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It was obvious to anyone with half a brain that Tony Soprano was “hit” at the very end of “Made in America,” the 87th and final episode of The Sopranos. It aired on 6.19.07. or just a bit more than 14 years ago. His assassin was the Italian-looking, beady-eyed guy in the gray “Members Only” jacket who eyeballed Tony and his family as he sat at the counter, and then went into the bathroom, etc.

Producer-creator David Chase never showed this creep coming out of the bathroom and firing a bullet into Tony’s head, but that’s certainly what happened. I understand, however, why some viewers were left uncertain or confused. That was because Chase’s direction and editing were misleading.

If you know the scene (or if you look at it again), you’ll notice that Tony frequently glances here and there and never seems to miss a trick. When Carmela strolls into restaurant he spots her right away; same thing when A.J. and the “Members Only” guy walk in at the same time. When “Members Only” gets up and walks into the bathroom, Tony gives him a quick look. So why wouldn’t he give “Members Only” another glance when he comes out of the bathroom with his pistol drawn?

Because, you could answer, Tony is eyeballing Meadow, the world’s worst parallel parker, as she finally comes through the front door.

Key problem: Three or four times we’re shown POV shots from Tony’s perspective, but when the silent blackout happens we’re not looking at Meadow from his table seat. Instead we’re a shown a slightly off-to-the-right close-up of Tony with the camera positioned two or three feet away but looking straight at him, more or less.

We see him look up, and then the blackout.

Why didn’t Chase put us inside Tony’s head for the final big moment? The perfect shot would have been a Tony-POV shot of Meadow striding through the main door and then the final slam-cut. Obviously. Chase got it wrong.

When the trailer for Dear Evan Hansen (Universal, 9.24) popped on 5.18.21, the worldwide reaction was instantaneous. One, this was clearly a gentle, sensitive high-school musical that was determined to snowflake its audience to death, and two, Ben Platt, who plays the titular character, is too old to play an 18 year-old. Platt was 27 when the film was shot, and he looks at least 33 or 34.

What other performances are generally regarded as off-the-mark because the actor was obviously too old for the part?

If you’re a 20something actor playing a teenager, its better if you’re 21, 22, 23 or 24….no older.

Olivia Newton John was radiant and attractive as Sandy Olsson, a high-school senior, in Grease (shot in ’77, released in ’78). But being 29, she certainly didn’t look 17 or 18.

Richard Beymer was 22 when he played “Tony” in West Side Story, a character who was roughly the same age. Beymer nonetheless seemed at least five years older than his calendar age.

In Joshua Logan‘s Picnic, William Holden played a former college football star and failed actor named Hal Carter, who was supposed to be 25 or thereabouts. Holden was 37 when he made the film. Holden was good looking and physically fit back then, but he was a social drinker and didn’t look a day under 39.

Steve McQueen was 27 or 28 when he played a high-school student in The Blob. He was about as convincing as a teenager back then as Ben Platt is now.

There have to be more, many more…

Friendo: “Last night I was watching Joshua Logan‘s Picnic, a film I’ve always liked, despite it being dated and the fact William Holden is too old (37) for the role he’s playing, a 20something drifter named Hal Carter.

“But William Inge‘s play won the Pulitzer, and I can see why. It’s about sexual repression, small-town isolation, stunted dreams, etc. Themes that are just as relevant today as they were over 60 years ago.

“Which made me think that with the proper handling, Picnic could be made today, and really work. Don’t be so coy about the sex. Cast it better. But stick with the insider look at MAGA-land.

“So here’s my thought: what films that seem dated, but have interesting, still relevant subtext, could be remade today?”

Here’s the problem with remaking Picnic, which was crafted not only by Logan and Inge but screenwriter Daniel Taradash and cinematographer James Wong Howe. The problem is that despite the blandly bucolic and dysfunctional culture of mid ’50s Kansas that Inge came from and wrote about, that realm no longer exists. The outwardly tidy appearance and generally conservative mindset that seemed to prevail in the mid 20th Century heartland has…okay, I haven’t been to rural Kansas since the early ’70s so what do I know? But I can imagine. That region has certainly given way to something less open to the exotic, and probably coarser and trashier.

I don’t want to think about the red-state resentments and recalcitrance that have taken root in that part of the country over the last 60 or 70 years…God, in some ways (though welcomely not all ways) this has become such an ugly country.

So I don’t know about bringing Picnic into the 21st Century, and I don’t know about A Face in the Crowd either. I don’t know if anything written in that far-off, all-but-disappeared culture of Eisenhower America…I don’t think any of it fits into today’s realm.

One thing you’ll never, ever see in an action film is a supporting player (bad or neutral guy) who stands up and is ready to fight or shoot it out with a lead guy, and then — very sensibly! — changes his mind when he realizes that beating or out-drawing the lead guy isn’t in the cards. It happened 52 years ago in Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid, but it hasn’t happened since.

If I’m wrong please remind me of another scene that works like this (i.e., “Uhhm, wait, hold on…I can’t win this one.”).

The card player’s name was Donnelly Rhodes, and he died three and a half years ago. He was 40 or so when he shot this scene with Robert Redford, Paul Newman and director George Roy Hill.

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Bloomberg’s Felix Gillette has seen Alan Taylor and David Chase‘s The Many Saints of Newark (Warner Bros./HBO Max, 10.1) and posted…well, not a “review” but a mildly upbeat assessment. The headline says “HBO Finally Nails a Spinoff With Chase Prequel.” And it more or less explains that Michael Gandolfini, who plays the teenaged Tony Soprano, doesn’t show up until the film’s second half. (Part One is set in Newark in ’67; Part Two, set in ’71 or thereabouts, is set in the Jersey suburbs.)

Excerpt: “Over two action-packed hours, Chase and co-writer Lawrence Konner sketch out much of the Soprano family roots in America.” Describing the film as “action-packed” isn’t necessarily high praise — it just means it’s not a Peter Greenaway film.

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Three and a half years ago there was no pandemic (what a time it was!), and one of the things that got people going was a fierce conviction among #MeTooers that there could be no grading or distinctions among forms of unwelcome sexual attention. Anyone who attempted to say “this is worse than that” got bitchslapped or even beaten. Damon found that out.

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A friend says this 14 year-old video clip isn’t funny any more because it’s racist. Well, it may be racist in the minds of certain woke watchdogs (Variety‘s Steven Gaydos, critics Glenn Kenny and Bob Strauss), but it’s still funny for the rest of us. We all know that the term “Islamic Jihad” basically means “repent or die or better yet bend over to we can cut your head off”, and that this kind of absolutist thinking comes from a cliche that we’ve all heard about conservative Middle-Eastern types being hot-headed or even fanatical when their blood is up.

This Oscar-argument clip is funny because (a) their behavior conforms to the cliche or stereotype, and (b) they’re arguing about performances given by Kate Winslet and Penelope Cruz.

…that Andrew Dominik‘s Blonde might be some kind of sexually shocking envelope-pusher…taken together, an alleged rape plus a moment of bloody cunnilingus sounds roughly equivalent to the “go get the butter” scene from Last Tango in Paris…something that audiences might respond to with a gasp and a “holy shit.”

When Netflix bumped Blonde into ’22 the assumption in this corner was “oh, okay, sounds like a bust of some kind.” Now it sounds like bravery and a different equation. Do I know that “Ana de Armas Updates” is telling the truth? No, I don’t. But at the very least I’m intrigued.

Update: Apologies for missing the fact that World of Reel‘s Jordan Ruimy broke the gist of this on 8.1.

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Here are three Mark Frenden logos that will herald three features for forthcoming HE paywall content…BIODROME is self-explanatory, a chapter-by-chapter stream of biographical material…YELLOWING with antiquity is basically scans of old articles from the ’90s and early aughts (EW, L.A. Times Syndicate, Mr. Showbiz, Reel.com, Movie Poop Shoot) with present-tense commentary and perspective…and TALK’S CHEAP is the heading for podcast material, which I’ll try to generate at least once if not twice weekly.

Posted on 2.3.21: Sian Heder ‘s much-adored, Sundance award-showered CODA (Apple +, 8.13) is moderately appealing and nicely made for the most part. Understand, however, that it’s an “audience movie” — aimed at folks who like feel-good stories with heart, humor, romance and charm.

It’s about a shy Gloucester high-school girl named Ruby (Emilia Jones) with a decent if less than phenomenal singing voice. She’d rather attend Boston’s Berklee College of Music than work for her deaf family’s fishing business, we’re told. The film is about the hurdles and complications that she has to deal with in order to realize this dream.

CODA is one of those “real people struggling with life’s changes and challenges” flicks, but given the fishing-off-the-Massachusetts-coast aspect it’s fair to say it’s no Manchester By The Sea — trust me. It’s a wee bit simplistic and schticky and formulaic -— okay, more than a bit — and contains a fair amount of “acting.”

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One of my fondest childhood memories (cliche!) is lying in bed at night and listening to not-so-distant freight and passenger trains clattering along, and especially to that whauuggghhhh sound…that honky, drawn-out groan…one of the great all-time reminders that life pushes on and that endeavor and industry never sleep, which is generally comforting.

In this age of instant everything, of GPS and constant insulation from the raw cacophony of things, of whirring, nearly-silent electric cars and digital this and that, four or five remotes in every living room, remotes everywhere, instant image and video available to any student or bedridden grandma or poor kid in Pakistan, OLED flat panels delivering instant Cary Grant in 1080p, 4K now and 8K before long…

In the midst of all this it’s really pretty wonderful to listen to or, better yet, board one of these huge, churning, rumbling remnants of 19th century technology, buckling and bellowing as they pull into a series of modest-sized stations (like the Metro North line between New Haven and Grand Central Station) an hour or so later…it makes you feel so completely on top of your life, so soothed and connected to the hum of things.