An excerpt from “The Lufthansa Heist,” written by Henry Hill and journalist Daniel Simone, as summarized by Bill Sanders in a N.Y Post story:

“When John Gotti, still seven years from becoming the Dapper Don, heard Tommy DeSimone was about to be ‘made,’ he demanded a sit-down with Paul Vario. ‘This fuckin’ DeSimone whacked two of my top earners, and I let it go for a long time,’ Gotti told his fellow capo. ‘Now he wants to be made, and I’m not gonna sit quietly. I mean, that’s as bad as putting a cactus up my ass.’

“’John, what do you suppose I should do?’ Vario asked.

“’Paulie, all I want is what’s fair,’ Gotti said. ‘I wanna whack the bastard, and I want you to give me the green light.’

“Vario considered how DeSimone was a constant source of agita. He also figured the feds or the cops would soon pinch DeSimone for the robbery. But there was another reason, the book ­reveals.

When Hill was in federal prison several years before, DeSimone had tried to assault Hill’s wife, Karen. Vario was furious about this — partly because, at the time, he and Karen were having an affair.”

Wait…Joe Pesci tried to rape Lorraine Bracco when Ray Liotta was in the slam, and this pissed off Paul Sorvino because he and Lorraine were having an affair at the time? Why wasn’t this in the film?

This morning Daily Beast correspondent Marlow Stern posted surreptitious footage from yesterday’s ComicCon trailer to Tim Miller and Ryan Reynolds‘ forthcoming Marvel superhero flick Deadpool (20th Century Fox, 2.12.16). It would be nice for Reynolds to be in something that either makes money or which critics like. Or both. But in my realm this is mainly cause for more lethargy. Would it do any good to once again suggest that superhero movies are a kind of cultural virus — a metaphor for mass feelings of weakness and insufficiency against the tumbling tides of oppressive corporatism? Empowerment fantasies that, ironically, corporations are getting rich off by selling them right back to the chumps? Why support quixotic quests like Bernie Sanders‘ campaign when you can plop down at a megaplex and watch Deadpool? On top of which this long-stalled event flick contains R-rated dialogue…breakthrough!

Obviously the guy who drove backwards down Lauren Canyon Blvd. from Mulholland to Hollywood Blvd. last Thursday afternoon was being reckless. Yes, he deserves to face charges if the cops find him. Hollywood Elsewhere definitely frowns upon such activity. But that aside, you have to give the guy credit for handling this like Steve McQueen. Okay, so he went over the yellow line a couple of times…big deal. The news channel narrator says he “appears to almost hit a pedestrian”…bullshit. The pedestrian is obviously just walking along the road and Mr. Backwards zooms right past.

Apparently Ben Affleck‘s Bruce Wayne is seething at Henry Cavill‘s Superman over that interminable fight with Michael Shannon‘s Zod at the finale of Man of Steel. I don’t care how pissed Wayne is — Mr. Krypton can still kick the shit out of him with one hand tied. Haunting 9/11 image at beginning with dust cloud enveloping Affleck. The fact that Jesse Eisenberg‘s Lex has hair indicates there’ll be a whole sub-story about how he loses it…thud. Did I miss Jason Momoa‘s Aquaman? It’s okay with me. Jeremy “paycheck” Irons adds a touch of class. Why was Wonder Woman thrown into this?

As much as I despise ComicCon culture for its heinous influence upon popcorn cinema (except when it comes to standouts like Ant-Man, Avatar, the two Captain America flicks and The Empire Strikes Back), I wouldn’t have minded being in San Diego last night for that panel and the Star Wars musical-concert-under-the-stars and the fireworks…the whole thing. You could feel the vibes right through YouTube and all the way up the 405.

Last Tuesday (7.7) I wrote that the aspect ratio of Hou Hsiao-hsien‘s The Assassin seemed, going by the trailer, to be something close to 1.37:1. And yet the credit block in Justin Chang‘s review describes it as “partial Academy ratio.” I’m now informed that the film is mostly in 1.85 and that only the first five minutes uses a somewhat boxier (1.37 or thereabouts) aspect ratio. So the Variety description was technically correct.

I’m rolling up to Santa Barbara this morning, partly to catch an unpublicized, members-only, Santa Barbara Film Festival screening of James Ponsoldt‘s End of the Tour at the Riviera theatre. And then a private reception for Ponsoldt and costar Jason Segel, whose performance as the late David Foster Wallace captures something about writerly solitude and existential gloom. His low-key performance is a low-flame, simmer-in-the-skillet thing — a visually distinctive look (hulking, two-week grungy beard, white bandana) with a certain thorny, hangdog integrity. I’m not a huge fan of the film, but I “respect” it, as I would any character-driven film, if for no other reason than the minimalist two-character template.

The remainder of the day will be spent in the company of Santa Barbara Film Festival honcho Roger Durling, one of the gentlest and most perceptive fellows I know in this racket. Zak is coming as he doesn’t travel much. And it’s a beautiful day.

It doesn’t matter that Minions is likely to earn $120 million this weekend. Never went, don’t intend to go…forget it. There was a woman in a yellow Minions outfit in the Arclight lobby the other night; that’s as close to this film as I’ll ever get. I was invited to see What We Did On Our Holiday (the weekend’s best-reviewed opener) but I don’t do family excursion films as a rule, and certainly not ones in which a stressed-out beardo dad falls asleep at the wheel. (Funny!) Self/less and Boulevard seemed instantly dismissable, particularly the latter with a morose Robin Williams performance being an apparent definer. Tangerine is far and away the weekend’s best newbie, but it’s only playing in New York, Los Angekes and I forget where else.

I hate to be the pain in the ass with all the Star Wars jubilation going on, but I wish that J.J. Abrams or someone on the team would begin to speak about the Episode 7 internals — tone, theme, story tension, etc. Comparisons to the original trilogy, if any. Is it more of a New Hope thing or in the vein of The Empire Strikes Back?  (They wouldn’t dare emulate Return of the Jedi or, God forbid, the prequels.). What’s the basic tale?  What are the stakes?  How much investment in psychological, character-driven stuff and how much straight action?  Did J.J. follow a whammy chart?Because all we’ve been hearing about for months is the purely visual boilerplate stuff — names, hardware, BB8, physical shooting aspects, VFX, etc.

Jennifer Lawrence has been outspoken in the past about (a) not wanting to hear any Hollywood producer tell her to lose weight for a role ever again, (b) if they don’t like it they can take a running jump, and (c) she’s cool with how she looks and that’s that. And here she is telling the Hall H crowd at ComicCon…well, she’s actually holding herself back here. But honestly, look at her. Does she appear to have been ignoring the general Hollywood rule about watching your weight? She looks like she’s been eating nothing but fruit and dressing-less salad and treadmilling every day.

We all know what “may I help you?” means 94% of the time. It doesn’t mean “may I help you in some way?” It means “I, being responsible for maintaining order and protocol around here, am suspicious of your status or your intentions, and I’m therefore going to politely get in your face or challenge you in some way.” The vibe that often accompanies makes it one of the chilliest, most borderline hostile four-word phrases in the English language right now. When I hear it my blood runs cold.

But at the same time we’re all obliged to pretend that the person asking is, of course, trying to be truly helpful in some earnestly gracious way, and so we have to respond with a nice gentle alpha vibe and the right kind of smile as we explain that we don’t actually deserve anyone’s suspicion…hah-hah!…and that our intentions are totally cool and legit. The only way it’s not a hostile question is when the questioner is a serious pro and has an especially nice way of speaking and knows how to say it without agitating people. But those folks are few and far between.

Filed by Variety‘s Guy Lodge during the 2014 Venice Film Festival: “Screwball comedy was already a retro affair when Peter Bogdanovich mastered it in 1972 with What’s Up, Doc? Forty-two years later, that ageless throwback is the standard to which the director aspires in She’s Funny That Way, an enthusiastic but low-fizz romantic farce that gets by principally on the charms of a cast speckled with gifted funnymen (and, more particularly, funnywomen).

“At once invoking genre forebears like Ernst Lubitsch and contemporaries like Woody Allen, this busy tale of a Brooklyn callgirl wreaking havoc among the romantically frustrated cast and crew of a dud Broadway play accumulates the necessary narrative chaos without ever building a full head of comic steam. The diverting result will find a modest audience principally among those old enough to recall Bogdanovich’s glory days.”