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Early last night Ellen Page (X-Men: Days of Future Past) announced she was gay. Good move, took some guts, hugs and salutes. The 26 year-old actress announced her orientation at a Time to Thrive conference for LGBT youth at Bally’s Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas. Yes! The audience rose to their feet and cheered, but what’s with the audio on this YouTube clip? You have to listen with earphones.

Nothing has changed except that Page has shown she’s made of something. She will, of course, still be cast as scientists and eco-terrorists and roller-derby girls and spunky, pint-sized girlfriends and nobody will give a shit because everything’s everything, man. We’re all good.

Last night I paid to see Lars Von Trier‘s Nymphomaniac, Volume Two. At first I thought it was “better” than Volume One, which I saw a few days ago in Berlin. The opening minutes seemed more tightly organized, more montage-y, more engaging…something. Then I changed my mind and began slipping into that same kind of zoned-out numbness that Volume One acquainted me with. Not the exact same dosage but close enough. As before, I didn’t “dislike” it as much as succumb to a kind of detached scientific curiosity mixed with…what, spiritual novocaine? Not so much a deadness of the soul as a kind of temporary shutdown.

Original (i.e., not a dupe) native-designed poster, bought Friday night at Kino Svetozor (Vodickova 41, Prague 1) prior to showing of Lars Von Trier‘s Nymphomaniac, Volume Two. At first I thought it was better than Volume One. It seemed more tightly organized, more clear of purpose…something. Then I changed my mind. It’s the toned-down version, of course, but I won’t see it again. I’m done.

I’ve just seen Jose Padilha‘s Robocop at the Cinema City plex in Prague, and the general critical view is more or less correct, I’m afraid. It’s an efficient, smartly scripted high-tech actioner, but you can’t help thinking that it just wasn’t necessary to remake Paul Verhoeven’s 1987 original, which had more style, verve and humor. The social allegory is more about the present than the future. Joel Kinnaman does a decent job as Alex Murphy (Peter Weller‘s role in the original) but he’s not star material — he slightly resembles the young Keith Carradine but lacks that X-factor snap. The story is more complex and convoluted, and there’s a persistent effort to explore Murphy’s conflicted emotions as he copes with suddenly being 90% mechanical with only vague ties to his previous organic self.

The irony is that the film doesn’t really kick into gear until Murphy is temporarily shorn of emotion and allowed to ruthlessly enforce Robocop law. Before that happens it’s like “okay, he’s unhappy and confused about no longer being human…we get it, fine…but let’s get to the good parts.”

One of the most admirable aspects of my youth is that I never once watched The Waltons. Seriously, not once. I’ve never even looked at YouTube clips. Not even last night when I read about the passing of Ralph Waite at age 85. I never wanted to because I hated the idea of The Waltons from the get-go. Condolences to family, friends and fans but Waite had a long and fruitful life. My most distinctive memory is his portrayal of Jack Nicholson‘s brother, Carl Fidelio Dupea, in Five Easy Pieces (’70). Waite wore a neck brace in every one of his scenes. Nicholson’s character had it off with Carl’s wife, played by Susan Anspach, but it never came to anything.

(l. to.r.) Jack Nicholson, Ralph Waite and Susan Anspach in Bob Rafelson’s Five Easy Pieces.

On 9.13.13, Rope of Silicon’s Brad Brevet wrote this about David Gordon Green‘s Joe: “[It] works and it doesn’t. The tragic narrative has its hiccups along the way, but improves as it builds its story around two strong performances from Nicolas Cage and Tye Sheridan, elevating it slightly above similar exploitative white trash weepers. [It] mines backwoods hick territory, finding a slight narrative kinship with Jeff Nichols‘ Mud combined with the tonal darkness of Winter’s Bone. The strongest thread holding the three films together is obviously the focus on down-on-their-luck families with bad dental hygiene, drinking problems and poor living conditions, all of which are traits I typically loathe.”

The appearance of a restored version of the original Todd AO 30-frame-per-second roadshow version of Fred Zinneman’s Oklahoma! (’55) is easily the most exciting news about the 2014 TCM Classic Film Festival (April 10th through 13th). I’ve never much liked this film, but I love the first 35 to 45 minutes of the original Todd AO version because of the amazingly clean and blur-free visuals. I’ve always gotten a perfunctory kick from the overture, of course, but that long, leisurely tracking shot with Gordon MacRae riding alongside the cornfield and singing “Oh, What A Beautiful Morning”…fantastic! Visually staid and perhaps a bit lazy, but it’s Todd AO!

Official TCM release on Oklahoma! restoration: “This unique 4k presentation, painstakingly restored from 65mm Todd-AO elements by Twentieth Century Fox and Fotokem, will be screened at 30 frames per second — the same frame rate as when the film was originally released in 1955. The original 6-track soundtrack has been also restored and re-mastered at Twentieth Century Fox, in collaboration with End Point Audio and Chase Audio by Deluxe.”

The presence of Robert “Paycheck” De Niro (in a role that feels a little bit like Louis Cyphre in Angel Heart) suggests that The Bag Man is the kind of film that will eventually nibble John Cusack‘s soul to death if he’s not careful. How many films does he make annually? Two or three? More? He’s got a lifestyle to support, but as I just said in the previous item he can’t continue to play luckless schlubs in low-rent, standard-issue genre films. Not entirely. The whole thing about Being John Cusack is that he has to “be” John Cusack.

For some time I’ve been resigned to a notion that the John Cusack of High Fidelity, Con Air, Being John Malkovich and Hot Tub Time Machine (i.e., the Cusack I knew and identified with and loved) is dead and gone…and that over the last two or three years (excepting his brilliant Richard Nixon performance in The Butler) he’s been trapped in a dark-movie cage playing grimy creeps and behind-the-eight-ball types and lowlife ghouls and sociopaths. I was going to say that his Edgar Allen Poe in The Raven and his hulking swamp yokel in The Paperboy are what did it. (Combined, I suppose, with 1408, a genuinely scary film.) And then, out of nowhere…Scott Coffey‘s Adult World! The old Cusack, or at least a semblance of “that guy”, is back. For now, at least. I’ll be catching it at Hollywood’s The Arena when I get back on Monday.

MCN’s David Poland is apparently the only person in the world who’s still claiming that homophobia had little or nothing to do with Brokeback Mountain not winning the Best Picture Oscar. Here’s how he put it two days ago: “I am not saying that homophobia…took down Brokeback Mountain. My experience of that season was that the argument took hold that voting for Brokeback would be seen as Academy members making an important statement about homosexuality…and that many members I talked to did not wish to make that statement with their vote. They didn’t want to be seen making any statement with their vote…especially those not 100% on that film. The vote had become too political.”

That line about Academy members not wanting to make a statement with their vote is unbridled horseshit. Giving the Best Picture Oscar to Crash instead of Brokeback Mountain was obviously a statement in and of itself, one that resonates to this day. Every Best Picture vote is political to some extent. For the record I never believed that rank-and-file Academy members are or were traditionally homophobic, but discussions I had that year (late ’05 and early ’06) seemed to make it clear that older Academy geezers were not emotionally comfortable with gay sheepherders, and that they had written it off early on. The late Tony Curtis became the poster boy for this sentiment, famously declaring that “Howard Hughes and John Wayne” wouldn’t like it.” And here’s Poland still trying to sell the idea that the geezer homophobe vote wasn’t a critical factor.