Written last March: “Damien Chazelle’s Babylon is crazy and cranked up to 10 or 11 and at times rather extreme and orgiastic and almost Salo-like in one or two respects…it isn’t mad and indulgent and wicked in itself, of course, but it certainly uses a kind of Vincente Minnelli-meets-Fellini Satyricon-type paintbrush. Call it a flamboyant, envelope-pushing, 185-minute version of Singin’ In The Rain with the songs and dancing and smiles taken out. Or a depravity-tinged survival story about Hollywood transitioning from the silent era to sound, although ultimately spanning three decades (mid 1920s through 1952).”
No feature film director would even suggest such a scene (24-second mark), even during the scriptwriting stage. Nor this one. For this is the New Puritanism. Where is Barry Sonnenfeld now? Perhaps we could…okay, not retroactively cancel him but at least admonish him? Wild Wild West is 23 years old, but (a) right is right and (b) it’s never too late to punish.
Two days ago Deadline‘s Michael Flemingreported about a special private screening of Alexander Payne‘s The Holdovers. The idea, at least in theory, was that Payne’s Christmas-themed, Paul Giamatti-starring dramedy might open later this year. Fleming: “It’s very possible that one of the usual suspects will step up and put this film [into] the awards season race late in the year.”
It would seem, in short, that Focus has decided that it’ll be too strenuous to open The Holdovers 14 or 15 weeks hence, and it’ll be somewhat easier (and perhaps less costly) to open it 16 months down the road. Probably because (I’m just guessing here) they’ve decided it’s too subtle and modestly adult and character-driven in a low-key way to compete as a year-end, award-calibre attraction quite so soon. Or something like that.
…but I know who she is. I know her history, beliefs, influences, and to a large extent her personality. She was a Barry Goldwater girl in ’64 so don’t tell me. So there’s absolutely no ambiguity here — Hillary is not a Cardi B. WAP girl, and I don’t believer Chelsea is either. Not really. I think they’re pretending to relate to the WAP thing in order to not seem stuffy or congested or wealthy-white-woman elitist types. I don’t believe a word of this.
The two-year-old Cardi B. meets Megan Thee Stallion WAP video is all about unabashed, non-apologetic sexual arousal in its wettest form. WAP stands for wet-ass pussy. Any semi-mature woman or man who watches this video is going to have…uhm, certain reservations. I’m presuming that a sizable percentage of semi-mature women (or men) who’ve watched this have probably said to themselves “if I think this is sorta kinda shamelessly vulgar, does that make me a bad person? Maybe I should sorta kinda keep this to myself.” I’m presuming, in fact, that outside of your 20something hot-to-trot hormonals, people of all stripes and ages have had this reaction.
Hillary is a flesh-and-blood human with feelings and memories of her youth and all the rest, but she’s not a WAP woman, and she never will be.
The first industry showing of David O. Russell‘s Amsterdam (20th Century, 10.7) happened this evening at Ross House, the swanky Mt. Olympus screening facility. A mesmerizing and amusing you-tell-me (I wasn’t there)…an all-star 1930s mystery shuffle, nervy and comedic and an attitude “ride” in every conceivable sense….a hyper hellzapoppin’ involving several plot threads and many characters.
Christian Bale, Margot Robbie, John David Washington, Chris Rock, Anya Taylor-Joy, Zoe Saldaña, Mike Myers, Michael Shannon, Timothy Olyphant, Andrea Riseborough, Taylor Swift, Matthias Schoenaerts, Alessandro Nivola, Rami Malek and Robert De Niro.
The post-screening discussion was between Russell, Bale and director Adam McKay.
Producer Matthew Budman announced that Amsterdam will have a big screening “next week” (presumably between 9.19 and 9.9.23) at Manhattan’s Alice Tully Hall.
HE knows nothing solid about a possible coup against Vladimir Putin. Apparently there is nothing solid. But oh, so tantalizing! The notion of a coup being increasingly likely has been strengthened by a social media flurry over the last 24 hours. Russian losses in Ukraine (especially in the Kharkiv region) are adding fuel to the fire. Powerful people in Russia want the Ukraine war ended and Putin out on his ass. If Putin goes down, my recommendation is to shoot him like the Bolsheviks shot the Czar’s family. Stand him against a wall like Ceaucescu…ready, aim, fire. Problem solved.
I won’t be seeing Gina Prince-Bythewood‘s The Woman King (Sony 9.16) until Tuesday evening. The Toronto Film Festival response has been overwhelmingly positive — a very well contructed, highly engaging action drama, they’re all saying. 100% and 75% scores from Rotten Tomatoes and Metacritic, respectively.
Given the overwhelming tide of positivity, HE salutes World of Reel‘s Jordan Ruimy for having the temerity to swim against the tide. I’ve no opinion if Ruimy’s view is correct or incorrect (ask me late Tuesday night), but his review also points out the historical record about the Kingdom of Dahomey.
The Woman King “tells the story of the Agojie, an all-female troop of warriors who fought for the west African Dahomey kingdom for centuries, violently and effectively taking on men who threatened and underestimated them.” — Benjamin Lee’s Guardian review.
Dahomey Wikipage excerpt: “The Kingdom of Dahomey was an important regional power that had an organized domestic economy built on conquest and slave labor, significant international trade and diplomatic relations with Europeans, a centralized administration, taxation systems, and an organized military. Notable in the kingdom were significant artwork, an all-female military unit called the Dahomey Amazons by European observers, and the elaborate religious practices of Vodun.
“The growth of Dahomey coincided with the growth of the Atlantic slave trade, and it became known to Europeans as a major supplier of slaves. As a highly militaristic kingdom constantly organised for warfare, it captured children, women, and men during wars and raids against neighboring societies, and sold them into the Atlantic slave trade in exchange for European goods such as rifles, gunpowder, fabrics, cowrie shells, tobacco, pipes, and alcohol.”
From Peter Debruge‘s Variety review: “Dana Stevens’ stirring script strategically downplays the Dahomey’s own practice of capturing and enslaving others, which surely would have complicated the more admirable dimensions of this historical — and history-making — drama.”
Werewolves don't do lunch and certainly not breakfast. They've always been nocturnal. Influenced by the gentle light of the slivery moon. Lon Chaney, Jr. didn't enjoy an afternoon stroll with the Queen of England -- they were walking down a damp narrow street in Soho after dark. All to say that the title Werewolf By Night is redundant, to put it mildly.
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Just shy of six weeks ago HE passed along predictions about likely Oscars noms for The Fabelman‘s Judd Hirsch and Michelle Williams. Late last night several Toronto tweeters emphasized the same. When Spielberg is able to get it just right by restraining himself without diluting the emotional essence, his touch is golden. Here’s hoping that last night’s praise is genuine and verfifiable.
If you say that young white males — the lonely, undervalued, borderline incel, spending-too-much-time-at-home types — are having a rough time these days, fine. I’ve seen it with my own eyes, and it’s a known thing among many of us. But if you say that young white males are having a particularly difficult time because they’re regarded by liberal elites as bad eggs and would-be oppressors because they’re white and therefore a potential Kyle Rittenhouse, you’ve got a problem. Because in progressive circles “white male” has become an epithet. Not without cause, I realize, but if you express the slightest sympathy for young, depressed white dudes (under-educated, working at home, limited prospects), elites automatically presume that you’re aligning yourself with some kind of toxic male syndrome.
“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,...
