The key thing when you dine at a place like Osteria Mamma is not to anger your waiter. Don’t send too many things back, I mean. I sent back a puree-like green soup because it wasn’t exciting enough. Then I added insult to injury by asking the waiter to please re-heat the potatoes. So I was pushing it.
For a half-second I saw the waiter looking at me sideways and I knew…I didn’t think it was likely that he would spit in my one of my dishes, but the thought occured to me that if I don’t stop sending stuff back something like that might happen.
That said, he was a very nice and polite guy, and he spoke with a genuine Italian accent. The bill was split in half and we (i.e., attorney friend Mark and myself) tipped him 20% each. I know, I know…some waiters might seethe and mutter to themselves “fuck you…why didn’t you tip me 25%?” But I took a chance with 20%.
Roughly nine months ago I explained the basic ground rules when it came to flirtatious older guys and younger women in the year 2021. It’s now 2022 and things haven’t changed. I explained it as carefully as the English language allows, and in only three paragraphs. It was completely free (not a paywall post) and easy to find. And what happened?
Here’s what I said last July: “Some older white guys — the stupid, clumsy ones, I mean — don’t seem to realize that they’re deer, and that it’s deer hunting season out there right now. Because a decent percentage of urban progressive women (teens to mid 30s and perhaps beyond) would just as soon explode their lives into smithereens as look at them. If old guys want to be dead all they have to do is give the ‘hunters’ a reason to get out their high-powered social media rifles and fire at them.”
Here’s what Langella did wrong, according to TMZ: “As for what exactly happened, a source close to production tells us the 84-year-old actor allegedly made an inappropriate joke that was sexual in nature. Our sources also say in the context of his performance, possibly during rehearsal, he touched the leg of a female costar, and further drew attention to the action when he jokingly said something like ‘Did you like that?'”
“Second, I think what we’re seeing isn’t another Harvey Weinstein-level predator. Langella was known for decades as a Warren Beatty-level ladies man. He never engaged in Weinstein-like behavior because, let’s face it, he was a gorgeous dude who didn’t have to. He loved women and he loved getting laid. And did. Among his conquests was an off-and-on relationship with Jackie O. for a number of years, a lady who was renowned for not being attracted to ‘nice guys.’
“This is my point about how this brand of guy, from the Mad Men era, was rewarded for their behavior. ‘Swaggering alpha male who goes after what he wants’ equaled ‘self-confident, strong man,’ and this behavior was rewarded by society and the world’s most spectacular women alike through my generation. It’s how things were, whether you feel it was “right,” or not.
“[Langella’s] ‘inappropriate touching’ might not have been viewed as such 20 or 30 years ago, prior to his being an old man. It might’ve been welcomed. Perhaps the real issue is [that] Frank [has] never came to terms with the fact that he’s gotten old. If his career truly is over, I shall miss him. He was always a fascinating actor to watch weave his magic.”
Don’t recite your resume or your hobbies, don’t tell us what you own or how your golf game has improved or how much you love your pets or anything peripheral…none of that…just tell us who you are.
Okay, here goes: I’m a guy who lives to write and writes to live. I believe that while certain bedrock behaviors are more or less constant if you’re sober, moods and perceptions are always tipping this way or that. There is no “real” essential identity. There is only our genetic history plus the constantly adjusting, moving-train way of things…influences, appetites, defense mechanisms, second thoughts.
I was angry as a kid because I’d suffered through a traumatic birth, and angry as a teenager because my functioning alcoholic dad managed to persuade me that I had to avoid turning out like him…that anything would be preferable to that. And yet I miss him on some level.
Nicholson to HE: That’s very nice, Jeff, but as usual you’re dodging. Who are you? Just say it.
HE to Nicholson: I don’t have a pat answer, and neither do you. Nobody does. I’m an imaginative egocentric refugee from a middle-class New Jersey suburb. I live for those transcendent moments that descend from time to time. (We all do, I think.) I’ve been lucky in some respects, and I’ve been blessed with a strong constitution. Otherwise I’m a reasonably stable, steady-as-she-goes workaholic.
I vastly prefer the poetry of cinema + great writing + music to the occasionally maudlin reality of day-to-day life. My eyes go all watery when certain memories surface, and especially when certain songs and passages from certain film scores are re-savored.
Most of us understand about God’s absolute and infinite indifference about whether we are happy or not, and that there is only “be here now” and the hum of it all, etc. And yet deep down I seem to spend a lot of time trying to re-savor or re-appreciate my deepest and most lasting memories from the 20th Century, and all the while hitting re-fresh.
I understand the rule about not mentioning cats and dogs, but they’re mostly wonderful (98% of the time) to hang with.
I shared a pro-Russian invasion Instagram post from a certain party with Jordan Ruimy, and he replied as follows: "Hahaha...90% of Russians believe this. The Russians I know here in Montreal all post pro-Putin stuff on their Facebook. They are very patriotic people. I’ve also met a few Ukrainians over the years who consider themselves more Russian than Ukrainian. It’s very common, especially if they come from Eastern Ukraine.
Login with Patreon to view this post
I’ve been looking for this hilarious story on YouTube for ages. It’s from George Stevens A Filmmakers’ Journey (’85), and nobody’s ever posted it. It’s funny because it reminds us that no matter how divine the inspiration and how arduous and exacting the effort to make the movie turn out right, the last guy on the delivery food chain can still screw it up. From Shane to Bonnie and Clyde to a projectionist’s booth inside London’s Warner cinema.
A certain party who caught a research screening of David O. Russell’s still-untitled ‘30s period drama (aka “Canterbury Glass”), which will open at year’s end…a certain party feels that Taylor Swift, who plays a secondary role, delivers impressively.
As I understand it Swift plays a somewhat tragic figure a la Anne Hathaway in Les Miserables, and that…okay, let’s stop right there. I don’t know if Swift plays a cameo or an actual supporting character or what. I don’t really know a damn thing, and with Russell’s rep declining to clarify for the time being, that leaves me high and dry.
“It felt like most of Russell’s effort was built into legitimizing Taylor Swift’s acting abilities more than the film surrounding her. She’s in the hunt for an Oscar nomination or even a win because, without spoiling, what she’s accomplished is remarkable (think Eddie Redmayne in The Theory of Everything meets anne Hathaway in Les Miserables). But I do fear she could end up like Hong Chau in Downsizing if the film isn’t fixed editing-wise in post.”
You have to take the preceding with a grain of salt given that some many people out there want Swift to be wonderful and triumphant at whatever she does. Let’s just wait and see.
Another source tells me Canterbury Glass is a complex, non-comedic ensemble film involving threats and murder. It does not appear to be aimed at people who loved CODA. “Complicated,” “sophisticated,” etc. Robert De Niro plays a politician afraid that certain parties are trying to kill him. Another character meets death due to a car accident.
From a recent screening invite synopsis: “Set in the 1930s, this film follows three friends who witness a murder, become suspects themselves, and uncover one of the most outrageous plots in American history.”
Three or four days ago I disputed Patton Oswalt’s overly admiring description of TheSeven–Ups (‘73), a kind of FrenchConnection wannabe cop film that starred Roy Scheider and featured another high-octane car chase. The only film directed by Bullitt and FrenchConnection producer Philip D’Antoni. Decent but second-tier, and no one’s idea of wowser or amazing.
I kind of agree with Clayton Davis about Tom Hanks…actually I don’t. I think Hanks’ best performance was in CastAway, followed by Big. (Denzel Washington was significantly more real-deal than Hanks in Philadelphia.)
