Kevin Spacey never landed a more zeitgeist-capturing role than Lester Burnham in American Beauty (’99). This scene is my personal favorite. (It’s actually tied with the job-quitting, severance-package, “can you prove you didn’t offer to save my job if I let you blow me?” scene.) Spacey loved the ’90s and the ’90s loved him right back — Glengarry Glen Ross (’92), Swimming with Sharks (’94), The Usual Suspects (’95), Se7en (’95 — John Doe was arguably his most perfectly acted performance), Looking for Richard (’95), L.A. Confidential (’97 — Detective Sergeant Jack Vincennes was right on the money), Hurlyburly (’98) and American Beauty. Then his luck changed and it was one misfire or comme ci comme ca shortfaller after another — Pay It Forward, K-PAX, The Shipping News, The United States of Leland, The Life of David Gale, Beyond the Sea, Superman Returns, Fred Claus, 21, et. al. When you’re hot, you’re hot. When you’re not, you’re not.

I’m sorry but Elle Fanning doesn’t look good with short, spikey hair. If I were her and had concluded that I was a boy born in a girl’s body, I might tough it out and stay a girl. It’s very shallow to say this, I realize, but it’s not just about feeling good inside but also looking good…no? I might submit to sex reassignment surgery (what do they do, surgically attach a synthetic T-1000 schlong or a live one from some guy who recently died in a car crash?) but I would keep the longish hair. Fanning’s face is too wide and hard-featured — she needs longish hair to soften the vibe. The Weinstein Co. will open Three Generations (formerly About Ray) on 5.5.

As noted two days ago, I had to take Zak to Laurel Pet Hospital to remove four tumor-like growths (two on his head, one on his back, another on his rear hind leg) and have a biopsy done. Well, the vet really dug in there and got rid of the ghastly things. Really deep, I mean. Zak looks like he was in a combination knife fight and car crash. His head, back and leg are partly shaved with all kinds of stitches where the tumors used to be. Zak’s appetite and energy are fine so who knows — maybe it’s not cancer but some godawful infection thing. I’m sure he hated being anesthetized but at least he’s tumor-free and hopefully on the mend.

The L.A. riots happened nearly 25 years ago. It’s like it happened 18 months ago. That faint aroma of burnt, blackened timber and flaming rubber tires. Meeting with Entertainment Weekly editor Barbara O’Dair at a Sunset Strip hotel during the curfew. The streets all but vacant due to the coming curfew. I was at my first Cannes Film Festival a few days later and asking guys like Paul Verhoeven, Spike Lee and Robert Altman about the lingering smoke and rage.

On the third or fourth day of the festival I came across a Mickey Rourke quote about those he felt were responsible (i.e., Spike Lee, John Singleton, et. al.). A few hours later I ran into Lee at a party, showed him the clipping, and he grabbed my tape recorder and said what he said [after the jump].

At another Cannes party I ran into smilin’ Bob Altman. When I asked for a quote about the L.A. riots he scowled and said, “That subject is too important to talk about with a publication like yours”…yeaahh!

The latest HE redesign involves keeping the classic HE header logo except with a new selfie photo (taken two days ago) popped in, and below that an automatic slider that features the top three stories. I really, really love this slider thing, I swear — coolest new idea ever. After the slider you just go right into other stories…bing, bing, bing. If you’re reading the column on a laptop you’ll see other stuff on the side, but if you’re reading it on a smart phone (which is what 80% to 85% of the readership does these days) the photo on the right and other aspects won’t appear, or they’ll be pushed below or something.

But the days of being able to see the whole HE header logo in a single glance when you go to the home page on your phone will soon be over, I’m afraid. Because this is the new frontier, the new way, and that old fogey shit has to be put to bed.

Getting through the HE redesign has been mostly hell…backbreaking, patience-testing, soul-draining. While I’m automatically in love with anything that makes HE look cooler, sleeker or more exciting, I am DEAD SET against pointless change. Emphasis on the word “pointless.” If a design aspect looks good (distinctive, grabby, well-balanced) and is perfectly fine, why fuck with it?

All I can tell you is that almost every design aspect and sub-aspect has been reconfigured, and that I’ve been feeling like Kirk Douglas fighting off the tentacles of that giant squid in 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea. Because everything about the site has been tweaked, fiddle-faddled, changed, modified, re-thought, downsized, ignored, reduced, shuffled around, slightly altered, re-approached and slightly re-designed. And it’s been a constant battle to beat that shit back.

Frank Sinatra died just over 19 years ago. It doesn’t feel like that. The death of Don Rickles led me to this recollection [below] by comedian and Sinatra pallie Tom Dreesen. First time I’ve ever heard it, and it may be the best Sinatra story ever. Until this morning I’d never heard the Dennis Miller story either. Brilliantly told, superb stuff. I hate Miller’s politics, but telling a story with just the right English is an art that very few people understand. Joe Pesci‘s Tommy in Goodfellas understood it, but he would get pissed off if you told him he had the gift.

Last night’s Real Time with Bill Maher (4.8, episode #421 — Jelani Cobb, Rep. Ted Lieu, Ana Navarro, Evan McMullin, Chelsea Handler) was excellent. Well, actually not “last night’s” but “this morning’s” because HBO Now doesn’t offer the new show until Saturday morning, simultaneous with YouTube. I’m watching it now on the iPhone 6 Plus. True story: The SRO and I went walking last night, and wound strolling the La Cienega-to-Fairfax Third Street strip (Gusto, Son of a Gun, Joan’s, Berri’s (great pizza, open until 4 am), Little Door, Little Next Door Cafe, The Churchill). We walked into The Little Door and hung at the bar for two or three minutes. Bill Maher was sitting ten feet away, studying the menu like nothing else mattered. Some bearded, weathered, blue-jean-wearing guy in his 40s was sitting next to him.

With Ezra Edelman‘s ESPN-produced, five-part O.J.: Made in America having recently won the 2016 Best Feature-Length Documentary Oscar, I’ve been thinking that Laurent Bouzereau and Mark Harris‘ Five Came Back, a three-part Netflix doc that has qualified itself with recent theatrical bookings, might become a major contender for the same prize next fall.

Then I read the following today (.4.7) on Movie City News, as reported by Ray Pride:

“The Academy’s Board of Governors approved Oscars® rules and campaign regulations for the 90th Academy Awards® at their most recent Board meeting on Tuesday, 3.28” — 10 days ago. The story continues: “In the Documentary categories, multi-part or limited series are not eligible for awards consideration. The Documentary Branch Executive Committee will resolve all questions of eligibility and rules.”

So unless I’m missing something that’s an over-and-out and “adios muchachos” for Five Came Back. Doesn’t seem fair or just, but that’s the Academy for you.

In Philippe Falardeau’s Chuck (called The Bleeder when it played in Toronto last September), star-producer Liev Schreiber portrays Chuck Wepner, a ’70s-era New Jersey prizefighter who served as the real-life inspiration behind Sylvester Stallone‘s Rocky. From a 9.2.16 review by Variety‘s Guy Lodge: “”Hitting many familiar, grainy beats, biopic actually picks up when it retires from the ring as it ditches the expected underdog arc for a compassionate anatomy of an all-purpose loser…Chuck overcomes its slightly put-on 1970s Joisey grit to become quite affecting, thanks in no small part to Schrieber’s self-punishing commitment.” Pic will open on 5.5. via IFC Films.

Belief in man-made climate change (i.e., adverse effects from industry and technology) began to acquire mainstream acceptance around the beginning of the Clinton administration. A bit more than three decades earlier two popcorn movies, Val Guest‘s The Day Earth Caught Fire (I just bought the British Bluray) and Irwin Allen‘s Voyage to the Bottom of the Sea, used scenarios about the warming and possible destruction of the planet as a central plot hook. Only barking rightwing loons are questioning climate change today. One of those loons is the President of the United States. Donald Trump was 15 years old and very impressionable when the above films came out. Did he not see either of these films with his friends? They were just the kind of thing that teenagers liked in those days.

I’m sorry, but for the last 25 or 30 years I’ve been unimpressed by the planet Jupiter. I loved the idea of the 2001 monolith aliens setting up camp on Jupiter, and I adored those green and purple oceans and red-yellow deserts that Dave Bowman sees as he comes in for a landing near the end. But when I learned sometime in the ’80s that the planet is almost entirely gas and possibly without any solid substances, I tuned out. Wikipedia definition: “Jupiter is primarily composed of hydrogen with a quarter of its mass being helium, though helium comprises only about a tenth of the number of molecules. It may also have a rocky core of heavier elements but, like the other giant planets, Jupiter lacks a well-defined solid surface.” What good is a planet if you can’t land on it? How can you even call it a planet when it’s just gas gas gas?

A month ago I reported that Zak, my three-year-old rag doll, has developed three tiny tumor-like growths on his back, head and rear leg. The Laurel Pet Hospital vet said he’d cut the mini-tumors off and do a biopsy. A 50% chance of cancer, he said, which would mean Zak would have a year or less. Or it might be something else. The assessment cost was $250. This morning I took Zak down for the removal + biopsy, and was told the fee will be $755. I’m sure that the treatment for whatever’s ailing Zak will cost an arm and a leg also. Whatever the situation, pet hospitals have you by the balls.

From “Death and Money“, posted on 6.26.11: “Zak #1, a Siamese born in ’86, died from pancreatic cancer at age 14 or 15. He stopped eating toward the end, prompting me to put Gerber’s baby food on his nose so he would at least lick it off. He was obviously finished. Any country vet would have taken one look and said, “Take him home and make him comfortable, and if you want to put him to sleep towards the end, we’ll do that for you. I’m sorry, but he hasn’t long to live.”

When I took Zak to TLC Animal Hospital in West Hollywood they managed to extract $600 or $700 for observation and stabilization fees before putting him to sleep. Caring shysters like TLC know full well that pet owners want to do something (i.e., spend something) when their pet is dying, and so they always step right up and show love and concern for your pet and offer consolation to the owner[s], and you’d better believe that they get that money. They’re trustworthy professionals, but they know how to vacuum your wallet.