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An 11.2 Wired piece by Charley Locke is called “The Coolest James Bond Posters You’ve Never Seen.” It’s taken from a recently published coffee-table book that profiles international posters for James Bond films going back 50-plus years. But the front-page poster for Dr. No (’62), used for a Japanese re-release of that film that happened a decade later, is completely uncool for two reasons. The image of Sean Connery is obviously from Goldfinger (made two years after Dr. No, by which point Connery had begun to put on a little weight and wear a rug that really looked like a rug), and the music sheet should be for Monty Norman‘s “Underneath The Mango Tree.” It looks like a fan poster made by someone who isn’t very hip. One could logically conclude that Locke and his Wired editors didn’t even spot these two wrongos.

Incidentally: As I was in Washington when the first Los Angeles Spectre all-media screening happened last Monday I’ll be seeing it this evening at the Grove. A guy I spoke to called it (a) good but not great, (b) a bit morose — lacks that rib-tickly, contact-high quality (HE response: Sam Mendes doesn’t do rib-tickly), and (c) Christoph Waltz‘s jaded villain thing is played out.

From the very start the basic drill has been that Emmanuel “Chivo” Lubezki was capturing The Revenant with entirely natural light via the Alexa 65, and now here are posters that don’t reflect that aesthetic, that contain digital tweaking. I understand the ad agency wanting to throw in a few strands of red to give a little accent to the grayness — it looks nice — but it violates Chivo’s aesthetic. No, it doesn’t look like campfire light — it looks like digitally simulated campfire light. These are just movie-star portrait posters looking to appeal to the none-too-hips who are still saying “oh, what’s this about? And who’s in it again?” If 20th Century Fox wanted to be reach out to serious hipsters (which of course they don’t), they would create a Phase Two chokehold poster. That image of Tom Hardy headlocking Alejandro G. Inarritu has something.

I’m not so sure about yesterday’s Oscar Poker chat, which Sasha Stone and I recorded in suite #330 at Savannah’s Brice Hotel. We talked about Room a little bit but neither the energy or the inspiration were there. Then we asked ourselves why Hollywood Reporter award-season analyst Scott Feinberg had chosen Blythe Danner (See You In My Dreams) as his fifth Best Actress pick in a recent forecast piece. Danner delivers as far as the movie allows, but it’s not enough. Again, the mp3.

I never agreed with Fred Thompson‘s political views and I never would have voted for him if he’d been on the ballot in California or New York, but I always liked him. He exuded a kind of been-around, no-bullshit integrity. Especially when he was on the Watergate committee in ’73 and during that brief but respectable performance he gave in Roger Donaldson‘s Marie: A True Story (’87). I guess it was basically a feeling of trust and comfort for a steadfast dad or uncle figure. “Does [Fred Thompson] have sex appeal? Gene, do you think there’s a sex appeal for this guy, this sort of mature, older man, you know? Can you smell the English leather on this guy, the Aqua Velva, the sort of mature man’s shaving cream, or whatever, you know, after he shaved? Do you smell that sort of…a little bit of cigar smoke? A little, you know, whatever.” — MSNBC’s Chris Matthews speaking about Fred Thompson on or about 6.13.07. From Joe Leydon: “Can’t you just imagine Thompson in one of the debates with Trump or Carson? ‘Excuse me, but just what in the hell are you talking about? I mean, just how stupid do you think voters are?'”

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Two days ago Variety‘s Ramin Setoodeh posted about 11 under-the-radar performances “that haven’t been buzzed about enough, but deserve Oscar consideration. To my surprise I agree with six of his assessments. I’ll start with these and conclude with my four disagreements. No comment on Helen Mirren‘s Woman in Gold performance as I haven’t seen the film.

AGREEMENT:

(1) Robert De Niro, The Intern. As a retired windower who becomes a chauffeur and trusted confidante for online-fashion tycoon Anne Hathaway, DeNiro “injects this comedy with so much soul he’s almost as impressive as Diane Keaton in Something’s Gotta Give,” Setoodeh writes. HE comment: Definitely a winning supporting performance. It’s odd to think of Jake LaMotta or Neil McCauley playing a correct and well-mannered Mr. Belvedere, but that’s what this performance essentially is. But two things may happen. One, DeNiro’s performance as Jennifer Lawrence‘s dad in Joy may outshine his Intern-ist. And two, a Norbit-like effect from Dirty Grandpa, a throwaway horndog comedy in which DeNiro costars with Zac Efron, may spoil the soup.

(2) Kristen Stewart, Clouds of Sils Maria. HE comment: Yes, 2014 was a banner year for Stewart with three striking performances in Clouds, Camp X-Ray and Still Alice. She definitely upped her game. But nobody paid the slightest attention to Olivier Assayas’s film, which I found glum and meandering when I saw it in Cannes 17 months ago. Stewart’s Best Actress Cesar award for her performance as Juliette Binoche‘s personal assistant will have to do.

(3) Robert Redford, Truth. HE comment: Redford is one of those actors who can’t change his appearance or accent, but he captures Dan Rather with that particular, very familiar cadence that the former CBS Evening News anchor used on the air for so many decades. Plus he conveys a affecting sense of dignity. Truth has been killed by the liberal media and is currently buried in a 20-foot-deep pit so Redford hasn’t a prayer, but this is one of his best post-1990 performances.

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Thomas Vinterberg‘s The Commune feels like a return to the emotional intimacy and painful revelations of The Celebration (’98) minus the Dogme 95 aesthetic. Vinterberg’s Far From The Madding Crowd was/is a first-rate creation, but this is the kind of material that seems to constitute his natural wheelhouse. Thematically the trailer tells you everything. Sexual liberation and experimentation in the ’70s didn’t work for most couples as a rule. The only culture that seems to be have embraced this kind of lifestyle in a semi-workable way are swingers, who in this country seem to be more common (or at least more noticable) in the Midwest. The Commune has no U.S. release date but will open in Denmark next January. Perhaps it’ll be screened under the World Cinema banner at Sundance ’16?

You’ll notice that a pair of semi-prominent female roles in Jonathan Levine‘s The Night Before (Sony/Columbia, 11.20) are played by women who can’t be called svelte. I’m referring to Jillian Bell, who plays Seth Rogen‘s pregnant wife, and the roundish Mindy Kaling who talks to Rogen and Joseph Gordon Levitt in a bar. If this film had been made in the ’90s or even ten years ago and similar-appearing actresses had been cast in the same roles, people would be scratching their heads. I’m not saying every female second-tier and/or character role was played by relatively trim actresses during the Clinton and George W. Bush administrations, but that was certainly the norm. Today plumpish is the norm among a sizable portion of the populace, and casting directors are attuned to this. I’m just saying that a sea-change in weight aesthetics has taken place over the past decade or so. And yes, I’m a huge asshole who needs to be assassinated on Twitter for pointing this out.

As Seth Rogen’s pregnant wife, The Night Before costar Jillian Bell.

Last night N.Y. Post/”Page Six” columnist Richard Johnson posted a piece about Harvey Weinstein allegedly being “furious” at Quentin Tarantino for calling cops “murderers” at a Manhattan rally last weekend (10.24). With New York, Philadelphia, Houston, Chicago and Los Angeles police unions (not to mention the National Organization of Police Associations) calling for a boycott of Tarantino’s The Hateful Eight, Johnson is reporting that Weinstein “wants Tarantino to apologize, or at least walk back his comments.” He quotes an “insider” view that “the last thing Harvey needs is a boycott that will scare off Oscar voters and hurt the box office.”

First, tempestuous Harvey is a ’90s thing for the most part. Second, I know him well enough to know he isn’t “furious” at Quentin. Maybe regretful on some level but hardly foaming at the mouth. He and Tarantino have known each other for nearly a quarter-century, and by now are fully acquainted with each other’s personalities. Third, police organizations aren’t going to affect The Hateful Eight‘s box-office one tiny bit. And fourth, the Academy, SAG and the Golden Globe members respect cops as far as it goes, but they also aren’t likely to be swayed by this. If anything these groups are probably more on Quentin’s side of the argument.

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An all-new remastered high-def version of Leni Riefenstahl‘s Triumph of the Will (among other things an alleged inspiration for the finale of George Lucas‘s Star Wars) will pop on 12.8.15. The Bluray is derived from a new 2K scan that has been digitally corrected and restored under the supervision of restoration guru Robert A. Harris (Spartacus, Lawrence of Arabia, My Fair Lady).

The usual mixed feelings apply. Even when a film delivers repellent content true cineastes are able to recognize highly effective and even mesmerizing chops when they see them. I once bickered with Manohla Dargis along these general lines a dozen years ago. She was saying Triumph of the Will was and is reprehensible and I was saying, “Yeah, of course, no dispute…but you can’t say Riefenstahl didn’t have a great eye and a commanding visual style.”

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