Virusbros can whine all they want, but there’s nothing wrong with hiking up the all-but-deserted Stone Canyon Drive at sundown if you keep your distance and mask handy.

Paul Campos has posted a 4.29 article on lawyersgunsmoney about Joe Biden accuser Tara Reade. It’s essential reading. Rather than rehashing, just read it and ask yourself for 15 or 20 seconds why Reade’s 4.6.19 account of what allegedly happened between her and Biden in ’93 was one thing, and something else entirely when she told it to NPR’s Katie Halper on 3.25.20.

Campos: “I first commented on the story [last] Monday because Lynda LaCasse told Business Insider that Reade had told her the far more extreme assault story in 1995 or 1996, when they were neighbors. What I didn’t know at the time was that LaCasse had spoken with Reade in 2019, when Reade publicized the first story,” etc.

Just read it, just read it.

Campos conclusion: “Now of course none of this is conclusive by any means. It’s possible that Reade is in fact telling the truth about what happened, or perhaps that she’s telling the truth about what she thinks happened, although it actually didn’t happen. But it seems far more probable, weighing all the available evidence, that she’s lying about the purported sexual assault.”

From “Trump erupts at campaign team as his poll numbers slide,” by AP’s Zeke Miller and Jonathan Lemire: “President Donald Trump erupted at his top political advisers last week when they presented him with worrisome polling data that showed his support eroding in a series of battleground states as his response to the coronavirus comes under criticism.

“’I am not fucking losing to Joe Biden!,” Trump repeated in a series of heated conference calls with his top campaign officials, according to five people with knowledge of the conversations. They spoke on condition of anonymity because they were not authorized to speak publicly about private discussions.”

15 years ago a bizarre but historic Spike Jonze commercial appeared. Called “Pardon Our Dust,” it was ostensibly about a forthcoming renovation of Gap stores. But many of us (myself included) immediately recognized that the actual focus was rage against the corporate dominance of American retail culture. Wild but thought-provoking, it depicted a sudden burst of rebellion by Gap employees and customers alike.

I remember having a sharp argument with David Poland about this. Poland, who always knows everything, pooh-poohed my interpretation. “You don’t get it,” I replied. “It’s about people breaking loose and venting their frustration by way of exhilaration and mad anarchy…it’s the finale of ‘The Day of the Locust‘.”

Like many other critics and journos, I live each day in mortal fear of the New Stalinists. Which is why I asked some pallies what they thought about my posting a fairly inconsequential piece about James Toback‘s Love and Money (’82), which I watched the night before last.

Message: “I wrote a mild little piece about Love and Money, but I’m not sure I have the backbone to post it, mainly because agents of the wokester Khmer Rouge may conclude that I’m a Toback apologist, which I’m certainly not as far as reports of his personal behavior are concerned. The piece is hardly incendiary, but do you agree that ‘they’ might come after me if I posted it?”

Here it is: The career of director-writer James Toback was terminated roughly two and one third years ago. Stories about Toback having allegedly sexually harassed over 300 women saw to that. This behavioral pattern went on for decades, to go by an L.A. Times article (1.7.18) by Glenn Whipp.

It follows that no Toback-directed films (including the brilliant Fingers and the provocative Two Girls and a Guy and Black and White) are allowed to be even mentioned, much less discussed; ditto Toback’s screenplays for Karel Reisz‘s The Gambler and Barry Levinson and Warren Beatty‘s Oscar-nominated Bugsy, which were once highly regarded.

I’m nonetheless scratching my head about Love and Money, an oddly disjointed film that’s viewable on Amazon. Directed and written by Toback and a complete financial bust when it opened in early ’82, it was generally regarded as a sloppy, spazzy thing.

But you have to wonder what Love and Money was in script form for Warren Beatty and Pauline Kael, no slouches in their respective fields, to have invested their attention during the late ’70s development process. It must have amounted to something unusual or interesting — there had to have been something there.

Wiki summary: “Beatty was interested in producing and starring at one point in the late ’70s, for Paramount. Beatty persuaded Kael to work on the project. Kael was an admirer of Toback’s and Beatty’s and had recently left film criticism to work in Hollywood. However, Kael dropped out of the project after a number of weeks, instead becoming a consultant for Paramount. (She would eventually return to film criticism.)

“Beatty dropped out of the film to concentrate on Reds. Toback and Paramount could not agree on casting without Beatty’s involvement. The project was put into turnaround. Toback set up the film at Lorimar. Filming started in November 1979. It finally opened on 2.12.82. It made a grand total of $14K.”

From Vincent Canby’s N.Y. Times review: “Love & Money is a very strange film. Although it is packed with plot, it seems sort of skimpy, so skimpy that one suspects that somebody — either Mr. Toback or someone not so fond of Mr. Toback’s overheated mannerisms — had ruthlessly chopped the print that’s now going into release.

“I wasn’t much fond of Fingers, Mr. Toback’s first film as a writer-director, but that film at least had its own roaring, cockeyed intensity, whether you liked it or not. Love and Money, as it stands here, looks as if the director had filmed a treatment rather than a screenplay. Instead of being intense, it just seems to have periodic fits.

“Love & Money [is punctuated with banalities] intercut with wildly unpredictable moments that too often are unintentionally funny because there are no buildups and nothing to connect them. The film eventually does get to Costa Salva, a [fictional] Central America country which looks a lot like a Los Angeles suburb, where the plot becomes even dimmer and where the production money seems to have run out. When we attend a rally addressed by Costa Salva’s dictator (Armand Assante), it looks like Arbor Day in Peoria.”

Distributors have always talked a friendly partnership game with exhibitors, but deep down they’d sell their own mothers if it meant making a bigger profit. Distribs know that elbowing exhibs aside would destroy the primal enjoyment factor of communal viewing, of course, but they’d at least like to be able to say “to hell with theatrical windows.” Paraphrasing George C. Scott‘s line to Paul Newman in The Hustler: “You gotta be hard, Eddie.”

From Owen Gleiberman‘s “For The King of Staten Island, Going Straight to VOD Is No Laughing Matter,” posted earlier today:

“A few weeks ago Universal, the studio that’s VOD-ing The King of Staten Island, also VOD-ed Trolls World Tour, a decision I saw at the time as relatively inconsequential. Yet the stakes have now been ratcheted up. Universal has claimed that it had the biggest debut ever for a digital release, though it declined to provide statistics to support what that means. And the success the studio has had with Trolls World Tour likely influenced its decision to release The King of Staten Island on VOD.

“Trolls World Tour has now grossed $100 million in digital rentals, which suggests TKOSI, though it doesn’t have that built-in family audience, could also prove successful. This is a chain of tremors leading to an earthquake, which is why AMC theatres responded with a tremor of its own: the retaliatory decision, in response to the exclusive opening of Trolls on VOD (and the announcement about Apatow’s movie), not to play Universal films.

“No doubt about it: This is war.

“Yet it’s worth remembering that these films, right now, are reaping the benefit of being anomalies. As the only major Hollywood movie to premiere in April, Trolls World Tour was competing with…nothing else. The same will be true of “The King of Staten Island”: It will have the home audience to itself. (Imagine that there were six other big new releases premiering on VOD or streaming services that day.) Because of that highly idiosyncratic and almost freakish situation, it could wind up being seen by more eyeballs, and making more money, than it would have in theaters.

“But is this a business model for the future, or a stopgap? Some would say it’s a stopgap that could become the business model for the future. The King of Staten Island will test-drive that possibility, and maybe rattle the struggling movie-theater industry, like no movie before it. But is getting to see a film like this one at home truly an advance — a case of value added? It may, in fact, be a seductive but temporary convenience that, in the long run, will only prove to be value subtracted.”

Journo pally: “I recently watched Peter Bogdanovich‘s Saint Jack (’79), which is basically about the most likable and charismatic pimp in Singapore (Ben Gazzara). I know this is not considered one of Bogdanovich’s great successes but several key critics went for it at the time. It’s agreeable in a weird sort of way. The location work is great and Gazzara is fine (ditto costar Denholm Elliott), but all I could think as I watched was “talk about a film that could never, ever be made today…it would be accused of sexism, racism, a white colonial mentality…you name it. The fact that it speaks to its time — the end of the Vietnam War — would be ignored, as would its breezy storytelling. What can I say? Enjoyable but boy, is it anachronistic.”

As it’s free on Amazon Prime, I’ve decided to re-watch Saint Jack and see what happens.

I should have posted regrets last night about the sudden passing of poor Irrfan Khan, who was only 53. He was admitted to Mumbai’s Kokilaben hospital with a colon infection yesterday (i.e., Tuesday in India)…over and out. I first saw him (though I don’t remember this) in Mira Nair’s Salaam Bombay (’88). The Variety obit says he “shot to global prominence playing the lead in Asif Kapadia’s The Warrior (01)” — if you say so. Kahn’s biggest internationally-seen performances were in Danny Boyle‘s Slumdog Millionaire (which I’ll never, ever watch again) and Ang Lee‘s Life of Pi (ditto). Khan also collected serious paychecks from supporting performances in Jurassic World (which I hated), The Amazing Spider-Man (the 2012 Andrew Garfield one, which was half-decent) and Ron Howard‘s Inferno (bullshit). Very sorry, way too soon, etc.

Lewis John Carlino and Yukio Mishima‘s The Sailor Who Fell From Grace With The Sea (’76) was crap from the get-go. Kids killing a sea captain because he gives up sailing in order to become a landlubber husband…bullshit. Mishima’s fixation upon disembowelment and ritual sacrifice…gimme a break. In the view of John Simon the film was “very pretty to look at, but made absolutely no sense.” But what could the idea have been behind this poster? The film is a dour machismo metaphor of some kind, and yet Kris Kristofferson looks like he’s dancing.

The metaphor of Greg Stillson, the lunatic presidential candidate in Stephen King and David Cronenberg‘s The Dead Zone, is as American as apple pie — a flag-waving monster sociopath. Many believe that Stillson and Donald Trump are cut from the same cloth. Nine and a half years ago I noted that Sarah Palin seemed Stillson-esque on a certain level. So we all know the drill. Now King has said in so many words that Stillson is Trump and vice versa.

From a 4.26 N.Y. Times Magazine interview with author and twitter-hound from Maine:

Last weekend I saw HBO’s Bad Education, a somewhat riveting, fact-based drama about a bizarre heist in plain sight. The focus is the infamous Roslyn embezzlement scandal of the early aughts. But I couldn’t get it up when I tried to write about it. This was because I couldn’t quite comprehend the insanely self-destructive acts of administrative thievery that this film is…well, partly about.

It’s also about the generally insane notion that living high on the hog is everything in life, and that all you need to sleep through this kind of brazen flim-flamming is a little vial of denial.

I understand Butch and Sundance robbing banks in the old days. I understand the gangs who stole jewels in Rififi and Topkapi. I can relate to the British thugs who pulled off the Great Train Robbery of 1963. Because they all thought they had a decent chance of getting away with it. Why rob anyone or anything if you can’t escape the law, right? But I can’t fathom how or why a pair of senior school administrators expected to get away with stealing over $6 million from a prosperous school district in Roslyn, Long Island — the largest public school embezzlement in American history.

Bad Education is about Roslyn’s secretly gay and deeply frustrated school district superintendent Frank Tassone (Hugh Jackman) and his assistant superintendent and business administrator Pamela Gluckin (Allison Janney) using taxpayer money to buy homes, travel all over, wear swell duds, drive pricey cars, get plastic surgery touch-ups (although not in Prague) and so on. And then wave it all off when questioned by whomever

When Gluckin’s embezzling was exposed, Tassone forced her to resign and surrender her license. But then a reporter for the school’s newspaper uncovered what she thought was a $250K embezzlement scheme involving both of them. The actual figure was much higher. Tassone had pocketed $2.2 million from school district coffers, and Gluckin admitted to stealing almost double that — $4.3 million.

In ’06 Tassone was sentenced to four to 12 years in prison, although he was released in 2010. Gluckin, sentenced to 3 to 9 years in ’06, was released a year later. She died in 2017. Tassone is living comfortably on a lifetime annual pension of $173,495.

Yes, Jackman’s portrayal of Tassone is slick and sad and altogether engaging, and the role is one of his best-written. But he’s playing an incomprehensible sociopath, and I kept asking myself “who believes they can get away with this kind of pilfering? Stuff like this always comes out in the wash sooner or later. It’s all tracable, all on the books…just a matter of time.”

Cory Finley‘s direction is so confident and smooth that it’s invisible. Mike Makowsky‘s highly arresting script is based on “The Bad Superintendent,” a 9.17.04 New York article by Robert Kolker. I read Kolker’s piece as soon as my viewing ended, of course. Here’s an excerpt: