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As noted, early yesterday afternoon Sasha Stone and I had lunch with Chad Newsom, who teaches in the Cinema Studies department at SCAD. As we were about to leave on our bikes for the Live By Night set I asked Newsom about whether his students regard movies from the ’80s as ancient history (which is what I’ve gathered here and there), and Newsom said they actually regard movies made in the early ’90s as dusty classics, and that the ’80s are a little beyond their sphere of interest. And forget the golden age of the ’70s and before that — totally off their radar. It’s not so much that they’ve never heard of, say, Cary Grant, but that Grant and other superstars of the big-studio era hold zero interest.

This is depressingly confirmed in a chat between Star Wars: The Force Awakens star Daisy Ridley, 23, and Princess Leia herself (i.e., Carrie Fisher) in a 10.30 Interview q & a: Fisher: “And males? Any crushes?” Ridley: “Not really! I’ve never been one for crushing on famous people.” Fisher: “Cary Grant! Do you know who that is?”  Ridley: “Maybe I could appreciate the old-school film stars more.”

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The “brothers who couldn’t be more different” scheme falls apart if they’re wildly unalike — sired from wholly separate gene pools. I can see the markedly dissimilar Roy Scheider and Dustin Hoffman being brothers in John Schlesinger‘s Marathon Man (’76) but not Mark Strong and Sacha Baron Cohen in The Brothers Grimsby. Call me a literalist without a sense of humor but all good comedies are made of the same stuff that goes into good drama, including occasional echoes of the world as it actually is. Worse: SBC having sex with a fat girlfriend in a mattress showroom.

The word around the campfire had been that Revenant director Alejandro G. Inarritu and costar Tom Hardy got into some kind of physical throwdown during the shoot in Alberta. Hardy has told EW‘s Nicole Sperling what actually happened, so to speak: “When things get a bit too serious, I go, ‘Why don’t we have a cuddle in front of all these people here?’ It ends with both of us falling down in the snow. I think that’s a good thing. If I’m the naughty boy for doing that, then I’d rather be the naughty boy and release that tension.” Inarritu, says Hardy, “is unlike any director I’ve ever worked with. He sees things how he sees them, so to give him back what he wants is quite an interesting experience. It could drive you f—ing nuts.” Inarritu’s comment: “On the surface, [Hardy] can look inaccessible or difficult. But he is just a beautiful human being. He’s incredibly sensitive and lovable.” [Images from Empire magazine via a German Leonardo DiCaprio fansite.]

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In a 10.30 EW chat with Nicole Sperling, Revenant costar (not to mention Legend and Mad Max: Fury Road star) Tom Hardy has conveyed a message to those who like the idea of his being nominated for an Oscar: “Lock me out of that, for your own good. It’s like putting a wig on a dog, or a tutu on a crocodile. It doesn’t look right, it’s not fair to the animal, and inevitably someone will get bitten and hurt.” In other words, those Gold Derby “experts” who are forecasting a Hardy Oscar nom for his rough-and-tumble performance in The Revenant — Vanity Fair‘s Michael Hogan, Huffington Post‘s Michael Hogan, Fox News‘ Tariq Khan, Gold Derby‘s Paul Sheehan, GD‘s Jack Matthews along with Sperling herself — need to let it go. And once they have perhaps a little light will shine through and they’ll say to themselves, “Okay, then I’ll ease up on my less-than-thoughtful prejudice against summer releases and give Love & Mercy‘s Paul Dano his rightful due as a Best Supporting Actor champion.”

This is the second By The Sea trailer, and the third if you count that seriously morose early-bird teaser that popped…what was it, last July? And still there’s no footage of costar Melanie Laurent, who is third-billed after Brangelina? (The fourth-billed Niels Arestrup appeared in trailer #1.) And for all of the rage and despair and cigarette smoking, the only thing that really holds our interest in the newbie is the little shiny brown hole in the wall that Angelina discovers. Is it a microphone? A peephole into the next suite?

Early this afternoon Sasha Stone and I pedaled over to the Sentient Bean for an easy lunch with Chad Newsom, who teaches in the Cinema Studies department at SCAD. Around 2:30 or 3 pm we pedaled over to the set of Ben Affleck‘s Live By Night, which was definitely (as I’d been told) filming at Savannah’s Railroad Museum. We sauntered over to the shooting area like we owned the place. No security worries, no “I’m sorry but who are you?”…easy vibes all around. Ben was sitting in a canvas chair under a tent while a shot was being prepared inside a nearby warehouse-type building and chatting with costar Chris Messina. Both were dressed in period costume (early 1930s-era light-colored suits with tan hats and spiffy shoes). Neither Sasha nor myself made any attempt to talk to anyone — we just wanted to stay out of everyone’s way. But then Ben came close on his way to a port-o-potty so I said “hey, Ben!” He waved, smiled, came over, shook hands, etc. 20 seconds of shit-shooting. Sasha told him he’d done a commendable thing by hosting a screening for Beasts of No Nation a couple of weeks ago. And that was it. No biggie, no harm, no foul.

Portraying Harley Quinn (Dr. Harleen Frances Quinzel, M.D.) in David Ayer‘s Suicide Squad (Warner Bros., 8.5.16) reps a major career potential for Margot Robbie, or at the very least a significant revenue stream if Quinn re-appears in other D.C. Comics franchise films down the road. Here’s hoping that things work out for Robbie in this regard — a seriously flush lifestyle, real-estate and stock options, financial security, two or three dwellings, etc. Created 22 years ago, Quinn is (a) a Batman adversary with a pronounced New York accent, (b) a frequent accomplice and lover of the Joker (Jared Leto) and (c) a close friend of the supervillain Poison Ivy from whom she gained an immunity to poisons and toxins. Quinn originally met the Joker while working as a psychiatrist at Arkham Asylum, where the Joker was a patient.

I lasted an hour with Burnt. It’s not that I couldn’t stand Bradley Cooper‘s egoistic rock-star chef, Adam Jones, who’s looking to make a comeback after self-destructing a couple of years earlier due to (what else?) drugs and hubris. My three-and-a-half years of sobriety has taught me to respect the idea of making amends, turnarounds, forgiveness. So I had nothing against the character. On the other hand I just didn’t give a shit.

Maybe it was the moment when I realized Cooper’s Jones was a kind of dry drunk who was capable of rants and temper tantrums and throwing stuff at the walls regardless of his sobriety. Maybe I just got sick of his personality. Maybe I just wasn’t in the mood. All I know is that after 45 minutes or so and I started to ask myself, “Am I going to stick this out or do something better with my time between now and 10 or 11 pm or so?” I started to pay less and less attention to the film as I began to make a list of things I could get to. So at the 60-minute mark I slipped out of the screening room as quietly as I could.

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I’m told that Ben Affleck‘s Live By Night, an adaptation of Dennis Lahane‘s 2012 novel about a Depression-era bootlegger, is shooting today in the vicinity of Savannah’s Railroad Museum. Their call was for the ungodly hour of 4:30 am. I have a bicycle — maybe I’ll pedal over there and nose around. Portions of Live By Night are being shot in Brunswick, about 30 miles south of Savannah.

An early shot from Live By Night that was tweed by Affleck a day or two ago.

Affleck is directing, having co-adapted the screenplay with Lahane. He’s also playing the title role of Joe Coughlin, “the prodigal son of a Boston police captain turned criminal [who], after moving to Florida’s Ybor City, becomes a bootlegger and a rum-runner and, later, a notorious gangster.” Costars include Sienna Miller, Chris Messina, Zoe Saldana, Chris Cooper and Elle Fanning.

Pic is produced by Affleck, Leonardo DiCaprio, Jennifer Davisson Killoran and Jennifer Todd. It will be distributed in late ’16 or sometime in ’17 by Warner Bros. Principal photography began two days ago. Here are link #1 and link #2.

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The Savannah Film Festival is one of the finest and classiest second-tier festivals on the fall circuit. “Second-tier” is in no way a dismissive term. It’s a cool, classy regional festival that doesn’t need to be Cannes or Berlin or Sundance or Telluride. The vibe is always smart and sophisticated; never anxious or strained. Screenings + seminars + strolls and bike rides + great food. Well-attended, smartly programmed and lots of shade. Last night was a rematch with Meg Ryan‘s Ithaca, which I saw and reviewed at the Middleburg Film Festival. Tonight’s big attraction at the SCAD trustees theatre is HE’s own Room.

Meg Ryan at lecturn prior to last night’s screening of Ithaca. For the occasion the Savannah Film Festival gave her a Lifetime Career Award. Born in ’61, Ryan has been at it for 35 years, give or take. The peak years were ’89 (When Harry Met Sally) to ’00 (Proof of Life — her last reasonably good film). Other highlights: Joe Versus the Volcano, The Doors, Prelude to a Kiss, Sleepless in Seattle, When a Man Loves a Woman, I.Q., French Kiss, Courage Under Fire, City of Angels, Hurlyburly, You’ve Got Mail, Hanging Up.

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I have to share something. Harrison Ford‘s soft-edged voice and careful, slowish speaking style are somewhat like Warren Beatty‘s. Ford is roughly of the same generation as Beatty’s (i.e., pre-war Baby Bust) but neither has ever been a compulsive blabbermouth or wordslinger. This was my second thought after contemplating (i.e., deciding whether to believe) Ford’s description of Stars Wars: The Force Awakens.

Late this afternoon I scootered down to Wormsloe, a three-century-old plantation with a long straight driveway shaded by an entwined canopy of moss-covered oak trees. As beautiful as expected. The famous “run Forrest run” scene from Robert Zemeckis‘s Forrest Gump (a movie that I mostly hated from the get-go for its dismissive portrait of ’60s counter-culture types) was shot here. I was accompanied by Hollywood Reporter columnist Scott Feinberg. We rode on rented 50cc put-puts — a maximum of 35 mph.

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