Well, it does to some extent. But the fish always stinks from the head.

It is my firm conviction that Willem Dafoe‘s performance as “Thomas Wake” (aka the 50ish bearded salty dog who talks in colorful, 19th Century Herman Melville-ese) in Robert Egger‘s The Lighthouse (A24, 10.18) will absolutely become a nominee for Best Supporting Actor — mark my words.

From “This Way Lies Madness”, posted on 5.19.19: “Robert Eggers‘ The Lighthouse “is an absolute masterpiece — a tale of slowly burgeoning madhouse by way of isolation, booze, demons and nightmares. It contains Robert Pattinson‘s finest role and performance ever, but Willem Dafoe‘s old bearded sea dog matches him line for line, glare for glare, howl for howl.

“This 35mm black-and-white masterwork (projected in a 1.2:1 aspect ratio) is really about a battle of performances as well as a fight between earthly duties and the madness of shrieking mermaids and visions of King Triton. Nightmares au natural but full of ancient myths and fables. Totally 19th Century in terms of atmosphere, set design and especially in the Melville-like dialogue, co-written by Egger and his brother Max. Jarin Blaschke‘s cinematography is an instant classic in itself.”

A24 will release The Lighthouse on Friday, 10.18.

Two days after the Toronto Film Festival debut of A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood, it seems obvious if not inescapable that Tom Hanks‘ performance as Fred Rogers will be campaigned as a Best Actor thang. If this happens David Poland would be “surprised”, but he’s nonetheless convinced that Hanks can’t win against Joker‘s Joaquin Pheonix and Marriage Story‘s Adam Driver. Perhaps not but by the calculus of the Poland curse, this is almost a dead-to-rights guarantee that Hanks will collect his third Best Actor Oscar.

Past Poland Curse victims: Rachel Getting Married (which Poland called “the best American film of the last 15 years“), Munich, Dreamgirls, Phantom of the Opera, Quills, Finding Forrester and the Reverse Poland Curse trio of The Assassination of Jesse James By The Coward Robert Ford, Zodiac and There Will Be Blood (all of which Poland panned as “the trilogy of Critical Onanism,” and therefore provided an awards-season headwind).

Ex-CIA operative and Dick Cheney nemesis Valerie Plame (portrayed by Naomi Watts in Fair Game) is running as a Democrat to represent New Mexico’s Third District in Congress.

And, just as significantly, she’s launched her campaign with a totally killer ad called “Undercover.” Produced by Putnam Partners, the ad shows Plame driving a Chevy Camaro backwards on a dusty rural road (and I mean tear-assing along at 50 or 60 mph like Mel Gibson in an early ’90s Lethal Weapon flick) as she talks about her contrarian history.

After her husband, Joe Wilson, wrote a N.Y. Times op-ed piece questioning Bush administration assertions about Saddam Hussein‘s capabilities regarding yellow-cake uranium, Plame’s secret CIA identity was illegally leaked by Cheney and Scooter Libby but more precisely by Richard Armitage. Libby was popped for lying about it. President Trump pardoned Libby on 4.13.18.

Plame’s final line: “Mr. President, I’ve got a few scores to settle.”

Lorene Scafaria‘s Hustlers (STX, 9.13) has screened in Toronto, but I haven’t heard zip from anyone about Los Angeles screenings or even a link. You cannot trust the current 96% Rotten Tomatoes score. Or the 80% Metacritic rating. Not really, not completely. Because most of the critics are reviewing the gender politics aspect rather than just the film itself. Only Hollywood Elsewhere can be counted upon to deliver a throughly frank, straight-from-the-shoulder assessment. And it’s looking now as if I’m going to have to buy a ticket on Thursday night.

Marielle Heller‘s A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood “is not a Fred Rogers biopic,” THR awards columnist Scott Feinberg has stated. “Rogers, in fact, isn’t even the central protagonist — that’s Matthew Rhys, playing a magazine writer based on Esquire’s Tom Junod, whose 1998 profile of Rogers inspired the film. But make no mistake about it: this is Hanks’ film.”

Which is what everyone has been saying, and is why Feinberg’s article is titled “A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood Could Propel Tom Hanks to First Oscar Nom in 19 Years” — fine.

But Feinberg doesn’t say whether he’s talking about Hanks as a contender for Best Actor or Best Supporting Actor. Shouldn’t he clarify?

I’m asking because of a claim by Indiewire‘s Anne Thompson that Sony has decided to run Hanks in supporting and Matthew Rhys as a lead. Thompson wrote that campaigning Rhys as a lead is “fair,” considering that he plays an Esquire writer who profiles Hanks’ Fred Rogers. “The movie is really about him,” Thompson asserts.

The bottom line is that it shouldn’t and doesn’t matter how much screen time a performance occupies. If an actor dominates the film like Hanks does in A Beautiful Day or like Anthony Hopkins did in Silence of the Lambs, he should certainly be pushed for Best Actor.

Currently posted: Indiewire‘s Anne Thompson has reported that as far as an awards campaign for A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood is concerned, Sony intends to push Matthew Rhys in lead and Tom Hanks in supporting?

Hollywood Reporter critic Todd McCarthy is claiming that A Beautiful Day in the Neighborhood is “ultimately Hanks’ show, and Hanks’ show alone.”

Jordan Ruimy said this morning that Rhys “is in practically every scene and Hanks isn’t, but Rhys’ story is the weak part…the movie lags whenever Hanks isn’t on-screen.”

The press and marketing hype that has been inflating expectations for Taika Waititi‘s Jojo Rabbit (Fox Searchlight/Disney, 10.18) collapsed in a heap after last night’s Toronto Film Festival screening. Early reviews suggest that the broad “anti-hate satire” may find favor among younger audiences and perhaps the New Academy Kidz, but the over-40 contingent will be frowning and tut-tutting for the most part.

Right now Jojo has a 55% rating at Rotten Tomatoes and 49% score with Metacritic. Do those numbers indicate an Academy contender or perhaps a box-office go-getter? I don’t want to be the one to say it.

“Jojo is a totally irresponsible movie. The amount of anti-Semitic and Holocaust jokes played for laughs is disturbing.” — World of Reel’s Jordan Ruimy.

“This spectacularly wrongheaded ‘anti-hate satire‘ (as per the how-the-hell-do-we-market-this-thing? ad campaign) is the feature-length equivalent of the ‘Springtime for Hitler’ number from Mel Brooks’ The Producers, sans context and self-awareness. It takes place in a goofball period la-la land of its own creation, with sets as minutely detailed and shots as precisely composed as those in a Wes Anderson fantasia. Indeed, Jojo Rabbit suggests what that dapper hipster auteur might generate if he was to remake Elem Klimov’s hallucinatory, horrifying World War II epic Come and See, and that’s not a compliment.” — Slant‘s Keith Uhlich.

“Taking straight from the Chaplin playbook, Waititi’s Hitler is a Mr. Bean-esque figure, hammed up to eleven as the invisible friend of young Jojo Betzler (Roman Griffin Davis). He leaps around, talks in a thick approximation of a German accent and encourages young Jojo to be the best little Nazi in the whole of the Third Reich. He is, undoubtedly, the worst thing about the film — distracting and one-note. It is possible to parody Hitler successfully, but in leaning too heavily on basic mockery, there’s nothing new that this performance brings to the table.” — Little White Lies‘ Hannah Woodhead.

“[Waititi’s decision to play a fantasy Adolf Hitler buddy figure] often feels like a way of distracting us from the truth, an elaborate smoke and mirrors act to fool us into believing Jojo Rabbit has something new to offer. Because while there are some initially amusing moments given the outlandish conceit, Waititi doesn’t really know what to do with his imaginary Hitler past an increasingly repetitive cycle of decreasingly funny acts of idiocy. He’s essentially a single sketch character and while Waititi plays him well, there’s only so much we need of him.” — The Guardian‘s Benjamin Lee.

“I couldn’t care less what Scott Feinberg or anyone else says. I’ll put my money on Just Mercy winning the Audience Award in TIFF and being the one to beat for the Best Picture Oscar. It is this year’s Green Book — except it’s told through a black lens and pitched directly at a black audience. There are two white characters of note — Tim Blake Nelson and Brie Larson — who have maybe 15 minutes of screen time between them.

“Of course it’s conventional, but then so was Green Book, The King’s Speech, Spotlight, Argo and a ton of others. The transgressive Birdman-type winners are much fewer and further between, and tend to happen in years when here isn’t a big heart-tugging crowd-pleaser in the mix.”

HE comment: So Just Mercy is another Academy-pleaser by way of an emotional comfort bath, but at the same time it might be some kind of corrective makeup for the Best Picture triumph of Green Book, which was attacked for being insufficiently woke in its depiction of 1962 America? I was in heaven when the Academy told the SJW zealots to shove it up their ass by giving the Best Picture Oscar to Green Book. On the other hand one of the most depressing, suicidal-thought-inspiring events of my entire life was when The King’s Speech won the Best Picture Oscar. It made me want to buy packets of heroin.

West Hollywood has several classically designed apartment buildings (old Spanish, brick and stucco, shaded patios with fountains). I’m speaking of the area south of the Strip, north of Fountain and west of Fairfax, and principally on Laurel, Hayvenhurst, La Jolla and Harper Avenues. You can really feel the history and the ghosts, especially if you do a little research beforehand. The Strip was definitely cooler back in the ’20s, ’30s, ’40s and early ’50s. Preston Sturges‘ The Players, the Garden of Allah apartment complex, etc.

After eating last night at the decent but unremarkable Wokcano (Sunset and Crescent Heights, site of the old Schwab’s Pharmacy), Tatyana and I did a little strolling around. We didn’t do the whole classic-era tour but we hit three buildings.

First was the Villa d’Este, a beautiful Spanish-style apartment complex (arched entrance way, lots of palm trees, centrally located patio fountain) located at 1655 No. Laurel. Then we visited the 90-year-old Villa Primavera courtyard apartments (corner of Harper and Fountain), otherwise known as the In A Lonely Place residence where director Nicholas Ray actually lived. And then across the street to the Romanesque Villas (1301 No. Harper), where Marilyn Monroe lived around the time of The Asphalt Jungle.

The Villa d’Este was the setting of Under The Yum-Yum Tree (’63), a negligible Jack Lemmon horndog comedy. Never seen it, never will. The trailer is very convincing.

Lemmon was the hottest guy in Hollywood after starring in the one-two punch of Some Like It Hot (’59) and The Apartment (’60), both directed and co-written by Billy Wilder. Because the latter mixed ascerbic humor and frankly sexual situations, Lemmon was offered almost nothing but frothy sex comedies for five years following The Apartment. The only decent film he made during this period was Blake Edwards‘ Days of Wine and Roses(’62).

The sex comedies were The Wackiest Ship in the Army (’60), The Notorious Landlady (’62), Irma la Douce (’63, minor Wilder), Under the Yum Yum Tree (’63), Good Neighbor Sam (’64) and How To Murder Your Wife (’65). He also costarred that year in The Great Race, a period costume comedy about arch humor, empty artifice and scenic splendor.

Lemmon finally broke out of that shallow, synthetic cycle with Wilder’s The Fortune Cookie (’66). Not grade-A Wilder but certainly half-decent, and a great boost for Walter Matthau. And then Luv, The Odd Couple, The April Fools, The Out-of-Towners, Kotch, Avanti! and Save the Tiger. And then he hit another wall with Wilder’s The Front Page.

I heartily approved of Gavin Hood‘s Official Secrets (IFC Films, 9.30) when I saw it at last January’s Sundance Film Festival. Four out of five critics had agreed with me (and vice versa) a few days prior to the opening. It’s mildly disappointing to report that after after 10 days in theatres Official Secrets has only earned about $350K. Then again audiences have been conditioned to watch this kind of fare at home for the most part.

Just before leaving for Telluride Hood spoke with me for a few minutes. Here’s the mp3.

Official Secrets is a fact-based whistleblower drama about exposing shifty, lying behavior on the part of the Bush-Cheney administration in the selling and prosecution of the Iraq War. It’s about real-life translator and British intelligence employee Katharine Gun (Keira Knightley) revealing a U.S. plan to intimidate United Nations “swing”countries into voting in favor of the 2003 invasion of Iraq, which of course was founded upon a fiction that Saddam Hussein‘s Iraqi government was in possession of WMDs and represented a terrorist threat.

Secrets is an ace-level piece about pressure, courage and hard political elbows — a grade-A, non-manipulative procedural that tells Gun’s story in brisk, straightforward fashion. It’s exactly the sort of fact-based government & politics drama that I adore.

The performances by Knightley, Matt Smith (as Observer reporter Martin Bright), Matthew Goode (as journalist Peter Beaumont), Rhys Ifans as Ed Vulliamy, Adam Bakri as Yasar Gun, and
Ralph Fiennes as British attorney Ben Emmerson are excellent fits — as good as any fan of this kind of thing could possibly hope for.

Two months ago Gun participated in a sit-down with Hood and the journalists who broke the story of the leaked memo, Martin Bright and Ed Vulliamy, on Democracy Now!:

Rian Johnson‘s Knives Out (Lionsgate, 11.27) has been described by Toronto Film Festival critics as a good whodunit chuckle — a wokey reshuffling of an Agatha Christie deck of cards. Respective Rotten Tomatoes and Metacritic ratings of 100% and 85%.

The only slightly tepid review is from Screen Daily‘s Tim Grierson.

Without spilling any beans or speaking out of turn, I was told last summer that Knives Out is actually a Trump-era allegory by way of snooty one-percent entitlement attitudes and a matter of illegal immigration status.

A colleague assures that Knives Out “is 100% a murder mystery, with the added layer of some Trump-era satire.” He found the latter “less effective although it seems to have delighted the folks at Indiewire.”

The common assessment is that Indiewire‘s Eric Kohn is absolutely top tier — one of the most sage and sophisticated critics out there. He has long been recognized as such. And David Ehrlich is also quite the steady and perceptive fellow, and generally an excellent writer — engaging copy just pours out of the guy. And Kate Erbland is…well, consistent.

But I have to be honest and admit to certain premonitions that kick in before I read almost any Indiewire review, and certainly reviews of films that lay claim to any degree of social realism.

My gut belief is that Indiewire assessments of films are first and foremost about “how woke is this?” and secondly about “how good is this?” I realize that to some HE regulars this may sound like one of the biggest “duhhh” observations I’ve ever posted, but it never hurts to reiterate. On top of which this is Sunday.

Kohn, Ehrlich and Erbland may vigorously dispute this view (I’d be hugely surprised if they didn’t) but I’ve been sensing over and over that Team Indiewire is always asking itself “are the attitudes and perceptions in this film sufficiently enlightened by SJW virtue-signalling standards?”

I believe this mindset is a big part of how they see things. Call me overly cautious or even timid for phrasing this viewpoint as carefully as I have here. To some Indiewire‘s “totally in the woke tank” approach is as obvious as the sky.

I fully admit that this impression could be proven erroneous if someone were to conduct an exhaustive inventory of all their reviews over the last two or three years (and certainly since the advent of the movement that was largely ignited by the historic 10.5.17 N.Y. Times story that brought about the fall of Harvey Weinstein.

I’m just saying that one way or the other I can always feel the presence of a woke measurement stick every time I read a Kohn, Ehrlich and Erbland review.

Should woke sticks be put aside when reviewing a film or anything else? Of course not. Every interesting or pertinent consideration under the sun should be included in any intelligent, fully considered review, column-inches warranting. I just happen to feel that a film’s wokeness (of lack thereof) isn’t the meat of the matter. But it sure seems to be a big deal at the woke-iest movie site on the planet.

If someone were to write a woke reassessment of all significant Hollywood-generated films of the 20th Century and the first 15 years of the 21st Century, would it sell? Maybe or maybe not, but reading such a book would almost certainly give me a headache.