Hollywood Elsewhere’s peaceful solitude is about to end with Tatiana returning from Russia tomorrow. Given her ardent admiration for Vladimir Putin and all things Russia, I am not looking forward to any discussions of the allegedly imminent invasion of Ukraine by the Russian military. If I was in Ukraine I would be torn between leaving the country and wanting to stick around in order to watch the bombings and the devastation, not to mention ducking the shrapnel as bullets whizz by my head.

I’ll watch Steven Soderbergh’s Kimi sometime this evening. Until then…

In my book Seth Rogen‘s performance as Rand Gauthier is the best part of Pam & Tommy. That said and no offense, I still have a problem with the light orange and lavender tuxedo that he wore to last year’s Emmy Awards.

Posted earlier today by The Insider‘s Jason Guerrasio: “I don’t get why movie people care so much if other people care what awards we give ourselves,” Rogen told Insider during an interview with Paul Rudd about their Super Bowl commercial for Lay’s potato chips.

“To me, maybe people just don’t care. I don’t care who wins the automobile awards. No other industry expects everyone to care about what awards they shower upon themselves. Maybe people just don’t care. Maybe they did for a while and they stopped caring. And why should they?”

“Showtime is billing Sacha Jenkins’ new docuseries Everything’s Gonna Be All White as three parts, plus a bonus episode.

“This is an odd choice of focus. The three episodes are a solid if formally inconsistent attempt to tackle the racial history of America in discipline-spanning socio-economic-cultural terms. It makes some smart connections and is full of worthy insights, but I’d never recommend it over HBO’s similar Exterminate All the Brutes or a dozen PBS docuseries covering the same terrain.” — from Daniel Fienberg‘s 2.10 Hollywood Reporter review.

HE riff on The Stinky Whiteness, for the 17th or 18th time: Democrats have to stand for sensible, compassionate, fair-minded liberalism, etc. JFK-styled or LBJ-flavored or Obama-stamped liberalism means fair but practical policies that are even-steven across the board, or at least ones that try to be that.

I don’t believe or accept the idea that all whites are inherently demonic, and I don’t believe or accept that all African Americans are inherently saintly. Nor do I believe in woke Stalinism and moderate college professors losing their jobs because they’re not 100% sold on the equity thing.

I am essentially a sensible non-fanatic as far as racial matters are concerned. Or, if you will, I’m a white John McWhorter who believes in basic fairness and sensible progressive programs. I also believe that activist trans activists and the “what’s your pronoun?” people are fine and no worries but at the same time my eyes are rolling upwards.

To some out there what I’ve just written proves that I’m some kind of salivating racist homophobe. But I’m not. Really. I’m a center-left moderate who’d increasingly appalled by the Crazy Left. Right now I’m beyond furious that these nutters have already shit the bed and are going to bring about a rightwing landslide next fall.

Democrats have become the “African-Americans need to be given preferential treatment in all walks of life in order to correct racist mindsets of the past four centuries” party, or basically the Nikole Hannah Jones 1619 party. Because BIPOCS have been murdered and shat upon for centuries.

Democrats have also become the “children need to be instructed that whites are in the grip of an evil genetic tendency party”, and the time has come for whites to take a back seat in order for progress to manifest. Or words to that effect.

Democrats have also become the “more men need the freedom to become pregnant homemakers” party.

Put another way, the urban elite progressive wing has become the Rosanna Arquette party, and is ruled by the idea that whites must accept across-the-board corrections — they need to bow their heads and accept punishment for their ancestors’ behavior in order to allow for racial re-dress and racially corrective ideas and programs to take hold.

I despise Joe Rogan for having spread bad information about Covid and the vaccines, and thereby encouraged all kinds of idiotic, irresponsible. anti-social behavior in the hinterland realms. But the people who are trying to blow up his career over India Arie’s YouTube n-word montage are much, much worse. HE agrees with Glenn Loury that “the superficial morality of spoken word etiquette versus the genuine morality of a thick, historically informed engagement with important questions of policy, of state, of ethics” are not equally important.

McWhorter: “We can talk about Joe Rogan and the Covid [content] but this other thing…this won’t do.”

If I had a four year-old daughter who was about to enter pre-school, I wouldn’t let her within 500 feet of this sociopath.

Elementary school counselor. This is who kids are supposed to trust. I would never let her near my kid pic.twitter.com/Re5SK1BwGx

— Libs of Tik Tok (@libsoftiktok) February 10, 2022

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I’ve been thinking about switching from the rumblehog to a decent pre-owned car. I’m no longer flush thanks to the wokesters, but I don’t want to get into a years-long payoff deal. So I’ve been looking for a nice little tool-around car. Something older, a dependable brand (Beemer, Volvo, Nissan), well-maintained. Yesterday afternoon I was attracted to a white 2002 BMW, 165K miles, for $2500. The only hitch is that it’s in Palm Springs. But it seemed appealing so I reached out to the owner, and then the weirdness began.

The owner is a dude — I could tell that much. Right off the top he said “no talking, just text me.” He knows autos and does his own maintenance, but he wouldn’t tell me his name or where he lives, and suggested that our initial meeting happen in front of an office building. It turns out the Beemer needs service — the usual tune-up stuff plus new brake discs and pads, which meant I’d be paying an extra $500 or more — figure $3K and change.

The idea was to travel to Palm Springs later today and test-drive the Beemer, and give it to a local mechanic for approval, and then finalize things on Friday. That meant I’d have to take a bus to Palm Springs and take a few Uber rides and pay the mechanic for his time and stay in a hotel plus meals — another $250 or $300, minimum. Now we’re in the $3400 to $3500 region.

I asked the Palm Springs Phantom if I should call him Mr. X. He laughed. I said I was a journalist and explained about Hollywood Elsewhere, and he said “what’s that?” I assured him that I don’t work for the CIA, the Russians, the Palm Springs vice squad, the FBI or the East German Stasi. “Are you really going to do this cloak-and-dagger thing until I arrive?,” I said. “No name, no gender, no nothing? No offense but this feels a tiny bit weird.”

Mr. X: “That’s because that [stuff] doesn’t matter.”
HE: “I don’t mind the spy-movie intrigue. But there’s something existential about this conversation.”
Mr. X: “Are you actually interested in buying this car?”
HE: “Definitely. But you know what I mean. Your identity is going to come out in the wash anyway, right? Bill of sale, pink slip, transfer of title.”
Mr. X: “Yeah.”
HE: “I am 110% serious.”
Mr. X: “Cool. Sounds good…see you tomorrow, man.”
HE: “So when I knock on the door tomorrow at 5 or so, will you be wearing a Yoda mask?”
Mr. X: “That’s not my home address — that’s a business center.”
HE: “Ahh, got it. Well, this is very shadowy but okay. I’ll find a way out there and line up mechanic, and find a decent motel or hotel. This will be, as noted, a two-day process.”

This morning I decided to blow the whole deal off. A guy who won’t reveal his name or address — what is he, a terrorist? A drug dealer? Plus the whole “take a bus to Palm Springs, take three or four Ubers, stay in a motel plus find and hire a mechanic” thing seemed a bit much. When I told him of my decision, Mr. X said, “You’re wasting my time, bruh.”

I wouldn’t say that a majority of people selling cars on Facebook Marketplace and Craigslist are scammers, but a significant portion are. Plus the people who’ve written me about buying the rumblehog are scammers also. Favorite line: “I’m a sergeant in the military, I’m going overseas with my team”…really? Second favorite line: “I’m selling this for my invalid mother.” A guy with another car for sale (2013 white Impala) wanted to meet him in central Watts (just south of the 105) and bring cash…no PayPal or Venmo. Sure thing.

…is meaningless to me. It doesn’t mean squat to anyone. Entertainment Weekly has been a dead brand for a good 10 or 15 years, or since it began to primarily aim its coverage at young, none-too-bright women. (Which began back in the Bush years, right?) And now the print days are over. Things change. But boy oh boy I remember the buzz that came from reading semi-glossy magazines that were aimed at semi-educated urbans — i.e., pages and pages of stapled tree pulp with printed words and pictures. Printed newspapers also!

I was a steady (you could say dogged) EW contributor during the ‘90s heyday, but you don’t want to hear those dusty old stories again.

The entire quote is from The Hollywood Reporter‘s Sheri Linden, and it comes from a 12.9.21 “Critics Conversation” between herself, David Rooney and Liva Guyarkye….here it is:

Linden: “There’s a terrible loneliness at the heart of Ruth Negga’s remarkable performance [in Passing]. Clare’s vivacity is at once an expression of audacity and an act of hiding. In very different ways, Negga’s character and Kirsten Dunst’s tender turn in Power of the Dog reverberate with a nation’s calamitous history — Who is valued? Who decides? But it’s on an intimate, moment-to-moment level that these two performances tore my heart out.”

So Dunst’s Rose Gordon, a kind-hearted, hard-working mother of a teenage son (Kodi Smit-.McPhee) and recently married to Jesse Plemon‘s fleshy, ginger-haired George Burbank only to run afoul of his brother, the snarly, menacing Phil (Benedict Cumberbatch) and thereafter descends into alcoholism…how exactly does poor Rose’s plight mirror our shared “calamitious history“? I’m completely mystified as to what this means.

Rose’s story seems like a local matter to me…a family drama, a matter of Phil’s malignancy, a cattle-ranch issue. In what way does this reflect on anything national, then or now? Or state-wide even? Who apart from those who live and work on the Burbank ranch…who cares what poor Rose is going through?

Friendo: “Kim Kardashian looks good — you have to give her that. She allegedly lost 20 lbs. after getting Covid. This, either way, is how to be super-successful in 2022, by virtue-signalling while growing an empire. ‘I’ve chosen myself’ — no shit, sweetheart. As in ‘I’ve chosen my brand, my wealth, my obsessive self-attention,’ etc. She really did crack the code, didn’t she? She’s now the symbol of our modern Gilded Age. And, as ever, she does absolutely nothing in terms of innovation, ideas, creating, devotion, design…even adventure-seeking. Imagine all of her fans, most of them living in poverty, trying to be that. How could they ever?”

“The big winner, nomination-wise, was The Power of the Dog…12 nominations, one for every person who saw it. Lady Gaga was a surprise, not being nominated, but the biggest snub in my opinion…I’m actually even angry about this, I’m kind of embarassed to say…[the biggest snub was] the unforgivable omission of Spider-Man: No Way Home.

“How did that not get one of the ten nominations? There were only 11 [half-decent] movies made this year. Forget the fact that [Spider-Man] made $750 million [domestic] and it still going. This was a great movie, and there were three Spider-Men in it! One of them was Andrew Garfield, and he was a Best Actor nominee.

“You’re telling me Don’t Look Up was better than Spider-Man? It most certainly was not.

“When did we decide that a Best Picture [nominee] always has to be serious? This was not the point when they started making films. Ben-Hur…chariots of leprosy. Frankenstein…a monster powered by lightning. Fantasia…Mickey Mouse on an acid trip. The Wizard of Oz…flying monkeys and a witch. These are great, classic, Oscar-level movies. There’s northing wrong with serious movies, a lot of them are fantastic and deserving, but when did ‘serious’ become a prequisite for earning an Academy Award?”

From Richard Rushfield‘s latest Ankler post, “Behold, The Incredible Shrinking Oscars…Again“:

“So the Academy exists to ratify the esoteric choices of guilds and 400 critics groups; critics who themselves are largely now unread, except by each other. But of course, it was impossible to hold the theatrical category to any viewership standards once the floodgates opened to the streamers, which are a black hole of information from which only glimpses of light emerge. And instead of taking public reaction into account, it’s just thrown out the window, and Oscar can become…another critics’ film circle?

“Which, if you’re looking at it from a perspective of honoring craftsmanship in cinema, is wonderful.

“If you’re looking at it from a perspective of maintaining a mass medium’s connection with a mass audience, then well, what would you say is the level of public excitement for one’s local critics’ circle announcements? Have you sensed an unfulfilled public demand for more of those?

“As one friend put it, ‘For years the promotion of movies and moviegoing was the collaboration of studios and the press. That’s over. The press has taken up streamers and indies to ‘save’ indies [the Eric Kohn / David Ehrlich aesthetic] and studios have all but said fuck it.’

“So in the Best Pic category, we have a cluster of films that were…flops, disappointments, underperforms, at best given a Gentleman’s C for COVID. And then a bunch of films whose audiences are total mysteries.

“To put it another way, is there any evidence that there is a single person under 40 on the planet who has watched a single one of these movies?”