Jeff Wells

Explanation

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Yesterday Sasha and I gave the weekly podcast a shot, and it didn’t work out. Sometimes the spirit is with you, and sometimes it isn’t. I’ll record something tonight on my own and post it tomorrow. Sasha and I will give it another try next weekend.

The issue, to be honest, was that some HE commenters said that Sasha was berating me. So we tried different ways to fix the problem (including adopting a nicey-nice “turn the other cheek” approach) but it wasn’t working. She’s frustrated with me and hates being the subject of the HE commentariat, and I feel inhibited talking to her. So we’re at an impasse.

Sasha thinks I should get a new partner but I think we have a good rapport at times. Does anyone want to volunteer to step into her place? Sasha would be overjoyed by this.

That wasn’t a serious question, of course. The vast majority of HE regulars are too chicken to do a podcast. I know this, they know this. Let’s cut the shit.

Not So Much Saul Bass as Elmer Bernstein

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The universal response to Edward Dmytryk and John Fante‘s Walk on the Wild Side (Columbia, 2.21.62) was that the opening credit sequence (black cat prowling around in slow-mo, designed by Saul Bass) was better that the film itself.

I re-watched this sequence last night, and it occured to me that Elmer Bernstein‘s forceful, pounding music is what makes it work. The orchestra saws away with such brass and insistence that you’re quickly persuaded that the movie will be about much more than what’s suggested by the black cat slinking around.

And then you watch the movie and realize “oh, I get it…the cat was everything.”

Return of “Raising Arizona” Aesthetic

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Dry absurdist humor, yokel accents, hamfisted characterization, broad deadpan line-readings, heavy lesbian breathing and — this is the fatal stab — at least one “aaaaggghhhh!!” moment.

It seems clear that Drive-Away Dolls (Focus Features, 2.23) is Raising Arizona 2, and that means a very, very difficult time for Hollywood Elsewhere.

“Origins of the Aaaaggghhh!“, posted on 7.13.23:

I don’t know how many comedies or half-comedies have resorted to a certain overworked bit, but many dozens have done so.

I’m talking about two or three or four characters realizing that something awful or calamitous or mortifying has just happened, and their uniform response is to scream “aaaaagggghhhhhh!”

If I’ve seen this once I’ve seen it 80 or 90 times, maybe more. And I’ve never laughed, not once.

If a bearded wizard were to come up and say “if you want, I can erase every last ‘aaaagggghhhhhh!’ scene that’s ever been used” I would say “yes…please!”

Question: Four or five decades ago some director invented an “aaaaggggghhhhh!” scene. It must have gotten a huge laugh the first two or three times or people wouldn’t still be drawing from that well.

So what film was the first? Was Bob Clark the responsible party?

I got started on this because there are at least two “aaaggghhh!” moments in Barbie apparently, at least according to a couple of trailers I’ve seen.

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Banality = A Kind of Death

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After watching this, I now think less of Glenn Powell.

And I’m still holding to my general policy of dismissing any award-winner with a twangy yokel accent (like Lainey Wilson, say) who thanks “my Lord and savior Jesus Christ” for helping to make her success complete. Wilson’s speech immediately reminded of Ronee Blakley‘s “Barbara Jean” character in Robert Altman‘s Nashville (’75).

That said, Wilson’s black cowboy hat is much nicer than mine.

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Fill The Void

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Yulia Navalnaya: “In killing Aleksei Navalny, Putin killed half of me, half of my heart and half of my soul. But I have another half left and it is telling me I have no right to give up. [This is] the only way for his unthinkable sacrifice not to be in vain.”

Absence of Adventure

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I don’t mind being relatively poor these days as it means fewer distractions and more of a focus on writing. But I do miss the travel.

I’ve secured HE’s beautiful old 19th Century apartment in Cannes for next May (7 rue Jean Mero, third-floor walkup…the place Ann Hornaday and I shared for a few years) but I’m not entirely sure I even want to do Cannes this year. It doesn’t seem like much of a lineup, but then I haven’t really studied the situation. Telluride is the only keeper, the only essential.

Between the early ’90s and late 20-teens and especially from the early aughts onward I was always going somewhere. Starting in ’00 I flew each May to Europe (Paris, Cannes, Prague, London, Berlin, Munich, Tuscany, Rome), and over the last 13 or 14 years (starting in 2010) to Telluride each and every year.

Along with occasional journeys to NYC, Key West, Virginia and Washington, D.C., Vietnam (2012, 2013 and 2016), Germany, Switzerland, Spain, Morocco, San Francisco, Seattle, Hawaii, Mexico, Monument Valley, Park City, etc. Plus a terrific one-off to Buenos Aires and Mar del Plata in Argentina.

Not to mention random long-hauls and hiking trips in California (Palm Srings, Sierras, Joshua Tree, Yosemite, Death Valley, Santa Barbara, Los Olivos, Big Sur, Mill Valley, Guerneville, Mendocino) when the mood struck.

Living with a constant sense of expectation and adventure does wonders for the soul. Keeps you going, keeps you alive. I realize that I sound entitled and spoiled to a certain extent. How many people have travelled this much over two or three decades and experienced this much intrigue and arousal? I only know that I’ve adored this feast of living, this seemingly endless banquet…course after course and episode after episode for such a long and wondrous time…and that I’m very sorry that I can no longer afford to live this way any longer. But at least the memories are many.

The bottom line is that I’m deeply grateful that I had what I had when I had it.

Love That Tiger!

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Do you think it’s some kind of coincidence that Al Pacino‘s hot-tempered, early ’80s Miami drug dealer and the jovial, family-friendly Bengal tiger who’s represented Kellogg’s Frosted Flakes for God knows how many decades…do you think it’s a coincidence that they share the same first name?

The instant I glanced at the cover of Glenn Kenny‘s “The World Is Yours: The Story of Scarface” (Hanover Square Press, May 7) I totally guffawed. I said to myself, “Now that‘s a great cover for a Scarface book!”

Amazon copy: “With brand-new interviews and untold stories of the film’s production, longtime film critic Glenn Kenny takes us on an unparalleled journey through the making of American depictions of crime. ‘The World Is Yours’ highlights the influential characters and themes within Scarface, reflecting on how its storied legacy played such a major role in American culture.”

Seven Days Before JFK’s Murder

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Woody Allen‘s Steve Allen Show monologue happened almost exactly 60 years and three months ago.

It happened at the home of the syndicated version of The Steve Allen Show, known informally as the Westinghouse Show. 1228 No. Vine Street (east side), south of Fountain and north of DeLongpre. The show ran from June 1962 to October 1964.

I love the way Allen pronounces divorce — “divauhhsss.”

“There’s Something Happening on The Progressive Side…”

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“[And] it feels as if almost all masculinity [itself] is considered toxic, and so I think that many young men may not feel welcome.

“It’s not so much of a pull by guys like Andrew Tate as much as a push. Like if you show up and just wanna be, like, a regular guy’s guy, you may not be eating enough kale and doing enough yoga to fit in on the left.” — Van Jones duuring last night’s Real Time Overtime segment.

Australian Swifties (April and Lily)

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Last night’s Eras Tour show happened in Melbourne. 90 thousand women attended. Two more nights there, and then on to Sydney.

Friendo: “You know what I think this is really about? White women starved for representation.”

Translation: Where oh where are all the black chicks at Taylor Swift concerts? I’ve read that a small percentage of her fans are black, but I never see them at concerts.

@aprilfrancesc This moment!!! #erastour #taylorswift #night1 #melbourne #MCG #fearless #fyp #fyp #speaknow #taytay #missamericana @Lily ♬ original sound – April & Lily