The N.Y. Times‘ Megan Twohey and Jodi Kantor are reporting that Harvey Weinstein and the board of his bankrupt film studio “have reached a tentative $25 million settlement agreement with dozens of his alleged sexual misconduct victims.”

These are civil cases that have no apparent bearing on Harvey’s still-pending criminal cases, which may or may not fall by the wayside also. Who knows?

The deal “would not require the Hollywood producer to admit wrongdoing or pay anything to his accusers himself, according to lawyers involved in the negotiations.”

“More than 30 actresses and former Weinstein employees, who in lawsuits have accused Mr. Weinstein of offenses ranging from sexual harassment to rape, would share in the payout along with potential claimants who could join in coming months. The deal would bring to an end nearly every such lawsuit against him and his former company.”

Who knows what “more than 30” means but let’s say there are 35 alleged victims/plaintiffs at the end of the day. $25 million divided by 35 = $714,285 per victim.

Times: “The settlement would require court approval and a final signoff by all parties. It would be paid by insurance companies representing the producer’s former studio, the Weinstein Company. Because the business is in bankruptcy proceedings, the women have had to make their claims along with its creditors.

“The payout to the accusers would be part of an overall $47 million settlement intended to close out the company’s obligations, according to a half-dozen lawyers, some of whom spoke about the proposed terms on the condition of anonymity.”

How could a Star Wars devotee — someone who identifies with the rebels and despises the empire — be a Trump supporter? How could anyone imagine that Trump, a thick-fingered vulgarian full of arrogant swagger, be analogized by Stars Wars fans as anything other than a Darth baddie?

And yet there seems to be a fair number of Trump supporters who believe in The Force, and have lately taken offense at Daisy Ridley for saying that “everyone has an issue with Trump — every sane person anyway.”

“In this economy, the only thing that can stop a bad old white man with a penchant for incoherent rambling is a mediocre old white man with a penchant for incoherent rambling.”

So reads an excerpt from a 12.11 Intelligencer piece by Eric Levitz, titled “If Biden Is Too Old to Serve Two Terms, He Shouldn’t Serve One.” It was prompted by a just-posted Politico report that the 77-year-old Democratic front-runner “has reportedly informed his closest advisers that if he is elected in 2020, he will not seek reelection in 2024.”

Given that “Uncle Joe won’t linger too long after solving the White House’s pest problem,” Levitz reasons, “[why not] let him put up his feet and catch his breath for four years? And then he’ll be out of your hair, and your favorite youngish Democrat will have his or her run of a de-Trumpified Oval Office.”

This is basically what Biden supporters have in mind. Just put Joe in so we can get Trump out — period. That’s all they’re really saying.

Joe in the White House will allow everyone to simmer down and collect themselves in a reasonable way. President Joe will try to restore a mild-mannered Obama atmosphere of yore, and thereby allow Americans to try and heal some of the damage caused by The Beast. And then some moderately liberal Democratic heir (Mayor Pete?) will start running for President in ’23 or perhaps earlier.

Levitz retort #1: “In the immediate term, leaking word that you expect to be unable or unwilling to fulfill the duties of the presidency in five years raises the question of how you can be sure you’ll be up to the job in four [years]?

“Which is to say, by letting his plans slip to Politico, Biden’s campaign has accentuated the candidate’s core weakness: that he is 77, but doesn’t sound a day over 86.”

Levitz retort #q: “If Biden wins the nomination, he will have to combat the perception that his age has rendered him unfit (or, in our spritely 73-year-old president’s phrasing, too ‘sleepy’) for the presidency. That’s going to be harder to do when you’ve already signaled that you’re so concerned about your own stamina, you’ve resigned yourself to being a lame–duck president from the day you take office.”

But Joe is locked in regardless, and we all know why. Because the African American community is squarely behind him. Because he served as Obama’s vp. Brilliant!

Rep. Eric Swalwell had a big Congressional testimony moment yesterday, clarifying Perry Mason-style what Donald Trump knew and when he knew it in terms of the whole Ukraine mishegoss. I think this definitely cancels out the MSNBC Chris Matthews fart thing, which happened about three weeks ago.

As Rep. Swalwell notes, nobody asks “what did Trump know and when did he know it?”

He knew everything, he directed everything, he was at the center of everything. pic.twitter.com/2c8SGrpdg7

— House Judiciary Dems (@HouseJudiciary) December 9, 2019

Reaction #1: The Outstanding Cast noms (SAG’s equivalent to Best Picture) went to Bombshell, The Irishman, Jojo Rabbit, Once Upon a Time in Hollywood and Parasite. Sincere HE question: What happened to Little Women? I’ll tell you what happened to Little Women. A percentage of SAG/AFTRA members found it a bit precious, studied, curious and “meh”, and they didn’t like Florence Pugh‘s Amy, and they liked Bombshell a lot more.

HE journo pally: “No Little Women = total rebuke to progressive film twitter and the woke Robespierres! And four nominations for Bombshell, which, even though it’s the cinema’s first major #MeToo statement, the wokesters have put on their list of books to be burned, along with Joker and to a lesser extent Marriage Story, etc.”

2d HE pally: “I don’t think it was a rebuke so much as proof that the Twitter world, as in politics and the Oscars, is a bubble, And I don’t agree that wokesters are going after Marriage Story. Noah Baumbach deserves to have his feet held to the fire for making a total lie of a movie — a cowardly self-pitying lie.” HE retort: Within its own realm, Marriage Story felt honest, vulnerable and forthright to me. Just because Noah didn’t specificqlly dramatize the (alleged) real reason why his real-life marriage to JJL ended in divorce…that doesn’t mean his film isn’t honest in its own way.

3rd HE pally: SAG’s Outstanding Cast ensemble award “is still Once Upon A Time in Hollywood‘s to lose. The film critics have been misleading everyone with their picks because they don’t want to be seen as voting against the progressive wokester agenda, so they put out a mixed message about what is actually good.”
HE exception: Except in the case of Diane‘s Mary Kay Place, who actually gave the Best Lead Female performance of 2019.

Reaction #2: “Remember that SAG isn’t SAG anymore,” a friend remeinds. “It’s SAG/AFTRA.” Or a combination of Chateau Marmont and Walmart.

Reaction #3: HE is down with Best Actor noms for Joker‘s Joaquin Phoenix, Ford v. Ferrari‘s Christian Bale (if you insist), Once Upon a Time in Hollywood‘s Leonardo DiCaprio and Marriage Story‘s Adam Driver…fine.

But I’m rendering a hard ixnay on Rocketman‘s Taron Egerton. Reason #1: He’s too tall and muscle-bound to play Elton John. Reason #2: I never felt Egerton was truly channelling John; he did his best to imitate his singing, but it always sounded like an effort rather than an owning. Reason #3: Egerton needs to be punished and punished again for making Otto Bathurst’s godawful Robin Hood.

Lament: SAG/ATRA thought Egerton delivered the current better than Uncut Gems‘ Adam Sandler? AS gave a much more dynamic and transformative performance as an insane gambling junkie, and yet SAG/AFTRA preferred Egerton’s good-but-no-cigar performance? This is the Walmart side talking.

Reaction #4: I’m going to say this again and again in order to atone for my feelings of guilt. IMHO and due respect, Diane‘s Mary Kay Place gave a much deeper, grander and more deep-drill lead performance than any of SAG’s Best Actress nominees.

Otherwise you can jump up and down all you want about Us‘s Lupita Nyong’o delivering a half-and-half genre performance (half maternal scream queen, half raspy-voiced zombie), but the Nyong’o clamor is thin as a Saltine wafer. If you want to get excited about the doppleganger aspect give a pat on the back to Jordan Peele — it’s his idea.

I am therefore obliged to regard the Best Actress SAG race as being between Renee Zellweger, Scarlett Johansson or Charlize Theron. Until recently I would’ve said Zellweger has it locked up, but lately I’ve been leaning toward Theron and/or Johansson.

Two months ago I caught Bombshell at a packed guild screening in Westwood. The crowd loved it. Gleeful whoo-whoo ovations when Charlize Theron, Nicole Kidman, Margot Robbie and John Lithgow took a bow. Ever since I’ve been presuming it would do pretty well commercially.

A couple of HE commenters recently predicted otherwise, I realize, but I couldn’t forget that ecstatic early reaction. I recommended it to everyone who asked. “Not a great film”, I would say, “but a pretty good one…sharp, fast moving, well layered and aggressively cut.” 9:10 update: I just saw Bombshell for the second time, and it totally holds up. It’s a satisfying, fully believable corporate thriller.

But when the reviews appeared yesterday, I suddenly realized it might not go over as expected. Aggregate averages in the mid ’60s usually means trouble.

Until yesterday I hadn’t heard this story from Milton Berle himself, but it’s a good one. “Pan letters.” Berle knew how things worked.

What makes us feel happy or at least comfortable or semi-content about things? Apart from discovering satori or enlightenment, I mean. (I happened to find this realm at age 19 by way of LSD and the Bhagavad Gita.) So what makes us feel reasonably good and assured about things?

In five words, a belief in the future. And if you want to add nine more, the likelihood of a fair amount of sunny days.

Not a belief that a safe and semi-bountiful tomorrow is guaranteed (for that is promised to no one) but knowledge that I’ll have a reasonably fair shot at making good and necessary things happen…an ability to feed the fire and keep the wheels turning and in so doing sample the modest comforts of life (Italian shoes, scrambled eggs and a buttered English muffin, Criterion Blurays, an occasional trip to Rome or Hanoi or Key West) being more or less within reach.

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Let it never be said that Awards Daily‘s Sasha Stone doesn’t have a pair of cast-iron cojones. If you doubt this, read her Golden Globe reaction piece that went up late last night — “The Clickbait Outrage Machine Goes into Overdrive Post Globes.”

It’s one of the bravest and frankest essays ever written about the real-deal terms of female filmmaker empowerment in Hollywood. It’s a piece that only a tough woman columnist could have written. If I’d posted this on HE I would have been torn limb from limb by twitter jackals, and the buzzards would be feasting on the leftovers ten minutes later. But Sasha has the authority.

Yesterday I deftly debated the “gender parity watchdogs” who had howled in protest over four top-ranked female directors — Little Women‘s Greta Gerwig, The Farewell‘s Lulu Wang, Hustler‘s Lorene Scafaria and It’s A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood‘s Marielle Heller — not being nominated for a Golden Globe Best Director award, and their films not being nominated for Best Motion Picture, Drama.

I stated that The Farewell is a highly superior film, but also argued that a reasonably convincing case couldn’t be made for Little Women, A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood or Hustlers “being more transporting or historic or eye-opening” than Martin Scorsese‘s The Irishman, Sam Mendes‘ 1917 or Todd Phillips‘ Joker. I also said it would be a push to convince people that Little Women, A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood or Hustlers “are fuller meals or more humanist or more grounded in human vulnerability.”

That was as far as I felt I could go. But then Sasha’s piece appeared last night and made me look…well, like a guy who needs to be careful.

Because Sasha just said it. She basically argued that feminist industry progressives and their Film Twitter component are doing women no favors by insisting that a gender parity quota system should be observed when it comes to award nominations.

Film Twitter is basically declaring that (a) there must be some female award-show representation “so those involved can sleep at night, knowing that yes, Virginia, there is gender parity in Hollywood,” (b) not nominating women for awards is unacceptable, and (c) that those who defy this revolutionary mandate will have to pay a price.

“’Pick a woman, any woman‘ seems to be the message,” Sasha wrote. “Because if that happens [award-giving orgs] are shielded from attacks.

“I have no doubt that the clickbait cycle so prevalent today will seek to put Oscar voters on notice in the 11th hour, urging them to choose one of these [female-directed] movies for good optics, to shield them from the kind of heat the Globes got burned with [on Monday].

A Stone paragraph that will live forever: “If I were a woman I wouldn’t want anyone to do me any favors. I would want to make a movie SO GOOD that its value was undeniable. Like Kathryn Bigelow’s Hurt Locker, like Jane Campion’s The Piano, like Sofia Coppola’s Lost in Translation, like Ava DuVernay’s Selma.**

“Voters should focus on choosing the best films or the best directors or the best scripts. But none of that matters to Film Twitter, which then is the feeder trough for clickbait all over the web.

Another historic Stone statement: “It seems like in our overriding desire to level the playing field we’ve decided that there is no absolute measure of what’s good and what isn’t, and that’s been replaced by a sliding scale that adjusts to factor in equality, parity, and inclusion.”

Earlier today Netflix content honcho Ted Sarandos shared some Irishman numbers. Over the first seven days (11.27 to 12.3), he said, the 209-minute gangster flick was streamed by 26.4 million account holders.

He added that Netflix expects that household number to hit or closely approach 40 million after 28 days, or as of 12.25.

Sarandos said that the 26.4 million viewers over the first seven days watched “at least 70%” of The Irishman. Good dogs! Give ’em a biscuit! So as far as Sarandos knows, an undetermined number of Netflix viewers have yet to see the other 30%, or roughly the last 60 or 70 minutes. Or, you know, they watched some of it, turned it off, watched a little more, turned it off, and then watched the last hour or whatever.

Sincere question: What kind of droopy-lidded slug stops watching The Irishman at the 130-minute mark, which is just after the point when things begin to get more and more entertaining (“People aren’t freezin’ to death in New York…it’s summer”) and just when the suspense element is kicking in (when and how will Hoffa be hit?) and which delivers the legendary jaws-of-death finale (getting older and older, “Peggy won’t talk to me”, “leave the door a little bit open”).

The reason that 40 million are expected to watch The Irishman by Christmas, obviously, is because it’s easy. Just turn it on and flop on the couch.

But what if Netflix had decided to delay streaming until 12.13 or thereby kept it in theatres all through November and half of December, or roughly 42 days? Or if it had delayed the theatrical release until Christmas day? What percentage of that 40 million might have trekked down to a theatre and bought a ticket?

Knowing that most people are as lazy as overweight cats, my guess is that 10% might have shown up. 4 million tickets x $9 average ticket price = $36 million. Maybe I’m being too conservative. Maybe 15% or 20%. You tell me.

Ivan Reitman‘s original Ghostbusters came out 35 years ago. I can still feel the hate. Some of Bill Murray‘s quips were amusing, but I despised the third act with a passion — that idiotic demon dog, Sigourney Weaver‘s possession by “Gozer” and especially that huge marshmallow monster clomping around Manhattan’s Upper West Side. GTFO.

A woman I was seeing at the time, a marketing exec, found it delightful. I think on some level this may have contributed to our eventual breakup. I remember taking a walk one afternoon and realizing that her Ghostbusters worship was a bridge too far.

Jason Reitman‘s Ghostbusters: Afterlife (Sony, 7.10 20) is obviously not an urban thing, and looks heartland picturesque a la Andrew Wyeth.

Boilerplate: “After being evicted from their home, two teens (Mckenna Grace, Finn Wolfhard) and their single mom (Carrie Coon) move to Summerville, Oklahoma after inheriting property from their late grandfather. Paul Rudd is a local egghead professor who gradually hooks up with Coon. When the town experiences a series of unexplained earthquakes, the kids discover their family’s link to the original Ghostbusters”, blah blah.

Quickie cameos from original cast members Bill Murray, Dan Aykroyd, Ernie Hudson and Annie Potts.

Reitman co-wrote the screenplay with Gil Kenan (Monster House, City of Ember).

There’s one interesting thing about Jay Roach‘s Bombshell (Lionsgate, 12.13) that I haven’t mentioned, and it’s a pretty good trick when you think about it.

There’s no disputing that Fox News has been a malevolent cultural force in this country, generating rancid rightwing spin for over 20 years now, and that the late Roger Ailes did everything possible to trash President Barack Obama during his two terms and block every initiative of his center-moderate agenda. Worst of all, Fox News did more than any other entity to inflame rural bumblefucks and pump them up for the candidacy of Donald Trump.

Look where we are now, thanks to the Foxies — the country convulsing over the criminal reign of the most destructive sociopath president in U.S. history.

Megyn Kelly, Gretchen Carlson.

What Bombshell manages to do, then, is present lead protagonists Megyn Kelly (Charlize Theron) and Gretchen Carlson (Nicole Kidman) — a pair of charismatic on-camera professionals who contributed to the anti-Obama poisoning of the political waters and blew toxic rightwing smoke on a daily, dedicated basis…what Bombshell manages to do is make you forget that these women are no one’s idea of noble or heroic or even fair-minded as far as disseminating the news was concerned.

Any viewer would and should feel empathy for Kelly and Carlson’s situation with the sexually predatory Ailes, but it’s hard not to feel conflicted at the same time. Because Kelly and Carlson served an agenda that pushed racist, highly questionable, xenophobic propaganda.

Slate‘s Dana Stevens: “I can think of more important whistleblower stories than Megyn Kelly’s. A person with a platform that size who uses her on-air time to argue vehemently that Santa Claus is white just isn’t that exciting to root for. No one deserves to be harassed at work, and the fact these women banded together to bring down an enormously powerful and malignant man is admirable. That doesn’t mean I want to spend two hours gazing at Megyn’s seemingly poreless face as she wrestles with whether and how to tell her truth, while continuing to play a highly public part in a media ecosystem based on lies.”