In paragraph #6, Mailer writes that early in the Bernardo Bertolucci film “Brando abruptly cashes the check Stanley Kowalski wrote for us twenty-five years ago — he fucks the heroine standing up. It solves the old snicker of how do you do it in a telephone booth? — he rips her panties open.
“In our new line of New Yorker–approved superlatives, it can be said that the cry of the fabric is the most thrilling sound to be heard in World Culture since the four opening notes of Beethoven’s Fifth.”
Tango premiered at the 1972 New York Film Festival (10.14.72), but opened commercially on 2.1.73 at Manhattan’s Trans Lux East (Third Avenue between 57th Street and 58th Street). Tickets went for a then-unheard-of price of $5.00.
USA Today: “Today Superior Court Judge Scott McAfee gave Fulton County District Attorney Fani Willis until Feb. 2 to formally respond to explosive allegations that she has been in an improper romantic relationship with Nathan Wade, the private lawyer she hired as a special prosecutor overseeing the election fraud case against former President Donald Trump and 14 alleged co-conspirators.
“McAfee also scheduled a Feb. 15 hearing — likely to be televised — to hear arguments on the issue from Willis and a lawyer for Michael Roman, the Trump-co-defendant and 2020 campaign official who made the allegations last week.
“Willis has declined to specifically address the accusations that she was having an affair with Wade, and that she hired him for the job and paid him more than $650,000 even though he is unqualified to oversee the high-profile case.”
HE reaction #1: Willis and Wade possibly schtupping each other while working on the prosecution of Trump’s Georgia-election-interference case is technically no one’s business but their own. Intimate relationships between high-powered people who work together (whether attached or unattached to others) are fairly common. However…
HE reaction #2: If the rumors of an intimate relationship are true, it was astonishingly arrogant and stupid of Willis and Wade to have opened themselves up to potential ridicule and wagging tongues, and thereby compromise, at least in terms of public image, the integrity of the prosecution’s case against Trump.
What matters at the end of the day is whether or not Willis, Wade and their prosecutorial colleagues have the proof to convict Trump or not — that’s the bottom line. It shouldn’t matter what Willis and Wade were up to after-hours. But that aside, what mind-blowing carelessness on their part…God! This is out of a Harold Robbins novel.
Trump co-defendant Michael Roman, repped by Atlanta lawyer Ashleigh Merchant, is contending that the allegations are serious enough to have Willis, Wade and the entire Fulton County DA’s office disqualified and thrown off the case.
In a 1.4.24 N.Y. Times essay titled “The Case for Disqualifying Trump Is Strong,” columnist David French focused mainly on the legal argument for disqualifying Donald Trump from the presidency on the basis of the text and history of Section 3 of the 14th Amendment.
French: “I made the case that the plain language of the amendment should disqualify Trump regardless of the consequences, which many observers — including some strongly opposed to Trump — believe would be dire and violent.
Every year there are negative reactions when this or that deceased Hollywood veteran has been omitted from the Oscar telecast’s “In Memoriam” segment.
Well, what if the Oscar producers were to notify the families of late Hollywood veterans in advance that their beloved and departed might not make the cut?
I’m asking because it was reported earlier today that BAFTA had recently sent a dispiriting email to Kate Beckinsale, stating that her recently deceased stepfather Roy Battersby, who died on 1.10.24, “will be considered for the [forthcoming] in memoriam segment for BAFTA TV awards ceremony, but it is not guaranteed.”
Beckinsale bitterly complained, prompting BAFTA to quickly issue a follow-up statement: “We confirm [that the late Roy Battersby] will be honoured in our forthcoming BAFTA television awards in May, and on the ‘in memoriam’ section on our website.”
Last year the Oscars’ “In Memoriam” segment omitted Paul Sorvino, Anne Heche, Leslie Jordan, Gilbert Gottfried, Tom Sizemore, Cindy Williams and Triangle of Sadness costar Charlbi Dean.
Imagine if AMPAS had decided a year ago to follow in BAFTA’s footsteps, and you were in charge of writing the necessary letters to the families of the deceased….in advance.
Example: “Dear family of Paul Sorvino — As much as the Academy has always admired the late Mr. Sorvino and deeply respected his unforgettable performances in Goodfellas, The Gambler, The Brink’s Job, Cruising, Reds, That Championship Season and Dick Tracy, we must inform you that the producers of the forthcoming Oscar telecast might not be able to fit him into the ‘In Memoriam’ segment.
“Please understand that while we may cut the late Mr. Sorvino from the segment, we also might not. It depends on the breaks. If we cut him we would do so with the utmost regret. We hope that you understand that this happens to deceased Hollywood professionals each and every year, and that no one takes these matters more seriously than ourselves.
“If we can somehow fit Paul in at the last minute, we will not hesitate to do so.”
Scarier: “Origin is an historical journey into the caste system seen thru the eyes of a woman searching for herself and [social] truth. In that way it is more akin to Eat Pray Love than anything else. But with Ava, it is more to the spirit of Stanley Kramer.” — Journo friendo a few weeks ago.
The Reveal‘s Scott Tobias and Keith Phipps: “There isn’t a movie in Origin. Or, at least, there isn’t a movie that writer-director Ava DuVernay has the creative moxie to conjure from an unadaptable book.
“The source here is Isabel Wilkerson’s ‘Caste: The Origins of Our Discontents‘, a nonfiction bestseller that pieces together a grand unifying theory of societal oppression. That’s an argument built around a thesis, not unlike DuVernay’s persuasive documentary The 13th, which draws on powerful archival footage to make the connection between slavery and a prison-industrial complex that punishes Black people disproportionately. Yet fiction features don’t accommodate that sort of didacticism. They have to persuade through drama, or a little cinematic brio.”
Lily Gladstone’s identity-propelled Best Actress campaign re KillersoftheFlowerMoonisn’tcuttinganyice with the BAFTA gang.
To even HE’s surprise Gladstone has been flat–outsnubbed in the just-announced BAFTA Best Actress nominations — six names (including TheColorPurple ‘s Fantasia Barrino) but not a Gladstone among them.
A friend believes that BAFTA’s token woke nominee, Rye Lane ‘s Vivian Oparah, apparently elbowed Gladstone aside. The Native American “great reckoning” thing just isn’t resonating in England, I guess. That plus they’re probably not approving of Team Gladstone’s contention that Mollie Burkhart is a lead role.
And speaking of snubs. MayDecember ‘s enigmatic Charles Melton, an early Best Supporting Actor favorite stateside (Gothams, NYFCC, NSFC), is also, in that category, a BAFTAMIA. Seven nominations and the Criterion closet Eo fan didn’t make the cut. And yet AllOfUsStrangersPaulMescal did; ditto TheHoldovers’ Dominic Sessa.
I’m genuinely shocked that Barbie helmer Greta Gerwig was also blown off. Perhaps the BAFTA committee simply felt drained by the hype or something.
The fact that PoorThings got 11 nominations suggests that Emma Stone is a Best Actress favorite.
KillersoftheFlowerMoonhelmer Martin Scorsese and lead actor Leonardo DiCaprio were also snubbed.
The Gladstone and Melton snubs are yet another indication that wokederangementsyndromemaybeonthewane. Which suggests, in a roundabout way, that woke scold critic Bob Strauss may need to pour himself a cup of coffee and rethink things.
On the other hand a SAG/AFTRA sympathy backlash may happen in Gladstone’s favor.
The five no-gos are Jack Clayton‘s The Great Gatsby (a totally misconceived washout), Martin Davidson‘s The Lords of Flatbush, Stanley Donen‘s The Little Prince (no one ever gave a damn about this musical back in the day), Robert Clouse‘s Black Belt Jones (blaxploitation bullshit) and Shigehiro Ozawa and Sonny Chiba‘s The Street Fighter (aka Gekitotsu! Satsujin ken), a total waste-of-time, bowl of steam-fried bullshit unless you’re QuentinTarantino, in which case it’s great.
The nine keepers are Martin Scorsese‘s Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore, Mel Brooks‘ Blazing Saddles, Robert Altman‘s California Split, Roman Polanski‘s Chinatown, Francis Coppola‘s The Conversation, Michael Winner‘s Death Wish, Karel Reisz‘s The Gambler, Larry Cohen‘s It’s Alive, and Alan Pakula‘s The Parallax View.
If locked-in licensing agreements weren’t an issue, the five that would replace the no-gos would be Coppola’s The Godather, Part II, Brooks‘ Young Frankenstein, Richard Lester‘s Juggernaut and The Three Musketeers, and Joseph Sargent‘s The Taking of Pelham One Two Three.
Can’t decide which performance is better, although I’ve always leaned toward Tina Vitale, her cynical New Jersey moll behind the shades, in the latter film, which opened almost exactly 40 years ago (1.27.84).
