Didn’t Nic Cage just do the intense-grieving-over-deceased-wife thing in Mandy, which opened only about six weeks ago?

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A friend has sent along some comparison shots of various versions of Stanley Kubrick’s 2001: A Space Odyssey, including a striking screen capture from the new WHE 4K Ultra HD Bluray (streeting on 11.20). I’ve promised not to post this photo for now but I’ll be able to post one or two 4K images tomorrow, or so I’m expecting. I’m relieved to say that it seems quite clear (as I trust the person who sent the images) that Chris Nolan‘s piss-and-teal color scheme, which was seen everywhere last summer when Nolan’s unrestored nostalgia version played in theatres, has not been delivered by the new 4K disc.

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All real men accept the idea of occasionally pouring hot tap water into a cup filled with Starbucks instant coffee, and being more or less okay with that. I know this sounds like a bit but I’m serious. Sometimes you have to suck it in and say “okay, not perfect but good enough.”

If you’re one of those prissy guys who insists on putting on the hush puppies and going down to the hotel restaurant and asking for a pot of steaming hot water on a tray along with a nice cup, saucer, spoon and cloth napkin…if you insist on all the proper trimmings then you’re probably too metrosexual, or in this context not really a man. Certainly not by the Hollywood Elsewhere definition of that term.

Yes, I’ve described myself as confidently metrosexual in the past but it’s actually more of a mixture of this plus the usual samurai poet warrior thing plus the spirit of Lee Marvin in the mid’ 60s, particularly the guy he played in The Professionals and not so much “Walker” in Point Blank.

Hollywood Elsewhere arrived in Savannah yesterday afternoon around 5:15 pm. Mellow greetings and yukey-dukey to the SCAD Savannah Film Festival, which is again hosting in fine style. Straight shuttle to the Brice Hotel and then to the big opening-night screening of Roma and…well, not to the after-party because I began to feel whipped a little after ten. But Sunday beckons. It’s warmish down here (70s, sunny) and a lot nicer than New York-era weather, I can tell you.

Sidenote: I was disappointed to see that Parker’s Urban Market on Abercorn, which used to be a kind of cultured-Southern-atmosphere store that mixed food and clothing and odd bric-a-brac, has been shorn of the funky and transformed into an aggressively upmarket 21st Century gas station-slash-gourmet deli. Thoughts of some management asshole a few months ago: “This place is too Savannah-like…too reflective of local history and culture…we need to turn it into a deluxe rest stop you might find off the Garden State Parkway in central New Jersey….aahh, that’s MUCH better!”

Late yesterday afternoon there was a big, black-tie wedding celebration in the main courtyard of the Brice hotel, and I’m sorry but the first thing I noticed is that the bride and groom, both in their mid 30s and basking in the glow of it all, need to schedule some treadmill sessions when they return from the honeymoon. Same for the father of the bride and more than a few members of the wedding party. I’m really not trying to rain on a joyous occasion. All weddings put a smile on your face, and if the couple in question is reading this I wish them all the best. I’m obviously aware that posting this kind of thing is a huge social no-no, but yesterday’s visual element was striking because this is America these days — nobody (certainly in the regions outside the big cities) seems to be in shape. This wasn’t the case 25 or 30 years ago — it really wasn’t. And yet if you mention this you’re an asshole.

Last night the belles of Roma, Yalitza Aparicio and Marina de Tavira, were honored at the SCAD Savannah Film Festival. Opening-night screening, big media deluge, q & a with Hollywood Reporter columnist Scott Feinberg, general hoo-hah.

I ran into Yalitza and Marina yesterday afternoon in the lobby of Savannah’s Brice Hotel, where the festival organizers have graciously installed me for something like the fourth of fifth time.

(l. to r.) Roma costars Marina de Tavira, Yalitza Aparicio, Hollywood Reporter columnist Scott Feinberg during last night’s post-screening q & a.

Marina is the beating, persistent, never-say-die heart of Roma. She generates this and more without once resorting to “acting” or “selling”, and because of this and other subtle reasons she easily warrants a Best Supporting Actress nomination.

Yalitza’s performance, which is Bresson-like in that she’s not a trained actress and is playing a kind of wordless, silent saint in the spiritual vein of Au hasard, Balthazar, is also stirring the Best Actress conversation pot.

From “Roma Mama,” posted on 9.11.18: “During last night’s post-premiere Roma party I spoke to Marina de Tavira, the prominent Mexico City-based stage and screen actress who plays Sofia, the spirited if frustrated mother of the family that that Alfonso Cuaron‘s ’70s-era drama is focused upon.

“Marina has played the female lead in a Mexico City stage production of Harold Pinter‘s Betrayal, she told me, and is currently preparing to star in a local stage production of David Hare‘s Skylight, which I saw performed in Manhattan three years ago with Carey Mulligan.

100 bottles of beer on the wall, 100 bottles of beer…you take one down and pass it around…99 bottles of beer on the wall, 99 bottles or beer…you take one down and pass it around…98 bottles of beer on the wall.

36 hours ago Republican strategist and former John McCain campaign manager Steve Schmidt neatly summarized the connection between Donald Trump and rightwing nutter violence — a connection that was reiterated to some extent by yesterday’s anti-Semitic massacre in Pittsburgh:

Schmidt: “The billon-dollar anger and conspiracy industry has infested 35% to 40% of American people…they have become fanatics, a cult of personality and a cult of shared victimhood…it’s important to understand [the links between] conspiracy and victimization, and the constancy of Trump’s assault upon objective truth…to these people what’s true is what the leader believes is true, or says is true, or directs them to believe is true….this is incompatible with a healthily functioning Democratic society.

“We have arrived at this dark hour because of Donald Trump….he created the atmosphere in which this sick person would actualize Trump’s intent…he’s the tribal chief of a tribal function that has declared war on the majority of this country…this sick or evil person [in southern Florida] decided to become a soldier in Trump’s army, to kill the enemies, and what we saw was the largest mass assassination plot in [American] history…we haven’t seen something like this since Abraham Lincoln was assassinated.

“Anybody who doesn’t see the clear connection between the [current] atmosphere and what has happened here has either suspended disbelief, or is complicit and dishonest, or is so brainwashed that they’ve stopped being able to think for themselves.”

Ted Kotcheff‘s First Blood (’82) didn’t start the legend of Rambo — it is the legend of Rambo. The others are flotsam.

HE reply: You can praise anything you want to the heavens and you’re okay with me, bruh. But you know as well as I do that in the eyes of certain fellows you’ve compromised your credentials with this remark, at least to some extent. Just being straight with you.

…howl in the bones of his orange bloated face.

From N.Y. Times: “President Trump said on Saturday that a mass shooting at a Pittsburgh synagogue that left at least four people dead could have been prevented with the help of an armed guard, and that the nation’s gun laws had “little to do” with the shooting.

“If they had protection inside,” Mr. Trump said to reporters, “the results would have been far better. This is a dispute that will always exist, I suspect.” Didn’t the gunman shoot three armed cops?

“It’s a terrible, terrible thing, what’s going on with hate in our country, frankly, and all over the world. And something has to be done.” Trump has taken ownership of all right-wing hate crimes in this country. Whether he realizes it or not, from here on he’s the father of them all. Every last one of them.

He also forgot to use his favorite rightwing code phrase: “Our thoughts and prayers are with the families of the victims.”

The basic gist of last night’s “To Hell With Halloween” riff by Real Time‘s Bill Maher was that Americans seriously hate p.c. fanatics. All ages, all regions, all ethnicities despise finger-wagging Twitter banshees with a passion.

Maher was drawing upon a 10.10.18 Atlantic article by Harvard University’s Yascha Mounk, called “Americans Strongly Dislike PC Culture.” The articles says the only group that’s okay with p.c. culture are well-educated lefty progressives.

Excerpt from Atlantic piece: “One obvious question is what people mean by ‘political correctness.’ In the extended interviews and focus groups, participants made clear that they were concerned about their day-to-day ability to express themselves.

More precisely “they worry that a lack of familiarity with a topic, or an unthinking word choice, could lead to serious social sanctions for them.”