Even before the shitty reviews surfaced (24% and 32% from Rotten Tomatoes and Metacritic), I had decided that my soul would be bruised and my life diminished by sitting through Land of the Lost. It was basically the combination of dinosaurs, Will Ferrell, Danny McBride and director Brad Silberling (whose Casper I’d hated). I could watch it right on Amazon but I won’t. I wouldn’t watch it on a 12-hour flight to Seoul without wifi.

In the wake of Amazon, Netflix, Time’s Up and others dismissing the foot-dragging, retrograde mindsets among members of the Hollywood Foreign Press Association regarding issues of racial concern, Scarlett Johansson has become the latest voice to throw the besieged organization under the bus.

ScarJo has urged the industry to “step back” from the HFPA (i.e., think about refusing to attend the annual Golden Globe awards) until it does more than offer humanistic homilies and cosmetic changes.

No one would dispute that the HFPA is way too out of the swim of things by Hollywood standards, and that certain members, as Johansson mentioned in a statement to Variety earlier today, have asked “sexist questions” at press conferences “that bordered on sexual harassment.” The HFPA is a myopic outfit. The members live in their own world.

But I have to say that I’d become accustomed to Johansson being more of a headstrong thinker who’s occasionally swum against the tide (the 2018 Rub & Tug transgender thing, stating the following year that she “believes” Woody Allen). A voice is telling me that Johansson was probably urged by her team to speak out against the HFPA in order to shore up her woke credentials.

Seven weeks ago Tatiana and I shared a nice dinner at Spago on Canon. The salmon pizza, accented with red caviar and a light spread of cream cheese, was the hit of the evening. There were a fair number of diners inside and in the outside tent annex, but with room to breathe. You could sense a slight but substantial air of caution.

Last night we returned, and the salmon pizza was almost as good as before. (It wasn’t warm enough.) And there was no ignoring two things about the immediate neighborhood: (a) each and every restaurant was packed to the gills, and (b) commercial Beverly Hills felt like one big street party. Mostly under-35s, and not a whole lot of masks.

I wasn’t frowning because in upscale liberal Los Angeles it really is becoming an olly-olly-in-come-free climate. Not so much within Republican regions and “hesitant” African American communities, but it’s getting better and better in liberal-minded areas. If it weren’t for the idiots we could be more or less out of this nightmare by the mid-to-late summer.

From Maureen Dowd‘s 5.8.21 N.Y. Times column, “Liz Cheney and the Big Lies“: “It must be said that the petite blonde from Wyoming suddenly seems like a Valkyrie amid halflings.

“She is willing to sacrifice her leadership post — and risk her political career — to continue calling out Donald Trump’s Big Lie. She has decided that, if the price of her job is being as unctuous to Trump as Kevin McCarthy is, it isn’t worth it, because McCarthy is totally disgracing himself.

“It has been a dizzying fall for the scion of one of the most powerful political families in the land, a conservative chip off the old block who was once talked about as a comer, someone who could be the first woman president.

“How naïve I was to think that Republicans would be eager to change the channel after Trump cost them the Senate and the White House and unleashed a mob on them.”

An excellent excerpt from Richard Rushfield‘s latest Ankler column, “The 2021 Showbiz State of the Union,” posted on 5.7.21:

“These are not ordinary times for the industry. The systemic collapse of [Steven Soderbergh‘s Oscar show] revealed the hollowness of the core we’re all sitting on. The greatest conglomeration of entertainers the world has ever seen — on the biggest night of the year, center stage, spotlight right on them — were unable to entertain and they didn’t seem terribly concerned with even trying to.”

Kindly HE correction: Anyone, I think, would find it hard to apply the word “entertainers” to all but one of the 2021 Best Picture nominees — Nomadland (melancholy, meditative), The Father (a drip-drip tragedy about decline and degeneration), Judas and the Black Messiah (dour drama about the troops of J. Edgar Hoover closing in and bringing death and destruction in the late ’60s), Mank (interesting, well-made but less than “entertaining”), Minari (except for two or three grandma moments, definitely not entertaining), Promising Young Woman (a waker-upper but the saga of a 30something woman bent on revenge and self-destruction is hardly a delight) and Sound of Metal (spiritually transporting, quietly transformative). Aaron Sorkin‘s The Trial of the Chicago 7 was the only Best Picture nominee that could be called entertaining.

Back to Rushfield: “They couldn’t make jokes, they couldn’t touch the heartstrings, they couldn’t even speak to the concerns of anyone outside Hollywood. Since the Academy last assembled a year ago, there has been a little world-historic event that disrupted the life of the entire planet, not to mention killed millions. By my count, the show made three, extremely passing references to this happening.

“That’s why this felt like an extinction-level event: the night the Hollywood elites walked away from the audience and vice versa. Even with the inner circle’s resident genius and innovator at the helm, they no longer have any understanding of who is the audience, why they are watching — and [they] no longer particularly care.

“And the whirlwind will be reaped.

“A better analogy might be that this was Hollywood’s Ceausescu speech — the moment the crowds turned on the god, and what had been authoritative and inspiring in an instant became ghoulish and pathetic, and his grip on the public slipped away, fatally.”

Nine or ten days ago I ordered a Region B Gaumont Bluray of Roman Polanski‘s J’Accuse. Alas, without English subtitles. An hour ago I popped it in. Before today I’d only seen an Italian-dubbed version with English subs, a 720p pirate torrent. Now I’ve finally seen and heard it properly…in French, 1080p, needle-sharp focus, softly lighted like a film shot during the actual Belle Epoque, perfectly timed and balanced. Watching it with French subtitles helps, although I’d love to see an English-friendly version someday.

It’s Polanski’s fifth masterpiece in the wake of Repulsion, Rosemary’s Baby, Chinatown and The Pianist, and the 21st Century’s answer to Paths of Glory (by way of a good detective yarn). Please read Robert Koehler’s perceptive review in a Summer 2020 edition of Cineaste.

…discuss hints, levitations, perceptions, intuitions, undercurrents and tingly vibes.

The standout track from Van Morrison‘s just-released “Latest Record Project, Volume 1” is called “They Control The Media.” Reaction #1: A slam against your concentrated, corporate-level news, media and entertainment cabal. Reaction #2: As Morrison has become a full-on reactionary, it’s pretty clear he’s not talking about Fox News. Reaction #3: It also seems as if he’s passing along an anti-Semitic trope when he says “they.”

Advance apology to HE readers who feel that this site has posted far too many riffs and reports about woke terror. I definitely hear you — the sooner all this shit stops, the better. That said…

Two days ago a #MeToo complaint surfaced about Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs, and more particularly the finale with Prince Charming kissing the comatose Snow White and thereby bringing her back to life.

The #MeToo view is that the prince over-stepped, and that perhaps he should be…well, not cancelled but at least admonished and censured. The kerfuffle grew out of Anaheim Disneyland’s newly revamped Snow White’s Enchanted Wish ride. It’s been claimed that the ride features a “problematic” kiss because it happens without Snow White’s consent.

The issue was debated two days ago by ITV’s Andrew Neil and actress Nicola Tharp. The latter’s view is that it would’ve been better all around if the Prince hadn’t happened along and if Snow White had stayed in the coma.

It is HE’s view that Prince Charming should be stripped of his royal title — that he should be Al Franken-ed and sent packing. If you’ve seen Into The Woods you know he was a misogynist asshole to begin with.

I usually ignore trade stories about forthcoming films — better to hold off until they’re wrapped and in post. But given my admiration for director Ari Aster (Midsommar, Hereditary), a 4.27 post about Aster’s Disappointment Boulevard has my attention.

It’s some kind of eerie creep-out that will costar Joaquin Phoenix and Meryl Streep, according to World of Reel‘s Jordan Ruimy. The info is from DeuxMoi and “a source from MTL Productions.” A24 will distribute.

On 4.17, the signing of Phoenix in Disappointment Boulevard was reported on by Dread Central. Pic will reportedly begin filming in Montreal on 6.28.21.

The original title was Beau is Afraid, and apparently grew out of Aster’s 2011 short film, Beau. The decade-old short has been described as a “surrealist horror film set in an alternate present.” Phoenix would play an “extremely anxious man who never knew his father, and has a fraught relationship with his overbearing mother.”

IMDB logline: “A neurotic middle-aged man’s trip back home is delayed indefinitely when his keys are mysteriously taken from his door. He is subsequently haunted by an increasingly sinister chain of upsetting events.”

On the film’s IMDB page Aster describes it as “a sickly, domestic melodrama in the vein of Douglas Sirk” — a description sure to be welcomed by Sirk-worshipping snob critics the world over.

During a press conference held yesterday in Spain, Woody Allen allegedly told French TV that his next film will be a dark drama a la Match Point, and that it’ll be shot in Paris.

This comes from World of Reel‘s Jordan Ruimy, who caught a live stream of the press conference. Apparently no U.S. media reps were in attendance.

One presumes that the plot would deliver another variation on familiar Allen themes — life is a grim bowl of cherries, betrayal lurks around every corner (especially in the realm of relationships), and your worst enemy is more often than not yourself.

If I were Allen I wouldn’t sidestep or pull punches. I would take certain familiar elements from my life over the last decade or so and transform them into a fictional narrative. A film, for example, about a flawed but in one instance falsely accused protagonist a la Polanski’s J’Accuse. If he doesn’t create something that echoes the Mia/Dylan thing to some extent, what would be the point?

This frame capture explains all you need to know about how good Risky Business is, and how exceptional director Paul Brickman was.

19 out of 20 directors would have directed this scene like John Badham, the rote or good-enough way, and we would’ve simply been told/shown that some neighborhood kids are listening to a front-yard dispute between Joel Goodson (Tom Cruise), Guido the killer pimp (Joe Pantoliano) and a couple of tart-tongued prostitutes (Rebecca De Mornay, Shera Danese)…hah-hah! The kids would have just stood there, and maybe reacted in some kind of “holy shit, this is unusual!” way.

But Brickman told them to look studious and absorbed and perhaps even a little bored. And so the boy on the left is leaning against his bike, starting to tire from the effort of wondering who’s the more promising pimp, Joel or Guido? And the two little girls are watching with arms folded. This is the difference between average and brilliant filmmaking.