Variety‘s Brent Lang is reporting that North American rights to Mark Bristol‘s Accidental Texan have been acquired by Roadside Attractions. Costarring Thomas Haden Church and Rudy Pankow, pic will open theatrically on 3.8.24.
I’m sorry but the fact that this buddy-relationship drama was previously titled Chocolate Lizards, arguably the most bizarre movie title in motion picture history…the fact that Bristol or an associate was seemingly invested enough to create a poster…I’m sorry but this is a matter of some concern.
This morning’s Oscar nominations came from inside the bubble, and therefore reflected inside-the-bubble values up and down the line (cultural, cinematic, anti-Joe and Jane Popcorn).
Jeff and Sasha kicked their impressions around as best they could, and…well, here they are.
“It Can’t Happen Here” was published during the heyday of fascism in Europe, which was reported on by Dorothy Thompson, Lewis’ wife.
“The novel describes the rise of Berzelius ‘Buzz’ Windrip, a demagogue who is elected President of the United States, after fomenting fear and promising drastic economic and social reforms while promoting a return to patriotism and ‘traditional’ values.
“After his election, Windrip takes complete control of the government via self-coup and imposes totalitarian rule with the help of a ruthless paramilitary force. The novel’s plot centers on journalist Doremus Jessup‘s opposition to the new regime and his subsequent struggle against it as part of a liberal rebellion.”
“The Oscars have a branding problem. One, for the last six or seven years the awards have been used as a propaganda delivery device for sensitive lefty values (most white folks are bad, almost all POCs are wonderful, brainwashing school kids is good, LGBTQ trans-pregnant-men values are absolutely glorious). And two, the Oscars are now under the “inclusivity mandate” that was implemented this year. Most films had already wokified themselves but now that it’s official, it’s olly olly in come free.
“Boiled down: We all have the evil seed inside us, and the only way to rid us of it is to mandate that we vote a certain way — we have to like certain movies, read certain books and accept the changes the industry made to cover their own ass so they wouldn’t be called racists. Example #1: The critical opinions of Bob Strauss.
“The climate of fear we’ve all been living through since ’18 or thereabouts goes almost entirely unaddressed by people who cover film. They (we) just pretend like it wasn’t happening, that people weren’t losing their jobs, that every word uttered has to be carefully monitored so as not to commit a thought-crime.
“One of the reasons our country is divided is that Hollywood abandoned most of the country to chase sensitive-lefty, Barbra Streisand-approved utopia. And the people who cover awards and the industry aren’t saying boo. They never have and never will. ‘Just keep your head down, make the best of it,’ they say.
“But you can’t solve a problem you can’t even name. If you’re relying on the most high-profile outlets to talk about the truth, you’re wasting your time. They won’t. They can’t. All they can do is what most of us are supposed to do, write from within the walls of the royal court and forget about the masses beyond the castle walls. At least until heads roll.”
There may be something to the rumor about Paul Thomas Anderson having rewritten significant portions of Killers ot the Flower Moon, at least during the later stages. After reading a Charles Bramesco tweet that passed along the PTA rumor, I checked with a person with ties to the KOTFM show, and he didn’t pour water on it. He called Anderson “an artist” and said “anything he may have done [rewrite-wise] could have only helped.” That’s a little vague but it’s certainly not a blanket denial.
Jordan Ruimy update: “I don’t want to name names here, but two sources of mine, one of which worked extensively on Scorsese’s film, are confirming Bramesco’s claim — PTA did, in fact, take part in rewriting a good portion of the script. There might, or might not, be a few trades reporting on this soon. If I was able to corroborate it then it’ll be very easy for them to do the same.”
Posted this morning: “I need to create a list of noteworthy narrative films that were regarded as unmistakably ‘important’ in their day.
“Films whose advocates and defenders said to naysayers ‘no, no…you need to sink into this film and try to understand…the subject is really important…seeing and understanding this movie will be good for our souls…the fact that it’s simply been made has improved our standing in the eyes of God.. we are better people for it.'”
Off the top of my head: Killers of the Flower Moon (anti-Native American racism), The Public Enemy (prohibition-era gangsters), I Am a Fugitive From a Chain Gang (flawed justice system), Mr. Smith Goes to Washington (governmental corruption), The Best Years of Our Lives (returning WWII veterans), Gentleman’s Agreement (anti-Semitism), Crossfire (anti-Semitism), Home of the Brave (racism), The Lost Weekend (alcoholism), Inherit The Wind (religious yokels), To Kill A Mockingbird (deep-yokel racism), Seven Days in May (rampant militarism, Curtis LeMay), Brokeback Mountain (homophobia)…what others?
Yesterday morning smarty-pants emcee and gabbermouth Bill McCuddy (NPR’s “Talking Pictures” plus “Sitting Around Talking Movies”) predicted that Tuesday morning’s Academy nominations “are going to lean into Maestro more than you think.”
Everyone knew Carey Mulligan would be nominated for Best Actress, of course, but above and beyond that…who knew?
This morning Bradley Cooper’s impressionistic Leonard Bernstein biopic tallied seven Academy Award nominations — Best Picture, Best Actor (Cooper), Best Actress, Best Screenplay (Cooper and Josh Singer), Best Makeup (Kazu Hiro), Best Sound and Best Cinematography. Seven!
Congrats to Cooper and colleagues, and congrats to McCuddy.
Cooper: Hullo? Mysterious baritone voice: Bradley? This is Charles Melton. Cooper: What? Mysterious baritone voice: You know who this is, right? Cooper: No. Mysterious baritone voice: You don’t recognize my voice? Cooper: No. Mysterious baritone voice: I’m that upper-echelon Academy guy…you remember…and I’m calling to offer you a choice. We can fix or change the nominations any way we want until the very last minute, and a few of us really loved Maestro so we’re offering you a special deal. Cooper: Yeah? Mysterious baritone voice: The deal is you get to pick your category. Do you want to be nominated for Best Actor for playing croaky-voiced, chain-smoking Leonard Bernstein, or do you want a Best Director nomination for Maestro? Cooper: You can fix this? Mysterious baritone voice: Yes, we can. Cooper: Obviously Best Director….Jesus. Mysterious baritone voice: Okay, but now I have to put on my asshole hat. We decided before calling you that whatever category you chose, we’re putting you into the other category. Cooper: What? Mysterious baritone voice: We decided this in advance. No offense. Cooper: You fucking prick. Fix it back. I want Best Director. Mysterious baritone voice: That’s a no-go, Brad. Besides we’ve already blown off Alexander PayneandGreta Gerwig. And you know why? Because Justine Triet and Jonathan Glazer were voted in. Sorry, man, but there’s no room. Plus we decided. Be happy with Best Actor. Cooper: I am happy with Best Actor but I told you I would’ve preferred Best Director, and then you pulled the rug out. Mysterious baritone voice: Sorry, man. That was mean but not my call. I just work here.
A Best Supporting Actress nomination for The Holdovers‘ Da’Vine Joy Randolph…naturally. And one for Barbie‘s America Ferrera…got it. (All about that rant.) And nominating Nyad‘s Jodie Foster is a good call. But I’m completely perplexed by Emily Blunt‘s nomination for her supporting performance in Oppenheimer. She played Oppie’s seething, pissed-off alchoholic wife…big deal. Congrats to The Color Purple‘s Danielle Brooks, who of course hasn’t a prayer.
Director Norman Jewison lived a long, rich and productive life…97 years worth. But I have to be honest and say that that only three of his films really hit the spot for me — The Russians Are Coming, the Russians Are Coming (’66), In the Heat of the Night (’67) and Moonstruck (’87).
It’s not easy to make even a mediocre film, and it’s quite the achievement to hit one out of the park. Jewison did this three times — stiff salute, full respect, good fellow.
Otherwise I could never even watch Fiddler on the Roof (’71). I was bored by The Cincinnati Kid (’65). I liked the split-screen gimmick and the sexually suggestive chess game in The Thomas Crown Affair (’68) but otherwise meh.
Jesus Christ Superstar (’73) was okay for a single viewing. I’ve never re-watched Rollerball (’75), F.I.S.T. (’78), …And Justice for All (’79), Best Friends (’82), A Soldier’s Story (’84), and Agnes of God (’85).
Jewison’s ’90s films (Other People’s Money, Only You, The Hurricane, The Statement) never did anything to me or for me. I’m sorry but they didn’t.
I’ve tried to watch The Only Game in Town (’70) a couple of times, but I can’t get through it.
Directed by George Stevens and written by Frank Gilroy (the playright dad of Tony and Dan), it’s a limp and artificial two-hander, and claustrophobic in more ways than you can shake a stick at. There’s no believing Elizabeth Taylor and Warren Beatty as a prospective couple (she’s an aging chorus girl, he’s a piano-playing gambler). You just want to say “thanks, guys, nice chatting” and bid a fast farewell. Which, as noted, is what I’ve done twice.
Plus Taylor is about five years older than Beatty, and in your 30s you notice this stuff. His hound-dogging exploits were legendary at the time, and you can’t quite figure why Beatty of all people would want to get involved with a violet-eyed woman who’s pushing 40 and is almost certainly on her way down.
It was largely shot in Paris on a sound stage; location footage in Nevada was lensed some time after.
The Oniy Game in Town was such a commercial and critical flop that it ended Stevens’ career. The poor guy was only 66 when it bombed. In a fair and just world he could’ve theoretically continued to direct for at least another decade or so. The film is such a stain on Stevens’ rep that his son, George Stevens, Jr., didn’t even mention it George Stevens: A Filmmaker’s Journey (’85), a well-regarded doc about his esteemed father’s career.
Here’s the screwball thing: Beatty’s gambler character is named Joe Grady. Four or five years later he played a journalist in The Parallax View under director Alan Pakula, and that character was named Joe Frady. If only the up-and-coming Beatty had, 15 years earlier, landed a bit part in Stanley Kramer‘s Inherit the Wind (’60) as Matthew Harrison Brady’s (i.e., Fredric March‘s) son, Joe.
