I’m not in league with the nyah-hyah blamers and fault-finders who love to point their tanned, well-manicured fingers and accuse dicky, flinty, less-than-gracious people of being “dicks” or “ayeholes”.
Were they wrong about Chevy Chase during his late-20th-Century heyday? Apparently not, but they also used to point fingers at Jerry Lewis and he was always fine in my book. I always accepted who and what Lewis was. He was a “prick” but fine…shrug it off. Show business breeds performers with over-sized egos and cavalier attitudes. It goes with the territory.
Now 82, Chase seems a bit diminished. His diction seems a bit off. Maybe I’m wrong.
HE to candy-ass woke brainiacs and male-hating TikTok feminists who are calling Marty Supreme socially dangerous because it clearly admires and in fact glorifies a hungry, selfish, ruthlessly ambitious pogo stick and out-for-number-one ping-pong athlete…
I’m talking to those who are basically calling Josh Safdie out for inspiring toxic, anti-social behavior amongst your impressionable basement-dwelling bros…bitch-slapping Safdie for having made a new version of The Wolf of Wall Street, which people like LexG admired “for the wrong reasons”…
Those who are lamenting that Safdie and Timothee Chalamet have created a new version of What Makes Sammy Run?….
Sadie and Chalamet have valorized, they fear, a lower-Manhattan beanpole who isn’t much different, morally or ethically, from Robert DeNiro‘s Johnny Boy in Mean Streets…
The Marty haters need to get a clue.
Marty Supreme is about a selfish young dude’s journey across the heaving seas…a journey that begins with an epic hustle and ends with tears in a maternity ward,….but it’s mainly about the same primal hunger that drives salmon to swim upstream.
Consider the opening-credit footage of sperm cells furiously swimming toward the egg in order to fertilize. This is what Safdie is telling us in so many words…young men are sperm cells, and they have to furiously swim and scramble their way into a place of warmth, growth and nurture because nobody will do their swimming for them…life is struggle, bruh…move it or fucking lose it.
All exciting or dynamic art strikes the gatekeepers and bluenoses as dangerous…Igor Stavinsky’s LeSacre du Printemps had people howling.
HE is proud of the alleged fact that Wilton, which was largely Republican and booze-free when I was a teenager, is the gayest town in Connecticut. According to GeoUSADiscovery, 2.34% of the homes in Wilton, or “about” 68 homes, are gay-owned. (Does that include lesbians and maybe a trans person or two? For what it’s worth, a trans biomale was working last summer at the Wilton Library.)
Back in the bad old 20th Century porn-flick titles were mainly known for taking mainstream movie titles and changing them into cheap puns. But HE has to hand it to the producers of RearAdmiral…a diamond in the rough.
Gavin Newsom will be obliged and in fact required to destroy the White House’s elephantine, obscenely disproportionate Trumpballroom and recreate the original East Wing as it existed since the original 1902 construction or the 1942 expansion…take your pick. I’m serious. As a symbolic rejection and erasure of arrogant, malignant, Mussolini–likeTrumpism.
I’m sorry that Daisy Ridley’s career has fallen off. I’m sorry, I mean, that she’s apparently been reduced to accepting paycheck roles in second-tier popcorn fare (zombieflicks, a subpar StarWars spinoff or two, romcoms, minorbiopics).
My first reaction to this BuryTheDead poster was “could this be karma payback for admitting ten years ago that she wasn’tuptospeedonCary Grant?”
I want Ridley to find her way out of the thicket. My heart goes out.
So MUBI subscribers should unsubscribe because MUBI France is respectfully acknowledging Brigitte Bardot’s passing or….what, is streaming one or two of her films? Lefty fanatics like RoloTomassi…sorry…fanatics like RoloTony make me want to vomit.
When you get right down to it I’ve seen only five Brigitte Bardot films (AndGodCreatedWoman, TheNightHeavenFell, AVeryPrivateAffair, Contempt, Viva Maria).
On top of which throughout my life I’ve failed to catch what Bardot herself said was her only truly good one — Henri-George Clouzot’s LaVerite (’60).
Bardot’s death at age 91 settles it — I’ll stream LaVerite (aka Truth) this evening.
You could argue that Bardot’s grandest achievement was splashing into the sexually tepid waters of the straightlaced ‘50s and heating things up by way of brazen, unapologetic nudity and infinite intimations of erotic delight…starting with her break-out performance in And God Created Woman (‘56) and for a good 12 to 15 years after, Bardot inspired hundreds of millions of stiffies among men living grim lives of quiet desperation.
Sex, sex, sex, nudity, nudity, nudity, barefoot barefoot barefoot, pear-shaped ass pear-shaped ass pear-shaped ass…teasing erotica, playfully defiant manner…damp tongue, luscious lips and heavily mascara’ed eyes.
Bardot certainly went her own way, and didn’t shrink from saying what she damn well thought and felt. Passion was her guiding light. From her mid teens through her early ‘40s it was mostly dudes who lit her fire, and then, starting in the early to mid ‘70s, the welfare and protection of pets and animals became her primal cause.
The older Bardot got the less liberal or even tolerant she seemed. When she hit her 70s and 80s her racial views weren’t that far from Alain Delon’s, and in the late 20teens she made it clear she was no friend of the #MeToo movement.
Physically she was primarily known for her pouty expressions and blonde tousled hair (although she was born a brunette). Behaviorally she admitted to being a habitual infidel, time and again. She admitted not long ago to having “done” over a hundred guys in her lifetime…energetic and frisky, yes, but almost par for the course by the standards of the ’70s and ’80s.
“Since it was announced that the Safdie brothers, the lads behind Uncut Gems and Good Time, would be splitting up, the one question on everyone’s mind has been ‘so which brother has the sauce?’ Having seen Benny’s The Smashing Machine and Josh’s Marty Supreme, the answer, I’m afraid, is painfully obvious” — from Karsten Rundquist‘s “Is Marty Supreme The Movie of the Year?”
Over the last two or three years, Deirdre‘s removal of the vocals in a large portion of the entire Beatles song library has been — for me, at least — a kind of blessing.
….but Herman J. Mankiewicz‘s use of “rosebud” in Citizen Kane‘s wasn’t a reference to Marion Davies‘ “vagina” (as Gus says at 1:45) but her clitoris. That’s a nickname that William Randolph Hearst allegedly used for it. Yes, it was also the name of Charles Foster Kane‘s boyhood sled.
