Jeff Wells …this kind of statement was regarded as rational, sensible, average, unexceptional. If you say anything like this now, you’re an enemy of decency and deserving of a death sentence.
HE understands and accepts that curious pronoun usage is a “thing” among a miniscule percentage of the population, and it’s not worth sweating over. HE’s pronouns are he/him/his…take it or leave it.
The U.S. version of Mother’s Day won’t happen until 5.14.23, but that’s okay. The track is from “That’s Why I’m Here,” an album released in October ’85. Joni Mitchell and Don Henley were two of four backup singers.
Right after the first media screening of Avatar 2 I said for the 157th time that you can’t trust fanboys. The only reactions you can trust are those from “grumpy” critics, which is to say discerning types who don’t immediately drop to their knees when confronted with next-level CG.
I wouldn’t call Variety‘s Owen Gleiberman a grump or a grinch, but he’s no easy lay**. His assessment of Avatar 2, therefore, has value.
Key Gleiberman passage: “At its height, it feels exhilarating. But not all the way through. Cameron, in The Way of Water, remains a fleet and exacting classical popcorn storyteller, but oh, the story he’s telling! The script he has co-written is a string of serviceable clichés that give the film the domestic adventure-thriller spine it needs, but not anything more than that.
“The story, in fact, could hardly be more basic. The Sky People, led again by the treacherous Col. Quaritch (Stephen Lang), have now become Avatars themselves, with Quaritch recast as a scowling Na’vi redneck in combat boots and a black crewcut. They’ve arrived in this guise to hunt Jake down. But Jake escapes with his family and hides out with the Metkayina. Quaritch and his goon squad commandeer a hunting ship and eventually track them down. There is a massive confrontation. The end.
“This tale, with its bare-bones dialogue, could easily have served an ambitious Netflix thriller, and could have been told in two hours rather than three. But that’s the point, isn’t it? The Way of Water is braided with sequences that exist almost solely for their sculptured imagistic magic. It’s truly a movie crossed with a virtual-reality theme-park ride. Another way to put it is that it’s a live-action film that casts the spell of an animated fantasy. But though the faces of the Na’vi and the MetKayina are expressive, and the actors make their presence felt, there is almost zero dimensionality to the characters. The dimensionality is all in the images.”
In a forthcoming issue of Total Film Oppenheimer‘s Christopher Nolan is claiming that he and his crackerjack physical effects team “recreated the first nuclear weapon detonation without using CGI.” I’m not 100% certain but I think Stanley Kubrick went the same way for Dr. Strangelove‘s grand musical finale.
Ari Aster‘s Disappointment Blvd. — a very cool, take-it-or-leave-it smarthouse title, one that sticks to your ribs — is no longer being called Disappointment Blvd. The new title, according to A24, is Beau Is Afraid — presumably an allusion to the first name of Joaquin Phoenix‘s main protagonist, “one of the most successful entrepreneurs of all time.”
Beau Is Afraid is obviously a wimpy-sounding title. It was presumably chosen to appeal to Millennial and Zoomer “safeties”, or basically your under-40 lily-livered types who live in various states of perpetual anxiety and have frequently shared concerns online about not feeling safe enough. We’re talking about gentle reed candy-asses with peep-peep pussy voices and squeaky shoes…intimidated types who wear baggy jeans and normcore clothing…this is your target audience for Beau Is Afraid.
In a simultaneous decision, A24 has announced that The Whale it also being retitled. Darren Aronofsky‘s film will now be called Brendan Fraser Isn’t Attending the Golden Globes Because He’s Afraid That Phillip Berk Will Once Again Insert A Finger Into Brendan’s Anus.
Let’s re-title various classic films according to the A24 “safety” aesthetic. Point Blank is now called Walker Is Afraid. Sam Peckinpah‘s The Wild Bunch is now called The Fraidy Cats. John Ford‘s The Searchers will henceforth be called Ethan Is Afraid of the Comanches. The title of Steven Spielberg‘s The Fabelmans is now Sammy Is Afraid of Failing As A Filmmaker (And Has Therefore Decided To Live In His Mother’s Basement). We can play this game all day.
I’m afraid, you’re afraid, we’re all afraid. Jordan Ruimy is afraid. Roger Durling is afraid. Larry Karaszewski and Scott Alexander are afraid that they’ll never write another Ed Wood or The People vs. O.J. Simpson. Sasha Stone is afraid. Each and every day David Poland awakes with fear in his soul. Life is full of terror, anxiety and intimidation.
James Cameron‘s Titanic opened on 12.19.97 — almost exactly 25 years ago. I had seen it on the Paramount lot in mid November and knew it was a meltdown and a humdinger, but it took a while for the word to get out. The social media factor was zip back then — online reporting was just starting to happen (my first online column appeared in October ’98) with most of the world still following print.
It’s not commonly recalled that while it opened very strongly, the super-thunderous business didn’t happen immediately. Theatres didn’t begin to sell out until the end of that weekend. The first weekend earned $28,638,131 in 2,674 theaters, but the following weekend it made $35.6 million, for Chrissake. After 40 days in theatres Titanic hit $300 million. It finally wound up with $659.4 million domestic and 2.195 billion worldwide.
I haven’t re-watched Titanic since the 3D re-release, which I wasn’t floored by. The 3D effect was….well, modest.
Most people paid no mind to the 1.33 “boxy” Titanic that was released on Pioneer laserdisc on 10.13.98. It retailed for $49.98. Cameron’s film had been shot on open-matte super 35mm, allowing it to be cropped to widescreen proportions (2.39:1) for theatrical. I owned a laserdisc player back then, but I never saw the boxy. Just for fun I’d like to watch a 1080p version of this.
Chappelle’s fans are not “transphobic.” They’re just highly suspicious of the kool-aid as a rule.
Elon Musk was booed heavily when he was invited on stage by Dave Chappelle last night. He fucked around and is quickly finding out. Sycophantic Twitter users are a small minority. Even Chappelle's transphobic fans don't like this jackass. pic.twitter.com/2DFlp8o3Kh
— Alejandra Caraballo (@Esqueer_) December 12, 2022
The snow flurry deluge earlier today was wonderful, but the weather wasn’t quite cold enough and so the snowflakes hit the windshield and melted, and the iPhone auto focus locked in on the water drops and the shot was more or less ruined.
The Los Angeles Film Critics Association (aka eccentric foodie Venusians who occasionally get it right and sometimes wildly wrong) split their Best Picture award this afternoon — Tar (fine) and Everything Everywhere All at Once (absolutely not). These people are from the Planet Neptune, and now that they’ve gone gender neutral, forget it. They’re not of this earth. Nobody cares about what they think or who they like. Okay, the talent does.
LAFCA’s Best Director trophy went to Tar‘s Todd Field….great. He also took the Best Screenplay award. The leading performance awards went to Tar‘s Cate Blanchett (emphatic agreement) and Living‘s Bill Nighy (a good performance). One of the Supporting Performance awards should have goe to The Banshees of Inisherin’s Kerry Condon, but it didn’t. The winners in this category were Dolly De Leon of Triangle of Sadness (disagree) and Ke Huy Quan of Everything Everywhere All at Once (ditto).
Due respect but if you’re curious about the rest of the awards, here’s a link. Nobody really cares. LAFCA is its own realm, its own little dingle-dangle. I say screw ’em…they’ve gender-neutraled their way into oblivion.
Carol Theresa East (aka “Sister Carol” is still with us. A Jamaican-born American reggae recording artist and actress, she’s also gone by Black Cinderella and Mother Culture. Born on 1.15.59, Carol was 26 when she appeared in Jonathan Demme‘s Something Wild (’86).
Last night I re-watched about half of Joshua Logan and William Inge‘s Picnic (’55). Right up to the moment of Bill Holden and Kim Novak‘s sexy lakeside dance.
When she walks down the steps at the beginning, Novak’s moves are saying “okay, I’ve decided…I’d rather have sex with you than with Cliff Robertson, and while I know we’re not going to do it here and now in front of Susan Strasberg, Verna Felton, Rosalind Russell and poor Arthur O’Connell, a man who never had sex once in his off-stage life and whose character will never have sex with the spinsterish Russell…let’s express our mutual longing in a way that is 110% unmistakable.”
Holden was reportedly so nervous about his dance moves, which he was taught by choreographer Miriam Nelson, that he had to get drunk to perform them.
