I like this scene. Pure exposition, explanation, recapping for the slowboats. It helps. Alas, it was cut out of the 1946 theatrical release. Confusion ensued.
“The Big Sleep is one of those pictures in which so many cryptic things occur amid so much involved and devious plotting that the mind becomes utterly confused. And, to make it more aggravating, the brilliant detective in the case is continuously making shrewd deductions which he stubbornly keeps to himself.
“What with two interlocking mysteries and a great many characters involved, the complex of blackmail and murder soon becomes a web of utter bafflement. Unfortunately, the cunning scriptwriters have done little to clear it at the end” — from Bosley Crowther‘s 8.24.46 N.Y. Times review
From this end it feels pretty great to be living a Hollywood Elsewhere-type life — no “barbecues and ball games” or any of that onerous, sword-of-Damocles stuff but…
It is part of my burden, yes, to have to face the daily threat of slimy, slithering reptiles and hissing dragons** who radiate seething hostility at every turn, but as Pike Bishop once said, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
No sublime morning-coffee company with a Porizkova or an Antropova, true, and no THC gummies or slurps of lime-and-guave-flavored beer but I gots my George Gershwin rhythm…physically fit, mentally sharp, no bald spots or jiggling neck wattles, Italian-made black loafers, Zara T-shirts, etc.
And Lordy Lordy the profound gift of a three-year-old granddaughter who constantly radiates joyful discovery and intrigue….
Not to mention daily postings drawn from my inner well…a life of constant discipline, 4K Blurays and travel and film festivals, Cialis and Prevagen and choice Indian restaurants in London and Paris and even Westport, cinematic intrigue and occasional satori transcendence, Bhagavad Gita meditations, a bottomless chest of fond Henry Miller-ish memories and occasional secretions of Socratic wisdom…spiritual nourishment savored in dribs and drabs.
I could go on and on but it feels like a huge relief not having to please or placate or charm or dazzle a high-maintenance woman of Porizkova’scharacter***…no offense.
Sri Krishna, Henry Miller, Pike Bishop, Socrates or Marcus Aurelius (either or both), George Gershwin, Sutton Wells…quite the cocktail.
** Life forms who seem to actually get off on spewing alien acid blood.
If you’re married to or living with a good-looking woman of a certain age, every so often you need to mention the fact that she looks really great. If you want to stay out of trouble, that’s the only way to play it.
Even if she could use a little spritzing or smoothing out, never say that she might want to think about doing this.
Paulina Porizkova was a super-hot model in her youth and middle age, but now that she’s about to turn 60…well, what can a gentleman say except “you look exquisite”?
You can never be honest with a woman about the realities of aging.
Only an idiot would say to her “you look ravishing but…well, to be perfectly honest, you’d look even better if you touched up your eyelids and eye bags and eliminate that little hint of a neck wattle…you could lose 10 or 15 years in one fell swoop…hell, you’d be a total knockout”.
A woman can say this to another woman, but if a guy says it, forget it…he’s a dead man.
If a woman said to me “you had some work done back in 2012 or 13 years ago, right?…you might want to think about getting a little re-touch down the road,” I’d probably say “yeah, you’re probably right…facial work only lasts about 15 years or so, 20 at the outside.”
Friendo confidential: “A female friend knows the chief medical examiner in New Mexico. She said that Gene Hackman’s wife, 63-year-old Betsy Arakawa, died from an ailment that had nothing to do wth Hackman’s heart condition. Once she had passed the exceedingly frail Hackman was left helpless, and without his wife to assist him he wound up collapsing in the ‘mud room.’ One of the dogs that was in the kennel died because of no food or water. The other two dogs who weren’t in the kennel survived.”
HE response: Who lies down on a bathroom floor when they’re weakened by the flu or whatever? 63 year-old women don’t just keel over and die on the bathroom floor. If you’re feeing badly you call a nurse or an ambulance service. Arakawa was a responsible person. Why would she allow herself to drift off without calling someone to assist her husband?
Alain Delon, who passed last August, was a huge French megastar in the ‘60s and ’70s. In Europe he was on the level of Robert Redford, James Dean, Marlon Brando, Paul Newman, Humphrey Bogart, etc. But he was left out of last night’s Death Reel because he became an immigrant-loathing right-winger in his declining years. I didn’t agree with his political views either, but for God’s sake, you don’t ignore the passing of Alain Delon….c’mon! If he hadn’t become a rightie they would have honored the poor guy.
Most of the 25 James Bond films have more or less blown chunks. Dr. No and From Russia With Love are more or less perfect. Casino Royale, Skyfall, No Time To die, For Your Eyes Only…maybe one or two others are pretty good with reservations.
I’m not lamenting the death of the Bond signature films, which pale alongside the Mission: Impossible films. I’m sorry that the Bond franchise will henceforth become milked for Amazon streaming opportunities….that’s the difference.
Because he couldn’t stop saying “uhmm” over and over, I was unable to listen to what this guy was saying about Demi Moore vs. Mikey Madison. I hate people say “uhmm” over and over and over. Go to a psychotherapist or go to an exorcist but cure yourself of this heinous disease.
Just think of all the tens of millions of complacent, asleep-at-the-wheel moviegoers who said to each other last night, “Wow…Anora, huh? We couldn’t be bothered to see it late last year when it opened theatrically” — HE attended a weekend showing when Anora opened in Westport, and there were maybe eight or nine people in the room, if that — “and we haven’t bothered to stream it since but maybe we should stream it now, huh? Yeah, maybe we should…maybe. If nothing better is on.”
You lazy, spiritually flabby, heavy-lidded, under-educated, dead-to-the-world sloths…Anora‘s creator pleaded with the movie-loving community to support theatres, and this message went unheeded by the masses, trust me…into one wax-filled ear and right out the other. You effing toads…you guys are the sworn enemies of great, spirit-lifting cinema…you are the empty, overfed animals watching alligators eating fair young Christian maidens in Cecil B. DeMille‘s The Sign of the Cross (’32).
Anora won five Oscars last night, and all the stupid, stubborn HE beeyotches and wrong-way-Corrigans who constantly shat and peed upon this wonderful film (including “It Ain’t Heavy, I’m An Asshole“) are eating a semblance of humble pie this morning and yet they’re still calling Baker’s film unworthy to a certain extent.
Life is wasted on people but not on me for I am the light and “the way”…HE knew and cared deeply all along….I only support the best of the tip-tops…the most heart-massaging, the most cinematically pure…and to this day I stand tall and alone against the over-praised Bong Joon-ho for Okja and especially for that idiotic scene when the drunken con artist mom let the maid into the home during that rainstorm.
Before last night no filmmaker had won four Oscars for making the same film, but Anora‘s Sean Baker did this, you bet — a Best Picture Oscar for producing, plus Oscars for directing, original screenplay and editing…boomsheewackle!
Mikey Madison‘s surprise Best Actress win blew me backward and up, up and away….whoa! I’d been pushing and predicting this for months on end, and yet I “knew” and feared deep down that the bullshit Demi Moore narrative (“Those big bad producers, agents and managers wouldn’t let me make a substantial movie all those years…they forced me to star in high-paying popcorn movies and I suffered so much because of this but now I’m free…the Substance actress I’ve always wanted to be!”) had taken hold among so many SAGsters and that so many prognosticators and award-season pulse-takers (Pete Hammond, Anne Thompson) were on Demi’s side.
And yet HE’s “don’t buy into the Demi horseshit” argument, which I posted and re-posted two or three times, won the day in the end! Okay, that plus the undebatable fact that a huge congregation of Academy voters simply loved Mikey’s performance.
Adrien Brody‘s tedious, tiresome, drawn-out acceptance speech was a reflection of or a companion piece to his unbearably morose, heroin-shooting lead performance in The Brutalist…the mass audience was saying to Brody “we’re so sorry that you won…you’re such a drag…we hate your ass…get off the damn stage!”
Brody: “Thank you, God…thank you for this blessed life…for this tremendous outpouring of love…I feel so fortunate…I have some perspective [upon coming back here after winning the Best Actor Oscar for The Pianist in ’02 and landing almost nothing but shit roles in the aftermath]….it can all go away. Winning an award like this signifies a destination…it is a chance to begin again, and the opportunity hopefully to be fortunate enough over the next 20 years of my life [to land better roles than I managed to land after I won for The Pianist over two decades ago]…I will wrap up, I will wrap up…please, this is not my first rodeo….[we are reminded] not to let hate go unchecked…okay, I’ll get out of here.”
All hail Conan O’Brien for his “standing up to a powerful Russian” joke [see below].
10:38 pm: Mikey Madison wins the Best Actress Oscar!!! Demi Moore and her dishonest narrative have been defeated!!! Eureka!!
The HE server is stalling due to a traffic surge…apoligies
10:18 pm: Cillian Murphy strolls out to give the Best Actor Oscar to fucking Adrien Brody. I’m sick, depressed, pissed off, scowling. Timothee Chalamet, Ralph Fiennes or Sebastian Stan…awarding any of these performances would have been far more suitable. Brody has been going on and on and on….you should know what a drag it is to listen to you, man. Will you shut up? Pretentiousness…wow.
10:10 pm: The Brutalist wins for Best Score? Why? I don’t remmember a single note, a single stanza, a single measure…no musically enticing moments of any kind from that difficult-to-endure film.
10:08 pm: Conan O’Brien‘s best line of the night: “Anora having a good night so far,,,yeah, I guess people are pleased to finally see someone stand up to a powerful Russian.”
9:57 pm: HE fully approves of Walter Salles‘ I’m Still Here winning the Best Int’l Feature Oscar. Fully deserved. Proud moment all around.
9;54 pm: The fucking Brutalist wins for best Cinematography? Why? Because it was shot in VistaVision? The lensing is dreary, glum, morose. Very strange call.
9:40 pm: Morgan Freemqn offering a special tribute to the late Gene Hackman. “Rest in peace, my friend.” Freeman doesn’t look like himself these days. Hackman was given the cleanup finale position in the death reel. David lynch, Robert Towne, James Earl Jones. Who was snubbed?
9:36 pm: Dune Part II wins for Best Sound, Best Visual Effects….blah.
9:15 pm: Best Documentary Feature Oscar goes to No Other Land, which I’ve barely heard of and certainly haven’t seen. Pro-Gaza, of course. Yes, I intend to see it. Stop supporting terror!
8:57 pm: Mick Jagger strolls on stage! Best Original Song. Obviously Bob Dylan‘s songs were the best ones performed in a 2024 film. The Oscar goes to the Emilia Perez song, “El Mal.” Congrats!
8:55 pm: Wicked guys win best Production Design Oscar. Congrats,….nobody cares.
8:46 pm: Zoe Saldana has known for many weeks that she’s winning the Best Supporting Actress Oscar so stop with the fucking crying already. Suck it in, show a little class….stop it! Take the bow, you won, great, congrats, etc. But enough with the identity crap (“the first Dominican woman to win this award!)
8:42 pm: Anora‘s Sean Baker wins Best Editing Oscar! Amazing! He’ll almost certainly win Best Director and w eqall know Anora is locked for Best Picture Oscar…four for Sean!
8:31 pm: The integrity of the Bond franchise is over, Amazon has bought out Barbara Broccoli and Michael Wilson and will proceed to franchise and stream it do death, and so the Oscars are mounting a big Vegas-y musical-slash-dance-ass tribute to the Bond films. This whole big sequence is basically a huge fuck-you to Amazon in general and Jennifer Salke in particular.
8:23 pm: Substance wins the Best Makeup Oscar…okay, that’s fair.
8:13 pm: Conclave‘s Peter Straughn wins Best Adapted Screenplay!
8:10 pm: Sean Baker wins Best Original Screenplay for Anora! This is a forecast of things to come, methinks.
8:08 pm: Nick Offerman (whom I never, ever want to see in a gay sex scene EVER AGAIN) does a voice-over harassment skit with Conan.
7:53 pm: Costume design! Which will go to either the Dune, Conclave or Wicked guys, right? And the Oscar goes to Team Wicked. Paul Tazewell! First black dude to win for costume design….racial barrier falls!
7:28 pm: You promised you’d be quick, Andrew Garfield….you lied. I hate corporate-funded, broadly ufunny, family-friendly animation. The dialogue-free Flow wins Best Animated Feature…whatever. Cheers. Congrats also to Latvia’s In The Shadow of the Cypress.
7:28 pm: Robert Downey, Jr‘s flared tuxedo pants don’t make it. Shout-out to Anora‘s Yura Borisov! Jeremy Strong‘s performance as Roy Cohn was “a master class.” (Strong should have won,) The universally predicted win for Kieran Culkin has happened, of course. Culkin is jabbering jabbering jabbering…really cutting loose.
7:04 pm: HE dislikes watching Wicked‘s two wailing, warbling costars (Cynthia Erivo, Ariana Grande) over-singing the fuck out out of those wailing, over-emphatic songs….I already have a headache and the show just started…God!
And now a Substance body-horror, Conan-emerging-from-Demi’s-body joke…”did Conan not have work done?….Hollywood’s biggest night starts at 4 pm…18 Netflix price increases!…I really loved The Butalist…I didn’t want it to end, and luckily it didn’t.” Hollywood hates, hates, HATES The Brutalist….joke about Karla Sofia Gascon‘s publicist using the “f” word 482 times. Adam Sandler poorly dressed routine was moderately funny.
…for the first half-hour of the show, give or take. I’m picking up a client at LGA at 6 pm and delivering them to Stamford (short trip), so I probably won’t be plopped in front of the 65″ Sony 4K HBR in Wilton until 7:30 pm, depending on the breaks. I will, however, be following the first 30 minutes of the show on the Hulu headphones.
“Not happening…way too laid back…zero narrative urgency,” I was muttering from the get-go. Basically the sixth episode of White Lotus Thai SERIOUSLY disappoints. Puttering around, way too slow. Things inch along but it’s all “woozy guilty lying aftermath to the big party night” stuff. Glacial pace…waiting, waiting. I was told...
I finally saw Walter Salles' I'm Still Here two days ago in Ojai. It's obviously an absorbing, very well-crafted, fact-based poltical drama, and yes, Fernanda Torres carries the whole thing on her shoulders. Superb actress. Fully deserving of her Best Actress nomination. But as good as it basically is...
After three-plus-years of delay and fiddling around, Bernard McMahon's Becoming Led Zeppelin, an obsequious 2021 doc about the early glory days of arguably the greatest metal-rock band of all time, is opening in IMAX today in roughly 200 theaters. Sony Pictures Classics is distributing. All I can say is, it...
To my great surprise and delight, Christy Hall's Daddio, which I was remiss in not seeing during last year's Telluride Film Festival, is a truly first-rate two-hander -- a pure-dialogue, character-revealing, heart-to-heart talkfest that knows what it's doing and ends sublimely. Yes, it all happens inside a Yellow Cab on...
7:45 pm: Okay, the initial light-hearted section (repartee, wedding, hospital, afterlife Joey Pants, healthy diet) was enjoyable, but Jesus, when and how did Martin Lawrence become Oliver Hardy? He’s funny in that bug-eyed, space-cadet way… 7:55 pm: And now it’s all cartel bad guys, ice-cold vibes, hard bullets, bad business,...
