Jeff Wells

While Greenwich Entertainment delays (drags ass?) on releasing its English-language trailer for Michel Franco‘s Dreams, there’s a Czech-subtitled trailer out now. The Czech title is Nebezpečné sny, or Dangerous Dreams. Great sex madness…that’s obvious. HE to Greenwich: Get the lead out, fellas!

Disclaimer: this is an unauthorized fan-made video made by The Tapes Archive. The words are Tarantino’s, but the voice is generated by AI. The script is taken from Tarantino’s ‘Cinema Speculation’ chapter on Bullitt. Some of the pages were cut for the video to hopefully encourage people to buy his book.”

“No Sweat“, HE-posted on 12.3.22:

From Quentin Tarantino‘s “Cinema Speculation“: “Steve McQueen as Frank Bullitt keeps moving forward while Peter Yates, the director, follows him here and there as we, the audience, sit back and let them do our thinking for us. As pure cinema, Bullitt is one of the best directed movies ever made.”

I love it when IndieWire‘s David Ehrlich pans something, but his 6.30 review of Jurassic World: Rebirth (Universal, 7.2) doesn’t go batshit enough.

Just remember that even if Rebirth is, as some are claiming, the best Jurassic flick since the 1993 original, it’s still made for people of a very low sociological order, and that, in this instance, includes you. Films like this are intended to make you feel a bit stunted and slimey.

Initially posted on 6.6.18:

Last night I tried to catch a 7 pm all-media screening of Jurassic Park: Fallen Kingdom (Universal, 6.22) at the AMC Century City, but I almost didn’t make it. It happened in theatre #2, where two previous screenings had occured at 10 am and 3 pm. I arrived around…oh, 6:50 pm but all the seats seemed to be taken. I asked a Universal staffer if I should leave and she said, “No, no…we’ll figure it out.” Things didn’t look at all hopeful.

On top of which the crowd looked kind of mongrelish to me — overweight, T-shirts, jeans and sweat pants. There were a lot of kids there, and they all seemed to be wolfing down popcorn, candy and super-size soft drinks. A typical mall mob, the kind you’d see at Magic Mountain or Disneyland or Knotts Berry Farm. A thought went through me — “Do I want to sit with these awful-looking people? I don’t see any of my critic friends here. This is not my kind of scene.”

But I shook myself out of that mindset, manned up and decided to do my job, even without a seat. After a while I walked up the left-side aisle and sat down on the steps.

Ten seconds later a nice 30ish woman said, “We have a seat here.” It was five or six in from the aisle. “Oh…thank you so much!,” I said. I shuffled my way in and sat down, and right away felt a twinge of concern. On my right was a 20something woman of no particular distinction, but to my left…good God…was a Jabba-sized Latina who was sitting with a similar-sized friend. And Jabba Latina was eating, eating and eating. The movie began and she kept chowing down like someone who hadn’t eaten in days.

Her first course was some kind of chicken salad, tomato and cucumber dish inside a deep plastic container. Then came the second course — a butter-soaked tub of popcorn and a big slurpy drink. Then she opened up a bag of Doritos.

I didn’t say a word. I didn’t give her the HE stink-eye. I just sat there like a sphinx and tried to concentrate on the film. But every now and then I snuck a peek.

I couldn’t ignore the fact that Jabba Latina’s reactions were extremely coarse and downmarket. I was reminded of those close-ups of Collisseum cheap-seat serfs watching Christians get eaten in Cecil B. DeMille‘s The Sign of the Cross.

Every time a person got eaten by a dinosaur, Jabba Latina went “oooh, hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo!” Movies like Fallen Kingdom are obviously made with this kind of person in mind. She really loved the huge alligator-like dino that leapt out of the sea to eat a squealing 20something guy who was trying to climb into a hovering helicopter — “Eeeeee-hee-hah-hah!” Anything and everything that happened of a stupid or low-rent or pandering nature, Jabba Latina was in movie heaven.

Yes, I focused on the film and took mental notes all through it, but I couldn’t completely divorce myself from the Jabba Latina factor. I mostly pushed it aside but I kept twitching when she laughed. I’ve said this dozens of times over the years, but hell is truly other people.

Bring your own pre-popped Jiffy Pop in a pear-cake bag, and then use their liquid butter machine. And bring your own drinks. Simple.

AMC trailer reels run between 17 and 20 minutes. Okay, I’ll allow for the possibility of 22 or 23 if you count Nicole Kidman. They certainly don’t run a half-hour.

@cledevon My opinion on movie theaters. #movies #movie #theater #expensive #f1 #f1movie #reviewphim ♬ original sound – CLEDevon

Instant blind hate for Project Hail Mary (Amazon/MGM, 3.20.26). From the geek brains of Phil Lord and Chris Miller, another jerkoff galactic lone-schlubbo-protagonist plot from the guys who wrote The Martian. (original novel by Andy Weir, adaptation by Drew Goddard). Ridiculous egoistic glorification of oafish, sympathetically flawed solitary man charged with saving the world. Words can’t express how much I loathe and despise this film, sight unseen. Five seconds after I began watching this fecking trailer I wanted Ryan Gosling to die…painfully, I mean. Howling agony.

Poor Sandra Huller!

Synopsis: “Astronaut Ryland Grace awakens on a spacecraft with no memory of himself or his mission. He slowly deduces he is the sole survivor of a crew sent to the Tau Ceti solar system in search of a solution to a catastrophic event on Earth. In his search for answers, Grace must rely on his vast array of scientific knowledge, sheer ingenuity, and human will– but he may not have to search alone.”

Save us, Ryland! You can do it! We know you can!

Three strategic logic issues with the second half of The Bridge on the River Kwai, initially posted on 10.25.10:

1. When Jack Hawkins and Geoffrey Horne chase an armed Japanese soldier into the jungle, Hawkins orders Horne to “use your knife, man, or we’ll be shooting each other.” Use your knife to kill a a guy with a loaded rifle? What kind of sense does that make?

2. Why does the commando team have to blow up the bridge at the precise moment when the train’s about to cross? Who cares about the train? Wouldn’t this action guarantee that Japanese troops not killed in the blast would hunt the commandos down and almost certainly kill them? How could they expect to escape when they’re positioned so closely? It’s a hopeless suicide mission.

The more sensible approach would be to blow up the bridge in the dead of night and then hightail it into the jungle while the Japanese are still waking up. Not getting killed in the aftermath of the explosion isn’t against the rules, is it? Isn’t it better to complete the mission, escape and live to fight another day?

3. Near the end Hawkins tells Horne to set up the detonation plunger on the far side of the river and then “swim back” after the explosion. Swim back? He’ll get shot. The smarter thing would be for Horne to scamper into the jungle on his side of the river and then meet up with Hawkins and the others at a rendezvous point a few miles away.

2010 replies:

Chase Kahn
15 years
“Simply blowing up the bridge during the night while everyone is sleeping wouldn’t give us much ‘madness'”.

moviemorlock
15 years ago
“Blowing up the train on the bridge eliminates supplies and reinforcements, not just the supply line. It also adds a rescue mission for troops on the ground with far more distractions and the ability for prisoner escapes. I never had a problem with this. Plus–it’s a movie and one hell of a climax.”

Jeffrey Wells
15 years ago
“I thought the train was just carrying dignitaries, and was also going to take the sick men to a hospital. Who says the train is carrying supplies and reenforcements? I don’t recall that.”

TheCahuengaKid
15 years ago
“If the empty bridge is blown up in the middle of the night, then David Lean has no awesome climax for his movie.”

the analog kid
15 years ago
“The train carries VIPs and troops. It is specifically stated in the film. One could infer there are supplies on it as well.

“They actually talk about blowing the bridge with timers, but they decide to trigger it manually so they can get the train as well.”

“And they blow up the train because it would be ‘something’ if they did.”

When you think of the most exciting, triple-wowser screenings of your life, it’s always a combination of (a) a knockout film, (b) a great crowd and (c) the film playing at a big-city, big-screen, technically tip-top theatre.

The original 1979 version of Apocalypse Now has always been and always will be knockout-level, but seeing it inside one of those Film Forum shoebox theatres can’t be much good. I’m sorry but it just can’t be.

I saw the original Apocalypse (147 minutes, give or take) at the Ziegfeld theatre two or three times in August and September of ’79, and the big-screen presentation was aurally and visually wonderful, especially in terms of sharp, punctuating fullness of sound.

Apocalypse Now was presented at the Ziegfeld within a 2:1 aspect ratio, which Vittorio Storaro insisted upon through thick and thin.

As we began to listen to The Doors’ “The End” while staring at that tropical tree line, John Densmore’s high hat could be heard loudly and crisply from a Ziegfeld side speaker. Before that moment I had never heard any high-hat sound so clean and precise.

Remember that “here’s your mission, Captain” scene with G.D. Spradlin, Harrison Ford and that white-haired Filipino guy? When that scene abruptly ends, we’re suddenly flooded with electronic synth organ music…it just filled your soul and your chest cavity.

When Martin Sheen and the PBR guys first spot Robert Duvall and the Air Cav engaged in a surfside battle, Sheen twice says “arclight.” In the Ziegfeld the bass woofer began rumbling so hard and bad that the floor and walls began to vibrate like bombs were exploding on 54th Street…the hum in my rib cage was mesmerizing.

As Duvall’s gunship helicopters take off for the attack on a Vietnamese village (“Vin Din Lop…all these gook names sound the same”), an Army bugler begins playing the cavalry charge. The “tirrah–tirrah–tirrah” was clear as a bell in the Ziegfeld.

The beautiful animated logo for Steven Rales/ Indian Paintbrush, primarily known for being the main financier and producer of Wes Anderson films over the last 18 years (the first was 2007’s The Darjeeling Limited — the most recent is The Phoenician Scheme)…the CGI logo was designed by Kelly Carlton at Intralink Film Graphic Design. The string/flute flutter was composed by Jamie Anderson at J Trax Music.

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The passing of Nancy Wells happened 10 years ago. Just a moment, a remembrance, an acknowledgement.

“This is a startling interview. Peter Thiel‘s face tells the story without him opening his mouth. The words ‘soulless twat’ come to mind. Douthat doesn’t go far enough in trying to understand if Thiel actually cares about humanity at all, or has sustaining ethical or moral beliefs of any kind.” — @laurimas8845, posted earlier today.

That awkward moment Peter Thiel realized he might be the very Antichrist he warned about
pic.twitter.com/D9JvGARDtD

— Mykhaïlo Golub (@golub) June 27, 2025

HE agrees with certain choices among the top 20 in that N.Y. Times poll of the finest 21st Century films.

But where the hell is Alexander Payne‘s Sideways, guys? I’ve counted through the whole list of 100 and it’s not there. To which I can only say “what the fuck?”

I’m enthused or at least okay with #20 (Martin Scorsese‘s The Wolf of Wall Street), #19 (David Fincher‘s Zodiac), #18 (Alfonso Cuarón’s Y Tu Mama Tambien), #17 (Ang Lee‘s Brokeback Mountain), #16 (Ang Lee‘s Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon), #15 (Fernando Meirelles‘ City of God), #13 (Alfonso Cuaron‘s Children of Men), #10 (David Fincher‘s The Social Network), #6 (Joel and Ethan Coen’s No Country for Old Men) and #3 (Paul Thomas Anderson‘s There Will Be Blood, which delivers one of the best endings of all time).

But I’m not quite as enthused about or even a tad underwhelmed by #14 (Quentin Tarantino‘s Inglourious Basterds, which I was actually repelled by to some extent), #13 (Jonathan Glazer‘s The Zone of Interest…one-trick-pony film, driven by a scheme of austere virtue signalling), #11 (George Miller‘s Mad Max: Fury Road, quite admirable but not quite worthy of multiple cartwheels), #9 (Hayao Miyazaki‘s Spirited Away), #8 (Jordan Peele‘s Get Out, a racially-stamped take on Ira Levin‘s The Stepford Wives), #7 (Michel Gondry‘s Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind…lovely film, somehow not quite Ivy League), #5 (Barry Jenkins’ Moonlight, which averts its eyes from the reality of drug-dealing and then falls apart in the third act), #4 (Wong Kar Wai‘s In the Mood for Love, which is too slow and staid), #2 (David Lynch‘s Mulholland Drive, which I can’t remember the plotline of to save my life) and the dreaded #1 (Bong Joon-ho‘s Parasite).

Here are HE’s top 25 of the 21st Century, and I can’t convey how painful and silly it makes me feel to make these damnable choices, which basically boil down to the 21st Century flicks I like to re-watch over and over and which have zip to do with the chickenshit identity games played by the folks polled by Times.

1. Roman Polanski‘s J’Accuse, 2. David Fincher‘s Zodiac, 3a. Steven Soderbergh‘s Traffic; 3b. Paul Greengrass‘s United 93, 4. Alfonso Cuaron‘s Children of Men, 5. Spike Jonze‘s Adaptation; 6. Polanski’s The Pianist, 7. Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck‘s The Lives of Others, 8. Tony Gilroy‘s Michael Clayton, 9. Cristian Mungiu‘s 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days, 10. Todd Fields‘ In the Bedroom, 11. Joel and Ethan Coen‘s No Country For Old Men, 12. Kathryn Bigelow‘s The Hurt Locker, 13. David Fincher‘s The Social Network, 15. Asghar Farhadi‘s A Separation, 16. Bennett Miller‘s Moneyball, 17. Bigelow’s Zero Dark Thirty, 18. David O. Russell‘s Silver Linings Playbook, 19. Martin Scorsese‘s The Wolf of Wall Street, 20. Steve McQueen‘s 12 Years A Slave, 21. Kenneth Lonergan‘s Manchester By The Sea, 22. Luca Guadagnino‘s Call Me By Your Name, 23.Ruben Ostlund‘s The Square, 24. Paul Schrader‘s First Reformed; and 25. Kent Jones‘ Diane.

And here, again, is my list of the 163 greatest films of this century.

Bong Joon-ho‘s Parasite sitting at the very top of the N.Y Times‘ 100 best of the 21st Century poll — i.e., the views of “over 500 influential directors, actors, screenwriters and other film lovers” — is the piece of straw that has finally broken the camel’s back.

Serious film lovers who know what goes and who accept the reality of life on this real-deal planet and who aren’t driven by kneejerk identity politics…from this point on Average Joes are saying no to this semi-commendable (the first half works) but wildly overpraised South Korean social drama…from this point on Parasite‘s ranking will begin to sink and keep dropping every time a fresh best of 21st Century list is compiled. And thank God for that because we’ve fucking had enough.

An undisciplined, social-inequity geeksplurge that became woke-famous for winning the Best Picture Oscar five years ago, Parasite has become a totem for acclaimed, filmmaker-of-color achievement in a white-ass industry…a problematic work that too many people have been ignoring the flaws of for way too long. Brandishing one of the stupidest, most illogical plot turns in cinema history, Parasite is a prime example of ridiculous plotting + bloody finale = chaos cinema. Bong tried to make a Luis Bunuel film (Viridiana comes to mind), but his geek boy instincts spoiled the soup.