looking to be sent to paradise. Winston Churchill once said that “nothing in life is so exhilarating as to be shot at without result.” The Cairo protestors seem to almost have the opposite view. To be shot and killed while protesting the coup against Morsi is a blessed thing, and since we’re dying anyway sooner or later why not go out in a glorious way?

Yesterday I posted a praise piece about Adele Exarchopoulos‘ wide-open, mesmerizing performance in Blue Is The Warmest Color (IFC Films/Sundance Selects, 10.25). I called it “Historic Performance, All-But-Guaranteed Best Actress Nomination.” This morning Awards Daily‘s Sasha Stone posted the following in the comment thread: “[Exarchopoulos getting a Best Actress nomination is] certainly possible…but the one to really look out for is Brie Larson in Short Term 12. If anyone is going to break through big-time this year, it will be her.

Blue Is The Warmest Color star and Oscar hopeful Adele Exarchopoulos.

Short Term 12 star and possible Oscar contender Brie Larson

[Note: The title of this post isn’t meant literally, but as a euphemism]: Two days ago I wrote about my recent lower back pain, which reached epic proportions yesterday. Bent over and moaning. Nearly weeping at times. It’s tolerable in the morning, and I’m walking around like an 89 year-old by 3 pm. Right about now I could use a nice codeine-and-Tylenol cocktail. Because that chiropractor I saw on Wednesday just gave me a standard quick-fix treatment — I felt great for 45 minutes and then the pain came right back.

Yesterday morning I spoke with a friend about possible remedies and she told me never to work sitting down again…sold! I now have two stand-up desks. She also told me to go to a holistic Santa Monica chiropractor named Fernando Mata. I hobbled over to his office yesterday at 4 pm, and he eliminated about 80% of the agony. I’m suffering from a sprained back, he said. Ligaments. It’ll take six to eight weeks to be completely back in the pink. I’m taking pain pills, wearing a lower-back brace, carrying a cane around, applying an electric heating pad, installing a chin-up bar.

It was my bad luck to sit in front of a compulsive scribbler during a screening that I attended last night. During the entire film (and I mean during the entire three-hour running time) this asshole was writing furiously on some kind of paper pad, and noisily. Wusha-wusha-wusha-wusha-wusha-wusha-wusha-wusha-wusha-wusha-wusha…Jesus! I didn’t have the nerve to turn around and say “would you please consider shifting gears and just make occasional quick notes like most critics do and stop scribbling during every single scene“?

It was easily as distracting as sitting next to someone compulsively texting.

Earlier this week a few L.A.-based Hollywood columnists were politely disinvited from attending last night’s screening of Abdellatif Kechiche‘s Blue Is The Warmest Color (IFC Films/Sundance Selects, 10.25), the must-see lesbian romantic drama that won the Cannes Film Festival’s Palme d’Or last May. All publicists and marketers want online conversations to be sparked by the heat and excitement of Telluride or Toronto, but if I were running Sundance Selects I would let these guys see Blue before things begin on 8.28, and not just because it’s difficult to wedge a three-hour film into a compressed Toronto screening schedule. It’s vitally important to see Blue now, I feel, because of Adele Exarchopoulos‘s incandescent, unstoppable lead performance as the teenaged lover of supporting costar Lea Seydoux. Because AE will absolutely be one of the five Best Actress Oscar contenders this year. We’re talking an almost-done deal — really.

Kick-Ass 2 has opened with a thud. (Deadline is projecting $15.6 million for the weekend.) Can we at least get a little respect for Jim Carrey‘s performance as Colonel Stars and Stripes? Marshall Fine says it’s “the only performance in the film that has any weight to it, and seems to be in a different universe altogether. Carrey does something with the thrust of his jaw that both defines the character and makes him almost unrecognizable behind even a small bandit mask. It’s actually an interesting characterization, but of a character given too little time to…make an impression.”

For his performance as Jett Rink in Giant (’56), James Dean dug himself into a very deep mannerist hole. His Texas cracker accent was thicker than bean dip, and made his voice sound even more nasally and high-pitched than usual. And it was totally at war with consonants. The idea, apparently, was to un-enunciate as much as possible, speaking almost entirely with mood sounds and surly slurrings. If he’d gone all the way Dean would have avoided consonants altogether. Try to say “mah well came in, Bick” without the first letter in each word. I just did and it sounds something like “ahh ehhl ‘ame ihn, Ick.” That‘s what Dean was shooting for.**

I’ve stated more than once my admiration for Destin Daniel Cretton‘s Short Term 12 (Cinedigm, 8.23), which currently has a 100% Rotten Tomatoes score. And I like Cretton personally — definitely a gifted, friendly, thoughtful guy. But three-word names rub me the wrong way. I’m sorry but they sound a bit pompous. Francis Coppola said years ago that he dropped his middle “Ford” name for this reason. I can never remember if it’s Destin Daniel Cretton or Daniel Destin Cretton or Detton Creston Daniel. Or Daniel in the Lion’s Den. Why not add “Dustin” to the mix and become Destin Dustin Daniel Cretton III, Esquire?