There’s a certain kind of Hollywood journalist who gets very, very excited by big box-office earnings. You can almost hear the panting as the probable first-weekend earnings, per-screen averages and total domestic grosses are reported. You could be forgiven, in fact, for presuming that the author owns stock in the distribution company behind the hit-to-be, and that a fat dividend check will soon be deposited in his/her account. If you’re that kind of trade reporter or tabulator, the projected earnings for Andres Muschietti and Stephen King‘s It — a first-weekend haul of at least $50 million, according to tracking — will do the trick.

Another way to feel the excitement is to feign indifference to grosses and just concentrate on the film, as I was doing a few months ago, and ask whether director Andres “Andy” Muschietti would deliver the same kind of carefully measured, less-is-more chills that Mama, his last film, had in spades.

Posted on 5.11.17: “Yes, it looks like a retread, a Stand By Me ensemble threatened by a demonic Clarabelle. But something tells me that It (9.8.17, Warner Bros., New Line) may be up to something good. I’m basing this suspicion partly on the last two-thirds of the new trailer, and partly on the fact that it might be Son of Mama. Or more preciselt Son of Mama meets Stephen King.

More than a few writers and publications have posted articles about the 40th anniversary of Elvis Presley‘s death (8.16.77). Of all the Presley milestones worth pondering, the least is surely the poor man’s death from the combination of an enlarged heart and having 14 drugs in his system. Want a great Elvis anniversary? How about September 9th, or the 1956 date of Presley’s first performance on The Ed Sullivan Show — a telecast seen by 60 million viewers or 82.6% of the TV audience. Or July 5th, the day in 1954 when Presley and Sun Records honcho Sam Phillips, after some false starts, happened upon the right Elvis sound — quasi-rockabilly by way of white channeling of what was then regarded as “black” music, but with a frisky, jumpin’-and-shufflin’ tempo. Or simply EP’s birthday — 1.8.35. Two days ago Variety‘s Joe Leydon listed Presley’s “10 Greatest Films.” First of all Presley never made any films that could be called “great.” But the best of the bunch were obviously King Creole, Flaming Star, Jailhouse Rock, Loving You, Love Me Tender and Wild in the Country. I’m not counting the concert films, but feel free.

“China’s new favorite action hero single-handedly routs pirates off the African coast in undersea combat. He wakes up fit to fight after nearly dying from a flesh-eating plague. He wields guns galore, poison arrows and a tank to wipe out the mercenaries led by the villainous Big Daddy, a swaggering, sneering American soldier of fortune. But in the end, what saves the hero of Wolf Warrior 2, China’s most popular movie ever, is a Chinese flag wrapped around his arm.” — from Chris Buckley‘s 8.16 N.Y. Times story, “In China, an Action Hero Beats Box Office Records (and Arrogant Westerners).”

High-testosterone action garbage cinema by any other name…later.

“As of last Wednesday, Wolf Warrior 2 had earned $722 million in ticket sales in three weeks, easily surpassing The Mermaid, a romantic fantasy released last year, as the top-grossing film of all time in China.

“The success of the two-hour film, featuring a red-tinged Rambo named Leng Feng, is being seen in China as a pointer to the national mood after almost five years under Xi Jinping, the president. Mr. Xi has promoted a spirit of hawkish patriotism and warned that Western forces want to bully China into submission.

“’Whoever offends the Chinese will be wiped out no matter how far away,’ goes an ancient phrase used to promote Leng Feng in two movies so far.”

When it comes to older black-and-white films, Criterion has shown a tendency to make them appear darker and inkier than in previous home-video manifestations (Rebecca, His Girl Friday, Only Angels Have Wings). Will they dim the lights for their restored, 4K-scanned Bluray of George Cukor’s The Philadelphia Story (due on 11.7), or will they surprise us all and not do this?

Sony’s forthcoming Ultra HD Bluray of David Lean’s The Bridge on the River Kwai may be the very first instance of a classic-era Hollywood Oscar-winner being released in 4K. It’s due on 10.3.17. A few more 4K releases in this vein and I might actually spring for a 4K Bluray player. Yes, I purchased a very good-looking Ultra HD streaming version of Kwai three or four months ago, but streaming, I’m told, doesn’t deliver a true 4K image.

I’ve been waiting to see Matt Tyrnauer‘s Scotty and the Secret History of Hollywood, a doc based on Scotty Bowers and Lionel Friedberg‘s “Full Service: My Adventures in Hollywood and the Secret Sex Lives of the Stars,” for a long time. I first heard about Tyrnauer trying to pull it together…what, back in ’13 or ’14? It’s taken forever, but now, finally, a special pre-Toronto Film Festival screening is happening later this week.

The official TIFF debut of Scotty and the Secret History of Hollywood will happen on Saturday, September 9th.

“Reliable Source,” posted on 6.18.16: “Last night I ran into Scotty Bowers, the 92 year-old co-author of “Full Service: My Adventures in Hollywood and the Secret Sex Lives of the Stars,” which popped in early 2012. (Here’s my review.) It happened at a nearby Whole Foods (Fairfax & Santa Monica Blvd.), and for a guy who will turn 93 in less than two weeks he’s very charming, alert and well-spoken.

“The only other over-90 fellow I’ve spoken to who has the same classy manner and mental acuity is Norman Lloyd, whom I first interviewed in ’05 and who’s now 101.

“The Red Drum Getaway” is maybe two years old. I posted it on 10.14.15 (“Ferguson’s Nightmare“). If you’ve never seen it, please.

The Red Drum Getaway from Gump on Vimeo.

Of the 13 likely Best Picture contenders on HE’s Oscar Spitball chart, I’ve only seen four — Dunkirk, Call Me By Your Name, War For The Planet of the Apes and Get Out. But I’ve read scripts or heard enough about the other nine to know they’ll be in the mix, almost for sure. The ones closer to the the top look stronger, of course, but you knew that. Who knows how things’ll shake out four and five months hence, but it’s these 13, trust me. If I’m missing a title or two…naah, this is it.

Dunkirk (the only one of the exalted thirteen that isn’t a personal journey tale) is ranked first because everyone’s seen it and unanimously agrees it’s a Best Picture contender. Call Me By Your Name is an easy inclusion — has been since last January’s Sundance Film Festival debut. I’ve seen 10 or 12 minutes of Downsizing and read a draft of the script — it’s in there. Sally Hawkins‘ wordless performance in Guillermo del Toro‘s The Shape of Water is a Best Actress lock, but I’m also 85% persuaded that it’s GDT’s personal best since Pan’s Labrynth, and Lord knows he’s due. I’ve read Dan Gilroy‘s Roman Israel, Esq., and it’s fair to call it a moral-ethical thing along the lines of Sidney Lumet and David Mamet‘s The Verdict.

The Papers is a smart, high-toned, well-textured historical drama with the Spielberg stamp — no denying it. We know that films by Paul Thomas Anderson have rarely kowtowed to Oscar-season criteria, but it’s a likely keeper on the strength of containing Daniel Day Lewis‘s (possibly) final performance. Last March’s Cinemacon preview convinced me that The Greatest Showman will be a Best Picture contender; ditto Battle of the Sexes and Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri — two personal journey sagas (both distributed by Fox Searchlight) that will most likely stick to the ribs. War For The Planet of the Apes is a flat-out masterpiece of its kind. Many have lamented the over-praising of Get Out, but there’s a critical contingent that won’t take the hint and back off. (Somewhere John Carpenter is shaking his head and grinning.)

This is it, time is nigh: Geremy Jasper‘s Patti Cakes opens three days hence, or the evening of Thursday, 8.17. There’s no way this film is a letdown or shortfaller, and yet so far 40% of the Rotten Tomatoes and Metacritic responses have been thumbs down. Why? Because it’s a familiar underdog-tryin’-to-make-it tale, and injected with the same kind of formulaic uplift enzymes that went into Rocky, Hustle & Flow and 8 Mile. But it doesn’t matter because the spirit is there, and because the culture needs one of these films every so often so why bitch about it? And because Danielle McDonald (i.e. Jumbo) is the shit.

Yorgos Lanthimos‘s The Killing of a Sacred Deer (A24, 11.17) “was lightly booed when it finished screening in Cannes this morning, and with ample justification. It’s a cold, odious and deeply repellent film. It’s the kind of thing that only Lanthimos fans could like, and even then it wouldn’t be easy. I wouldn’t wish this slog of a film upon my worst enemy.

“Deer begins with a certain robotic intrigue that slowly simmers and darkens. It’s basically about the lives of heart surgeon Steven Murphy (Colin Farrell) and wife Ana (Nicole Kidman) along with their two kids, Kim (Raffey Cassidy) and Bob (Sunny Suljic), being upended by Martin (Barry Keoghan), a teenager whose obsession with avenging his father’s death, which was caused by an operating-table error on Murphy’s part.

“The more Martin gets his hooks into Murphy the darker and weirder things get, but it’s something you have to force yourself to stay with in the final lap. I stuck it out, but I wouldn’t see The Killing of a Sacred Deer a second time with a knife at my back.

“To gauge the malevolence of this enterprise, look no further than the casting of the Irish-born Keoghan as Martin.

“Visually speaking Keoghan is an unpleasant guy to hang with. I’m sorry but it’s true. He exudes creepy by just walking into a room. He has evil wolf-like eyes and one of those ridiculous bee-stung noses, bulbous and swollen like something drawn by R. Crumb, the kind of Beagle Boy dog nose that used to scream “low rent” before common, coarse features became a kind of hip thing among 21st Century casting directors.

In a diseased, perverse way I almost respect President Donald Trump for half-renouncing yesterday’s conciliatory remarks, because at least he was being honest. This is who this astonishing asshole really is. In a Trump Tower press conference Trump again maintained there was “blame on both sides” for last weekend’s Charlottesville violence and criticized the “very, very violent” behavior of “alt-left” groups.

Referring to nationalist and Nazi hate groups that assembled to protest the removal of a statue of Robert E. Lee from a park, Trump said that “not all of those people were neo-Nazis, believe me. Not all of those people were white supremacists by any stretch. [They] were there to protest the taking down of the statue of Robert E. Lee. And this week [it’s] Stonewall Jackson. Is it George Washington next week? And is it Thomas Jefferson the week after? You have to ask yourself, where does it stop?”

Trump on Charlottesville: “I think there’s blame on both sides, and I have no doubt about it, & you don’t have any doubt about it either.” pic.twitter.com/ivagWbsofC

— CBS News (@CBSNews) August 15, 2017

You can’t tell anything from a trailer, of course, but I’m feeling a wee bit concerned about Aaron Sorkin‘s Molly’s Game (STX, 11.22). Just a bit. The dialogue feels a little too hammerish and rat-a-tat-tat, and the narration feels a little too rushed and on-the-nose. Visuals and dialogue should tell the story, and the narration should provide…what, some kind of inner dialogue, ironic counterpoint, after-the-fact meditation? Jessica Chastain‘s eye makeup looks too heavy here and there. Michael Cera portrays “Player X” — i.e., Tobey Maguire. You can sense that Idris Elba might steal this thing, and that Kevin Costner (as Chastain’s dad) will steady things emotionally. Roughly a month from now Molly’s Game will face the music in Toronto.

From a guy who’s seen Molly’s Game: “Your feeling is wrong, unless you don’t like Sorkin.” My reply: “Sure, I like Sorkin. Usually. Glad to hear it.”