Tolkien-heads have rushed out to see The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey, fine. A projected $84.7 million by tonight. $37.5 million on Friday, $28.1 million yesterday and a likely $19 million today. What I don’t get is the ‘A’ CinemaScore from audiences. Especially given the 25% drop in business from Friday to Saturday. This is no one’s idea of a satisfying film. It goes on way, way too long, and there are two more to go. Jackson committing to a trilogy is/was about assuring revenue for Weta Digital — let’s be frank.
And what was the Joe Popcorn reaction to 48 fps in and of itself, by the way? Have there been any surveys that focused on this technology alone?
“The people who fight and lobby and legislate to make guns regularly available are complicit in the murder of those children. They have made a clear moral choice: that the comfort and emotional reassurance they take from the possession of guns, placed in the balance even against the routine murder of innocent children, is of supreme value. Whatever satisfaction gun owners take from their guns is more important than children’s lives. That’s a moral choice, clearly made.” — from Adam Gopnik‘s 12.14. New Yorker piece, “Newtown and the Madness of Guns.”
From Danny King‘s review of The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey: “Peter Jackson has already made three of these movies, he’s won a bunch of Oscars for them, and presumably made a shit-load of money in the process. Why in the hell, then, is he tiredly going back to the well for three more? How can he stand to look at this material, this footage — day in, day out — and come to the conclusion that it’s worth another fucking trilogy, nine more hours of the same damn thing?
“I can understand if his experience with The Lovely Bones turned him off to the possibility of changing gears, but then why not just hang up the jersey entirely? Why continue to churn out these products, these mechanical, mindless pieces of trash?
“If I were Jackson, I’d buy a ranch somewhere isolated and shut myself off. I’d drink coffee all day, watch Ingmar Bergman films in the morning, Stanley Kubrick films in the afternoon, maybe a Woody Allen film I’d never seen in the evening. Perhaps I’d read a Raymond Carver short story before going to bed. Then I’d sleep in, wake up, and do it all over again. It would be a rich life, a fulfilled existence. It would be time well spent. It wouldn’t be a Hobbit trilogy. It wouldn’t be wasted time, nonsensical wheel-spinning.
“I don’t know how Jackson can sleep at night after a long day of editing this shit, knowing that there’s a Wong Kar-Wai film out there he probably hasn’t seen. Why not put the camera away for a while and watch it? He needs to wake up and smell the coffee that he should be drinking.”
At first I was irritated and then increasingly angry about those questions reporters have been putting over and over to Newtown residents. All reporters who ask “how did you feel?” in the wake of something ghastly are bloodsuckers. It feels cloyingly pornographic. “How did you feel when you heard the horrible news?,” “What sustains you in this time of grief?,” “How do you wrap your arms around this?,” “Can you tell us about [the six year old who is now dead?] What did you love most about him/her?”
If my son or daughter had been killed, I would go right up to these guys and when they pop the question, I’d say “so you’re looking for a nice juicy grief bite, right? How’s that going? Did anyone weep when they tried to answer? No? Well, keep plugging. You’ve got a job to do. We all get that.” Or maybe I’d just say “use your imagination, Lois Lane. You want me to emotionally perform for you so others can sink into what a lot us are feeling so…what, so we can all hug each other?”
AMPAS announced today that seven films are on the Makeup and Hairstyling Oscar nomination shortlist. My three favorites are Les Miserables, Lincoln and Snow White and the Huntsman.
I say no to Hitchcock because Hopkins’ face looks too prosthetic and unnatural, no to The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey on general principle, yes to Les Miserables and yes to Lincoln because everything looks right in that film. Rian Johnson won’t like this, but I thought Joseph Gordon Levitt‘s CG makeup in Looper didn’t make him look like Bruce Willis in Moonlighting so I’m going to have say no. Nobody wants Men in Black 3 to win a makeup Oscar. The makeup on Snow White and the Huntsman was pretty good.
“On Saturday, 1.15.13, all members of the Academy’s Makeup Artists and Hairstylists Branch will be invited to view 10-minute excerpts from each of the seven shortlisted films,” the statement reads. “Following the screenings, members will vote to nominate three films for final Oscar consideration.
“The 85th Academy Awards nominations will be announced live on Thursday, January 10, 2013, at 5:30 a.m. PT in the Academy’s Samuel Goldwyn Theater.”
Now we’re hearing that Nancy Lanza, the deceased mother of Sandy Hook elementary school mass murderer Adam Lanza, was a “survivalist” (i.e., she believed that social breakdown was in the offing and that armed self-protection was a vital skill) who taught her sons how to shoot, who reportedly had nothing to do with teaching at Sandy Hook, and had home-schooled young Adam, who was obviously mentally unstable.
In other words, Nancy Lanza, 54, was a paranoid gun nut who, along with her divorced husband Peter (whom Nancy divorced in 2009), reared and educated a child-killing monster.
I’m saying this as a parent who understands that the right kind of parenting really counts, and that the wrong kind can be devastating. Nancy had principal custody of Adam over the last three years. One of her big parenting decisions was to pull him out of high school (“She wound up home-schooling him because she battled with the school district,” said Nancy’s ex-sister-in-law Marsha) and, one presumes, teaching him to be at least comfortable with (if not embrace) the idea that under certain circumstances, firing weapons might be a valid response to this or that threat.
A N.Y. Times story says Nancy Lanza was a “big, big gun fan,” that she seemed “high-strung, as if she were holding herself together,” and that she “often went to a local restaurant and music spot, My Place, where she sat at the bar” and that she “typically came to My Place alone.” High-strung, booze, guns…what does that tell you?
Survivalism is entirely a rightwing NRA backwoods-rube attitude (Nancy came from rural New Hampshire) so let’s call a spade a spade. Nancy Lanza had her friendly, socially positive sides, I’m sure, but she got a taste of her own karma when her son put a bullet in her face yesterday morning. Because she said to her son over and over, “Here, baby…this is a gun, and guns are cool…you need to learn how to shoot it.”
Adam has been described as probably having suffered from a personality disorder, “somewhat autistic” and possibly afflicted with Asperger’s Syndrome. Which is a burden and no picnic but hardly psycho-killer gasoline. I’ve never heard anything about autism and/or Asperger’s Syndrome being any kind of spark or ingredient in the mind of a murderer. Has anyone?
Seriously — someone please explain how Nancy Lanza isn’t the Dr. Frankenstein who created the fiend.
Don’t believe anyone who knew Adam Lanza and claims there were no hints or signs that something dark or malevolent and possibly wicked was brewing within him. Without exception, family members and neighbors always lie after one of their own has been fingered as a psychopathic killer. They always say they never noticed anything strange and troublesome about the trigger-puller because if they had noticed something they would be partly to blame for what happened because they didn’t say anything. So they clam up. It’s that simple.
I for one have said yes, I’ll attend a Candlelight Vigil to End Gun Violence in Studio City (NE corner of Moorpark & Laurel Canyon Blvd.) today at 5 pm. The last time I did this was when I joined a NOW march along San Vicente Blvd. in the wake of the 1995 OJ “Not Guilty” verdict. (I went with the late Julia Phillips.) I don’t care how many people show up today, but everyone should attend a vigil of this type somewhere this weekend. And bring a candle.
Sometimes I’m up for taking pics at parties, and sometimes I’m not. Mostly I’m thinking “photos are cool, this is business and they know it, so no worries.” But sometimes I just want to hang back and…I know I’m not badgering anyone but sometimes I just want to be serene and Zen and at peace on the sidelines. Nonetheless, I manned up and snapped Les Miserables star (and 97% certain Best Supporting Actress winner) Anne Hathaway, director Tom Hooper and costar Eddie Redmayne at last night’s Les Miserables Spago event.
Les Miserables costar Eddie Redmayne, director Tom Hooper — Friday, 12.14, 11:25 pm.
I asked Hathaway about the Judy Garland biopic (based on Gerald Clarke’s 2000 biography “Get Happy“) that she and the Weinstein Co. have been developing for…what, three or four years? In 2010 she told a BBC interviewer that “It’s a very sensitive project…we’re really trying to get it right so we’re taking our time with it…very, very slow incremental steps.” Hathaway told me that last August Harvey Weinstein told President Obama that the film would happen “within a couple of years.”
Hathaway is tallish (5′ 8″ but nearly my height with three-inch heels) and Garland, she said, was not quite five feet. So she’ll have to do a Marion Cotillard-in-La Vie In Rose (i.e., acting on large-scale sets with large-scale props).
While standing in the main room at half-time, the party at its fullest and loudest, I noticed a familiar face. A short lady with a robust personality, standing near Les Miz costar Eddie Redmayne. She had dramatic sweeping blonde hair and was speaking and laughing loudly — I could hear fragments of what she was saying from 15 feet away. She could have been 24 or 25 or 26. Definitely no teenager, I told myself. But I couldn’t remember her name. I asked TheWrap‘s Steve Pond, who was standing right next to me, and he recognized her but couldn’t think of it either. Then it hit me…Chloe Moretz! Who’s 15. (She turns 16 on February 10th.) She’s adapting to her world she’s part of, but the vibe was very bold and brassy, a little touch of Tallulah in the night.
Earlier today the Detroit Film Critics Society gave five big ones to Silver Linings Playbook. Best Film award, Best Director award to SLP‘s David O. Russell, Best Actress award to SLP‘s Jennifer Lawrence, Best Supporting Actor award to SLP‘s Robert De Niro and Best Screenplay award to Russell.
Is Glenn Kenny the man of vision and principle who can straighten out these Detroit guys? Who’s better suited?
The DFCS’s Best Actor award went to Lincoln‘s Daniel Day Lewis, Best Supporting Actress to Les Miz‘s Anne Hathaway, Best Ensemble to Lincoln, Breakthrough award to Ruby Sparks‘ Zoe Kazan and Best Doc award to Jiro: Dreams fo Sushi.
I’m not saying the following 2012 films were the year’s worst, although many will agree that they are. I’m saying that except for one that I didn’t see (Atlas Shrugged, Part II) but heard was Godawful, they gave me a lot of personal grief. I’ve listed them in the order of worst first and most tolerably bad last.
1. The Paperboy; 2. Peace, Love and Misunderstanding; 3. Twixt; 4. Red Dawn; 5. Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter; 6. Butter; 7. Taken 2; 8. The Odd Life of Timothy Green, 9. The Expendables 2; 10. 2016: Obama’s America; 11. Red Lights; 12. The Magic of Belle Isle; 13. High School; 14. Prometheus; 15. What To Expect When You’re Expecting; 16. Darling Companion; 17. John Carter, 18. Django Unchained; 19. The Hunger Games; 20. W.E.; 21. Red Tails; 22. Contraband; 23. Atlas Shrugged, Part II (didn’t see it, heard it stunk).
I’ve got Django Unchained listed as the 18th most painful sit because of the “dead zone” second hour. One of the many reasons I’ve got Prometheus listed as my 14th worst, I’ll admit, is because of the mandals worn by Michael Fassbender in the first spaceship scene, but I could go on and on about that film. I’m sure I’ve overlooked a stinker or two.
This kind of family comedy is much more popular, generally speaking, than smart, prickly, emotional family comedies like Silver Linings Playbook. All real Americans laugh heartily when the main character is kicked or baseball-batted in the privates. If only David O. Russell had included a couple of ball-crushing scenes, SLP might be $10 or $20 million richer right now. (No?) Dumb and obvious rarely goes hungry.
