How many top-tier actors today could do this scene and really give it their all and bring it home, like this fellow does?

“Beware those quick to praise for they need praise in return.

“Beware those who are quick to censor — they are afraid of what they do not know.

“Beware those who seek constant crowds for they are nothing alone.”

I’ve known hundreds if not thousands of people who’ve seemed to fit the description of those first and third lines. It goes without saying I’ve never forgotten them. Every time I meet someone new I find myself wondering who they really are (or may be) in the solitude of their cars, beds and bathrooms.

I’m trying to decide whether or not to spend $1500-plus so I can attend 2010 South by Southwest (3.12 to 3.20) and in so doing catch the following (which I haven’t yet seen): Bernard Rose‘s Mr. Nice, Michel Gondry‘s The Thorn in the Heart, Alexandre O. Philippe‘s The People vs. George Lucas, Shane Meadows‘ Le Donk & Scor-zay-zee, Steven Soderbergh‘s And Everything Is Going Fine, Matt Harlock and Paul Thomas‘ American: The Bill Hicks Story, Mike Woolf‘s Man on A Mission, Jacob Hatley‘s Ain’t In It For My Health: A Film About Levon Helm, Mark Landsman‘s Thunder Soul and Daniel Stamm‘s Cotton, as well as the alrready-announced Kick-Ass, Cold Weather, Elektra Luxx, Hubble 3D and The White Stripes: Under Great White Northern Lights.

It may be worth it just to see The People vs. George Lucas. Just after The Phantom Menace opened — more than ten years ago! — I told David Poland in a phone coversation that Lucas was “the devil.” Poland chortled, scoffed. “George Lucas is not the devil, Jeffrey,” he said. He most certainly is, I replied, in the sense that Albert Brooks called William Hurt “the devil” in Broadcast News. Lucas is an embodiment of evil in that he destroyed his own Arthurian mythology and sacrificed the church of millions of Star Wars believers on the altar of commercialism and Jake Lloyd and Jar-Jar Binks action-figures.

Now I have won — the world has caught up to my view. George Lucas is the devil, there’s a SXSW doc about this very point, and Rabbi Dave lacked the foresight to understand the fundamental truth of it.

If the 2.9.07 release of the dreadful Norbit damaged Eddie Murphy‘s chances of winning the Best Supporting Actor Oscar for his Dreamgirls performance, will last month’s DVD/Bluray release of the dreadful All About Steve hurt Sandra Bullock‘s bid for a Best Actress Oscar? Probably not, but if Steve had been released theatrically this month, maybe. Is Bullock the first actress to have been nominated for a Best Actress Razzie and a Best Actress Oscar the same year?

Canal Street and Broadway — Wednesday, 2.3.10, 6:15 pm

Hudson Street just south of Abington Square.

The Vancouver Sun‘s Chris Parry has cited numerous instances in which junket critic Paul Fischer — an Australian commonly known for dispensing favorable junket-whore quotes — has used festival notes and synopses to fortify his reviews.

As Parry puts it, “In a case of the world coming full circle, a film reviewer who has made a name for himself being quoted in movie marketing materials is accused of plagiarizing large chunks of his film reviews — from movie marketing materials.” I’m sorry for Fischer, whom I know from the junket/festival circuit, and the woes he must be going through now, but he seems to have made his own bed. Parry’s reporting appears fairly precise. There doesn’t seem to be much room for doubt.

“Part Peckinpah, part Hong Kong, the movies Luc Besson creates — including Pierre Morel‘s From Paris With Love, which he produced and wrote the story for — are kinetic juggernauts, as carefully plotted with action beats as any of Jerry Bruckheimer‘s or Joel Silver‘s films, but with more wit and adrenaline. There’s no pretense or wasted motion in Besson’s films, and that includes little time spent trying to force sense into the script.

“Rather, Besson’s films are like elaborate wind-up toys that seldom rest. You crank them up, turn them loose and get out of the way. Perhaps the metaphor should be a Roman candle: sparking and exploding, always with one more little ball of fire at the end than you expect.

“Morel obviously studied at the Besson school. In From Paris as in his previous Besson-mentored efforts, District B13 and Taken, he displays no real style of his own. His carefree, breathless style is Besson’s — their tropes are the same. The action flies by, with little time to make sense or do much more than assault the eyeball and tickle the pleasure center (make that the male pleasure center, which is so easily stimulated by explosions and automatic-weapon fire).” — from Marshall Fine‘s 2.2.10 review.

In yesterday’s Network thread someone said that Arthur Hiller and Paddy Chayefsky‘s The Hospital (1971) is a better, more substantial film. I feel the same way. I adore Network but Barnard Hughes ‘ soliloquy/rationale for his hospital killings is the most eloquent slice of cinema that Hiller ever directed. I’m especially speaking of the portion that begins at 5:56 and ends at 8:00 (concluding with the words “the whole wounded madhouse of our times”).

It’s staggering — nobody working today seems to be capable of even trying to write stuff as good as this. “Not quite the burning bush perhaps, but prodigal enough for me. I killed no one. Ritual victims of their own institutions. Murdered by irony.”

It’s Santa Barbara Film Festival and fragrant-weather time again. Early tomorrow I’m flying to Los Angeles. Tomorrow afternoon I’ll sit for three hours at LAX before catching a puddle-jumper to the so-inconsequential-it’s-almost-secretive Santa Barbara airport. Soon after I’ll be checked into the Hotel Santa Barbara and walking up State Street to the opening-night film — Derek Magyar‘s Flying Lessons. Under cloudy skies.

Held in the immediate wake of the Oscar nominations, the SBIFF is the premiere forum for Oscar Contemplation and Fortification, and a place for lively discussion panels and intriguing films (festival chief Roger Durling always programs at least five or six I’m glad to have seen) and excellent parties and ravishing women in their early to mid 40s.

I don’t know much about Flying Lessons except that it’s about a young female pilot (Maggie Grace) who, against the wishes of her corrupt banker dad as well as her own better judgment, decides to become a South America-to-Arizona drug smuggler in order to pay off a huge financial debt.

That’s not true actually — Flying Lessons is really one of those meditative, personal-growth, get-away-from-LA, learn-a-lesson-or-two dramas. It costars Christine Lahti, Jonathan Tucker, Cary Elwes, Joanna Cassidy and Hal Holbrook. And Grace, of course. I’m sure it’s a film of considerable merit or Durling wouldn’t have chosen it.

Legendary indie-realm publicist Linda Brown is repping Flying Lessons so you know it’ll be well-covered and well-flogged.

I’m heartened that SBIFF will be screening Oliver Stone’s South of the Border, which I saw and very much admired last September at Lincoln Center.

And I’ll finally get a chance to catch The Mormon Proposition, which I missed at Sundance. Plus the mysterious The Secret of Kells, which was nominated for a Best Feature Animated Oscar to everyone’s surprise. Plus I Am Love, the Visconti-ish Milan family drama with Tilda Swinton that I saw part of in Toronto and had to abandon due to a conflict. Plus Vincere, the young Mussolini drama that Susan Norget has occasionally screened for Manhattan journalists (but not frequently enough for me).

Due respect to Roger but I have a complaint regarding the treatment of poor Carey Mulligan , the gifted Best Actress nominee for An Education — my hands -down choice as the most deserving Oscar recipient in that category.

Mulligan’s Best Actress competitor Sandra Bullock will have her own tribute on Friday, 2.5 (receiving the Riviera Award), but Mulligan has been lumped together with Saoirse Ronan, Emily Blunt, Gabourey Sidibe and Michael Stuhlbarg for a 2.7 Sunday-evening tribute in which they’ll all receive the SBIFF Chopin Virtuoso Award. The Academy has officially stated that Mulligan occupies the exact same Oscar status as Bullock, and yet the festival chiefs offering Chopin ensemble status to Mulligan suggests that they see her as a highly respected also-ran rather than the knockout Audrey Hepburn queen that she actually is.

Other Oscar-calibre artists being honored include Crazy Heart Best Actor nominee Jeff Bridges, Avatar director James Cameron, (Modern Master Award), Hurt Locker director Kathryn Bigelow (Director of the Year award), A Simple Man costar Julianne Moore (Montecito Award), Vera Farmiga (Cinema Vanguard Award) and Colin Firth (Outstanding Performance of the Year for A Single Man).

Yesterday two or three people remarked that I periodically ban people because they voice differing opinions. This spoke more to the posters’ shortcomings — a slight difficulty with accuracy and fairness in their writing — than to mine. I ban people who resort to personal slurs and a general tone of confrontational ugliness. I’ve said this until it’s coming out of my ears, but I’m using the same standard any person giving a party in his home would hold to. If a guest becomes coarse and abusive, he/she would be asked to leave. Is that really so hard to understand?

I missed this A.O Scott video essay on Network due to my Sundance roamings. There’s nothing left to say that’s fresh or radical about this 1976 Sidney Lumet film, but I love Scott’s response after we’re shown a clip in which Robert Duvall says to Faye Dunaway, “For God’s sake, Diana — we’re talking about putting a manifestly irresponsible man on national television!”

Another early correct call was made last October by Santa Barbara Film Festival honcho Roger Durling in booking Best Actor nominee Colin Firth…way before it was clear to anyone that the star of Tom Ford‘s A Single Man would end up as one of the five contenders.