The Rundown

The opening weekend of the 2016 Cannes Film Festival looks a teeny bit soft, and yet the first two nights (Wednesday, 5.11 and Thursday, 5.12) seem to promise some degree of intrigue. How can you go all that wrong with Woody Allen‘s Cafe Society, Jodie Foster‘s non-competitive Money Monster (which, by the way, a friend said he “really liked…the ‘system is rigged, Wall Street is corrupt’ theme plus the [narrative of the] Jack O’Connell character is tailor made for Trump and Sanders messaging”) and Christi Puiu‘s SieraNevada? The Romanian-made family reunion drama will likely prove the strongest of the three.

But the Friday thru Sunday fare…I don’t know, man, but so far I’m not sensing great currents of snapping, zapping electrical energy from Park Chan Wook‘s The Handmaiden, Bruno Dumont‘s Slack Bay, Ken Loach‘s I, Daniel Blake, Maren Ade‘s Toni Erdmann and Andrea Arnold‘s American Honey, among others.

I’m not very interested in seeing the weekend’s two big non-competitive attractions — Steven Spielberg‘s The BFG on Saturday (which I’m not firmly committed to blowing off but I just might) and Shane Black‘s The Nice Guys on Sunday. I won’t skip the latter but I’m kind of half-dreading what will almost certainly be a wallow in formulaic ’70s rowdyism with Ryan Gosling and Russell Crowe.

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Son of Smell of the Crowd

As reported by the N.Y. Times in mid-April, nightly political protests in the vein of Occupy Wall Street have been happening every night at Place de la Republique. The gatherings, mostly attended by Millenials and being called Nuit Debout, began as a pushback against proposed labor-law reforms, but several leftie causes and grievances were being aired when I dropped by last night around 9 pm. It felt like a huge, amiable community gathering — speeches, banners, placards and the usual pamphlets, T-shirts and buttons being sold. I was particularly impressed by the respect and sense of fraternity shown by a small crowd that was listening to one short speech after another by anyone who felt moved to pick up the mike and share. Each and every speaker was politely applauded. No way would that happen in Union Square.


This has to be one of the most striking artistic appropriations of the 1945 flag-raising on Iwo Jima I’ve ever seen, hands down. Sculpture was sitting in an art-gallery window.

Griffin Mill Prefers The New Line Version

To go by screen captures contained in Gary Tooze‘s DVD Beaver review, Criterion’s 4k Bluray of Robert Altman‘s The Player (5.24) looks distinctly darker than New Line Home Video’s 2010 Bluray (which I own and am totally fine with). On top of which the Criterion version, cropped at 1.85:1, offers less picture information on all sides than the 1.78:1 New Line version. The cropping alone is a major issue, but coupled with the darker images = definite fail. You also have to consider that with the exception of McCabe and Mrs. Miller, Altman films have never offered super-captivating, exquisitely composed cinematography so in most instances creating 4K versions is a bit of a head-scratcher. I didn’t request this puppy from the Orange Media guys, and I’m not buying it either. God forbid the possibility of Criterion delivering a 4K Bluray of McCabe down the road. That candle-and-kerosene-lighted 1971 classic is already dark and hazy and murky — given their established tendencies the Criterion guys would probably take it even deeper into this realm. I couldn’t stand their darkened-down 4K version of Only Angels Have Wings.

Kick It Around

Now that first-wavers have seen Captain America: Civil War, mini-reviews are requested. Please answer the following: (1) As efficient and well organized as the film obviously is, does there seem to be something missing nonetheless? Some spark of soul or feeling or genuine inspiration?; (2) Is there common agreement that the film does pretty much peak after the airport brawl or…?; (3) Was anyone vaguely bothered by the similarity to Batman v Superman in that CA:CW is basically about superheroes facing adversity and repression because the public feels threatened by the chaos-creating battles between the Avengers and supervillains?; (4) Scott Mendelson has tweeted that the film “is more of a parable for World War I than the U.S. Civil War” — agree or disagree?; (5) Is anyone else feeling fatigued and dispirited by the presence of Robert Downey, Jr.? Once again, my original review.

Suppressing Stiffies Behind Wheel

I’ve no room in my soul for stupid boner comedies, but there’s something about the tone of Amateur Night…I don’t know what it is but at the very least the trailer suggests that it might be half-genuine and therefore might half-work. Maybe because co-directors and co-writers Lisa Addario and Joe Syracuse based the premise (out-of-work husband driving hookers around to pay for pregnant wife’s medical insurance) on their own experience when they first hit Hollywood. I also love the original title — Drive, She Said. The presence of Jason Biggs suggests a low-rent horndog attitude but maybe not. I’m a teeny bit concerned that this August 2016 release wrapped in late 2014 (20 months is too long of a lull, suggesting there may be content issues) but let’s put that aside for now. Costarring Ashley Tisdale, Janet Montgomery, Bria L. Murphy, Jenny Mollen.

Deadpool Lead In Moody Pencil

Erectile dysfunction is commonly defined as an inability to get it up. A more accurate definition: a difficulty with keeping it up, better known as the Moody Johnson syndrome. It’s up, it’s down, it’s up, it’s taking a break, it’s distracted, it’s up again, etc. When special moments of intimacy with a loved one occur, most guys want their appendages to commit whole-hog to becoming small (8″ to 9″) baseball bats made of hickory. As I understand it, that’s what the taking of Viagra and Cialis is mostly about, i.e., wanting to be “bat”-man.

Side issue: There are people out there who actually intend to buy the Deadpool Bluray. So, you know, they can watch it with their kids or with friends on a weekday evening or Sunday afternoon…whenever. Think about that. On second thought, don’t.

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Scorpion and the Frog

I’m not saying Bernie is any kind of saint or even the best transitional figure for serious change, but the highest currents of his campaign have always been and continue to be about the “we.” After Hillary is officially nominated the Bernie thing will continue. The Bernie cause is the new Tea Party except with accurate, Noam Chomsky-approved social analysis and intelligence and college degrees. Chomsky has said Bernie is no radical but merely a Rooseveltian New Dealer trying to re-hoist that flag. I’ll be voting for Hillary against Trump, but we all know who and what she is. She’s obviously not evil or rancid but she’s no angel. If her campaign had come up with this “we not me” poster and promoted it all over, people would scream “give us a break!” Bernie at least can create this poster and not get laughed out of the room.

Do I Have To Spell It Out?

I’m sorry but I think we all understand what USS Indianapolis: Men of Courage will be. It cost $40 million but it looks cut-rate. It’s an accepted maxim these days that the starring presence of Nicolas Cage in almost any film and certainly one with grandiose proportions or an extra-solemn tone (like that rapture movie in which he played an airline pilot) tends to signify trouble. (Unless it’s a Paul Schrader film.) I tend to regard Saban Films as a kind of Cannon-like operation. Mario Van Peebles directing a WWII flick? Always beware of titles with colons followed by secondary titles. Always be suspicious of movie titles that extoll courage, valor, exceptional heroism. Too many guys howling and screaming. The poster reminds me of those one-sheets for Battle of the Bulge or Tora Tora Tora! A voice is telling me that at the end of the day that first-hand recollection of the Indianapolis nightmare that Robert Shaw shared with Roy Scheider and Richard Dreyfuss in Jaws will still be the keeper.

From Wiki page: “Principal photography on the film began on June 19, 2015 in Mobile, Alabama.Filming was also to take place in San Francisco and Kyoto, Japan, but the producers later opted to double Mobile for both San Francisco and Japan.”

Waiting In Wings

I heard a week or two ago that Warren Beatty’s Howard Hughes film, which has been untitled since it began shooting in early ’14 and is still officially untitled as we speak, has a title. Eureka! It was decided upon before Beatty visited Cinemacon for an Arnon Milchan tribute in mid-April. The title and a release date (i.e, presumably sometime between October and December) will be announced soon, I’m told. Beatty’s dramedy is a period love story that mostly occurs in 1958 but ends five or six years later, I’m told. The would-be lovers are a pair of Hughes employees (Lily Collins, Alden Ehrenreich) who come from conservative backgrounds and are therefore given to emotional caution and discipline, and at the same time are pressured into keeping their relationship hidden from Beatty’s Hughes character, depicted as a highly eccentric control freak who enforces a strict prohibition regarding intra-company fraternization. I’ve spoken to a guy who’s seen the film and can say at the very least that it sounds as if the story delivers a strong and poignant third act.

But Not For Me

There’s a scene in Oliver Stone‘s W. when Laura Bush (Elizabeth Banks) tries to lift the spirits of husband George (Josh Brolin) by suggesting they should get tickets to Andrew Lloyd Webber‘s Cats, his favorite stage musical. In so doing Stone was deriding Dubya’s taste as well as Cats itself, which has long been dismissed as a rube show in the vein of Mamma Mia!. And now Tom Hooper, it says here, is planning to adapt Cats for the screen. I literally flinched when I read this. This is the kind of thing you’d expect Rob Marshall to direct, but Hooper? He’s obviously a competent helmer of films with unsubtle emotional currents, but this feels like a bridge too far. I’m saying this as one who at least respected Hooper’s handling of Les Miserables — another hugely popular, tourist-friendly musical. Not a wise career move, especially in the wake of the not-so-hot Danish Girl.