One of the most infectious bass lines in pop music history was performed by Bill Church on Van Morrison‘s “Wild Night” (’71), a track from his fifth studio album, “Tupelo Honey.” Written by Morrison almost 40 years before he became an anti-masker, “Wild Night” was recorded in the spring of ’71 at San Francisco’s Wally Heider studios (245 Hyde Street, between Turk and Eddy). It was released as a single in ’71 and reached #28 on the Billboard Hot 100 chart.

Reported two days ago: “Basketball legends Shaquille O’Neal and Charles Barkley are facing backlash over their response to the grand jury decision on the Breonna Taylor case.

“I feel just bad the young lady lost her life, but we do have to take into account her boyfriend did shoot at the cops and shot a cop,” Barkley said during pregame coverage of the NBA’s Western Conference Finals Thursday.

HE interjection: White people have not been allowed to say and are currently prohibited from saying what Barkley said. Because if they did, they would be instantly tarred and feathered for spewing toxic racism.

Back to story: “The decision sparked protests and demonstrations across the country. Many NBA players have used their platform to bring attention to Taylor’s case and to amplify calls for change. And yet two days ago, On a grand jury decided not to bring charges against Louisville police for Taylor’s March 13 killing and only three counts of wanton endangerment against fired Officer Brett Hankison for shooting into Taylor’s neighbors’ homes.

“O’Neal, also anchoring the pregame show, agreed with Barkley and argued that while “no-knock warrants” should be abolished, the officers involved were simply following orders.

“A homicide occurred, and we’re sorry a homicide did occur, but if you have a warrant signed by a judge, you are doing your job. And if someone fires at you, I would imagine that you would fire back,” O’Neal said.

Barkley then took a stance against defunding the police. “I’m like, ‘Wait a minute’, he said. ‘Who are black people supposed to call…Ghostbusters? When we have crime in our neighborhoods? We need police reform.”

“Social media reaction came swiftly, with many denouncing the former NBA players’ response.”

Plus: “Not to relitigate old wounds, but all the Hillary equivocators from 2016…the people who said she was racist, not really that different from Trump…the ones who voted third party…the ones who stayed home because, you know, ‘the lesser of two evils’…sorry but you all have to eat it one more time. Because oh, how I would love some of that Hillary evil right now.”

Plus: “Let’s look at the alternative universe if a few more people in 2016 had told themselves, ‘Yes, she’s not my favorite but you only get two choices in our system, and it’s probably better that this sane, competent person gets in as opposed to a malignant narcissist.”

Plus: “I hope you like carrying your rape baby to term. You can name it Jill Stein.”

Friendo: “When will HE be addressing the middling Metacritic score (75%) for The Trial of the Chicago 7, especially given your recent comment that ‘any film with a Rotten Tomatoes or Metacritic rating below 80% obviously has an issue or two’?”

HE reply: The Metacritic figure may seem mildly troubling at first, but if you look more closely it’s not so bad. 22 out of 26 reviews (written by Chicago Sun-Times‘ Richard Roeper, Uproxx‘s Mike Ryan, Time‘s Stephanie Zacharek, Variety‘s Owen Gleiberman, the Washington Post‘s Ann Hornaday, TheWrap‘s Steve Pond, USA Today‘s Brian Truitt, The Telegraph‘s Robbie Collin, The Hollywood Reporter‘s David Rooney, the Boston Globe‘s Ty Burr) range from solidly approving to borderline ecstatic. The 75% grade was caused by four lone wolves — the N.Y. Times‘ A.O. Scott, A.V. Club‘s A.A. Dowd, The Film Stage‘s Matt Cipolla and especially The Guardian‘s Peter Bradshaw, the biggest sorehead of the bunch.

Otherwise the Rotten Tomatoes score for Aaron Sorkin‘s film is 92%, which is excellent.

Is Trial a perfect creation? Maybe not, but even the most widely acclaimed films have met with one or two detractors. It goes like that. The seriously admired Manchester by The Sea, which earned a 96% positive on Metacritic, was panned by The Guardian‘s Lanre Bakare.

I made it fairly clear on 9.22 and again on 9.23 that Aaron Sorkin‘s The Trial of the Chicago 7 is a truly exceptional smarthouse drama — a character-driven procedural that will hook adults of whatever age.

Despite the tumultuous late ’60s milieu it’s not about the usual noise, rage and chaotic energy, but about thought and procedure and agendas laid face-up on the table. It’s about clarity and drillbits and impressive brain-cell counts.

“This is great,” I was muttering to myself. “I love that I’m in the company of some brainy and passionate people who know about honing and sculpting sentences…why can’t more movie characters talk like this?” Possible answer: Because certain producers, directors and screenwriters are afraid that younger audiences will be put off by screenplays that sound “written” — by rhetorical precision and fine argumentative fencing? I for one loved being in this realm.

The endless trial (September ’69 to February ’70) was about a Nixon administration attempt to nail eight anti-establishment activists for activities tied to violent conflicts during the August ’68 Chicago Democratic convention.

Four of the defendants were Abbie Hoffman, Tom Hayden, Jerry Rubin and activist David Dellinger, respectively played by Sacha Baron Cohen, Eddie Redmayne, Jeremy Strong and John Carroll Lynch. The idea was to convict them for violating the Rap Brown law by crossing state lines in order to incite a riot. In so doing Nixon’s attorney general John Mitchell was ignoring a previous assessment by LBJ’s attorney general Ramsey Clark (Michael Keaton), which was that the conflict was primarily provoked by the Chicago police.

The number of defendants was reduced to seven when the attempted prosecution of Bobby Seale (Yahya Abdul-Mateen) was declared a mistrial.

The Trial of the Chicago 7 works because it’s all on the page — because of Sorkin’s shaping and honing — emphasizing and de-emphasizing to achieve a certain focus and tone. And then he assembled a top-tier cast and hired Phedon Papamichael to shoot it without any muss or fuss. Sorkin could’ve made a half-dozen other films about the Chicago 7 trial with all kinds of attitudes and approaches, but he decided to make this one.

The film’s central conflict is not a good guys vs. bad guys thing, but between Hayden and Abbie Hoffman — between their differing approaches to stoking or harnessing the social unrest.

Hayden’s approach was cerebral and sensible — classic political organizing, focused pragmatism, position papers, non-violence. Hoffman was about trusting in theatrical instinct — hippie-yippie tribalism, generational anger and a vaguely understood practice of cultural revolution for the hell of it (i.e., irreverence, impulsiveness, cranked-up emotion).

The Hayden approach dominates, certainly as far as the defense strategy is concerned, but Hoffman’s (and Rubin’s) wise-ass theatricality and flamboyance punches through.

It’s actually a kind of four-way debate by way of defense attorney William Kuntsler (played by the always-good Mark Rylance) and co-attorney Leonard Weinglass (Ben Shenkman).

But the payoff (and it’s a rouser) comes when Kuntsler decides to put Hoffman on the stand, which sets the stage for one of those robust Sorkin-crescendo moments.

In so doing Sorkin has burnished Hoffman’s legacy. As noted last Tuesday, he’s made him into a more charismatic and compelling speaker than Hoffman ever was in actuality. Partly because Cohen was enabled to portray Hoffman in just the right way — a certain physical resemblance, a decent stab at his western Massachusetts accent plus the Sorkin makeover. To hell with the fact that the 6’3″ Cohen is almost a foot taller than the Real McCoy — Cohen blows all such thoughts out of the water.

And what a pleasure it is to watch Eddie Redmayne play a reasonable adult in a recognizable realm — no handicaps, no gender-switches, no Les Misérables, no Jupiter Ascending showboating, no Fantastic Beasts, no helium balloons…just a regular, well-educated guy wearing 20th century clothing.

This is a film about radical ’60s behavior and agendas that actually adds up and makes sense in 21st Century terms. There’s no watching it without considering contemporary echoes. Enough said.

A couple of days ago screenwriter Daniel Waters asked followers to post four or five films that they deeply admire or feel guilty-pleasure pangs for, but which are generally regarded as insufficiently loved.

Five films, in short, that the hoi polloi never seemed to care very much for (or never knew much about or have forgotten) but which you privately swear by.

Five years ago I posted a list of HE’s 160 greatest all-time films , but none apply here because each is loved and respected. We’re talking lone-wolf, off-in-the-corner films. So here are five…make it six picks:

Sandra Nettlebeck‘s Mostly Martha (’01). Probably the greatest sensual foodie + unlikely love affair flick I’ve ever seen. Martina Gedeck and Sergio Castellitto‘s lead performances are perfection. Scott Hicks‘ No Reservations, an American remake costarring Catherine Zeta Jones and Aaron Eckhart, missed the mark.

John Flynn‘s The Outfit (’73). A classic hard-boiled revenge film, lean and blunt and crafted in the tradition of Point Blank. Outside of noir cultists and film bums, few have paid much attention. Robert Duvall, Karen Black, Joe Don Baker, Joanna Cassidy and Robert Ryan.

Bob Rafelson‘s Stay Hungry (’76). Love, character, destiny, Southern culture and body-building. Charming, low-key, funny. Arguably contains the most winning Arnold Schwarzenegger performance ever. Definitely my all-time favorite Jeff Bridges film. Sally Field, R.G. Armstrong, Robert Englund, Helena Kallianiotes.

Frank Perry and Thomas McGuane‘s Rancho Deluxe (’75). Another Jeff Bridges film about destiny and character, this time by way of Montana cattle rustling. Harry Dean Stanton and Richard Bright played Curt and Burt, and of course their names are a running gag. Not a lot of narrative urgency, but that’s also the charm of it.

Lamont Johnson‘s The Last American Hero (’73). One of the best redneck flicks ever. Yes, Bridges again. The story of racecar driver Junior Johnson, called Elroy Jackson in the film. Based on Tom Wolfe‘s Esquire piece titled “The Last American Hero Is Junior Johnson…Yes!”.

Susanne Bier‘s Things We Lost In The Fire (’07). My all-time favorite film about drug addiction, containing my favorite Benicio del Toro performance. Fans were few and far between when it opened in ’07, but I was instantly sold. Alone but hooked,

Out of Hollywood Elsewhere’s 10 projected Best Picture Oscar contenders, I’ve seen exactly four — Chloe Zhao‘s Nomadland, Aaron Sorkin‘s The Trial of the Chicago 7, Florian Zeller‘s The Father and Chris Nolan‘s Tenet. The other six are in the wings. I’ve heard that David Fincher‘s Mank is totally masterful and bucks-up approved, and I will be trusting in that assessment until I see it and make my own. So far the standings for the Best Director Oscar contenders…check back with me later. But it looks right now like Nomadland‘s Frances McDormand and The Father‘s Anthony Hopkins are in the top slots for Best Actress and Best Actor, respectively.

“He cannot pitch and roll with what people may think about him…this humiliation that he feels but can’t bear to feel…there’s a great sadness in that, for me. There’s something internally wrong with the guy, and you’re saddened by that. The fact that he can’t ignore slights, is sorta nuts. He’s a keyboard warrior coward.” — The Mooch.

Imagine actually choosing to stay in a gaudy, Las Vegas-styled hotel on the Sunset Strip…a modern stopover for young dipshits, ablaze with nocturnal, motion-flow blue lighting. I’m speaking of the Pendry Hotel (corner of Sunset and North Olive), which is a different idea and structure than the Pendry residences.

I was friendly to some extent with production designer Richard Sylbert, whose location choices for Chinatown were the stuff of legend, and I’m telling you he’d be appalled by this place. It’s rancid, soul-less.

“A legal career is but a means to an end, and that end is building the Kingdom of God.” — presumed Supreme Court nominee Amy Coney Barrett.

“Building” the kingdom of God? What, the same way a construction team might build a 12-unit condo in Orlando? The last time I checked “the kingdom of God” began to build itself X number of eons ago and will continue this building for X number of eons hence, regardless of any notions of good or evil or “do unto others” or any of that jazz. The kingdom of God is not a theological projection or a moral proposition but an infinite realm of ever-expanding micro-cellular creation by way of intelligent (or at the very least unified) design.

The staunchly Catholic Barrett, on the other hand, believes that God is some kind of benevolent, all-seeing, magnificently moral being who roots for the good guys (i.e., the Christians) down on planet Earth, but at the same time has an iron-clad rule about not stepping into the situation too aggressively.

Like any good Catholic, Barrett respects this hands-off, absentee landlord, “it’s up to humans to do the heavy lifting” policy, but at the same time believes that God is on her side and will be pulling for her confirmation, if and when she’s nominated, and that once on the court he wants her to implement His Moral Vision for life on our poisoned planet. She will be, in short, His loyal agent — the servant of his bidding.

In short, Amy Coney Barrett is a religious fanatic.

The origin of the above quote, by the way, appears to be an essay titled “The Purpose and Vocation of the Catholic Lawyer,” written by Rich Garnett and posted on mirrorofjusticeblogs on 5.2.12.

Susanne Bier is the director of The Undoing, an HBO miniseries based on Jean Hanff Korelitz‘s “You Should Have Known“, apparently a “deeds of evil duplicitous husband are traumatically revealed to strong-willed but deluded wife” airport novel for women.

Bier’s The Night Manager miniseries was respected and well received, and she was, I felt, in a truly excellent feature groove during the aughts (Open Hearts, Brothers, After the Wedding, Things We Lost in the Fire, In a Better World). But this new project feels like trouble. The trailer suggests a difficult sit.

Amazon boilerplate with Kidman and Grant’s names inserted: “The somewhat arrogant Grace (Nicole Kidman), a tough-talking marriage counselor, has written a book for wives, ‘You Should Have Known”, to kinda sorta blame them for not recognizing things about their husbands. You know the saying ‘physician, heal thyself”? You can see where this novel is going.

“What Grace didn’t know about her own husband Mike (Hugh Grant) is the stuff of this long, drawn-out novel. Grace never suspected that Mike, an esteemed pediatric oncologist, could be a liar. Or worse. For someone who scorned women for not realizing their husbands lied and held secrets, Grace was about as clueless as a popsicle, maybe more so.”

Orange Plague + Melania visited Ruth Ginsburg Bader‘s flag-draped coffin this morning at the top of the Supreme Court steps. The camera catches sight of Melania at 3:27. And then The Beast. The crowd at the bottom of the steps doesn’t react to Trump’s presence until 4:18, at which point the negative chanting begins (“honor her wish!”, “vote him out!”). It’s obvious that Trump has heard their chants — turning his head slightly, stiffening, shifting his weight. The First Couple turns and leaves around 5:07.