Axios, earlier today: “The shit is going to hit the fan on Monday, when Congress returns,” a House Democrat told us. “People are scared about their own races. But they’re also worried about the country, and about democracy.”
“Every single person not named Biden,” or paid by the president, recognizes how deep a hole he’s in, said a top Democratic operative who’s talking nonstop to elected officials.
David Axelrod, former President Obama’s political architect, described Biden’s posture in an opinion piece Saturday: “Denial. Delusion. Defiance.” Axelrod said a growing chorus of Democrats is “fearful of an electoral disaster.”
During the 2010 Santa Barbara Film Festival (14 and 1/2 years ago) Quentin Tarantino re-told Brian DePalma‘s “there’s always Martin Scorsese!” story. It runs between :50 and 2:20. It happened during the Director’s Panel at the Lobero theatre. I was in the third row and shooting my own iPhone video, but this YTS Digital Films version looks and sounds better. Great racounteur, great humor, great everything.
I’m posting this because in 2010 Scorsese’s big Oscar win for The Departed had happened three years earlier, and yet two of his least satisfying films — Shutter Island and Hugo — were in the works, and yet his six-year golden renaissance period — The Wolf of Wall Street, Silence, The Irishman (aka “Wild Strawberries with handguns”) — was just around the corner and down the road a piece.
And then came Scorsese’s Waterloo, a film that a critic friend believes may be his worst ever — Killers of the Flower Moon.
What a perversion of the Scorsese legend! A Scorsese film that for the very first time wasn’t “a Scorsese film” but a woke film…a film that said “oh, dear Lord, it wasn’t just those conniving white-ass Oklahoma greedheads of the 1920s who were so deplorable, but all of our forebears really, all white people going back to the founding of America…plunderers, murderers, rapists, seeds of evil…oh, God, we must drop to our knees and atone and cleanse our souls…we must throw ourselves upon the church steps and beg for forgiveness before all Native Americans and Lily Gladstone in particular”…a film that could have been epic or at least muscular if Scorsese had chosen to shoot Eric Roth’s original screenplay adaptation of David Grann’s 2017 novel…If only Marty and Leo hadn’t lost their nerve…if only they hadn’t been so scared of provoking the wokesters and suffering their wrath, i.e., “We’re done with white heroes! Only racists-at-heart would tell David Grann’s tale!”
Sub-zero arctic refrigerated air-conditioning is a highly effective way to discourage online hobos like yours truly. Except I always order a double cappuccino and sometimes a little something to eat so I’m not really a “hobo” —- unlike most of the bum squad I always pay.
I do, however, tend to hang out for long stretches, typically filing three or four stories.
Removing electrical outlets has gotten rid of most of the Starbucks riff-raff nationwide, although Wilton’s Starbucks outlet is a blessed exception to the rule with six or seven usable outlets…pig heaven!
To balance this out, however, Wilton Starbucks management has recently introduced the kind of aching, bone-freezing air conditioning that would make an Alaskan huskie or JamesArness‘s “The Thing” feel right at home. It’s so cold in that cafe I can’t even think of filing without wearing a winter parka, and who carries a winter parka around in July?
Congrats to Wilton Starbucks…the hobos are no more! At least until the weather cools.
HE to James Cameron [emailed around 3 pm]: “Jim, So sad and sorry to hear about poor Jon Landau, whom I had some dealings with during the ‘90s and especially the Titanic era. A good human being, and very wise, savvy and strategic. Serious condolences.”
I’m especially sorry that Landau passed relatively early in life — he was only 63, born on 7.23.60.
The “other” JonLandau — the music critic, manager and record producer — was born on 5.14.47. He’s thankfully still with us.
…that dogs can sense invisible things (spiritual tremors, ominous vibe shifts) more acutely than humans. Which is why I never “talk” to dogs…I always vibe them with dog sounds.
There were two damning moments during tonight’s all-too-brief (22 minutes) interview.
The first happened when GeorgeStephanopulos asked PresidentBiden about Trump currently being farther ahead in general polling (six points) after the debate than before, and about Biden’s reported 36% approval rating. Biden flat-out dismissed these numbers, saying he doesn’t believe them (or more precisely doesn’t want to). Thud.
The second occurred when George asked how Biden would feel if it all goes south and Trump wins re-election. Biden: “As long as I gave it my all, and did the best job I know I can do — that’s what this is about.” Uhm, no, Joe —- there’s also the tiny little matter of a criminal sociopath running the country after you lose. Hundreds of millions will be affected by this potential electoral catastrophe, so it’s about a lot more than you having given your all, you effing blase egotist.
In tonight’s one-on-one interview between President Biden and ABC’s George Stephanopoulus, Biden is asked if he’s watched his own debate performance.
Biden’s reply: “I don’t think I did, no.”
Wait…he’s doesn’t THINK he watched a replay? He doesn’t think so but isn’t 100% SURE? He CAN’T RELIABLY RECALL something that may have happened a week ago or less?
He’s either lying or his mind has no snap, crackle, pop.
The best films about revolutions are those that wind the viewer up to such an extent that by the midpoint he/she wants to join the revolution being depicted. Films, in other words, that literally inject revolutionary serum into the viewer’s veins…the real kind, I mean, and not the bullshit Star Wars kind.
The second best are those that pass along the hard, cold, bitter and dispassionate truth about most revolutions, which is that they’re not all that romantic and are much more complex and complicated and even dispiriting than most of us would like to think.
The very best manage to convey both perspectives.
HE’s list of the finest, tip-top films about the (sometimes disappointing or delusional) drug of revolution are as follows:
13. Sergei Eisenstein‘s Battleship Potemkin (’25).
Posted on 12.1.08: Che isn’t a pamphlet or a short story or tight three-act “movie” to be savored with a tub of popcorn and a “do it to me” attitude. It’s about luxurious feasting as long as you understand the kind of feast that it is. A big and filling one, certainly, in terms of realism and theme and transportation, but served without conventional “story”, patented emotionalism, movie moments, dessert, coffee, appetizers, waiters, napkins, brandy or any of your standard four-star restaurant perks.
Obviously I’m not mentioning Che‘s subject matter, cinematography, real-life history, performances, etc. I just can’t do it again. Not now anyway. I’ve written about it so many times it’s coming out of my ears.
The people who nip-nip-nipped into this film in Cannes will, I believe, someday eat their words. If, that is, the prevailing opinion trend, which I’m told is starting to move for Che after six months of Cannes after-effect, actually manifests. Among the guilds and the branches, I mean. In which case the nip-nippers will begin to pretend that they liked it all along.
Perhaps there is, in fact, some kind of positive counter-surge brewing among those who are not critics. In the same way that 2001: A Space Odyssey, dumped on by big-city critics when it opened in April 1968, was saved by doobie-tokers. By this I mean people with the apparent capacity to enjoy a film that doesn’t do “drama” and just roll with what it is and what it does.
For me this boils down to the savoring of naturalistic experience, behavior, aroma — a kind of high-end movie versimilitude trip that isn’t trying to arouse and soothe in a campfire-tale sort of way but is strangely immersive all the same.
“Che is a direct challenge to audiences,” declared L.A. Times guy Mark Olsen in a 10.31 article. “Depending on who you ask, Che is either Soderbergh’s greatest masterwork or his grandest folly.”
Che is so fully realized and so completely off on its own humid jungle trail that many don’t get what it’s doing. It is in no way a folly.
Not to slight Chrissie Hynde‘s vocals in any way, but I absolutely adore the guitar tracks on “Back On the Chain Gang.” Hynde playing jangly rhythm, James Honeyman-Scott playing lead. This song is 42 years old…Jesus.
…if I’d somehow found myself in Los Angeles yesterday, even given the fact that I can’t watch Jaws anymore. I own the 4K Bluray and I just can’t sit through it. But I adore Laurent Bozereau‘s Making of ‘Jaws’ documentary, which I wrote about a year and a half ago.
I first saw Laurent Bouzereau‘s The Making of ‘Jaws’, an extra feature on the Jaws laserdisc, in ’95. 27 and 1/2 years ago. It’s since been included on the DVD, Bluray and 4K Bluray editions. It runs two hours and six minutes or something close to that. I was instantly gobsmacked by how honest and thorough and meticulous it was. Every significant chapter, every step of the journey. And a lot of it is funny. And everyone looks so young!
Almost everyone took part except for poor RobertShaw, who passed in ’78, and the late Murray Hamilton, who departed in ’86. Spielberg, Zanuck and Brown, Sid Sheinberg, Richard Dreyfuss, Lorraine Gary, book author Peter Benchley, screenwriter Carl Gottlieb, Roy Scheider, dp Bill Butler, edtitor Verna Fields, John Williams, shark specialists Ron and Valerie Taylor, etc.
It’s absolutely the definitive account of how Steven Spielberg, Richard Zanuck and David Brown‘s 1975 thriller came to be. The doc is significantly better, it goes without saying, than Eric Hollander‘s The Shark Is Still Working (’12), which I caught a few years ago. Decent, approvable.
I re-watched Bouzereau’s doc last night, and it’s still transporting. I know the saga backwards and forwards and I loved every minute. The only thing it needs is someone acknowledging at the very end that the enormous success of Jaws yielded a mixed legacy. For Jaws and Star Wars basically brought about the end of the Hollywood’s greatest chapter (the late ’60s to late ’70s) by ushering in the era of the blockbuster. Nobody so much as mentions this in Bouzereau’s film….astonishing.
Is this from the old In Living Color days? I’m presuming the fall of ’91. (Carrey’s reference to Oliver Stone and JFK indicates this.) Never saw this before this morning.
