Robocop is slightly more than 37 years old…37!

The greatest thing about the Robocop finale is that when this moment unspooled during my July ’87 viewing at Mann’s Chinese, a guy sitting next to me knew Peter Weller‘s final line before he said it. As soon as Dan O’Herlihy said “nice-shootin’, son…what’s your name?”, the audience guy said “Murphy” a second before Weller. Everyone in the theatre knew it! That‘s when a movie is really working.

One quibble: The adjective “old” isn’t necessary when using the term “geezer.”

…in Ryan Murphy and Ian Brennan’s Monsters: The Lyle and Eric Menendez Story (Netflix, 9.19).

Within a soiled demimonde of selfish, calculating characters, Dunne is pretty much the only one you can relax with…the only fellow who charms and soothes by speaking plainly, candidly, wittily. I sat up in my seat when Lane finally appeared late in episode #3 (or was it #4?). The nectar of human relatability…finally!

Murphy and Brennan, by the way, have totally fallen for the Menendez brothers’ imaginative legal defense, a claim that Javier Bardem’s Jose Menendez was not just a domineering tyrant but also a sexual abuser of his younger son, Erik. And yet Bardem’s performance leaps right over this — it feels as furious and complex and honestly pained as it gets; ditto Chloe Sevigny’s performance as Kitty, Jose’s anguished, alcoholic wife.

During last May’s Cannes Film Festival I paid no attention to Guy Maddin, Evan Johnson and Galen Johnson‘s Rumours, and I didn’t hear zip about it from anyone who attended…sorry. Not that this signifies anything in particular.

“Serious NXNW Letdown at Village East,” posted on 6.13.24:

I’ve been waiting a long time to see the much-promoted 4K restoration of North by Northwest, and so I couldn’t resist attending yesterday’s Tribeca Film Festival screening at the Village East Angelika.

I had a reasonable expectation that the restorationists had enhanced Alfred Hitchock’s 1959 classic with a distinct visual bump effect (as in “whoa, this looks better than ever before!”).

This would have been due, I figured, to their having sourced the original 8-perf 35mm VistaVision camera negative with all restoration work completed in 6.5k, and then overseeing the creation of a 65mm negative and finally having Fotokem create a 70mm film print.

That 70mm print was what was shown at the Village East last night, and I have to be honest — it looked very nice but it didn’t blow me away, and it certainly didn’t make my eyeballs go “boinnnggg!” There was absolutely no “bump” effect, and I was sitting there going “what the fuck?” and “why am I not looking at the very best NXNW ever created or projected…not since the waning days of the Eisenhower administration but ever, especially given the 8K VistaVision negative scan?”

What I saw yesterday evening was just…very nice. Approvable. Agreeable but nothing to bounce up and down about on a trampoline.

Denzel Washington hasn’t really looked what most of us would call “slender” or “svelte” in a good 30 years or thereabouts, or roughly since his costarring performance in Tony Scott‘s Crimson Tide (’95).

But now he suddenly looks like he’s been cutting out the carbs.

Magnificent digital recreations of ancient Rome…love ’em all.

That’s all I can muster so far. It’s a fascinating, highly watchable performance. I’ve only seen one episode so whaddaya want?

Last Friday’s Real Time with Bill Maher contained two mildly startling statements, one from Maher and the other from guest Bret Stephens. They both said that Kamala Harris is probably going to beat Donald Trump. Which nobody on any news network, of course, is allowed to say or consider as a possibility or vaguely fiddle with.

Martin Scorsese has been directing for roughly 57 years. Everyone has passionate opinions about which films are his finest**, but I’ve never heard a single opinion from anyone about Boxcar Bertha (’72), a 1930s outlaw crime film that Scorsese directed for Roger Corman.

It was basically an exploitation flick with a veneer of something extra.

I’ve only seen it once, and I mainly recall (a) the sex and violence footage, particularly the couplings between costars Barbara Hershey and David Carradine (Hershey told People‘s Karen Jackovich they were filmed “without having to be fake anything”), and (b) the fact that it felt personal and passionate.

Until this morning I had no recollection of the crucifixion finale.

John Cassevetes to Scorcese after catching an early rough cut: “Marty, you’ve just spent a whole year of your life making a piece of shit. It’s a good picture, but you’re better than the people who make this kind of movie. Don’t get hooked into the exploitation market. Just try and do something different.”

We are truly living through a dark age in men’s fashion. IMHO maroon suits and tuxedoes are almost as bad are those ugly-ass dark blue tuxedoes. Both colors are felonies. There can only be classic black tuxedoes…no variations.

A decent-sounding 32-key piano that runs on double-A batteries. Figuring out how to screw the legs on was mute nostril agony. Verging on tears.

Somebody needs to put this guy into a Substance debate with David Ehrlich.

@bobbydotube Substance starring Demi Moore possibly the worst movie I’ve ever seen in my life! It made absolutely no sense whats so ever! Waste of money and time on top of that? Nobody knew who Debbie Moore was and after this movie, I wish I didn’t know her either you should be ashamed of yourself, Demi Moore.! ##substance##demimoore##worstmovieever ♬ original sound – Bobby DoTube