Ringo Starr turned 80 last July 7th, and you really have to hand it to the guy — he looks, sounds and talks like he’s 51 or 52. He could even be 49. When you pass 50 or 55 and you don’t want gray hair to dominate your appearance, you tell your hair-salon guy to allow a few gray strands to peek through around the temples. Because coloring your hair too darkly looks fake. Ringo just blows that shit out the window, and more power to him. Looks great, spirited attitude, sounds great, sings as well as he did a half-century ago, still playing the drums, etc.

The world-famous Los Angeles Film Critics Association (LAFCA), the most eccentric awards-giving group on the planet as well as the most food-obsessed because of their longstanding tradition of taking a brunch break in the middle of voting, is voting as we speak. This is who they are, what they stand for, what they care about most…cream cheese, wheat toast, fruit and potato salad.

No, seriously — they mostly care about defying Joe Popcorn slash Gold Derby mindsets. Which is cool.

HE acronyms (Yay), (Fine), (HRO) and (WTF) signify in this order hearty approval, moderate approval, “huh, really?…okay” and “what the fuck?”

So far the LAFCA foodies have awarded their Best Supporting actor to Glynn Turman for his performance in Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom. (HRO). Friendo: “How many times is Sound of Metal‘s Paul Raci going to get screwed over by these critics groups? Glynn Thurman? Really?” HE: “Thurman’s performance was fine, but Raci made a MUCH bigger impression. And they know this, of course.” Friendo #2: “This is so fucking weird. Does this mean Chadwick will win lead?”

3:29 pm: Best Picture: Small Axe (d: Steve McQueen‘) / (Yay)
Runner up: Nomadland (d: Chloe Zhao) / (Yay)

2:45 pm: Best Director: Chloé Zhao, Nomadland / (Yay)
Runner up: Steve McQueen, Small Axe / (Yay)

2:34 pm: Best Actress: Carey Mulligan, Promising Young Woman / (Yay)
Runner up: Viola Davis, Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom / (Fine)

2:21 pm: Best Actor: Chadwick Boseman, Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom / (HRO)
Runner up: Riz Ahmed, Sound of Metal / (Yay) — due respect and deep sadness for Chadwick and but Riz or Anthony Hopkins should’ve won.

2:06 pm: Best Documentary/Non-Fiction: Time (HRO)
Runner up: Collective (Yay)

1:55 pm: Best Screenplay: Promising Young Woman (Emerald Fennell) (Fine)
Runner up: Never Rarely Sometimes Always (Eliza Hittman) (Fine)

[interminable brunch]

12:46 pm: Best Animated Film: Wolfwalkers (Apple TV Plus/GKIDS)
Runner up: Soul

12:40 pm: Best Supporting Actress: Youn Yuh-jung, the Minari grandma who started the fire (Fine)
Runner up: Amanda Seyfried, Mank (Yay)

Best Foreign Language Film:
Runner up:

11:09 pm: Best Cinematography: Small Axe (Shabier Kirchner) (Fine)
Runner up: Nomadland (Joshua James Richards) (Yay)

Best Music/Score: Soul (Trent Reznor, Atticus Ross) (HRO)
Runner up: Lovers Rock (Mica Levi) (HRO)

Best Production Design: Mank (Donald Graham Burt) (Fine)
Runner up: Beanpole (Sergey Ivanov) (Yay) (Fine)

Best Editing: The Father (Yorgos Lamprinos) (Fine)
Runner up: Time (Gabriel Rhodes)

Career Achievement: Hou Hsiao-Hsien and Harry Belafonte (Yay)

legacy Award: Norman Lloyd at age 106 (Yay)

From “Congress is racing to close a stimulus deal,” N.Y. Times: “Lawmakers are on the brink of agreement on a $900 billion compromise relief bill after breaking through an impasse late Saturday night, with votes on final legislation expected to unfold as early as Sunday afternoon and very likely just hours before the government is set to run out of funding.

“’We are winnowing down the remaining differences,’ said Senator Mitch McConnell of Kentucky, the majority leader. ‘I believe I can speak for all sides when I say that I hope and expect to have a final agreement nailed down in a matter of hours.’

“But on a private call with House Republicans, Representative Kevin McCarthy of California, the minority leader, suggested that a vote may be delayed until late Sunday or Monday as negotiators rush to cement the final deal, but did not offer a concrete timeline, according to two people who disclosed the details on condition of anonymity.”

Plus the Russian super-hack stuff, etc.

In the comment thread for yesterday’s “For The Sake of Re-Emphasis” riff, “freek” wrote that “everybody in their right mind knew Parasite was exceptional…it was less of an upset than, say, Spotlight or The Shape of Water.” So I wrote the following response:

Parasite is 2/3 of a good film by a gifted, well-liked genre director (Bong Joon-ho), and yes, Oscar wins will sometimes reflect a broad consensus view about quality, and some will say that’s all that happened.

But the Parasite win wasn’t about “quality” per se, good as many found it to be — the win was mainly about newer, more diverse Academy members pushing back against established (boomer) Hollywood whiteness.

The fact, as any half-honest film lover will admit, is that The Irishman is a much better film — an epic, sprawling, old-school Martin Scorsese gangster pic about life, loyalty, values (family and otherwise) and the gradual envelopment of death — “Wild Strawberries with handguns” (New Yorker’s Anthony Lane).

The alternate fact of the matter is that the Parasite win was largely driven by woke political and cultural currents. The more broadly diverse membership (the New Academy Kidz, the surge in int’l membership) was more excited by a social metaphor drama (arrogant and oblivious 1% vs. desperate, scheming have-nots) than by a period gangster flick, and they wanted a film made by a person of color and/or a non-Anglo to win, and that’s what happened.

2019 (a year of ferocious industry woke-itude if there ever was one) just wasn’t an occasion for another Scorsese crowning.

The fact of the matter is that the last third of Parasite is beset by logic flaws (a huge secret basement that the wealthy owner of a lavish home doesn’t even know exists?) and an absurdly violent, drawn-out ending, and that it basically falls apart when the con-artist family, drunk as skunks, allows the fired maid into the house during a rain storm and thus ensures the collapse of the con — one of the stupidest plot turns in the history of world cinema. (And I don’t want to hear any of of that “they felt sorry for her because they’re from the same social class” crap — if you’re going to be a con artist, you have to commit 100%.)

There are no such errors in The Irishman (the only issue was that the de-aging CG was deemed insufficient) and the Academy membership didn’t care. They wanted a film of a diverse (non-white) international caste to win, and that’s what happened.

An interpretation about Paul Greengrass and Tom Hanks‘ News of the World (Universal, 12.25) was discussed this morning. The basic premise has to do with love and family values and tribal identity. It’s about a widowed 60ish Civil War veteran (Hanks) agreeing to to deliver a white, German-descended girl (Helena Zengel), taken and raised by Kiowa natives many years earlier, to her aunt and uncle in the San Antonio area.

The idea of white captive children being raised by 19th Century Native Americans was explored to some extent by John Ford‘s The Searchers (’56), Herschel Daugherty‘s The Light in The Forest (’58) and Arthur Penn‘s Little Big Man (’70).

Historical accounts have reported that a good number of white youths raised by Indians, especially if they were captured at a young age, didn’t want to return to white society. They had bonded, been embraced and felt a special kinship.

This is dramatized briefly in News of the World when Zengel’s character calls out to a Kiowa tribe on the far side of a river, pleading that she wants to return to them, that she speaks their language and doesn’t want to lose them, etc.

Couple this with a longstanding belief that something inherently evil and genocidal resides in European-descended white people — that they’ve always invaded, plundered, murdered, enslaved and otherwise destroyed native cultures. Certainly as far as their settling (i.e., occupation) of the Americas and Western Hemisphere was concerned.

The hole in that viewpoint, at least as far as News of the World is concerned, is that the central white person is played by the fundamentally decent Tom Hanks.

This morning’s (12.19) edition of Richard Rushfield‘s The Ankler newsletter lists the annual Ankler awards, aka “Winners of the Worst Year.” Somewhere near the end Rushfield mentions the failings of online Oscar know-it-alls:

Here comes something I’ve said repeatedly since HE launched 16 and 1/2 years ago [August ’04] and which I mentioned at least once or twice during the Mr. Showbiz, Reel.com and moviepoopshoot days [October ’98 to August ’04]: In the eyes of the Movie Godz there’s nothing of less value in the Oscar punditry game than guessing how guild and Academy voters are going to vote.

There’s no harm in predicting if you want to get into that (I do to some extent) and if you want to measure your digital worth by it, knock yourself out. But in my view the only thing that matters in this racket is passionate advocacy — lobbying for what you love, and explaining over and over why this or that movie or performance or feat of music or cinematography or what-have-you rings your bell and deserves Oscar favor.

Argue and lobby for those efforts that you believe in your heart of hearts contain the Right Stuff, or at least for those contenders who’ve been repeatedly nominated or whose time has come. (French Exit‘s Michelle Pfeiffer, for example.) But to sit in the bleacher seats and bicker with colleagues about which nominees are more popular with the Academy hoi polloi…good heavens!

Yesterday a discussion arose about Eliza Hittman‘s Never Rarely Sometimes Always (Focus Features), and the New York Film Critics Circle having handed it awards for Best Actress (Sidney Flanigan) and Best Screenplay (Hittman).

I’m mentioning this because “friendo” offered an interesting thought: “It’s telling, to me, that no one in liberal media, including all the critics who championed Never Rarely, seemed to understand a fundamental aspect of the film, which is that the heroine is quite ambivalent about having an abortion.

“It’s not a ‘pro-life’ movie, but it does contain an element of that. But, of course, that dimension of it — the very thing that makes it complex — has to be denied by the very people who claim to love the film, because it doesn’t mesh with the the general pro-choice agenda.

“It’s not like I really like watching dead-serious art films about abortion. But I think once in a while they awaken your perceptions, and this one, with its bracing message that literally no one in the critical community got, did that for me more than 4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days.

“That element in Never Rarely…Sidney Flanigan‘s profound ambivalence about what she’s about to go through, her deep desire not to do it, because there is in fact a live human in there…this element is literally the only drama in the film. That’s what’s so hilarious about the woke film-critic-industrial-annoyance-complex not getting it.

“What do they think the movie is about? If their left-wing boilerplate interpretation were accurate, it might as well be a movie about two teenagers hopping a bus to go to New York City to pay $500 in unpaid parking tickets.”

HE to friendo: “I honestly never considered any kind of vague pro-life undercurrent. I thought Flanigan’s character was just about buried trauma, fear of the chilly unknown, anxiety, uncertainty, wounded feelings. Why ever would she want to keep the child? I mean, she’s hiding her pregnancy from her parents, and Lord knows an expectant mother needs a serious job or a trust fund plus a serious partner with which to have a child. She has nothing.”

“The goals of the diversity movement were commendable, at least for a time. the movement has become something else altogether. Sadly, it reduces the very people it strives to help to a permanent victim class.” — “Campusland” author and thenakeddollar,blogspot guy Scott Johnson.

…of being an exceptionally gifted actor. Appealing, yes. Gifted, no. He knew how to react brilliantly — how to respond in his usual taciturn, straight-from-the-shoulder way to certain aggressive behaviors and situations, and at just the right speed and with just the right sense of timing. And he certainly knew how to seethe and sulk.

But in terms of owning a scene on his lonesome, relying solely on his own dialogue and delivery while others listen and watch, he rarely got there. But he did once.

The below scene from Red River is probably the best acting moment in his entire life. It’s about resolve, painful rejection, parental disdain, nihilism. If Wayne had turned up the anger just a hair, it wouldn’t have landed as well. It would have also missed if he’d turned it down a notch.

Name me any other scene in which Wayne hit the mark as movingly and efficiently as he does here. Those famous bookend scenes in The Searchers (i.e., the door opening and closing upon Wayne’s Ethan Edwards) don’t count because all he was doing was just standing there — the emotional expressiveness was entirely John Ford‘s.

Ford to Howard Hawks after seeing Red River: “I never knew the big sonuvabtich could act.”

I didn’t want to submit to Darius and Abraham Marder‘s Sound of Metal (Amazon, now streaming) because I’d heard it was a chore to sit through. Plus I despise metal rock, and didn’t want to hang in that world at all. Plus I didn’t want to aurally experience any kind of simulated deafness or diminished hearing…later. But I knew I’d have to watch it sooner or later, and I was finally guilt-tripped into catching it last night. Alright, fine, fuck me, here we go.

Eureka! Sound of Metal is an absorbing and quite delicate film about using tragedy to transition from one world to another, and one that offers a doorway into a spirit world…not so much a world of deafness and signing but one that harbors a realm of cosmic serenity and stillness…a world that expresses the age-old axiom “never speak unless you can improve upon the silence.” Radiance is everywhere.

I’m more in love with writing than almost any other human activity, but I also adore the sound of gifted speaking voices (particularly those of great English-language actors) and singing and musical performance (especially Beethoven’s Ninth and Eric Clapton‘s “Unplugged” album), not to mention the sounds of nature and the city and everything else, etc. So I can’t completely submit to the majesty of cosmic silence, but I know that this is the realm of peace and solace…the one in which God resides.

I completely agree that Riz Ahmed‘s performance as Ruben Stone, a metal drummer whose hearing suddenly collapses at the beginning of a tour, deserves a Best Actor nomination. He’s only been a quality-associated actor for six years or so (Nightcrawler, Rogue One, The Night Of) but Ruben is by far the best role he’s ever lucked into, and as you might expect his best moments in the film are non-verbal. Just about all of them, I would say.

I also agree that Paul Raci, the 60ish guy who ploys Ruben’s straight-shooting guide and teacher at a rural deaf camp, deserves a Best Supporting Actor nom. Raci, whose parents were deaf and who knows the realm inside and out, is perfect in the part. Like Harold Russell was perfect in The Best Years of Our Lives, I mean. Raci is actually a blend of Russell and Lives costar Hoagy Carmichael.

Also excellent are Olivia Cooke as Lou, Ruben’s singing-bandmate girlfriend who insists that he enroll in deaf-camp training, and Mathieu Amalric as her wealthy French dad.

The sound design team — supervising sound editor Nicolas Becker, production sound mixer Phillip Bladh, whoever else — definitely deserve Oscar noms, and…oh, hell, the Oscars themselves.

Ruben adapts well to silence and signing, but he still longs for sound and speech. A sizable portion of Act Two is about him selling his mobile home, drums and sound gear so he can afford cochlear implants. But once the implants are embedded and activated, the sound that he hears is like that of an empty tin can attached to a taut metal wire. He pays $30K for this? I can’t believe in this day and age that expensive artificial devices sound this bad.

As noted on 12.2, Paul Greengrass‘s News of the World (Universal 12.25), George Clooney‘s The Midnight Sky (Netflix, 12.23) and Eduardo Ponti‘s The Life Ahead (Netflix, now streaming) share a basic plot. Which is…

A crusty, grizzled protagonist of advanced years and precarious positioning (Clooney’s Augustine Lofthouse, Tom Hanks‘ Captain Jefferson Kyle Kidd, Sophia Loren‘s Madame Rosa) is suddenly responsible for the well-being of an anxious, distant, shell-shocked youth who needs comfort and direction, and maybe a bit of love.

Now comes a fourth — Robert Lorenz‘s The Marksman (Open Road, 1.22), about a grizzled 60ish fellow (Liam Neeson) trying to help a young migrant boy get to his family in Chicago after his mother is killed by drug cartel baddies.

A one-time-only meeting between Sophia Loren and Elvis Presley happened at the Paramount Studios commissary in February 1958. Both were 23 at the time. Loren, born on 9.20.34, was four months older than Elvis, who began life on 1.8.35.

Loren was shooting Melville Shavelson‘s Houseboat (11.19.58) with costar Cary Grant, with whom she’d had an affair a year earlier during the filming of Stanley Kramer‘s godawful The Pride and the Passion. Presley was making Michael Curtiz and Hal Wallis‘s King Creole, which would hit screens only five months later (7.2.58). He began his two-year term in the Army on 3.24.58.

Presley’s life ended tragically on 8.16.77, at age 42.

Three months before Presley’s passing Ettore Scola‘s A Special Day, in which Loren gave one of her most respected performances, premiered at the Cannes Film Festival. It played at the New York Film Festival in September ’77, and opened commercially the following month.

Loren, 86, is currently starring in Eduardo Ponti‘s The Life Ahead (Netflix),