Last night I caught Frank Marshall‘s How Can You Mend A Broken Heart? (HBO), the 111-minute Bee Gees doc. It’s a kick and a ride…always interesting, finely crafted…a deep-drill exploration slash celebration of the Brothers Gibb and their whitewater journey through the bruising rapids of ’60s and ’70s pop progression invention.

The BeeGees were all but drummed out of the business in the wake of the anti-disco backlash of ’79 and ’80 (one of my proudest all-time possessions was a black, Euro-style “Death to Disco” T-shirt) but they were fairly awesome in their spotty, in-and-out, up-and-down fashion.

I became a fan with ’67’s “New York Mining Disaster 1941” and “To Love Somebody,” and stayed on through “Lonely Days, Lonely Nights” (’70). Then I dropped out for a bit (or they dropped out rather), and then we reconnected with Main Course, their 1975 album that included “Jive Talkin'” and “Nights on Broadway.”

But I permanently checked out with the “Saturday Night Fever” soundtrack album. Hah-hah-hah-hah…hated that album, hated that album.

Marshall’s direction of the doc is sharp and fleet and comprehensive…the doc does almost everything you want it do and more, but that “almost” constitutes a major asterisk.

I’m referring to the fact that the voice and vantage point of 74 year-old Barry Gibb, the only surviving brother of the original trio (Maurice passed in ’03, Robin in ’12), is the dominant factor. The doc could (and perhaps should) have been titled Barry’s Story, As Told to Frank Marshall.

And so the constant friction between Barry and Robin, both personally and professionally over four or five decades, is downplayed. And, as I mentioned last Friday, the the big-screen debacle that was Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, the 1978 musical fantasy that starred the Brothers Gibb, is completely omitted. Because Barry said so.

For a doc that’s earned your trust and admiration for not hedging or playing games, the refusal to deal with this catastrophe iis like…what?

And yet the doc doesn’t shy away from the anti-disco thing, which was also ruinous for the group because of the Fever association. As long as Marshall and Gibb are allowing that ’78, ’79 and early ’80 ushered in the dark times, why not simply acknowledge the Sgt. Pepper calamity? So strange.

I’m especially glad for last night’s viewing because I hadn’t listened to “Nights on Broadway” for decades. I fell for it all over again.

I love the story about how the song, recorded in Miami, was originally called “Lights on Broadway”, and how Atlantic Records Ahmet Ertegun, upon hearing this early version, told them “no way guys…the song has to allude to wild nocturnal behavior and great sex and toots of cocaine.” And so “Lights” became “Nights.” And then Barry added some falsetto for the chorus, and suddenly they had this whole falsetto thing going, which became their signature.

The doc’s final line — Barry telling Frank that he would trade all the hits if his brothers could somehow return from the great beyond — is touching, and it feels right to end the film on this note. But I don’t think Barry honestly meant it. I think he just said it because it was in his aging heart at the moment, but serious, major-league artists almost never “nice” and “gentle” their way into fame and fortune. They make it to the top because of a burning drive and hunger, and the tension and turbulence that went along with that…it’s all part of the same package, the same psychological soup.

It may sound vaguely disrespectful or even dismissive to state that the career of John le Carre, the spy-novel maestro whose given name was David Cornwell, peaked with the publishing of his third novel, “The Spy Who Came In From The Cold.”

Le Carre was a brilliant spinner of complex, morally ambivalent intelligence tales — an amazingly shrewd and skillful novelist, and a brilliant story strategist. But no Le Carre book had a greater impact than “TSWCIFTC”.

And from this came the excellent movie adaptation from director Martin Ritt and star Richard Burton as Alec Leamas, a British agent who pretends to defect in order to bring about the murder of a malevolent East German agent. Le Carre’s fake-out ending is the greatest in the history of espionage thrillers, bar none.

Cornwell re-peaked in the ’70s with a pair of masterful George Smiley novels — “Tinker Tailor Spoiler Spy” (’74) and especially “Smiley’s People” (’79).

I’ve always felt slightly under-served by the ending of “Smiley’s People”, in which Moscow Center honcho Karla is forced to defect and surrender to British intelligence in Berlin.

It wasn’t the finale itself that bothered me (far from it) but the fact that Le Carre didn’t provide an extra chapter or two about what happened after Karla crossed over. I needed to decompress and contemplate the whole history and ramifications. I needed to know what Karla told the British “Circus” boys, where he wound up living, how his schizophrenic daughter fared, and so on.

Cornwell also penned the highly respected “The Looking Glass War” (’65), “The Little Drummer Girl” (’83), “The Night Manager” (’93), “The Tailor of Panama” (’96), “The Constant Gardener” (’01), “A Most Wanted Man” (’08) and “Our Kind of Traitor” (’10)

In selecting their 2020 award-winners, the Boston Society of Film Critics did the more-or-less expected thing by giving the Best Picture prize to Chloe Zhao‘s Nomadland, and the Best Director trophy to Zhao. They also handed their Best Cinematography award to Nomadland‘s Joshua James Richards.

I’ve attached a parenthetical classification to some of the BSFC winners — pure craft and quality (PCC) which means quality not necessarily augmented by politically woke currents. The wins by Nomadland, Zhao and Richards are all PCC.

Anthony Hopkins‘ poignant conveyance of dementia in The Father won for Best Actor (PCC), and that film’s director, Florian Zeller, won the BSFC’s Best New Filmmaker award (PCC).

Sidney Flanigan took the Best Actress award for her sad, somber, ultra-minimalist performance in Never Rarely Sometimes Always — a decision that I respectfully regard as a head-scratcher.

Sound of Metal‘s Paul Raci won for Best Supporting Actor (no opinion — still haven’t seen it), and Young Yuh-jung‘s luminous performance as an intrepid grandma in Minari resulted in a Best Supporting Actress win (PCC).

Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom won for Best Ensemble Cast.

Charlie Kaufman won the Best Screenplay award for the justly admired I’m Thinking of Ending Things (PCC). And that film’s editor, Robert Frazen, won the Best Editing trophy (PCC).

Alexander Nanau‘s Collective won for Best Documentary. (PCC)

Here’s the rundown:

The Daily Mail‘s Caroline Graham is reporting that President-elect Joe Biden has ordered the White House to be “deep-cleaned and ‘exorcised'” of any and all remnants of the Trumps.

Biden, who will move in after his 1.20.21 inauguration, is “insisting that the 132-room property be thoroughly disinfected beforehand.”

A member of the transition team: “Mr Trump’s administration has been riddled with the coronavirus. The Bidens are taking no chances. The entire property will be deep-cleaned down to replacing doorknobs and taking down soft furnishings. The virus can linger on hard surfaces so the entire residence and executive offices will be wiped clean with disinfectant to exorcise any trace of Team Trump.’”

What are the odds of Trump attending the Biden swearing-in? Zilch, right? He’ll probably clear out a day or two early and head straight for Florida.

Friendo to HE: In today’s NY Times, both A.O. Scott and Manohla Dargis put Collective on their top 10 lists. I fully agree — it’s a great film about journalists fighting for truth in a very corrupt [Romanian] society. You never weighed in on the film. Any particular reason why?

HE to friendo: Not for lack of admiration. I haven’t written anything yet because my head is spinning and my brain is being pulled six or seven ways, like taffy or bubble gum. And I’m screaming inside. Collective is a first-rate, hard-hitting art doc because it doesn’t really conclude with a “satisfying” ending. The corruption is vicious, endemic, everywhere. The ending is what makes it.

Friendo to HE: That’s for sure. One truly intriguing thing is that it was a sports daily that was doing the heavy lifting and carrying the torch.

HE to friendo: I loved that aspect!

Friendo to HE: So give it some of your fabulous p.r. It’s a film that deserves more viewers and hype. Just asking as a friend.

No offense, but I would rather shove steak knives into my nasal cavities than watch WandaVision (Disney +, 1.15.21), a forthcoming Disney-Marvel streaming series that costars Elizabeth Olsen and Paul Bettany as superhero couple Wanda Maximoff (aka “Scarlet Witch”) and Vision.

Created and executive produced by Jac Schaeffer (co-writer of Black Widow and Captain Marvel), WandaVision costars Kathryn Hahn, Kat Dennings, Randall Park and Teyonah Parris.

“We are doing this vaccine World War 2-style, making England go in first and see what’s what, and then we swoop at the end and steal the spotlight.”

Reported yesterday by Forbes‘ Andrew Solender: Rep. Bill Pascrell (D-N.J.) on Friday urged House Speaker Nancy Pelosi to refuse to seat any of the 126 Republican House members who signed an amicus brief supporting a lawsuit aimed at overturning the results of the presidential election.

Pascrell, who has been among the most vocal proponents in Congress of investigations into President Trump, called on Pelosi in a letter to “exclude” any members who signed the brief, claiming they want to “tear the United States government apart.”

Pascrell cites Section 3 of the 14th amendment — which states that anyone who “engaged in insurrection or rebellion” cannot serve in federal office — and in so doing claims that the lawsuit seeks to “obliterate public confidence in our democratic system” and that those who signed it committed “unbecoming acts that reflect poorly on our chamber.”

Brian Desmond Hurst and Alastair Sim‘s A Christmas Carol (released as Scrooge in England) is easily the best adaptation of Charles Dickens 1843 novella. United Artists handled the U.S. release. Pic “was originally slated to be shown at Manhattan’s Radio City Music Hall as part of their Christmas attraction, but the theatre management decided that the film was too grim and did not possess enough family entertainment value to warrant an engagement at the Music Hall.”

If you ask me the Music Hall guys of ’51 were made of the same censorious, rigid-minded stuff that propelled those awful people in England to condemn that recent “Santa gets Covid” NHS Charities Together commercial.

The scene in which the miserable, ghoulish ghost of Jacob Marley (Michael Hordern) pays a late-night visit to Scrooge’s London home….this is the bit that convinced Music Hall management to spare the kiddies. Particularly the moment (beginning at 3:40) when Scrooge calls Marley’s apparent presence a silly illusion. At 3:50 Horden rises to his feet, shakes his clanking iron chains and howls like a banshee — straight out of a Hammer horror film.

There are many famous people who seem (emphasis on the “s” word) reasonably human. And there are some who seem to be off on their own orbit, who ignite suspicions about a lack of something or other…a certain sincere, semi-vulnerable, open-hearted quality.

It was a little over four years ago when Taylor Swift and Tom Hiddleston…I don’t want to talk about it. But after that affair crashed and burned, I suddenly had an idea that Swift is a cyborg. An idea, not a conclusion. I know nothing.

“Wherever you stray, I follow / And I’m begging for you to take my hand / Wreck my plans, thats my man / Life was a willow, and it bent right to your wind.”

To me, Owen Wilson, whom I’ve known since ’94, will always be the Wedding Crashers guy. Or, you know, the Butterscotch Stallion. He’s only 52, but in the Disney + Loki TV series he looks like a moustachied John Slattery. Is he wearing older guy makeup? If so, fine. If not, fine. I miss the golden mane.

To me a sponge is for cleaning whatever. Soak in hot water, sprinkle liquid soap and scrub away….floors, dishes, bathroom walls, wine glasses, bicycles, pasta sauce stains on pants, etc.

“No!”, I’ve repeatedly been told by Tatiana. Different tasks require different sponges, and only a coarse animal would mix them up.

There are elite eating and drinking sponges (plates, cutlery, wine glasses, drinking glasses) and there are second-class kitchen and bathroom sink sponges. Never mix these up! A third sponge is needed to scrub the refrigerator and bathroom tub, and ideally a fourth sponge should be set aside for floor scrubbings (kitchen or living room) or walls…a floor sponge being the lowest of the low.

You can also use your coarse floor sponges to wash your car or motorcycle, but never, ever allow the eating and drinking sponges to be soiled with floor or wall dirt, and don’t even mention surfaces soiled by the great outdoors.

All this time I thought that after a sponge is soaked and cleaned with hot water, it would suffice for any cleaning purpose or surface. Because, you know, it’s been purged of all dirt and impurities. Silly me.