I never saw Jeannot Szwarc and Carl Gottleib‘s Jaws 2 (’78) because I knew it would be dogshit.

Even though it was produced by Richard D. Zanuck and David Brown and costarred Roy Scheider, Lorraine Gary and Murray Hamilton, it was obviously corned beef hash. But before today, I had never seen a frame of it, and I must say that the water-ski-attack-meets-exploding-motorboat scene is hilarious!

Is there another scene as ludicrous? Does Hamilton’s mayor character get eaten? Answer: No — Murray is spared.

Jaws 2 cost $30 million to produce; it wound up earning $102,922,376 domestic and $105,978,000 foreign for a total of $208,900,376.

Richard Linklater‘s caper-esque Hit Man premiered…what was it, seven months ago? The big debut happened at last September’s Venice Film Festival, then a couple of weeks later at the Toronto Film Festival (where Netflix picked it up) and then the New York Film Festival.

Everyone loved Hit Man — the most popular light-hearted thriller of 2023. And then it kinda dropped out of sight, at least as far as advance screenings were concerned. Those not paying close attention might have thought it had opened. It never did, of course.

And now it’s back! Back to the future! One of 2023’s most likable hit movies is opening theatrically on May 24th, and will begin streaming on Netflix on June 7th.

I did a sitdown interview with Brian Wilson and then-fiance Melinda Ledbetter during the 1995 Sundance Film Festival. We were supposed to talk about Don Was‘s documentary about Wilson, I Just Wasn’t Made For These Times, which was having its big premiere up there, but we went all over.

I remember telling Wilson that I always loved the reverb guitar-and-keyboard intro for ““The Little Girl I Once Once Knew,” and he quickly agreed. (That same year he told a British interviewer that “the intro is the only good part of it.”) I then told Wilson how I once tried to learn to play the intro on keyboard but I couldn’t “hear” the separate harmonized notes in my head.

Wilson responded with disappointment and even a lack of patience — “You couldn’t figure that out?” That’s how geniuses are. When the stars are aligned they can swoop right in and solve any riddle, and if they’re in any kind of mood people who lack their gift can seem…I don’t know, tedious?

After seeing Love & Mercy I decided to buy a few songs from The Beach Boys Today!, which was recorded a little more than a year before Pet Sounds.

Today! is occasionally experimental and in some ways a kind of Pet Sounds forerunner. It contains similar elements — sophisticated off-rhythms and swirling harmonies, a feeling of sadness and vulnerability in the lyrics, that symphonic white soul thing — that Wilson built upon and made into something extra with Pet Sounds.

The track that knocked me out was “Kiss Me Baby.” It’s not so much a love song as a “we almost broke up last night so let’s not get that close to Armageddon again!” song.

The melody is a bit on the plain and familiar side, but the lyrics are so child-like and emotionally arrested…an immature boy-lover recovering from nearly losing his mommy-lover: “Please don’t let me argue any more…I won’t make you worried like before…can’t remember what we fought about…late, late last night we said it was over,” etc.

But when the chorus kicks in the harmonies and the general meltdown sound of this song are just amazing. This was Wilson’s unique realm — he made it sound just so, and with such exquisite balance and texture.

This instrumental track for “Let Him Run Wild” is also interesting for its resemblance to the instrumental Pet Sounds Sessions tracks.

The Howard Dean “yeeaaahhh!” scream is perfect.

The only sensible thing to do with Trump's "Gettysburg, Wow" speech in Pennsylvania was to make a one-minute documentary film of it. These are all his real words. I added some "bing bongs" at the start. "Never fight uphill, me boys! Never fight uphill." #FunWithPhotoshop pic.twitter.com/xFQffyCa37

— Randall Stephens (@Randall_Stps) April 16, 2024

What’s the actual, no-bullshit reason for the Sundance Film Festival reportedly mulling the idea of pulling up stakes in Park City and relocating someplace else as of 2027?

Festival honcho Eugene Hernandez has offered a word-salad explanation that totally dodges whatever the actual situation might be.

Here’s the first half of Hernandez’s blah-dee-blah bullshit statement, as quoted by The Hollywood Reporter‘s Chris Gardner: “We are in a unique moment for our festival and our global film community, and with the contract up for renewal, this exploration allows us to responsibly consider how we [can] best continue [to] sustainably serve our community bullshit bullshit while maintaining the essence of the festival experience blah blah blah-dee-blah.”

Hernandez #2: “We are looking forward to conversations that center supporting artists and serving audiences as part of our mission and work at Sundance Institute blah blah blah blah blah, and are motivated by our commitment to ensure that the festival continues to thrive culturally, operationally, and financially as it has for four decades blah blah word-salad bullshit.”

HE admission: Hernandez’s statement didn’t actually include the “blah-dee-blah bullshit” stuff, but it may as well have.

Hey, Sundance Film Festival, are you listening? I’m shedding tears of joy over the news of your slow and inevitable demise. You’re essentially dead and nobody cares….in the words of the legendary J.J. Hunsecker, you’re a cookie filled with woke arsenic so get yourselves buried.

Okay, that’s a little too harsh. Let me try again. How about “you’re Frankie Pentangeli before he opened his veins and bled to death in a bathtub”? Does that work better?

Sundance will remain in Park City next January and in ’26, but they’re sniffing around for a new home. The festival isn’t decisively leaving Park City but something is prompting Hernandez and others to say “blah blah blah we’re happier and healthier than ever but we might leave,” etc.

If Sundance wants to extend its contract with Park City beyond ’26, the deadline is October 2024 — six months hence.

“Yes, Virginia…Sensitive Gargoyles Have Ruined Sundance,” posted on 12.27.21:

I thought he was too macho-growly in the ’70s and ’80s. These days I’m sensing more a wistful, melancholy poet thing. The lonely, put-upon Midwestern guy, having a bit of a tough time.

The section between 3:06 and 3:22 …heaven….”ooohh”

What are the best films in which the action occurs within two hours or less? (Which basically means movies told in real time.) HE picks are as follows:

1. Sidney Lumet‘s 12 Angry Men (’57) — 96 minutes
2. Stanley Kubrick‘s Dr. Strangelove (’64) — 94 minutes
3. Robert Wise‘s The Set-Up (’49) — 72 minutes
4. Richard Linklater‘s Before Sunset (’04) — 80 minutes
5. Fred Zinnemann‘s High Noon (’52) — 85 minutes
6. Steven Knight‘s Locke (’13) — 85 minutes
7. Joel Schumacher‘s Phone Booth (’02) — 81 minutes
8. Tom Tykwer‘s Run Lola Run (’98) — 81 minutes
9. Alfred Hitchcock‘s Rope (’48) — 80 minutes
10. Louis Malle‘s My Dinner with Andre (’81) — 110 minutes

Last night I saw Luca Guadagnino and Justin Kuritzkes‘ Challengers (Amazon, 4.26), and as far as “tennis pros engaged in romantic triangle” flicks go it’s fairly out there, man.

Challengers hasn’t been written and shot in my preferred style (like King Richard, my all-time favorite tennis movie) but I respect and admire the fact that Guadagnino, the director, has made a jumpy, flourishy, time-skotching, impressionistic, mostly hetero but also vaguely homoerotic film that…what’s the term, broadens your horizons? Challenges you and wakes you up? Makes a dent in your psyche?

It doesn’t do the usual thing and certainly pushes a few boundaries, but I like that for the most part. I certainly prefer films that try different strategies over ones that adhere to predictable ones.

So, putting this carefully, I didn’t love everything about it (which puts me in a minority) but I loved the verve, the effort, the invention, the ballsiness. I was irked here and there but I certainly wasn’t bored. All in all the audacity and impulsiveness of Challengers makes it Guadagnino’s best film since Call Me By Your Name. Really.

One of the less predictable aspects…,okay, a vaguely annoying thing is the hopping-around timeline, which I lost patience with around the halfway mark.

Another unusual thing is that the three main characters — Zendaya‘s Tashi Duncan, Mike Faist‘s Art Donaldson and Josh O’Connor‘s Patrick Zweig — aren’t especially charming or likable or even attractive. Not to me, at least.

Compelling or intriguing actors are supposed to turn you on or at least engage your interest or empathy. Or arouse your blood.

If you’re a straight male you should either want to be like a straight-male protagonist or two on the screen, and you should be thinking about possibly fucking the lead actress. I had no such thoughts during Challengers (sorry), but others may feel differently. It takes all sorts, etc.

The story is a little confusing but here goes: Duncan, a former tennis player sidelined by injury, is now coaching Donaldson, her husband of a few years and a hotshot tennis star who’s on some kind of losing streak. Duncan met Donaldson and Zweig 11 or 12 years earlier and was attracted to them both, which led to some heated hotel-room smooching all around. (No — the dudes didn’t fuck each other.) Duncan married Donaldson but now Zweig is back in the arena and looking to beat Donaldson in a big match, and so Duncan is looking to somehow influence Zweig’s attitude or psychology or something…shit, I’m losing the thread.

Zweig is a bad boy with an impulsive, unstructured approach to everything outside of tennis…a guy who likes to fuck for fucking’s sake and otherwise enjoys poking at situational hornet’s nests. I didn’t “like” Zweig but O’Connor, a sinewy, dark-haired sweat beast who played Prince Charles in The Crown, has something…he’s the best of the bunch.

Challengers also the sweatiest film I’ve seen ever. I felt dampened by Faist’s sweat droplets.

I made a choice during last year’s Cannes Film Festival to sidestep screenings of Wim Wenders‘ Perfect Days, which I re-titled in my head as Toilet-Cleaning Guy.

It’s not that I was afraid of the subject…okay, I was a little bit. I might be an outlier in this regard, but I’m terrified of medium close-ups of turd-clogged toilets.

The film, of course, is about the spiritual (musical, literary, emotional, cosmic) life of Kōji Yakusho‘s Hirayama, and not his day job. Naturally.

Elite critics have praised Wenders’ film from the get-go, and now it’s getting the royal Criterion treatment.