In an 11.2 interview with the L.A. Times Glenn Whipp, Quentin Tarantino stated that he and other filmmakers “can’t wait for the day” when the superhero genre finally runs out of gas.

When might this happen? Or more to the point, will it happen?

Excerpt: “[Tarantino] muses that, just as ’60s anti-establishment auteurs rejoiced when studio musical adaptations fell out of favor, today’s filmmakers ‘can’t wait for the day they can say that about superhero movies. The analogy works because it’s a similar [economic] chokehold.’”

When will that hallej]lujah moment arrive? “The writing’s not quite on the wall yet,” Tarantino says, “[or certainly] the way it was in 1969 when it was, ‘Oh, my God, we just put a bunch of money into things that nobody gives a damn about anymore.’”

QT kicker: “You have to be a hired hand to do [superhero films]. I’m not a hired hand. I’m not looking for a job.”

The only time I’ve really fallen head-over-heels for Barbra Streisand was when I saw her in Funny Girl. She really pours it out in that William Wyler film, and I just melted in the onwash of all that heart and soul.

But honestly? The main reason I was so susceptible to Barbra’s Fanny Brice was because I was tripping on Orange Wedge. That’s the truth of it — I saw and felt her like no other time in my life because of the soul-stirring power of lysergic acid diethylamide.

Which Streisand performances did the trick when I wasn’t tripping my brains out? K-K-K-K-Katie Morosky in The Way We Were I(’73), Cheryl Gibbons in All Night Long (’81) and Dr. Susan Loewenstein in The Prince of Tides (’91).

On 5.24.63 the 21-year-old Streisand met JFK after performing at the annual White House press dinner. (It happened at Washington’s Sheraton Park Hotel.) JFK: “You have a beautiful voice. How long have you been singing?’ Streisand: “As long as you’ve been President.”

In fact Streisand had begun professionally singing in 1960, first at the Lion, a Manhattan gay nightclub on West Ninth Street, and then in another Greenwich Village club, Bon Soir (40 West 8th Street).

Streisand said later that “I never get autographs for myself, but my mother had asked me to get [President Kennedy’s]. He signed a card for me and I said, ‘You’re a doll.’”

On or about 11.23.15 Barbra Streisand was awarded the 2015 Presidential Medal of Freedom from President Obama at the White House. At the 15-second mark Streisand’s facial expression goes “what?” when the guy reading a few salutory words refers to her career having lasted “six decades.”

At that point Streisand’s career had been going strong for just under five and a half decades, although she didn’t really get rolling until ’62-’63.

…and attempted to govern in a sensible, moderate way…principled but restrained…if he had simply recognized and respected the fact that Average Joes and Janes had voted for him in ’20 as a rejection of Trump’s criminality and his temperamentally crazy cult-of-personality approach to everything…but of course he didn’t.

If Biden had simply adopted a “enough with the crazy” and let’s all celebrate fairness and moderation…holdupski on the sweeping woke nutter stuff and let’s bring back maturity and moderate liberalism…if he had simply and politely drawn the line and told the progressive “all white people are evil and racist” wackos to take a breath and turn the volume down…if he had done this and stuck to a sane agenda, the left wouldn’t be in the appalling situation that it’s currently in.

In short, I agree with roughly 90% of the 11.4 edition of Andrew Sullivan‘s Weekly Dish column, titled “Will Biden and the Dems Finally Get It?”

Excerpt: “There was no choice in 2020, given Trump. I understand that. If he runs again, we’ll have no choice one more time. And, more than most, I am aware of the profound threat to democratic legitimacy that the election-denying GOP core now represents. But that’s precisely why we need to send the Dems a message this week, before it really is too late.

“By ‘we,’ I mean anyone not committed to the hard-left agenda Biden has relentlessly pursued since taking office. In my view, he and his media mouthpieces have tragically enabled the far right over the past two years far more than they’ve hurt them.

“I hoped in 2020 that after a clear but modest win, with simultaneous gains for the GOP in the House and a fluke tie in the Senate, Biden would grasp a chance to capture the sane middle, isolating the far right. After the horror of January 6, the opportunity beckoned ever more directly.

“And yet Biden instantly threw it away. In return for centrists’ and moderates’ support, Biden effectively told us to get lost and championed the entire far-left agenda.

“[He pushed] the biggest expansion in government since LBJ; a massive stimulus that, in a period of supply constraints, fueled durable inflation; a second welfare stimulus was also planned — which would have made inflation even worse; record rates of mass migration, and no end in sight; a policy of almost no legal restrictions on abortion (with public funding as well!); the replacement of biological sex with postmodern “genders”; the imposition of critical race theory in high schools and critical queer theory in kindergarten; an attack on welfare reform; ‘equity’ hiring across the federal government; plans to regulate media ‘disinformation’; fast-track sex-changes for minors; next-to-no due process in college sex-harassment proceedings; and on and on it went.

“Even the policy most popular with the center — the infrastructure bill — was instantly conditioned on an attempt to massively expand the welfare state. What on earth in this agenda was there for anyone in the center?”

The plug has finally been pulled on Westworld, one of the most throughly despised cable series in human history.

I was calling Westworld a bullshit puzzlebox series at the end of its first season, and it doubled down on that puzzlebox awfulness in season 2. THR‘s James Hibberd: “Fans [had] increasingly griped that the show had become confusing and tangled in its mythology and lacked characters to root for”…no shit?

[Posted on 11.28.16]: Last night a pair of posts about HBO’s vaguely infuriating Westworld series — one by Matt of Sleaford, the other by brenkilco — really hit the nail on the head. Together they explain why some viewers feel that good movies, which have to set everything up and pay off within two hours or so, are more satisfying than longform episodics. Here’s what they said in condensed form:

Brenkilco: “The problem with episodic TV narratives designed to blow minds is that the form and intention are at odds. A show designed to run until the audience gets tired of it cannot by definition have a satisfying structure. It can only keep throwing elements into the mix until, like Lost or Twin Peaks, it collapses under the weight of its own intriguing but random complications.

“Teasing this stuff out is easy. But eventually the rent comes due. Dramatic resolutions are demanded. The threads have to be pulled together. And that’s when things gets ugly.”

Matt of Sleaford: “Westworld is a puzzle-box show, which is kind of the opposite of a soap opera. Puzzle-box shows, like the aforementioned Lost and X-Files, can be fun to chew on while they’re progressing. But the solution is almost always anticlimactic. And though it may seem counterintuitive, puzzle-box shows are less effective in the internet era, because someone in the vast sea of commenters is almost certain to solve the puzzle before the end (see: Thrones, Game of).”

THR‘s Scott Roxborough, posted on 11.4.22: “Oscar-winner Michael Douglas and son Cameron will share the screen in the upcoming family drama Blood Knot, playing a father and son trying to mend their broken relationship.

“Howard Deutch (Empire, Young Sheldon) will direct the adaptation of Bob Rich’s book Looking Through Water, based on a script by Rowdy Herrington (Road House).”

Sounds good and looking forward, but for me the defining Cameron Douglas moment happened two and a half years ago, or on 5.5.20:

“Due respect to Cameron Douglas, grandson of Kirk and son of Michael Douglas. But if I’d been advising during the recording of this AFI Movie Club announcement, I would have gently reminded Cameron that the last syllable of Spartacus rhymes with “cuss” (i.e., as in “to curse”) or the first name of former Communist Party USA chairman Gus Hall. I’m sorry but at the :53 mark Cameron pronounces it Spartakiss, as in ‘kiss my ass’ or Gene Simmons.”

A serious industry guy saw Ridley Scott‘s Napoleon last night at the Grove, and has shared some observations with World of Reel‘s Jordan Ruimy.

The guy, a person of actual accomplishment as opposed to some pot-bellied film bum who attends research screenings in the fashion of a basement-dwelling fetishist, is calling Napoleon a “masterpiece.”

Here are some remarks:

“Running about 150 minutes, it covers the sweep of Napoleon’s life from his promotion around the time of the French revolution to the end” — a presumed refernce to Napoleon’s final defeat at Waterloo and subsequent exile. The guy thinks it’s “bigger, better and MORE PSYCHOLOGICAL than Scott’s epics like Kingdom of Heaven and Gladiator. Also more political.”

He thinks it’s “a masterpiece, or very nearly one…the culmination of Ridley’s life’s work as a filmmaker.

“[Scott’s] staging of battle scenes on a near-cosmic scale is mind-blowing,” the guy continues. “Joaquin Phoenix gives a Marlon Brando-like performance, taking some very big risks, and at times verging on the absurd, but always taking the audience with him.

“As a movie about a nationalist in a time of chaos and disintegration who thinks in terms of pure power, it has a lot of parallels to 2022. It’s a great movie and I’ll be surprised if there is anything better released in 2023.”

Given the weakness of 2022 films so far and that recent Tatiana Siegel-reported rumor that Apple was thinking about releasing Napoleon this year, it’s a shame that Apple has pussied out.

Napoleon costars Vanessa Kirby as Empress Joséphine, with Youssef Kerkour and Tahar Rahim also starring.

I’m imagining a chat with a Millennial-Zoomer pally about the Tudor exhibit at the current Metropolitan Museum. (The actual title is “The Tudors: Art and Majesty in Rennaissance England.”) Since ’15 or thereabouts this fellow has seen features, plays and cable series set in the 19th and 18th Centuries as well as Elizabethan England, including Netflix’s Bridgerton, Josie Rourke‘s Mary, Queen of Scots, Lynsey Miller and Eve Hedderwick Turner‘s Anne Boleyn, B’way’s Hamilton, Joel Coen‘s The Tragedy of Macbeth (set well before Elizabethan times) and so on. The casting of all these productions reflect the woke aesthetic known as “presentism”, and I’m telling this dude, who’ll be visiting the Met this weekend, that “The Tudors” doesn’t do the presentism thing because the paintings were actually painted back in the day. And this dude is looking at me going “wait…what do you mean?”

I saw Charlotte Wells‘ Aftersun many months ago in Cannes. Jordan Ruimy dragged me to it, and I tried, man…I really tried,. I watched and waited and gradually zoned out. My reaction was such that I didn’t write a review. I “respected” it but it didn’t turn the key. Mainly (and I know this makes me sound like a peon despite my rapt admiration for Michelangelo Antonioni”s L’Avventura and L’Eclisse) because nothing really happens.

It’s about a youngish, dopey-looking dad and his not-quite-teenaged daughter sharing a vacation at a low-key (i.e., not lavish) resort on the Turkish coast. Dad and mom have divorced and so this is a special father-and-daughter getaway. The problem is that dad is a dork who (a) smiles too much and (b) weeps in private.

Maggie and I divorced when the boys were under three, and I used to weep from time to time about not seeing them more often. But you have to suck that shit up.

I watched Aftersun to the end, and yet I can’t recall the last quarter. I know that boredom was a factor. I recall waiting for something to happen and gradually losing interest. Partly due to not liking Mescal, as I recall. Or feeling annoyed by his face. “I’m stuck with this guy?” I remember muttering to myself. I know I didn’t finish watching it in a focused sense. I floated away on some level. My eyes were watching the screen, but my head was somewhere else.

If I hadn’t sat through Aftersun six months ago and was thinking about seeing it now, I would be asking myself “what’s with the title?” I still don’t know what it means. Aftersun refers to…what, dusk? Or sundown? The way a person’s skin feels or looks like after exposure to too much sunlight? Or, in other words, sunburn? If it had been called Afterburn, I would understand. Either way the title doesn’t land.

And then there’s the “uh-oh” premise. A young girl discovers that her youngish idealistic father has another side to him that she didn’t see at first. And that other side has something to do with…uhm, the uncertainty of life? A father’s grief that comes from living apart from a young daughter? The goalie’s anxiety at the penalty kick? God’s silence?

Here’s a review from the honorable Dennis Harvey, the Variety stringer who was more or less assassinated when Carey Mulligan said that a line that he wrote about her not being hot enough to play the lead in Promising Young Woman had hurt her feelings. Here’s Harvey on Aftersun:

“Contrastingly opaque is Charlotte Wells’ Aftersun, a debut feature that’s won a great deal of critical praise whose enthusiasm I can’t quite share. In the 1990s, 11-year-old Sophie (Frankie Corio) goes on a holiday with her father Calum (Paul Mescal) to a Turkish resort obviously catering to British families. He is divorced from her mother, and evidently does not see his only child often, so this is a dual sojourn both welcome and a little awkward.

“Working in a style of psychological nuance and elliptical narrative that strongly recalls Lynne Ramsay’s films, Wells does assured work, and gets very good performances from her two main actors. But while Aftersun’s plotlessness isn’t dull, it is cryptic to an exasperating extent. We find out almost nothing about these characters’ shared past, why the marriage ended, what Calum is doing now, what failures or frustrations he’s found crying over in one late scene.

“There are also strobe-cut sequences interspersed throughout that show an adult Sophie (Celia Rowlson-Hall) apparently still haunted by this damaged-by-implication parental relationship…but they tell us even less. Wells does very well evoking subtle tensions. Still, 100 minutes of vaguely hinting at issues the film is far too discreet to reveal made for a slice-of-life drama more affected than affecting, in my book.”