HE’s initial, gut-hunch Cannes picks, posted this morning in HE comment thread:

What tells you that Kevin Costner’s Horizon is “pap”? Because it concerns white settlers in covered wagons? Did you presume Kelly Reichart’s Meek’s Cutoff wouid be pap?

Emanuel Parvu’s Three Kilometers to the End of the World.

Limonov, a sprawling fact-based saga that Pawel Pawlikowski wanted to make for years but then bailed on, is Kirill Serebrennikov’s English-language debut feature.

Andrea Arnold’s Bird seems promising, although Barry Keoghan’s bee-stung nose is a proverbial problem…when he’s on-screen all I can do is stare at that awful thing…worst schnozz in cinema history .

Pretty much everyone has been persuaded that Francis Coppola’s Megalopolis will be a tough watch. It’s not just me.

Oliver Stone’s Lula doc, if I can fit it in.

Schrader, Lanthimos, Baker, Audiard, Cronenberg, Sorrentino.

Ali Abbasi’s The Apprentice (i.e., young Trump) certainly has my interest.

Mohammad Rasoulof’s The Seed of the Sacred Fig, the Iranian politically flammable cause celebre, is obviously essential.

I’m hoping for the usual odd pop-throughs from Director’s Fortnight, Un Certain Regard — forget Critics Week and Acid.

I’d really like to see Abel Gance’s Napoleon on a big screen again. Possibly Laurent Bouzereau’s Faye Dunaway doc. The Elizabeth Taylor lost tapes doc or whatever that’s about.

We all have a pretty good idea what Furiosa will most likely be.

Rithy Panh’s Pol Pot documentary.

There’s room for roughly another six or seven screenings. What should I include?

Jordan Ruimy sez: “Not sure if it’s up your alley, but there’s an actual body horror American movie in competition this year — The Substance. Possibly this year’s Titane. Margaret Qualley, Dennis Quaid and Demi Moore. Thierry Fremaux’s decision to include this for Palme d’Or contention is at the very least intriguing.”

I’ve watched it twice, and I personally think it’s one of the most repellent ads I’ve ever seen in my life.

To promote the just-published “The World Is Yours: The Story of Scarface,” author Glenn Kenny hosted a Wednesday evening (5.8) IFC Center screening of Brian DePalma’s 1983 gangster classic.

After the show GK discussed aspects of the production saga, took questions and signed a few books with a felt-tip pen.

HE has read the first 40 or 50 pages and heartily approves. A very tasty and nourishing Hollywood story with dozens of first-hand sources. The prose is smooth and confident…swaggering even.

Al Pacino didn’t speak to Kenny because his own personal Scarface saga account will appear in the autobiographical “Sonny Boy,” which will publish in October.

I was devastated to learn that Kenny wasn’t able to locate the whereabouts of that legendary 10–foot–tall oil painting of Tony and Elvira.

…Glenn Powell, youngish but no spring chicken, is going to have to star in a movie that isn’t mechanized, prefabricated, power-pumped, big-studio bullshit.

No, I still haven’t seen Richard Linklater‘s Hit Man (Netflix, 6.7), which began screening eight months ago and still hasn’t opened.

You can’t just spew jizz-whizz all the time. Every now and then it’s really necessary to put some nutrition into the cereal bowl.

It was reported this morning by Iranian cinema journalist Mansour Jahani that Mohammad Rasoulof, director of the forthcoming Cannes competition selection The Seed of the Sacred Fig, has been sentenced by the 29th branch of the Islamic Revolution Court of Iran to eight years in the slam.

Rasoulof (Manuscripts Don’t Burn, A Man of Integrity, There Is No Evil) will also be whipped, fined and have his property confiscated.

Babak Paknia, Rasoulof’s attorney, originally reported this on X. This ruling was recently confirmed in the 36th branch of the Court of Appeals. The case has been sent to enforcement.

Sacred Fig summary: “Iman, an investigating judge in the Revolutionary Court in Tehran, grapples with mistrust and paranoia as nationwide political protests intensify and his gun mysteriously disappears.”

HE to Rasoulof: Blow this pop stand, move to Paris, live in glorious exile. Don’t give those fuckers eight years of your life.