Jeffrey Wells You may see a casual shot of Frank Sinatra, Debbie Reynolds and David Wayne on the set of The Tender Trap (‘55). I see that also, of course, but my eyes go right to Sinatra’s elevator heels, which may or may not have added two and 1/2 to three inches. Sinatra stood between 5’7” and 5’8” just out of the shower. Wayne was also 5’7”; Reynolds stood 5’2”.
…but Netflix is probably a fitting home for Richard Liinklater’s Nouvelle Vague, which the streamer has reportedly acquired for $4 million.
It was one thing for Cannes cinephiles who saw this reverent, affectionate tribute to the French New Wave and the making of Jean-Luc Godard’s Breathless in particular…it was one thing for that crowd to go “whoopee!” But what the odds that Joe and Jane Popcorn would care, much less pay to see it theatrically?
Here’s what I wrote hours after seeing Nouvelle Vague in Cannes:
The toughest, cruelest, most unsentimental comment was posted yesterday in response to Jordan Ruimy’s story about the Netflix deal:
Nouvelle Vague is not “embarrassing fan fiction”. It’s a clever, spirited time trip…a mild-mannered, light-hearted, generally effervescent revisiting of the Breathless legend. This aside, what Doeberman wrote is reasonably accurate.
Incidentally: Returning to the NYC area after a couple of weeks in Europe always bums me out. Architectural beauty, magnificent food, excellent public transportation — NYC is way, way behind European cities in almost every regard. Welcome back to down-at-the-heels Schitzburgh.
My relatively brief stopover in Oslo began today around 5:30 pm, when my flight from Stockholm touched down. I was on the street in the center of town an hour later, and it felt cold like mid-March, not to mention windy. My teeth weren’t chattering, but they almost were. Thanks, Oslo!
In the wake of the warm Cannes weather (mid 60s) and even Connecticut’s getting-warmer-by-the-day climate, I felt plunged into a misery pit. Thank God I brought a jean jacket and a big scarf on top of the blazer I was wearing. My Airbnb host says it was warm and placid a day or so ago, and then suddenly arctic air just moved in like an advancing army.
Whatever happened to global warming?
Before catching tomorrow’s 1:10 pm flight to JFK I was going to search around for the spacious home that a good portion of Sentimental Value was shot in, but not in this damn weather! Not just cold but a bit dampish. This is sweaters-scarves-and-ski-parka weather, and it’s almost June, for Chrissake.
So I wouldn’t be totally gobsmacked if they don’t give the Palme d’Or this evening to Joachim Trier’s Sentimental Value. They’ll look like stubborn fools if this happens, but juries have been known to argue with consensus opinion. Just to defy it, I mean.
HE arrives in Oslo around 5:40 pm, or an hour before Cannes award ceremony begins.
I was on my train for Nice St. Augustin three hours before power the Cannes power outage.
I sat next to three empty Coke bottles in their early to mid 20s — a foxy girl and two short-haired dudes — at today’s 4K Barry Lyndon screening. Right away I knew they were trouble. Both guys got up to use the facilities right after sitting down, which is what frisky, ants-in-their-pants lowlifes always do.
And then Thierry Fremaux invited Lyndon costar Marisa Berenson to take the stage and share some recollections, which she did. And then the lights finally came down and the film began.
The Coke bottle trio couldn’t handle the unhurried 18th Century pacing along with John Alcott’s exquisitely lighted, old-school compositions. They watched about ten minutes’ worth before bailing. You insects…you miserable know-nothings.
On this, my last day of Cannes ‘25, I’m shooting for four screenings.
That’s not counting the 2 pm showing of the 4K Barry Lyndon, which I want to attend because I’ll never again have a chance to see this 1975 classic projected upon a big, bountiful screen in one of finest theatres in the world. I’m figuring I can watch about 75 minutes’ worth.
I’m very sorry but Woman and Child, which I struggled through earlier today, is mediocre and overly strident, certainly on the part of lead actress / protagonist Parinaz Izadyar. I simply didn’t believe it. Just because it’s an Iranian film doesn’t assure quality. A family-squabbling drama, Woman and Child is way below the level of, say, Asghar Farhadi’s A Separation, to name but one example.
Paul Mescal, one of HE’s least favored actors (not in the least due to his sure-to-be-ruinous casting as Paul McCartney), scores again with this press conference declaration. If Mescal is starring, you can be sure that the film in question will be open to squishy, sensitive and vulnerable.
And no, it’s not “lazy” to compare The History of Sound to Brokeback Mountain. Both films are mining very similar turf.
