I usually ignore trade stories about forthcoming films — better to hold off until they’re wrapped and in post. But given my admiration for director Ari Aster (Midsommar, Hereditary), a 4.27 post about Aster’s Disappointment Boulevard has my attention.

It’s some kind of eerie creep-out that will costar Joaquin Phoenix and Meryl Streep, according to World of Reel‘s Jordan Ruimy. The info is from DeuxMoi and “a source from MTL Productions.” A24 will distribute.

On 4.17, the signing of Phoenix in Disappointment Boulevard was reported on by Dread Central. Pic will reportedly begin filming in Montreal on 6.28.21.

The original title was Beau is Afraid, and apparently grew out of Aster’s 2011 short film, Beau. The decade-old short has been described as a “surrealist horror film set in an alternate present.” Phoenix would play an “extremely anxious man who never knew his father, and has a fraught relationship with his overbearing mother.”

IMDB logline: “A neurotic middle-aged man’s trip back home is delayed indefinitely when his keys are mysteriously taken from his door. He is subsequently haunted by an increasingly sinister chain of upsetting events.”

On the film’s IMDB page Aster describes it as “a sickly, domestic melodrama in the vein of Douglas Sirk” — a description sure to be welcomed by Sirk-worshipping snob critics the world over.

During a press conference held yesterday in Spain, Woody Allen allegedly told French TV that his next film will be a dark drama a la Match Point, and that it’ll be shot in Paris.

This comes from World of Reel‘s Jordan Ruimy, who caught a live stream of the press conference. Apparently no U.S. media reps were in attendance.

One presumes that the plot would deliver another variation on familiar Allen themes — life is a grim bowl of cherries, betrayal lurks around every corner (especially in the realm of relationships), and your worst enemy is more often than not yourself.

If I were Allen I wouldn’t sidestep or pull punches. I would take certain familiar elements from my life over the last decade or so and transform them into a fictional narrative. A film, for example, about a flawed but in one instance falsely accused protagonist a la Polanski’s J’Accuse. If he doesn’t create something that echoes the Mia/Dylan thing to some extent, what would be the point?

This frame capture explains all you need to know about how good Risky Business is, and how exceptional director Paul Brickman was.

19 out of 20 directors would have directed this scene like John Badham, the rote or good-enough way, and we would’ve simply been told/shown that some neighborhood kids are listening to a front-yard dispute between Joel Goodson (Tom Cruise), Guido the killer pimp (Joe Pantoliano) and a couple of tart-tongued prostitutes (Rebecca De Mornay, Shera Danese)…hah-hah! The kids would have just stood there, and maybe reacted in some kind of “holy shit, this is unusual!” way.

But Brickman told them to look studious and absorbed and perhaps even a little bored. And so the boy on the left is leaning against his bike, starting to tire from the effort of wondering who’s the more promising pimp, Joel or Guido? And the two little girls are watching with arms folded. This is the difference between average and brilliant filmmaking.

To be fair to the “nearly 40” students who hadn’t a clue, Elizabeth Taylor‘s career peaked between 1950 and ’51 (Father of the Bride, A Place in the Sun) and ’63 (Cleopatra). She’s remembered by older film buffs and the gay community, of course, but Joe and Jane Popcorn checked out at least a half-century ago, if not earlier.

Apple’s Big Sur operating system came out six months ago, but I only got around to installing it on my 15″ Macbook Pro (500G storage, 8GB memory) two or three days ago. Except the installation stalled or got gummed up, so I had to run down to Best Buy for a 2 terabyte Western Digital external hard drive. I loaded the entire contents of the Mac onto the WD, wiped the Mac clean and re-installed everything — now it’s all good.

I haven’t owned an external hard drive since ’08. It only held 500G, weighed a couple of pounds and needed a wall plug-in for power. The WD is (a) powered by the laptop, (b) only a little bit bigger than a playing card and (c) barely weighs anything.

In less than 14 months, Joel Goodson of Glencoe, Illinois (otherwise known as Thomas Cruise Mapother IV) will turn 60 years of age. Joel was actually around 17 or 18 when the Risky Business events happened; Cruise was around 20 when the film was shot. Just saying.

Earlier today Variety‘s Brent Lang announced a new documentary about the making of Midnight Cowboy, based on Glenn Frankel’s “Shooting Midnight Cowboy: Art, Sex, Loneliness, Liberation and the Making of a Dark Classic.”

The rights were acquired by Nancy Buirski (The Rape of Recy Taylor, The Loving Story) through her documentary production company, Augusta Films. Buirski will direct.

May I ask a question? Why another doc about the making of this 1969 classic? There are at least two or three docs on YouTube that cover it pretty well. (Not to mention a couple of visual essays on the Criterion Bluray.) It’s not going to hurt to watch Buirski’s film, but I’d rather see a making-of doc about something less well-worn.

Oh, and please remember not to buy the Criterion Cowboy — it’s a flat-out desecration.

Nearly two years will have have elapsed between the start of principal photography on John Krasinksi‘s A Quiet Place Part II, which began shooting in June 2019, and the 5.28.21 opening. I was a fan of the original A Quiet Place, which opened on 4.6.18 — roughly a year before the pandemic began.

I really don’t like that gurgly-gurgly monster sound at the end of this trailer. It sounds too much like the gurgly-gurgly that I heard in 2011’s Cowboys and Aliens.

“Eureka — A Quiet Place Metaphor“, posted on 2.20.20:

The only thing that didn’t quite work about John Krasinki‘s A Quiet Place (’18) is that I could never detect a social metaphor. The horror, it seemed, was totally situational in a random-ass way. Don’t make a sound or the big brown alien monsters will rush in and murder you whambam. Okay, fine, but what’s the real-life echo?

Howard Hawks and Christian Nyby‘s The Thing was about early ’50s paranoia over invaders from the sky, be they Russians or flying saucers. Don Siegel‘s Invasion of the Body Snatchers was about submitting to the blandness of the Eisenhower years…the mid ’50s conformity of the suburbs. George Romero‘s Night of the Living Dead was about a sick society grappling with evil histories and buried behaviors — dead bodies walking the earth in order to wreak vengeance. Rosemary’s Baby was…I’m not sure but it had something to do with that 4.8.66 Time magazine cover that asked “Is God Dead?” Jennifer Kent‘s The Babadook was some kind of metaphor about car crashes and dead husbands and the terror of facing parenthood alone.

But what was A Quiet Place about?

I wasn’t paying attention when it was reported on 2.26.21 that Warner Bros. and DC had hired Ta-Nehisi Coates to write the screenplay for a Black Superman flick to be produced by J.J. Abrams.

Earlier today THR‘s Tatiana Siegel and Borys Kit reported that everyone is committed to hiring a Black director…natch.

The idea, of course, is to fill the mythical-superhero void left by the passing of Black Panther star Chadwick Boseman. But Coates still has to come up with some kind of semi-plausible plot that will link up with the traditional Superman saga…right? The classic Superman tale and D.C. legacy would have to be incorporated to some extent.

Assumption #1: If Black Superman will possess the same kind of superpowers that all the previous Supermans had going back to Kirk Alyn and George Reeves, he has to be from a Krypton-like planet…right? Or from Krypton itself. If the latter, Black Superman would have to be yet another survivor who escaped the planet before it self-destructed. Coates would have to explain that Krypton was always a biracial society, etc.

HE idea: The obvious strategy (one that would totally ring Quentin Tarantino‘s bell) would be to follow the Wonder Woman time-travel template and set Black Superman somewhere in the pre-Civil War Antebellum South. Have an infant Black Superman arrive on planet earth in the year 1852, encased in a special vacuum-sealed, oxygen-supplied cylinder that slides into a cotton plantation somewhere in the heart of the Confederacy. Or in 1862 with the war going on. Or he arrives as a 20something with his powers fully developed. Either way the story writes itself.

Hollywood Reporter illustration by Clayton Henry.

In basic plot-strategy terms, Michelangelo Antonioni‘s Blow-Up (’66) kicks off in a London public park (Maryon Park in Charlton) when a youngish fashion photographer (David Hemmings) happens to take several snaps of an amorous May-December couple (Vanessa Redgrave, Ronan O’Casey).

As he develops the photos in his dark room later that day he realizes that the images show a murder in progress — one of the blow-ups reveals an assassin holding a pistol, and another a fuzzy image of the dead O’Casey lying on the grass.

Blow-Up isn’t a thriller, of course — it’s a meditation about reality vs. perception vs. artistic fancy as well as a brilliant capturing of 1966 avant-garde London, so the focus is about much more than just the ins and outs of a murder. But Hemmings encountering Redgrave-O’Casey is the inciting incident, and I’ve always adored the first glimpse of that swoony couple in a lazy-day mood.

Any other director would have called special attention to Redgrave-O’Casey…capturing them with a steady centered shot, perhaps starting from a distance and then cutting to an MCU, in effect telling the audience “you’ll want to pay attention to these people…something is about to happen.”

Instead Antonioni and dp Carlo Di Palma show Hemmings scampering around the grass while shooting some pigeons, and then the camera pans up and to the left, and as it’s moving north it catches the briefest glimpse — exactly one second’s worth — of the couple. (Go to the :31 mark.) The first-time viewer doesn’t even notice them, much less consider that they might be key players.

This is one of the 40 or 50 things that I dearly love about this film, and why I own the Criterion Bluray version. The first thing that grabbed me way back was the sound of wind rustling the park bushes and tree branches as Hemmings snaps away. So much going on and not a line of dialogue or a note of music…just the breezes.

I’m sorry but I kind of expected Caitlin Jenner to sound more like…I don’t know, more like Anne Bancroft or Rosalind Russell or Joan Crawford. Somewhere in that realm. I’m not saying there’s anything “wrong” with sounding like a dude, but it goes against the rest of what she’s putting out.

Jenner: “Here’s my crazy thinking. We are now spending billions of dollars on this high-speed rail, okay, and they talk about it all the time, between LA and San Francisco. And I’m going, ‘Why are we doing that? I can get on a plane at LAX, and I’ll be in San Francisco in 50 minutes. Why do we need high-speed rail?'”