New Hampshire Gov. Chris Sununu made a reasonably good impression last night on Real Time with Bill Maher. Only 48 years old and obviously sane and plain-spoken and given to joking and smiling, he would be a much more appealing alternative to Joe Biden than Orange Plague, who might be able to win the Republican nomination but can’t possibly win.

Sununu said last night he would support Trump if he becomes the Republican nominee, but that was only to placate the rural morons.

The Sununu name carries a terrible stain, but it’s the fault of Gov. Sununu’s father, John, who almost single-handedly blocked and ruined the fight against climate change back in the mid ’80s.

Anthony Bourdain: “Eat at a local restaurant tonight. Get the cream sauce. Have a cold pint at 4 o’clock in a mostly empty bar. Go somewhere you’ve never been. Listen to someone you think may have nothing in common with you. Order the steak rare. Eat an oyster. Have a negroni. Have two. Be open to a world where you may not understand or agree with the person next to you, but have a drink with them anyways. Eat slowly. Tip your server. Check in on your friends. Check in on yourself. Enjoy the ride.

“Actually, hold on. I feel like shit. Life itself is shit. My soul is drowning in it. My crazy girlfriend and I have no rules, but she’s making a show of fucking some guy in Rome right now, essentially throwing it in my face, and I feel really stunned and bruised and turned around. You know what? Fuck it — I’m going to hang myself in the bathroom.”

This Lady Gaga incident “happened” four or five days ago during filming of Todd Phillips‘ Joker: Folie a Deux (Warner Bros., 10.4.24). Some kind of uptight conservative Christian woman carrying a Folie a Deux prop (a tabloid newspaper) shouted “you’re going to hell!” (You can barely hear her.) LG stopped, turned around, put her hands around the woman’s face, gave her a big kiss and said “you’re going with me!”

It was all scripted, of course, but during my first viewing of a captioned version I thought for a brief moment the confrontation had happened for real, and under that impression I was momentarily filled with huge admiration for Lady Gaga, the person. If it had just happened, it would’ve been the kind of thing that only the young Pablo Picasso or Salvador Dali might’ve performed.

But of course, it was all written by Phillips and Scott Silver.

Hal Holbrook‘s “Deep Throat” in All The President’s Men: “The truth is, these are not very bright guys, and things got out of hand.”

Sight unseen, HE is pretty much down with the dry comedic slant of White House Plumbers (HBO Max, 5.1). The absurdist deadpan tone feels like it might be…well, perhaps not quite Dr. Strangelove-ian but in that general ballpark.

Created and written by Alex Gregory and Peter Huyck; directed by David Mandell (exec producer and showrunner of Veep, exec producer and director of Curb Your Enthusiasm and Seinfeld).

I’ve just re-watched Steven Soderbergh‘s Kafka (’91), a half-spooky, half-gloomy noir that looks and feels like early 1920s German expressionism. It’s mostly and appropriately shot in black-and-white, but it’s such a downer to sit through that it almost feels euphoric when the film suddenly shifts into color during the last 15 minutes or so.

Written by Lem Dobbs and handsomely shot by Walt Lloyd, the Prague-set period flick (1919) fictionalizes the adventures of the fearful and paranoid Franz Kafka (Jeremy Irons) as he attempts to uncover the dark plottings of a creepy cabal of ne’er-do-wells who operate out of “the castle” that overlooks the city.

Kafka didn’t go down too well when it opened 31 years ago, and I can’t say it works any better today.

Irons overdoes the anxious, often terrified, bug-eyed thing. After a while you’re saying “Jesus, will you stop twitching and glaring and play it cool for a change?…channel some Lee Marvin and at least pretend to be a man.”

Okay, it’s not that bad. I was bored, yes, but I didn’t hate sitting through it. It’s just that my heart rate went down.

It’s a serious shame that an HD version isn’t streamable. The 480P version that I watched today looks awful…so soft and bleary at times that it almost seems out of focus.

Sometime in ’21 Soderbergh created a new version of Kafka, titled Mr. Kneff. Re-cut, re-imagined and dialogue-free with subtitles. It screened at the Toronto Film Festival that year, and was supposed to be released as part of a Soderbergh box set sometime in late ’21 or maybe sometime in ’22. It never happened, but I’m told the box set will show its face sometime…aahh, who knows? But maybe later this year.

The climactic final act of Kafka abandons black-and-white for color (which my eyes rather enjoyed) and becomes a kind of Indiana Jones film. Briefly.

Irons enjoyed a great big-screen run of A-quality films between the early ’80s and mid ’90s — roughly 12 or 13 years. The French Lieutenant’s Woman, Moonlighting, Betrayal, Swann in Love, Dead Ringers, Reversal of Fortune, Kafka, Damage, M. Butterfly, The House of the Spirits. In ’84 I saw Irons opposite Glenn Close in the first Broadway version of The Real Thing. He was the absolute king of the world back then.

I’ve enjoyed re-reading my second-hand (i.e., possibly inaccurate to some extent) story about Irons and temporary Kafka costar Anne Parillaud. The piece was initially initially posted in 2009.