The following piece, originally posted on 2.2.06, is worth a re-read: “Too much love and success can be kind of a bad thing for movie directors. It can lead to recklessness and ruin. Well, not necessarily, but there’s always the threat of this.

“Look at the hopelessly over-worshipped Peter Jackson, whose Lord of the Rings trilogy (Oscars, millions, obsequious studio execs) led to the mad-royalty decision to transform King Kong into a three-hour film with a sluggish, borderline deadly 70-minute opening.

“Quentin Tarantino was psychologically done in, I feel, by the huge success of Pulp Fiction in ’94-’95. He stopped hustling, became a party animal, succumbed to some manner of intimidation over the expectations everyone had for his next film, all of which led to the respectable but underwhelming Jackie Brown in ’97.

“Michael Cimino surely went mad after the huge success of The Deer Hunter in 1978-79, and from this the gross indulgence that was Heaven’s Gate, his very next film, almost certainly arose.

“At a certain point in their careers — generally right after an enormous popular success — most great movie directors go mad on the potentialities of movies,” Pauline Kael observed in a review of Bernardo Bertolucci’s 1900 when it opened in the States in 1977.

“They leap over their previous work into a dimension beyond the well-crafted dramatic narrative; they make a huge, visionary epic in which they attempt to alter the perceptions of people around the world.”

As previously noted, Gavin Hood‘s Eye in The Sky (Bleecker Street, 3.11 NY & LA, 4.1 wide) was well reviewed at last September’s Toronto film Festival — 94% on Rotten Tomatoes, 70% on Metacritic. But the trailer suggested that this high-tech thriller, a study of the strategic tensions and moral determinations behind a lethal drone attack upon African terrorists, might be on the flat and simplistic side.

Or at least it seemed that way to me. Plus the trailer indicated too many CUs and MCUs of military and government types staring at video screens, I felt. Worst of all I wasn’t looking forward to another oppressively sincere performance by HE nemesis Aaron Paul.

Helen Mirren in Gavin Hood’s Eye in the Sky (Bleecker Street, 3.11 — 4.1 wide).

Well, the trailer misled. Eye in the Sky is anything but pat or simplistic. It’s a gripping, disciplined, morally complex nail-biter — smart and focused and tight as a drum. It’s well augmented by a concise, well-written screenplay (the author is Guy Hibbert), and by direction and editing that gets right down to business and doesn’t fool around. The whole thing held me start to finish. The intrigue and tension levels never ebb.

Best of all it ends with a suspense sequence that Alfred Hitchcock himself would give a standing ovation to. He’d actually forget about the nearby tray of gourmet delicacies, I mean, and get out of his cushy easy chair and stand up and applaud.

Plus it delivers dead-on performances from almost everyone in the cast but particularly from Helen Mirren as a military intelligence officer who spends most of the film requesting an official okay to kill a team of suicide bombers with a drone strike, and from Alan Rickman as a British General who tries to persuade several anxious British politicians to stop equivocating and give the order already. Jeremy Northam, Iain Glen and Monica Dolan portray three of those equivocators with skill and conviction. And Barkhad Abdi (Captain Phillips) is highly engaging as a sympathetic field agent who operates a flying bug-cam that delivers video of the terrorists as things progress.

The ethical crux boils down to which is preferable or worse — sparing the life of a little girl who happens to be near a small home where terrorists are preparing a suicide mission by not firing a drone missile at the target, or not sparing her life by blasting the terrorists, who may kill dozens of innocents if their suicide plot isn’t stopped, to smithereens before they leave the abode.

Some of the most significant and lasting musical passages of my young life were finessed or half-created or arranged by the great George Martin, who died yesterday at age 90. His passing is sad but hardly tragic — we should all have nine good decades. And of course his life and career were about a good deal more than just his Beatles collaborations. But c’mon — that’s all anyone’s talking about this morning.

Martin’s contributions as the Beatles producer (i.e., recording-studio confidante & collaborator, instrumental performer-arranger, “fifth Beatle”) and all-around side man were wondrously rich and innovative and influential beyond measure, particularly during the group’s epic ’65 to ’67 period — Rubber Soul, Revolver and Sgt. Pepper. I’m not a lordly Beatles historian. I don’t know who composed this or that instrumental bridge or performed what instrument on each and every track in the making of those albums, but I’ve always heard and/or believed Martin was largely responsible for the more elegant and sophisticated elements.

“In My Life’s” speeded-up piano that sounded like a harpsichord — I know that was Martin. I’m not certain if it’s Martin playing piano on “Good Day Sunshine” but I’d like to think so. I’m not sure if he composed Alan Civil‘s French horn solo on “For No One” but I’ve read it was his idea to repeat the solo as Paul McCartney sang the final verse.

I know Martin composed and handled the whole “Eleanor Rigby” string accompaniment (which was inspired by Bernard Herrmann‘s Psycho score), and that he and recording engineer Geoff Emerick had much to do with mixing the trippy elements into what finally became “Strawberry Fields Forever.”

From a 3.8.16 Facebook post by Film Society of Lincoln Center’s Eugene Hernandez: “On the road between Eureka Springs and Little Rock today in Arkansas…the sickening emblems (even more striking than the anti-Obama signs I witnessed) are persistent in front of houses and businesses. The ride was capped by this doozy of a sign on the outskirts of Harrison. Wow. Despite this, I have to emphasize that Eureka Springs was the complete opposite of Harrison. So welcoming. It is a town that famously celebrates its open-mindedness.”

Yesterday I expressed profound skepticism about a recently-posted mini-rave of Richard Linklater‘s Everybody Wants Some (Paramount, 4.1) by New Yorker film critic Richard Brody. Well, another guy who’s seen it says Brody isn’t wrong. He says the trailer is totally misleading, and that the film is actually quite subtle, even though they’re selling it like Wet Hot American Summer. So subtle, in fact, that he suspects general audiences will probably reject it because it’s not hah-hah “funny” in the traditional sense. That’s why the trailer comes off so flat, as if the jokes aren’t landing. He says there “aren’t any gags in the movie, really…it’s just observational and really heartfelt, like Boyhood.” He says it’s not Dazed and Confused 2, and that it’s basically (a) about guys at a specific age — past adolescence, not yet adults — and how they relate to each other when girls aren’t around, and (b) an insightful thing about bonding and competitiveness.

Liza Johnson‘s Elvis & Nixon (Bleecker, 4.22) doesn’t open for another five or six weeks but L.A. junket screenings must be happening within three or four, right? I don’t even know when or where the junket will take place but Hollywood Elsewhere is on the Elvis & Nixon case, champing at the very bit.

I’ve posted two riffs about hugely annoying public laughter — one about a year ago (“Good and Bad Laughter,” 3.16.15) and another the previous summer (“Monkey Obeisance“, 7.11.14). In the year-old piece I listed several kinds of public laughter, and in my judgment the worst is “overly energetic, looking-to-please social laughter, which is not about ‘funny’ as much as making the joke-teller feel respected and/or appreciated.” You could also described this as “ass-kissing monkey obeisance knee-slapping laughter.” The guy upstairs (i.e., the one who moved in after the death of the gay guy who used to cackle at a friend’s jokes each and every morning at 7 am, rain or shine)…the guy upstairs is a gross offender. He’s a shriek-laugher. Over and over and over, giggling like a fucking hyena. And at 8 am yet! This morning I was looking up and laser-drilling a hole in the ceiling and saying to this guy with my telepathic powers, “You loser…the louder you shriek, the more socially anxious and desperate you sound. Show a little dignity and restrain yourself. Oh, right…you don’t know about restraint, do you? Your parents never taught you that one. Sorry.”

“Low information voters” isn’t some abstract concept taken from a political science lecture given at Brandeis back in the mid ’80s. Low-information voters are real — they have names, faces, histories and rationales. And they don’t want to know from Bernie. Kiese Laymon‘s Wiki profile: “An American writer, editor and associate professor of English and Africana Studies at Vassar College. The author of “Long Division” and “How to Slowly Kill Yourself and Others in America”, Laymon’s work deals with American racism, feminism, family, masculinity, geography, hip-hop and Southern black life.

There’s a delusional Christian film opening next week called Miracles From Heaven (Screen Gems, 3.16). Yes, I know — using the above adjective implies there are Christian films that aren’t delusional. Jennifer Garner plays the lead role (i.e., a mom whose faith in God is invigorated when her sick daughter is cured after falling from a tree), and is now giving the film nationwide attention with a Vanity Fair cover story by Krista Smith. The question is “why?…why would a more-or-less liberal Hollywood mom and an estranged wife of Ben Affleck in good standing…why would she star in a film aimed at Orange County and Bible-belt yokels?”

Garner was raised in rural West Virginia, check. She’s a devout Methodist, check. But starring in a Christian flick feels to me like a kind of cultural betrayal. Is she a Los Angeles girl or isn’t she? Was making this film a result of some kind of ideological, faith-driven decision on Garner’s part? Or was she off-balance because of her marital troubles with Affleck and lunged toward a Christian film as a kind of therapy? Did she need the money or something?

Yesterday afternoon Mashable‘s Josh Dickey posted about Amazon’s 90-day theatrical window thing. It’s widely believed that Netflix shot itself in the foot Academy-wise by going day-and-date with Beasts of No Nation, but Amazon will be dodging that shitstorm, most significantly in the case of Kenneth Lonergan‘s awards-baity Manchester by The Sea, which they acquired at Sundance for $10 million.

(l. to r.) Manchester by the Sea costars Lucas Hedges, Casey Affleck, Kyle Chandler.

(l. to r.) Amazon’s Ted Hope, Roy Price, Bob Berney.

Dickey: “In a new (but very old) strategy that could give it a leg up over other streamers breaking into Hollywood, Amazon is preparing to allow a 90-day window between movie theaters and Prime streaming for many of its upcoming films, allowing for more robust and mainstream cinema runs, Mashable has learned.”

Except Amazon’s Scott Foundas told me about the theatrical window intention six weeks ago on a Park City shuttle bus. Remember, also, that the 90-day thing had been revealed in a February 2nd Deadline interview between Mike Fleming and WME Global head Graham Taylor, who brokered the Manchester deal along with the sale of The Birth of a Nation to Fox Searchlight.

New Yorker film critic Richard Brody can be a fascinating and sometimes persuasive counter-puncher, especially if his views synch with mine. But he’s way too dweeby and idiosyncratic to be trusted with a first-out-of-the-gate appraisal of an unseen film. I’ll trust Owen Gleiberman, Todd McCarthy, Michael Phillips, A.O. Scott or James Verniere with such a piece, but Brody is too left-field.

In a post dated 3.14, Brody says that Richard Linklater‘s Everybody Wants Some (Paramount/Annapurna, 4.1) is “a hearty and joyous look back at life at a Texas college in 1980, as seen from within the bouncy bubble of the varsity baseball team, the weekend before the start of classes.

This trailer tells you that Jacob Bernstein and Nick Hooker‘s Everything Is Copy (HBO, 3.21), a doc about the late Nora Ephron, is chummy, admiring, familial — one of those valentine portraits that occasionally turn up in the wake of a celebrated person’s passing. (Jacob is the son of Ephron and ex-husband Carl Bernstein.) But Variety‘s Nick Schrager says it’s better than that.

“Anything but a morose tale of a bright light snuffed out far too soon, Bernstein’s documentary is an inspiring heartstring-tugger,” he wrote after the doc screened at last September’s NY Film Festival. “Buoyed by proficient nonfiction techniques, it nimbly captures, in both words and images, the spirit of Ephron: a larger-than-life force of nature whose triumphs were born from her unapologetic embrace of ambition, and from her shrewd recognition that honesty, whether sweet or scathing, always goes down better with a dose of humor.”

Here’s most of what I wrote after Ephron passed on 6.26.12: