I’ve honestly never gazed at International Space Station live high-def video footage. Four high-def cameras attached to the exterior of the space station and transmitting in real-time, etc. Here’s a crew activity and location chart.

It’s 85% my fault for being late for today’s 11 am press screening of Craig Gillespie‘s Million Dollar Arm (Disney, 5.16). (The MTA and more particularly the F train are 15% at fault, but let’s not get into that now.) So I arrived at the 42nd Street E-Walk at 11:35 am, which was roughly 30 minutes after it started. (I didn’t think I’d miss much if I began at the half-hour mark as it would be all set-up about Jon Hamm‘s sports-agent character having career trouble and deciding to go to India to find some talent.) But E-Walk management wouldn’t let me in. The manager’s first name is/was Kumudu. I took his picture four times and he kept blocking with his hand. He said that the Disney-affiliated publicist had left instructions for no one to be admitted after she left. What are the odds, honestly, that some wino or internet psychopath or axe murderer is going to ask for entry to a screening that no one except Disney and journalists know about? I tapped out the following to Disney publicity after realizing it wasn’t happening: “Came all the way up from Brooklyn with subway delays and other hassles, and E-Walk management wouldn’t let me in, per Disney’s instructions. Thanks very much. Is there another screening tomorrow? I can’t believe you & yours would instruct E-Walk management to deny access to invited journos. Brilliant! I guess I’ll just buy a ticket if all else fails.” A journalist friend who saw it this morning just called: “Jerry Maguire meets Slumdog Millionaire…a lot of it really works really well.”

The hand of Kumudu during a discussion about why he was denying me admission to the press screening of Million Dollar Arm.

There is no joy in 1.85 Mudville this morning with DVD Beaver having posted 1.33:1 screen captures from the upcoming BFI Bluray of Werner Herzog‘s Aguirre, The Wrath of God (’77). Herzog’s dp Thomas Mauch obviously framed each shot to allow for 1.66 or 1.85 cleavering, but the fact that Herzog and the producers of this Bluray decided to go full boxy is one more stone in the shoes of 1.85 fascists. Their pain is my gain. This film and Fitzcarraldo and My Best Fiend are among my all-time Herzog favorites. Furies in the jungle, metal helmets, blonde against green, howled obscenities, etc.

Vanity Fair editor Graydon Carter has introduced Lini Anolik’s piece about how the O.J. Simpson murder trial gave birth to reality TV as follows: “[During the relentless media coverage] competition for guests among the cable news channels was fierce, making those with any sort of connection to Simpson or the victims, however tenuous, fair game. Found objects like Kato Kaelin and Faye Resnick became de facto news items. They were the first generation of what we have come to refer to as ‘reality stars.’

“As Anolik writes in “It All Began with O.J.,” the distinction between celebrity and infamy suddenly ceased to be. It was all the same. The doors to the formerly exclusive celebrity club had swung open, even to those with no discernible talent. And especially to those with no shame.

One of the marks of a brilliant comedian is the ability to get laughs with lines that would offend and piss people off if someone less talented had said them. An amazingly brave performance considering the usual wrath of p.c. Stalinists. Let us never forget Gottfried’s telling of the Aristocrats joke.

I’m really glad I got to see Bridges of Madison County before it closes on 5.18. It was recently nominated for four Tony Awards but not for Best Musical, and that apparently sealed its fate. Is it a great musical? Perhaps not but it’s a deeply moving one. Like the 1995 Clint Eastwood-directed film version, it’s about the kind of brief passionate love that can’t last (but good God, the sex!), followed by a sense of irretrievable loss lasting a lifetime and perhaps beyond. I’m sorry but that shit gets me every time. The Tony-nominated Kelli O’Hara is sadly mesmerizing as the unhappily married Francesca (i.e., the Meryl Streep role) but I was actually a bit more touched and affected by Steven Pasquale‘s Robert, the hunky National Geographic photographer whose brief affair with Francesca is the raison de la tragedie. Jason Robert Brown‘s score (also Tony-nominated) melted me down on at least four or five occasions. The singing and the staging and the sets…all first-rate. Marsha Norman‘s book delivers, I feel, a more complex and affecting tale than the film version did. The best musicals cut right to the core of life’s passages — the grieving, longing, needing, hoping, hurting, weeping and all the delights. And when they connect it’s amazing. Some primal part of you comes alive and some special beating of your heart kicks in, and suddenly the world feels more vibrant and teeming with feeling. That’s what happened tonight — an extraordinary emotional experience. My son Dylan, 24, wasn’t as affected but that’s to be expected as he doesn’t get/like the musical form. Tomorrow I’m seeing Bryan Cranston in All The Way…can’t wait.

The fact that Clint Eastwood‘s Jersey Boys (Warner Bros., 6.20) has been selected as the closing-night film for the Los Angeles Film Festival on June 19th, or 12 hours before it opens nationwide, says something. If the film had been chosen as the festival opener, fine, but the closer? Why didn’t Warner Bros. offer it as a non-competitive Cannes entry? Where’s the confidence, guys? I’m not saying Jersey Boys might not work as a film. My 4.17 response to the trailer was that “it’s obviously going to play it right down the middle and maybe feel a little old-fashioned, but it’s going to be at least half-decent.” But the LA FilmFest booking tells me it’s a little soft. Pic stars John Lloyd Young, Erich Bergen, Michael Lomenda, Vincent Piazza and Christopher Walken.

Deadline‘s Nancy Tartaglione is reporting that Millenium Films prexy Mark Gill is staging a huge Cannes Film Festival Expendables 3 press day on Sunday, 5.18. Sylvester Stallone, Jason Statham, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Mel Gibson, Harrison Ford, Wesley Snipes, Antonio Banderas, Dolph Lundgren, Kelsey Grammer and three other actors no one cares about will arrive at a Carlton Hotel press conference in tanks, believe it or not. Director Patrick Hughes will also attend. Here’s a weird suggestion for Hughes and Gill. In addition to all the hoopla, how about devoting a portion of this energy to delivering a good film? I know, I know…that’s something only a party-pooper would say. Can anyone imagine Harrison Ford agreeing to costar in something like this ten or even five years ago?

Time Out‘s Tom Huddleston says “there’s plenty of fun to be had” from Burr Steers‘ Gore Vidal: The United States of Amnesia (Sundance Selects, 5.23). “Vidal’s observations on everything from civil rights and JFK to Afghanistan and Iraq are informed, wise and often bleakly funny, while the snippets of his 1968 television debates with right-leaning loonball William F Buckley are downright hilarious. [And] the stars queue up to fawn over Vidal, from celebrity chums like Tim Robbins and Sting to intellectual rivals such as Norman Mailer and Christopher Hitchens, who Vidal proudly proclaimed as his ‘heir’ before they fell out over US foreign policy.

“But the film’s blanket refusal to question its subject feels not only cowardly, but antithetical. Here was a man who questioned everything (except, perhaps, his own rectitude); who opened every dark door and peered inside. By refusing to do the same with their subject’s life and opinions, the filmmakers do him a disservice.”

There’s obviously a fatalistic undercurrent in the poster slogan for Chris Nolan‘s Interstellar (Warner Bros., 11.14), to wit: “Mankind was born on earth” but it was “never meant to die here.” In other words, the notion that mankind is fated to “die” (i.e, become extinct) is (a) a given, and yet (b) this is less important or interesting than the notion that this death will happen somewhere other than on the planet earth. Think about that for 15 seconds. We’re toast as a species but at least some of us can experience finality on another planet or historical period through time travel and/or alternate dimensions via the discovery of a wormhole.