And I say this having watched Gladiator two or three times during the 2000 Oscar season, and once on Bluray. I’m just done with it. Never again. I can’t tolerate the idea of sitting through Joaquin Phoenix‘s performance as Commodus — demonically boring, evil for the sake of evil, the Shallow Hal of villains.
Russell Crowe was once that thin, of course, but it’s hard to believe this now. When I think of his performance as Maximus, I think of two lines — “Are you not entertained?” and “The harvest, the harvest, the harvest.”
I didn’t care for the battle against the Germanic tribe in the beginning. I didn’t like the herky-jerky process used during the action sequences. I didn’t much care for Connie Neilsen‘s performance, nor Richard Harris‘s or Djimon Honsou‘s. The only things I really admired were (a) the CG reconstruction of the Colisseum, (b) the Colisseum battles, (c) Derek Jacobi and (d) the CG reanimation of the deceased Oliver Reed.
Which Roman epics would I would watch again? Almost any besides Gladiator. Anthony Mann‘s The Fall of the Roman Empire (’64), which tells the same story minus Maximus. Joseph Mankiewicz‘s Julius Caesar (’53). Stanley Kubrick and Kirk Douglas‘s Spartacus (’60). The BBC’s “I, Claudius” series. Any of them.
With Bernie Sanders finally acknowledging what has been patently obvious since Super Tuesday, which was that he had no chance to win the Democratic nomination, “just under 20%” of the Democratic base (including the deeply despised Berniebros) is now free to do whatever. Some will bitterly or half-heartedly vote for Biden in the fall, some will become Trump supporters, some will attempt to spark a third-party movement.
For a very brief period, just after New Hampshire and Nevada and prior to Super Tuesday, victory for the Sanders campaign seemed inevitable. But that phase quickly ended when the Democratic establishment strongly urged (i.e., ordered) Pete Buttigieg and Amy Klobuchar to suspend their campaigns. And then Elizabeth Warrenbailed in early March.
All along Sanders’ vision and platform have always been the most correct and courageous, but he never had the numbers to defeat Trump.
The passion of the Sanders flock has always been two-pronged — mostly defeating the Democratic center-left establishment and secondarily (and a distant second at that) evicting Donald Trump from the White House. They’re now free to pour all kinds of insurrectionist bile into the social gumbo. For the next few months they will take shot after shot at decent, well-meaning Uncle Joe, who will only serve a single term (everyone understands this) while paving the way for Gavin Newsom or Andrew Cuomo in ’24.
“‘I saw two clear poles emerge within the Democratic Party,’ he writes. “The ‘establishment’ and the ‘progressive left.’ A third group also emerged, and while it’s not as clearly defined as the other two, it has some overlap with the establishment and tends to be more fond of Wall Street, so I’m calling that ‘neoliberals.’
“’Establishment’ voters, in this scheme, means center-left voters who make up just over 60 percent of the total. They stood out as favorably inclined to Nancy Pelosi, Chuck Schumer, Barack Obama and the Democratic National Committee — in other words, to the Democratic establishment.
“’Progressive left’ Democrats, at just under 20 percent, were most favorable to labor unions, Black Lives Matter, the #MeToo movement, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and the Democratic Socialists of America. These Democrats viewed business interests — as exemplified by Wall Street — negatively, and they weren’t happy about Joe Manchin, the centrist senator from West Virginia, either.”
The roundish, Newark-born character actor Allen Garfield has passed at age 80. Steadily employed for 35 years or thereabouts, Garfield (briefly known as Allen Goorwitz) peaked in the ’70s — the highlights were Bananas, The Candidate, The Conversation, Nashville, Gable and Lombard and The Brinks Job.
Garfield’s most charismatic performance was as “Klein,” the political advertising guy in Michael Ritchie‘s The Candidate (’72). Second best was Bernie Moran in The Conversation; Vinnie Costa in William Friedkin‘s The Brinks Job is in third place. Others?
The poor man was sidelined after suffering a stroke in ’04.
From Owen Gleiberman‘s 1.31.20 review of “Natalie Wood: What Remains Behind” (HBO, 5.5): “Robert Wagner acknowledges that [he and Natalie] had quarreled earlier in the evening, which is hardly incriminating. But in the documentary, he also tries to explain away tension between himself and [Wood’s Brainstorm costar] Chris Walken — and does so by recounting an exchange the two had about Wood’s career, in which Walken said he thought Wood should be working more, a suggestion Wagner balked at. Wagner felt that Walken needed to mind his own business.
“But then Wagner says something that surprises us: During the argument with Walken, he got so annoyed that he smashed a wine bottle on the table.
“That’s a confession of major anger, one that can’t help but give us pause. The film then mentions the fact that the case was reopened, in 2011, after Dennis Davern, the yacht’s captain, said he’d originally lied to the police; the new scenario he presented claimed that Wagner was responsible for Wood’s death. The law has rejected that scenario, with Wagner, in 2018, having been named as a ‘person of interest’ in the case. Which is not the same thing as a suspect.
“But the 2011 developments raised more doubts about the basic question of what had happened, and the documentary, in not interviewing Dennis Davern (or exploring his version of the events), leaves the audience hanging.
“All of this can seem tasteless and macabre. Yet I think one of the reasons that Natalie Wood’s death still haunts us — and that we almost need a conspiracy to explain it — is that on screen, though perhaps not quite a great actress, she was always such a life force. She made you feel something, because her own feelings were so vivid. She was the movie star as open book, with her own saucy splendor.”
Wood’s best performances (in this order): Inside Daisy Clover, Splendor in the Grass, This Property Is Condemned, Love with the Proper Stranger, West Side Story, Rebel Without a Cause.
From Pete Hammond’s Deadline assessment of award-season prospects if and when the pandemic ebbs (posted on 4.6.20): “As for Telluride, set in an enclosed tiny town in the Colorado Rockies, far fewer visitors attend, but being in such a condensed space over the Labor Day weekend could be problematic not just for attendees (some already have issues because of the altitude), but also the town itself, which is thought to be the first in the country offering to have every single citizen tested for COVID-19.
“Last month, local papers and an ABC report said the city of Telluride was offering tests free to all combined 8,000 residents there and in San Miguel County, of which it is the biggest part. The strategy is similar to one done in Vo Euganeo, a tiny Italian town that managed to test all 3300 of its residents and, according to Live Science, reduced transmission by 90%. It is a wider scale in Telluride, and the tests being used are ELISA tests, which reportedly can find antibodies against coronavirus.
“The testing is being funded by Mei Mei Hu and Louis Reese, co-founders of c19, the subsidiary of United Biomedical that is the company behind the antibody test. They also happen to be residents of Telluride. ‘Our goal is to show what mass testing, social distancing and isolation can do together to stop the spread of infection, and to create a model that could save lives worldwide,’ they told ABC news.
“How this will affect planning of the 47th Telluride Film Festival remains to be seen, but this year for the first time Telluride may not only be known for bringing some of the movie world’s most famous people to town, but also as an incubator for information helping to find a cure for this devastating virus.
“Would they want to take a risk by the influx of Hollywood? Well, it is a resort town, so they are used to interlopers. Interestingly, the Academy has in recent years thrown an annual party for its members, as well as officials and board governors, attending the fest right there in the heart of Telluride, and it is always a wall-to-wall affair. If it can happen again this year, it will mean Oscar season is alive and well and things may be heading to some semblance of normal. We can only hope.”
“We Will Get Through This”…if you say so. Imagine you’re the guy writing this out above West Hollywood. Five words, 20 letters…it can’t be easy to write anything legibly. Not to mention calculating the right height and letter styling and so on. (How big are those letters? A hundred feet tall?) It must take years to hone the skills to a tee. But if I were doing it, I’d write “We’ll Get Through This.” More colloquial. (Posted four days ago on TMZ.)
Home video-wise, Alfonso Cuaron‘s Roma will never look better than it does on Netflix — HD, grain-free, super-detailed. I therefore had no interest in the recently released Criterion Bluray version. But last night I watched a 72-minute making of doc called “Road To Roma“, which was featured on the Criterion disc and is now streaming on Netflix. Lo and behold, my dream of seeing a color version of Cuaron’s masterpiece was finally realized, or at least partially.
Road to Roma is about Cuaron recalling how he pieced together thousands of bits of memory from his early childhood in order to make Roma come alive. The Oscar-winning helmer was incredibly specific and dogged in recreating the 1970 and ’71 world of Mexico City, and this aspect in itself is fascinating.
But after watching and adoring the black-and-white version four or five times in 2018, I began to long for a color version. A voice was telling me that an extra dimensional realism — a certain au natural textural factor — could be savored if it could somehow be seen without the silver monochrome application, which struck everyone as quite beautiful but also (at least in my case) a tiny bit affected — a visual scheme that proclaimed “arthouse!”
Road to Roma allowed me to taste the alternate color version — that’s all I’m saying. And it was very nice.
Yes, I still maintain that the TV screen image tweeted by Monica Castillo looked like a color facsimile. No, not the reflection of amber Christmas lights, but the somber blue-gray tones, which obviously contrasted with the black-and-white version.
Am I allowed to say that Charles Laughton‘s expressionistic The Night of the Hunter (’55) was never all that terrific? It was directed with exceptional feeling and visual command, of course, and it still delivers a perverse, fable-like satire of tyrannical rightwing misogyny — in this instance Robert Mitchum‘s asexual freelance preacher. But it’s not my idea of a great film — it’s more of an atmospheric oddballer.
The most noteworthy aspects are the LOVE and HATE tattoos on Mitchum’s fingers — an image that has, in a sense, outlasted the film itself. That and Mitchum’s smooth baritone as he sings the gospel spiritual “Leaning.”
The Night of the Hunter was an admirable effort by Laughton, for sure, but I’ve never wanted to watch it a second time. Joe and Jane Popcorn can usually smell trouble from ads and trailers, and they avoided this puppy like the plague. So will 2021 audiences, if I know anything about them.
So why remake it? Because the greatness of The Night of the Hunter has been taught in film schools for decades, and to this day there’s no questioning this article of faith. (To this day the same people who worship Laughton’s film also swear by the genius of Douglas Sirk.) It is therefore inconceivable to screenwriter Matt Orton (Operation Finale) and producers Amy Pascal and Peter Gethers that audiences won’t flock to their contemporary remake. Mitchum’s character will of course be transformed into a Trump-worshipping evangelical, etc.
News bulletin: The Night of the Hunter was essentially remade 33 years ago as The Stepfather (’87). Directed by Joseph Ruben with a screenplay by Donald E. Westlake, it was a satiric suspense thriller about a serial killer slash conservative dad in the Ronald Reagan mold (Terry O’Quinn). He marries a widow (Shelley Hack) with a teenage daughter (Jill Schoelen) and all kinds of fierce repression and holy hell break loose.
Set in the 1930s, Laughton’s film is about Mitchum’s Reverend Harry Powell marrying a naive widow (Shelley Winters). His motive is mainly to uncover $10,000 that her late bank-robber husband hid from authorities. Winters’ young children (Billy Chapin, Sally Jane Bruce) can smell a rat from the get-go, and are therefore determined not to tell Powell where the cash has been stashed.
CNN (breaking): “Acting Navy secretary Thomas Modly, whose fiery insults of a naval officer who raised alarm about the service’s handling of a coronavirus outbreak prompted widespread condemnation, has resigned. The decision comes after a building political crisis in which Modly traveled from Washington to Guam on Monday and assailed the character of Navy Capt. Brett Crozier, who was removed by Modly as the commanding officer of the aircraft carrier USS Theodore Roosevelt last week.
“Speaking to the ship’s crew over a loudspeaker, Modly accused Crozier of either leaking a letter about his concerns to the media or of being “too naive or too stupid to be the commanding officer of a ship like this.”
“The remarks, leaked to the media in written and audio form, prompted condemnation from family members of the crew, which has more than 170 coronavirus cases, and several Democratic lawmakers. By Monday night, Modly had released a statement apologizing for insulting Crozier, who has tested positive for the coronavirus, but still insisting that Crozier had written a letter with the intention of creating a stir.”
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (’69) is such a rakishly charming, beautifully composed film (one of Conrad Hall‘s finest), but I’ve seen it too many times. There comes a point with certain classics when they turn into amber, and there’s no getting past the fact that you know each and every line, shot, action sequence, musical cue, etc.
That said, I’ll always love the opening poker game sequence (shot in sepia-tone b&w) and the final shoot-out scene with the federales. I love the way the surrounded Redford drills so many soldiers, picking them off like wooden ducks…dead center.
Why did this five-man collaboration (George Roy Hill, William Goldman, Paul Newman, Robert Redford, Hall) connect as well as it did? Because it tapped into the anti-authoritarian spirit of the late ’60s in a kind of jovial, laid-back way, and because it lulled viewers into thinking that living outside the law could somehow feel warm and soothing (and at the same time tragic) as long as they had Redford and Newman’s company.
One of the greatest romantic screen pairings of all time, and a totally hetero current from start to finish.
I wonder how it would’ve played without the Burt Bacharach intrusions? I was never much of a “Raindrops Keep Fallin’ On My Head” kinda guy.
During a press briefing earlier today Trump was asked about Chinese aid by a reporter for Hong Kong Phoenix TV. He seemed skeptical of her question, and vaguely suggested that the correspondent was some kind of shill for the Chinese government.
Phoenix TV’s CEO and founder, Liu Changle, reportedly has strong ties with the Chinese government, in somewhat the sane vein as the relationship between Rupert Murdoch and Trump.
Trump tends to challenge female reporters when they ask what he regards as inappropriate or challenging questions, and he definitely went there today..
Phoenix Reporter: “Are you cooperating with China?” Trump: “Who are you working for, China? Who owns that, China? Is it owned by China? Is it owned by the state?” Phoenix Reporter: “I work for Hong Kong Phoenix TV. It’s privately owned.”
