5.29, 9 pm Update: HE’s comment numbers are back, thanks to a very good friend and an excellent human being. Crisis concluded!
Earlier: On top of all the other daily aches and pains and gashes in the soul, the WordPress plug-in that displays the number of comments per each post has stoppedworking. I just have to find the right plug-in and then update it. I’m sure it’ll only take me three or four days or maybe 48 hours…a twinkling in the broad cosmic scheme of things. But until it’s fixed, every story will “appear” to have zero comments. I live for these grueling experiences. They make my day.
I will somehow get this matter fixed. I’ve reached out to some tech guys. Yes, it’s infuriating and deflating.
A few days ago I highlighted a quote of a Daily BeastTom Wolfe interview, posted seven or eight years ago. “People are willing to confess to anything colorful or exciting [in their lives]…they murdered somebody or they smoked a lot of dope…it could be almost anything. Except for the humiliations. They will never write about the humiliations, which, George Orwell said, make up 75% of life.”
This is one such moment — a humiliation.
Again, I’m trying to repair it with the help of someone who’s smarter than me when it comes WordPress plug-in issues. This effort is failing so far, partly because some people don’t like working on Saturdays. Whatever the reason, the bottom line is that HE is now looking like a shunned site.
No film lover cares about Cruella (Disney, 5.28). I certainly don’t. Obviously a Disney parent punisher. Thank God such films were fewer and far between when my sons, Jett and Dylan, were tykes from the early to late ’90s. The Katzenberg period.
It’s noteworthy, I think, that a film aimed at the family trade runs 2 hours and 14 minutes? Whatever for? Yes, it’s an origin story but such an effort should be no more than 110 minutes tops, and preferably closer to 100 or even 95. Especially given the fact that Dalmatians puppies barely appear in it.
Anthony Lane: “Emotions are not toyed with glancingly [in Cruella] but stretched out and blazoned forth, and the result is that the new film is nearly an hour longer than the original 101 Dalmatians cartoon. Needless to say, any pretense that children might still want to watch a light, spirited, mutt-centered gambol has been skinned to the bone, to make way for humanbitching, and anyone hoping to play Spot the Dalmatian will be sorely vexed. I counted exactly three of the beasts, plus another two at the end. In short, Cruella is more catty than canine. Grrr.”
Lane #2: “In truth, there are passages of Cruella that seem like scraps of music videos, loosely stitched together. Forget about the plot: ask your heroine to pose in splendiferous outfits; crank up the Stones, the Zombies, the Clash, or Doris Day; and, woof, there’s your movie.”
Michel Franco‘s incredibly cold, undeniably brilliant New Order (Neon), which I went apeshit for last September, finally began playing in theatres on 5.21.
The fact that “prior to its October 2020 release in Mexican cinemas, the trailer was received with an overwhelmingly negative response from the public, including a fierce internet backlash. One stand-out complaint said that the trailer indicated ‘a classist, racist and painfully stereotypical portrait of upper and lower classes in Mexico’…this alone requires that you see it.
“The racism accusations worsened when Franco claimed the film had been the victim of ‘profound reverse racism’ and felt himself as victim of ‘hate crimes’ as a White Mexican. Franco later apologized on social media, claiming he was not aware of the impact of his response,” etc.
From my 9.14.20 review: Set in Mexico City, it’s about a violent revolution against the wealthy elites by an army of ruthless, homicidal, working-class lefties.
Director-writer Franco (After Luca, Chronic) is clearly tapping into all the insurrectionist anger out there (last summer’s Black Lives Matter protests, the Hong Kong pro-democracy movement, last year’s French Yellow Vest demonstrations) and imagining the ante being raised a couple of notches.
Remember those rightwing thugs (“Los Halcones”) murdering leftists during that Mexico City demonstration in Roma? New Order is a roughly similar situation but with the lefties pulling the trigger, and with a lot more ferocity. Rage against the swells.
It struck me as a nightmare vision of what could conceivably happen if the ranks of our own wokester shitheads were to dramatically increase and anger levels were to surge even more.
Variety‘s Manori Ravindran, the London-based bureau chief whose 6.18.20 obituary about British singer Vera Lynn ignored the fact that she’s best known stateside for singing “We’ll Meet Again” during the final minutes of Dr. Strangelove, has done it again.
Ravindran has also omitted any mention of the book’s YA designation.
Ravindran describes the forthcoming film as “the story of first love between Maren (Taylor Russell), a young woman learning how to survive on the margins of society, and Lee (Timothee Chalamet), a disenfranchised drifter, as they meet and join forces for a roadtrip through Ronald Reagan’s America.”
Bones and All costars include Mark Rylance, Chloë Sevigny, Michael Stuhlbarg, David Gordon Green, Jessica Harper, André Holland and Francesca Scorsese.
Were it not for the Guadagnino imprimatur, I would be antsy about watching a film with this subject matter…be honest. Not to mention the idea of YA-anything. I’m sure there’s more to it than the Night of the Living Dead factor, and I’m sure Luca’s directorial eye will lend something arresting to the material.
M. Night Shyamalan‘s Old (Universal 7.23) will be good. I’m convinced it’s not a burn.
The Alan Ladd-sized Gael Garcia Bernal is still too short to be married to Vicky Krieps in a movie, at least without their size disparity being a distraction. But I’m sure Shyamalan framed their two-shots carefully or had Bernal wear “lifts” or stand on milk boxes or whatever it took.
And I don’t feel the least bit persuaded that sitting through the 90-minute version might be a good idea. This is exactly the kind of ultra-synthetic, X-treme adventure, CG overload, Indiana Jones-aspiring, family-friendly horseshit movie that, in my mind, is killing the idea of conveying real adventure. Now watch Jungle Cruise make a healthy profit when it opens on 7.30.21. Because most American moviegoers — be honest — have no taste.
[Posted by yours truly in yesterday’s “Whooshing Back To ’66 London…” comment thread] To go by the trailer, Last Night in Soho is the kind of thing Edgar Wright seems to naturally gravitate to. He loves visceral, wham-bam cinema, he’s good with “wow” concepts and has excellent visual instincts, but he has a popcorn soul…sensitivity, depth and thoughtfulness are not, shall we surmise, his strong suits,
Imagine having a fascinating imaginary time-trip playground at your beck and call…a voyage back to the once-in-a-century excitement of 1966 (culturally, tectonically, generationally, sexually, politically), and the “wait, something is happening here” London atmosphere (which was also manifesting in San Francisco and Los Angeles even)…and Wright has a clear-light brainstorm: ”Holy shit, of course…I’ll make it a horror film!”
Imagine being locked up in that fucking head of his, to paraphrase Junior Soprano. Of all the places Wright could have gone to with this premise…God. If you want a transportational taste of London ’66, watch Michelangelo Antonioni‘s Blow-Up, or listen to Revolver or Between The Buttons. If you want a reminder of how fallow and soul-draining things can be in 2021, look no further than the creative designs of Edgar W.
The mere idea of this kind of material being performed on today’s Saturday Night Live is, of course, unthinkable. The brilliant Bowen Yang aside, sensitivity has killed the spirit of high-voltage comedy on that show. Extreme attitudes (spiteful, acidic feminist vs. pompous male chauvinist pig blowhard) are used as satirical fodder here. Nobody agrees with Aykroyd and no endorsement is suggested, but ask yourself why the audience explodes with laughter after the Aykroyd remark heard at 1:45. Today’s SNL performers would never, ever get a reaction like this today.
Of all the traditional old-school fanboys with their seminal roots in the Star Wars glory period of A New Hope and The Empire Strikes Back (’77 to ’80), author-filmmaker Chris Gore is easily one of the most passionate and articulate. And probably the frankest. He’s emotionally invested in fanboy theology, but also circumspect. He hates crap.
The below video (dated 5.12.21) is titled “Why 99% Of [Mainstream] Movies Today Are Garbage.” The message is basically this: Within the corporate Hollywood skydome, progressive political narratives have become more important than delivering pure-enzyme entertainment. Straight-up, get-it-done fantasy transportation has been elbowed aside.
And let’s be honest — most neckbeard fanboys (though not necessarily Gore himself) have strongly resisted the political feminist current of the last several years — the Kathy Kennedy-mandated feminist assertion element in the Stars Wars franchise and spinoff flicks, in particular. Gore’s basic attitude seems to be (a) “Ripley, yes — Rey, not so much,” (b) “Where’s the necessary devotion to the avoidance of numbing cliches?”, and (c) “Where are the new George Lucas-level visionaries and the execs, like Alan Ladd Jr., who will stand by them?”
Gore transcript (portions rephrased or condensed): “What do the fans think of this stuff? Are they satisfying the fans? When I think of the theatrical experience, which is going away…and it is going away…you’d better entertain me, given the cost of moviegoing. And whether Hollywood notices it or not, people don’t really like politics woven into mainstream entertainment experiences.
“And [yet] we’re seeing that more and more. It’s unbelievable to me. They’re leaving money on the table by not giving the customers what they’re looking for.
“So in my mind there’s no excuse for big studio releases to fail. You have the best people in marketing. You have the most talented actors. Craftsmen when it comes to special effects and cinematography. Music. There’s no excuse for that stuff to fail. Here’s the problem, the conundrum. The marketing for these movies is so good, that the product doesn’t live up to the marketing. I got chills watching the trailers for The Rise of Skywalker. I was excited to see that movie…the ninth and final chapter in that saga. And I cannot believe how horribly it turned out.
“It’s malpractice…what happened to that franchise. And how it’s divided fandom, fighting over things that are really irrelevant. Not entirely irrelevant, but when you’re seeing people from within that company [Lucasfilm] attacking the fans? Outside of Kevin Feige, who might be past his prime, I can’t think of a studio executive who is a visionary these days. We really are losing that American identity [in big entertainments]. Because of China. Where is the movie that we all love without reservation? We could talk about other franchises that have lost their way. I’m afraid that we’re never going to see another George Lucas because everything has become so corporate.”
“[Sigourney Weaver‘s] Ripley was a great character, and not just a type that they were trying to shoehorn in. There’s a difference.”
HE comment: Gore asserts that one of the main reasons that The Empire Strikes Back is the greatest Star Wars film ever made is because it doesn’t blow anything up at the finale. HE has long maintained that Episode 5 is actually a film noir — an action-and-thrills chase film about losing + forebodings of dark destiny and in the end being badly beaten. A well-constructed, crackerjack flick in which the bad guys always have the upper hand and the good guys are constantly running and hiding and dodging laser bullets, and in the end they’re battered and bruised (minus a hand, carbon-frozen) with their asses totally kicked. The Empire Strikes Back is basically about “you can run but you can’t hide from the Empire…try as you might and brave as you might be, a happy ending is not in the cards for you guys…not this time.”
HE to friendos: Outside the trades and the N.Y. Times, L.A. Times, Washington Post, et. al., do any of you know of any stringer critics or website columnist-critics who are attending Cannes in July? France just announced a 30-day quarantine for British visitors — it may be finessed away by the festival, but why only the English? If the French are serious, why aren’t they calling for a 30-day quarantine for Americans as well?”
Friendo to HE: “Probably because the UK has done far worse than the U.S. in terms of getting people vaccinated, plus the number of Brits coming into France certainly far exceeds the number of Yanks on a daily basis. That said, the French have been very under-supplied with the vaccine — friends who live in Cannes have told me over the past week that they want the vaccine but can’t get it yet.
“If the [French] quarantine is expanded, no Americans will be showing up in Cannes — that’s for sure. As of now, all the trades are planning to be in Cannes in force. Can’t say I’m thrilled about the gobs of tourists who will be in Cannes in July for the beach and will then feel the need to rubberneck around the Palais.
“Thierry Fremaux is being very upbeat and is stressing all the precautions and new protocols that will be in force, but still…we shall see. Venice managed surprisingly well last September but there were scarcely any foreigners there and the Lido is very separate from Venice itself, so not so hard there to maintain safety procedures.
“That said, the line-up of Cannes films should be very strong — lots of films jammed up, waiting for the light of day. Still, the festival holding all the aces this year should be Telluride — two years’ worth of foreign films we haven’t seen plus new high-end American goodies.”
…means that Eloise, our lonely, bewildered protagonist (Thomasin McKenzie), will, once she steps inside Cafe de Paris, run into all kinds of celebrities and social climbers of the moment, including, one imagines, David Hemmings‘ photographer (“Thomas”) from Blow-Up or costar Terrence Stamp when young and drifting into his mystical phase. Or the Kray brothers.
Thunderball opened in London on 12.29.65, so the timeline works for early ’66.
It’s too bad that Wright went for a horror angle. Imagine all the stories and situations that could happen within such a realm. Horror drags everything down to its own level. The message seems to be “don’t go back in time….it’s horrible!”
The U.S. release of Last Night in Soho is on 10.22.21, and in England on 10.29.21.
If you’re just strolling along the Malibu Colony beach, cool. A simple communion with the wealthy vibes, intoxicating sea smell, gentle breezes, etc. You can approve a photographer (i.e., Carinthia West) taking snaps but that’s liable to draw attention, and in public places most celebrities do what they can, of course, to not call attention. So play it cool, Carinthia. We don’t want autograph seekers rushing over and spoiling the mood, right?
So why, one wonders, is Ron Wood carrying a couple of large, crimson-colored cheerleader pom-pom sticks? Answer: “It was October 1976 and Mick, Ronnie and I were on our way to Diana Ross’s daughter Tracee’s fourth birthday party, for which Ronnie is taking these red balloons. Ronnie and Krissy Wood had rented 54 Malibu Colony which was the base of operations for the all-night jamming sessions and partying so beloved of Ronnie. Ronnie’s manager at the time was Bob Ellis Silberstein, who was married to Ross.”
I saw the Stones perform in Madison Square Garden in the summer (or was it the fall?) of ’75. And then again in Paris in June of ’76 — Les Rolling Stones aux Abbatoirs.
