She Enjoys His Cooking

Phillip Noyce‘s Fast Charlie will have its big debut at the Mill Valley Film Festival debut on Saturday, 10.7. Screening invites and links have been received.

I became a fan after catching it at a buyer’s screening during last May’s Cannes Film Festival.

It’s half of a laid-back, settled-down relationship drama between Pierce Brosnan‘s Charlie, a civilized, soft-drawl hitman who loves fine cooking, and Morena Baccarin‘s Marcie, a taxidermist with a world-weary, Thelma Ritter-ish attitude about things. And half of a blam-blam action thriller.

There’s a suspense scene involving a hotel laundry chute that I’m especially taken with.

A trailer will hit in a month, or just after the MVFF debut.

Fleetly performed by Brosnan, Baccarin, Gbenga Akinnagbe and the late James Caan in his final performance, Fast Charlie is….ready?…a mature, unpretentious, character-driven, action-punctuated story of cunning and desire (not just romantic but epicurean) on the Mississippi bayou. Four adjectives plus gourmet servings.

The Brosnan-Baccarin thing reminds me of Robert Forster and Pam Grier in Jackie Brown. Sprinkled with a little Elmore Leonard dressing. One of those smooth older guy + middle-aged woman ease-and-compatibility deals.

Richard Wenk‘s screenplay, adapted from Victor Gischler‘s “Gun Monkeys,” is complemented by cinematography by Australian lenser Warwick Thornton (director of The New Boy).

Return to Pico Drive-In (Mid ’30s)

Except for the red tint of the cars, of course. My understanding is that colored autos began to appear in the 1920s and 30s, but most pre-World War II autos were black or gray or brown or subdued green. Hardly any were red.

Rhyme of the Ancient Drive-In,” posted on 8.16.20 (or four months into the agony of the pandemic):

Yesterday (8.15) The Hollywood Reporter‘s Seth Abramovitch posted a piece about the old Pico Drive-In, which opened on 9.9.34 and could hold 487 cars. The very first California drive-in was located at 10860 Pico Blvd., which today is a big-ass Google building.

Between 1948 and ’85 the Google area was near where the old Picwood theatre stood. The Picwood address was 10872 W. Pico Boulevard, just wast of the Pico and Westwood Blvd. intersection.

The most interesting detail didn’t make it into Seth’s article: Westwood Blvd. dead-ended on Pico in 1934, and so the Pico drive-in was built on a dusty patch due south of Pico (or where the neighborhoody, tree-lined, south-of-Pico stretch of Westwood Blvd. now sits).

After the Pico Drive-in closed in 1944, the postcard screen tower was moved to the corner of Olympic Blvd. and Bundy to become part of the Olympic Drive-In, which stood until ’73.

All the above and below comes from losangelestheatres.blogspot.


Looking south from Westwood Blvd. across Pico.

Looking north with Pico Drive-In located smack dab at the dead-end intersection of Pico and Westwood Blvds.

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“That’s Too Long”

I’m sorry but every time I listen to the brief conversation between James Cagney‘s “C.R. MacNamara” (inspired by then-Defense Secretary Robert McNamara?) and the painter guy, I bust out chuckling. It happens between 2:12 and 2:19.

“We had to go with Cagney because Cagney was the whole picture. He really had the rhythm, and that was very good. It was not funny, but the speed was funny…the general idea was, let’s make the fastest picture in the world…and yeah, we did not wait, for once, for the big laughs. — One Two Three director-writer Billy Wilder talking to Cameron Crowe.

Playing Ethnic Identity Card, Lily Gladstone Going For Best Actress Oscar

Variety‘s Clayton Davis is reporting that Killers of the Flower Moon costar Lily Gladstone won’t campaign for the Best Supporting Actress Oscar (a prize she would almost certainly win without breaking a sweat) but instead for Best Actress, which is not my idea of a smart move.

For one thing Gladstone will be going up against Maestro‘s Carey Mullligan and Poor ThingsEmma Stone — definitely the top two frontrunners as we speak. Not to mention Anatomy of a Fall‘s Sandra Huller, Priscilla‘s Cailee Spaeny (who won the Best Actress prize in Venice), Nyad‘s Annette Bening and The Color Purple‘s Fantasia Barrino.

Gladstone’s handlers know that her performance as Osage Nation victim Mollie Burkhart is good but unexceptional — the hard truth is that director Martin Scorsese and screenwriter Eric Roth didn’t give her all that much to perform. She mainly radiates suspicion and hostility at the white guys who are killing her fellow Osage tribespersons for their oil money.

Her performance is certainly less of a grabber than Stone’s, and the word on the street is that Mulligan, who’s been giving one knockout performance after another since breaking through 14 years ago with an acclaimed debut in An Education…the word is that Mulligan blows Maestro costar and director Bradley Cooper off the screen.

And let’s not belittle Huller, Spaeny, Barrino and Bening.

Gladstone’s attempt to land a Best Actress nomination is strictly an identity chessboard play.

The pitch: Gladstone’s performance may not be as powerhouse as Stone’s or Mulligan’s, but, as Davis explains in his article, this is a chance for the Academy to make history and set things right. “Don’t bother about quality of performance or the scope of her role,” Gladstone’s team is saying. “Identity is a much bigger deal.”

Davis: “Indigenous representation in the Academy has been virtually non-existent in the history of cinema. There have been three Indigenous women nominated for best actress — Merle Oberon for The Dark Angel (1935), Keisha Castle-Hughes in Whale Rider (’03) and Yalitza Aparicio for Roma (’18). Those women are British, Kiwi, and Mexican, respectively. Along with never winning an acting Oscar, an Indigenous actress from the U.S. has never won a SAG or Critics Choice prize, or even been nominated by those groups.”

Over the last six or seven years HE has noted repeatedly that woke flavors, sympathies and constitutions have been a ticket to Oscar glory by way of the New Academy Kidz. Movies about ethnic, non-white or outside-the-usual-mainstream characters and subject matter and/or films made by women or non-Anglos…good to go.

In the Best Picture category alone the winners have fit this paradigm…(1) the middle-class Asian family meets a Marvel-esque nerd sensibility in Everything Everywhere All at Once, (2) the hearing-challenged family in CODA, (3) the homeless woman saga, directed by a female Asian (Chloe Zhao), that was Nomadland, and (4) Parasite, the lacerating social drama directed by a South Korean genre nerd (Bong Joon ho). Green Book’s Best Picture triumph was an exception to this pattern (and was fiercely condemned by woke critics and columnists) but Moonlight (Black director-writer, focus on Black gay males) adhered to it.

Woke ideology has taken over, and everything (including Oscar campaigns in the acting categories) is measured by this.

Telluride flashback: On Thursday, 8.31, I was chatting with a couple of journo columnist acquaintances (i.e., not strictly critics) who, for political reasons or whatever, had seemingly bought into woke theology, or at least seem to have decided that siding with the wokesters is the safest way to go. The subject turned to Killers of the Flower Moon and my previously-stated view that Gladstone will not only be Oscar-nominated but may win, partly for the quiet intensity of her performance but largely, be honest, because of her Native American heritage. Because a Native American has never won an acting Oscar before.

I opined that in terms of her actual performance Gladstone delivers sufficiently but that’s all. Mostly she stares a hole into the camera lens…quietly enraged, guilt-trippy, “God will get you,” etc.

Immediately upon saying that Gladstone’s ethnicity will be a significant factor in landing a nomination, one of the journos said this was “insulting” and that “I won’t have it…I won’t tolerate this.” He was essentially saying that my opinion was racist, although he qualified this with the fact that we’ve known each other for decades and that he likes me personally but this kind of talk (harumph) will not be allowed in his presence.

Gladstone should go supporting. She would win in a walk.

Suppress All Melodies

I knew Maestro ignores Leonard Bernstein‘s West Side Story score as well as the famous Tom Wolfe “Radical Chic” episode. Today I learned that it also ignores his On The Waterfront score…terrific!

Friendo: “Yes, it leaves out On The Waterfront and 100 other important things in Leonard Bernstein’s career. If you don’t accept the film on its own terms — as a highly idiosyncratic and selective but emotionally intimate portrait of him — then it will, almost by definition, not be fulfilling for you.

“Clearly Bradley Cooper wanted to go his own way, to subvert (or completely sidestep) the standard biopic diagram.”

“Outrageously Promiscuous Sex Addict”

“…who revelled in incessant womanizing.”

Over the last four days (including today), Russell Brand has gone from being the famously hyper comedian he’s been over the last 25 years or so to being…a dead man.

Is he, in fact, guilty of rape within the statute of limitations in Los Angeles or wherever? If so then he needs to face proper justice. But since last Saturday, he’s been tried and convicted and disembowled by social media, and that’s the bottom line.

Question #1: Why did none of his four accusers press charges with the authorities? Why did they wait 10 or 15 years to speak up? #MeToo made it a bit easier for victims to come forward five or six years ago. Some are persuaded that other accusers will come forward.

Question #2: What about that Tonia Buxton observation? — i.e., “Russell was horrid, but women were chucking themselves at him!”

Question #3: Brand has allegedly repented and, at age 48, is apparently no longer the ruthless sexual animal he apparently was in the ’90s, aughts and early 20teens. (Or so Tonia Buxton has said.) Should this be a consideration or should he be sent to the guillotine regardless?

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Fading “Maestro” Enthusiasm

I’m about to buy some NYFF tickets at noon, and I really don’t like that they’re charging more for Maestro screenings, and shitty seats at that. Plus that HE comment thread remark of Glenn Kenny’s — “weak tea” — is sticking in my craw. I’m kinda pissed off and wondering how weak Bradley Cooper’s tea actually is and whether it’s even worth it.

I’m a bit more interested in Richard Linklater’s Hit Man.

Manhattan friendo: “I think it’s one of the very best movies of the year, but a number of people will not agree, and I suspect you’ll be one of them.”

Excerpt #1 from Kenny’s review:

Excerpt #2:

Excerpt #3:

Netflix’s “Sly” Doc (11.3)

A generally shared view about Thom Zimny and Sean M. Stuart‘s Sly (Netflix, 11.3) is that Sylvester Stallone comes off as refreshingly candid and self-aware. Which is one of the nice things about being a wealthy, senior-grade celebrity with nothing to lose — you can let it all hang out and the reactions are cool and agreeable from every corner.

I got to know Sly a bit from the mid ’80s to early ’90s, and he was a lot less charming and forthcoming back then, lemme tell ya. Then again who isn’t careful (i.e., wary of predators and smart-asses) when their career is going great and the pressure is on?

Just under a half century ago Sly was a struggling actor near the end of his rope who gloriously broke through with Rocky, and after that he made exactly…what, six quality movies during his whole career?

Mostly he’s played taciturn, dead-eyed action heroes who glare and seethe. He tried like hell and did the best he could to stay in the game, but after Rocky the only films he can really and truly be proud of in a quality vein are First Blood (’82), Demolition Man (’93), Judge Dredd (’95), Cop Land (’97) and Creed (’15). (He also scored with some amusing voice work in 1998’s Antz.)

Mainly Sly stayed in his tried-and-true machismo realm and went for the box-office rather than reviews or awards. That’s not a felony of course, but it’s not exactly the sort of track record that would normally bring an industry audience to their feet.

I worked under Sly in ’85 and ’86 when I was employed as a writer/publicist for Bobby Zarem and Dick Delson, who had formed a p.r. partnership and had landed Stallone as their star client. I knew his vibe, hung in his orbit, watched him train and box, visited his home once or twice, did what I was told. But there wasn’t a lot of openness from the guy. He struck me as guarded and sullen and certainly not open to clear-light engagement, at least when it came to low-on-the-totem-pole guys like me.

When I was over at his place one evening I noticed an original Francis Bacon painting hanging in his foyer, and I said with some excitement, “Whoa, Francis Bacon!” I imagined this remark could result in…I don’t know, 20 or 30 seconds of shared appreciation for Bacon’s brilliance? Stallone’s total reply: “You got it.”

In ’92 I interviewed Stallone on the Italian Cliffhanger set (i.e., Cortina d’ampezzo) for the N.Y. Times. And a couple of years earlier I’d helped bring industry attention to a pair of screenplays that led to two of his better projects — Peter Lenkov‘s Demolition Man (’93) and Alexandra SerosThe Specialist (’94).

In ’88 and ’89 I was working for a going-nowhere production company, but I knew that The Specialist was a really top-notch script. (The ideal stars would have been Steve McQueen or Robert Duvall in their heydays). When it became clear that the guy I was working for wouldn’t move on it aggressively, I took The Specialist to the Intertalent guys (Bill Block, Tom Strickler) and they signed Seros and eventually helped set the film up as a Stallone vehicle at Warner Bros. Alas, the Luis Llosa-directed film, which costarred Sharon Stone, didn’t turn out as well as it could have.

I also semi-discovered (or was certainly among the early fans of) Demolition Man through a relationship with Lenkov, and when I again realized it wasn’t going to be made expeditiously by my employer I took it to Nina Jacobson, who was then working for Joel Silver. The film was eventually produced by Silver. Directed by Marco Brambilla, it turned out reasonably well.

Half-decent but less than fully satisfying Stallone films: The Lords of Flatbush (’74), Rocky II, Rocky III (’88), F.I.S.T. (’78), Cliffhanger, Assassins, Daylight, the new Rambo (’08).

Stallone shortfallers & stinkers: Staying Alive (’83 — director), Rhinestone (’84), Cobra, Over The Top, Lock Up, Tango & Cash, Oscar, Stop or My Mom Will Shoot.

Visit to the Cliffhanger set, on or about 5.20.92 in the Italian Dolomites, about 90 minutes north of Venice — a little below 30 degrees, elevation of 11,000 feet, maybe a bit less.

Bad Episode With Rolling Stone (Wenner, Travers)

In early 2003 (or was it late ’02?) I pitched a big Matrix story to Rolling Stone‘s Peter Travers. With The Matrix Reloaded due to open on 5.15.03, I had gotten hold of a copy of the Wachowskis’ script and was looking to scoop the world with a few plot points (including the hair-raising freeway chase sequence) but without spoiling the whole thing. (Naturally.) I’d also picked up some odd domestic details about The Wachowskis, who were then called Larry and Andy and known for being extra-reclusive.

Travers was interested in running a scoop of this kind. We sat down and talked it over at a Manhattan eatery. I didn’t know for a fact that Travers had briefed Rolling Stone publisher Jann Wenner, but it would have been odd if he hadn’t.

The Reloaded script had been passed to me by former Silver Pictures executive Dan Cracchiolo, who had worked for the company’s founder, Joel Silver, between the mid ’90s and early aughts. Dan had struck out on his own a year or so earlier, although I suspected that things may have soured between Silver and himself over possible drug issues — Dan’s, I mean.

I had been especially chummy with Silver between mid ’92 and early ’94, but then relations chilled. (The reasons are too complex to recite here.) The occasionally tempestuous Silver was the real-life model for Saul Rubinek‘s “Lee Donowitz” character in True Romance. (It’s also been said he was at least a partial model for Tom Cruise‘s “Les Grossman” in Tropic Thunder.)

In any event I met with Travers to discuss the shape and tone of the Reloaded article — a few Wachowski morsels, a few plot leaks but not too many, etc. I tapped it out and sent it along. The article definitely worked on its own terms but of course it had to be fact-checked and whatnot. Which meant calling Silver, of course. It was my understanding that Silver hit the roof and called Wenner to yell and scream.

The next thing I knew the piece had been killed. When I called and wrote Travers to ask what happened he wouldn’t respond…silencio. I presumed it had been killed by Wenner. I can’t recall if I was paid a kill fee. I only know that the Rolling Stone vibes were pretty good before I turned the piece in, but after it was killed I was Nowhere Man.

So I sold the article to Empire magazine, and it wound up running right around the time of the May opening of The Matrix Reloaded. Nobody liked the film that much, and everyone hated The Matrix Revolutions.

Dan died in a motorcycle accident the following year.

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14 Years, Man…

If the 66 or 67 year-old Joe Biden was in the White House today and preparing to run again next year, no one would be talking about age impairment at all.

Watch him in this 60 Minutes / Leslie Stahl profile, which ran sometime in the spring of ’09. Biden was pretty much at full strength back then, or 14 years ago…alert, mentally agile, vigorous, quick with a response. Obviously an older guy but nowhere close to today’s doddering version. Voters don’t want a shuffling slowpoke President who’s unable to speak a sentence without slurring or stumbling or muttering. There’s a huge difference between 2009 Joe and the 2023 version…this is what people don’t like.