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And I was wrong. In a way I’m glad that Sundance is still operating this way. Hardcore wokester shit circa 2020 or ’21. Because people are sick of it. Sundance has been dying for four or five years now, and nobody is sorry. Die already….die die.

Please listen to these chicks and take issue with whatever, including the stuff about any and all immigrants should pour into this country and who are we to say no? And how Jesus/Yeshua and Christianity are basically a branch of oppressive paternalism and corporate-industrial mind control, etc. Revolution is happening all over.

@nickshirleyyWhat do you think about their takes on these issues?♬ original sound – Nick Shirley

The top photo is Le Sancerre, 87 Rue Des Archives, 75003.

The bottom was snapped on the steps leading down from Place Caulaincourt, just past Chez Ginette. The entrance to the Lamarck metro station is at the bottom of the steps. The yellow awning on the right is L’Escalier Bistro. The sloping street below is rue de la Fontaine-du-But.

Both taken in early May 2023.

I somehow hadn’t watched the Sing Sing trailer when I tapped out last Friday’s Best Picture projection piece, but now I’ve seen it and am persuaded…well, certainly that Colman Domingo will be right at the top of the Best Actor nominees list but also that Greg Kwedar and Clint Bentley‘s allegedly spirit-lifting prison drama, about a wrongfully imprisoned guy putting on a play alongside other cons, will probably end up with a Best Picture nom. Maybe.

Based on a true story about the Rehabilitation Through the Arts (RTA) program at New York’s Sing Sing prison, pic follows the friendship of two RTA alumni, John “Divine G” Whitfield (Colman Domingo) and Clarence “Divine Eye” Maclin (Clarence Maclin himself) as they work together to stage an original production. Vulnerability, trust, integrity, pride, etc.

Sing Sing will open limited on 7.12.24. Pic will expand in August.

I speculated on 5.7 that 2025’s strongest Best Picture contenders will probably be those that don’t feel especially woked-up or agenda-driven (i.e., POC narrative, #MeToo-assertive, LGBTQ- or trans-promotional).

That doesn’t mean there won’t be any agenda-driven nominees. Emilia Perez (Netflix) will almost certainly be nominated upon the shoulders of musical fans as well as gay and trans celebrationists.

I’m actually not detecting anything especially wokey about Sing Sing. Okay, it focuses on a mostly black cast with two or three white guys (including Sound of Metal‘s Paul Raci) on the side, and given the setting it has to be a little bit gayish…no? But mostly I’m sensing soulful and heartwarming.

Plus it automatically earns an extra five points for presenting itself within a 1.66:1 aspect ratio.

Over the years Academy and guild members have been trained like dogs to focus only on award-season releases (Labor day to Christmas) for potential Oscar contenders, but exceptions pop up every so often. Sing Sing may be one of them.

I am therefore projecting that the following eight films have the best chances of being nominated for Best Picture:

Todd Phillips‘ Joker: Folie à Deux (Warner Bros., 10.4)
Jacques Audiard‘s Emilia Perez (Netflix)
Steve McQueen‘s Blitz (Apple, undated but surely opening during award seaeon)
Sean Baker‘s Anora (Neon, 10.18)
Greg Kwedar and Clint Bentley‘s Sing Sing
Edward Berger‘s Conclave (Focus Features, 11.15)
Ridley Scott‘s Gladiator II (Paramount, 11.22)
Robert Zemeckis‘ Here

I saw Run Lola Run twice a quarter-century ago. Throttled. Last night I re-watched a 4K restored version at a Danbury plex, and loved it just as much. Smart, fleet. metaphysical, and funnier than I remembered.

Plus what an unusual thing to catch a fast-moving flick that lasts only 80 minutes when the average feature running time these days is over two hours.

Minor Anne Thompson correction: Franka Potente, who will turn 50 in July, was born on 7.22.74. Run Lola Run was initially released in Germany on 8.20.98, and, being a warm-weather film, was most likely shot in Berlin the previous summer, when Potente was 23. If she was 21 when she ran through Tom Tykwer’s film, principal photography would have happened in ‘95. I don’t know for a fact when Lola lensed, but a three-year post-production period sounds unlikely.

Lola’s 19th Century apartment building is located at Albrechtstraße 13–14, at the intersection of Schiffbauerdamm — right alongside Berlin’s Spree River, and roughly a five-minute walk from the area of the old Reichstag building and the Brandenburg gate.

Earlier today a few seething Facebook women went on and on about what a vile shitheel Mick Jagger is or at least was in the old days. How he treated certain women badly, etc. Which he may well have. (What do I know?) But I defended him anyway. Kneejerk bro loyalty or whatever.

If weather conditions lean the wrong way, the heat will be on and then some during the Paris Olympics (7.24 to 8.11). And in a city that doesn’t believe in air conditioners.

The kids and I endured soaring Parisian temps during the infamous summer of ‘03 so don’t tell me. All we had were three rotating fans.

The Washington Post is reporting that various int’l athletic teams are bringing portable a.c. units with them just in case.

Posted four years ago: Every summer it gets a little hotter. Caused by a little thing called “climate change,” which doesn’t exist in the minds of Trump supporters. Two weeks ago many areas of Europe were besieged by temperatures around 40 centigrade, or just over 100 degrees fahrenheit. Some Parisians are saying it hasn’t been this bad since the heat wave of ’03, which, by the way, the boys and I experienced personally.

Talk about a summer of swelter. Jett had recently turned 15; Dylan was 13 and 1/2. We got through it, but barely. We had a third-floor walkup on rue Tourlaque, a block from the Cimitiere de Montmartre.

A couple of days before the heat began, I slipped into a Castorama near Place de Clichy and bought three sizable fans. They restored our souls. If I hadn’t pounced when I did the fans might’ve been sold out, and we would’ve surely died.

To escape the jungle-like Paris air we decided to attend 2003 Locarno Film Festival. It began on Wednesday, 8.7.03, and closed ten days later. A smart, elegant, sophisticated gathering. Locarno is in southern Switzerland, of course, but it’s northern Italy in almost every tangible sense — culturally, atmospherically, architecturally. The gelato stands were a daily blessing.

I remember Roger Ebert‘s face being all pink and sweat-beady during an outdoor discussion panel. The guys and I were constantly soaked, of course. Every afternoon around 3 or 4 we took an hour-long dip in Lake Maggiore.

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