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I can’t write honestly about Lena Dunham‘s personal, non-professional situation without sounding cruel, and I really don’t want to go there. It’s all been coughed up.

One last time: The metaphor conveyed by a condition of over-the-top obesity is inescapable, and I’d really love to get away from that…to wade into Dunham’s insights and creative presentations (she’s a very sharp writer and a grade-A filmmaker…I’ve been a fan from the get-go) on their own terms without grappling with the other thing…okay, enough.

I’d like to know if there’s any chance that Good Sex, Dunham’s Natalie Portman Netflix film, is going to play any of the early-fall festivals before debuting on Netflix in October or November or whenever.

Dunham’s memoir, “Famesick“, pops tomorrow.

If Trump had any balls he would’ve just said “Yeah, screw it, I did it and so what?”

Expanded explanation: “We all know that Jeffrey Hunter wore a white and red robe combo when he played Jesus in in King of Kings…you know it, I know it…sorry that the religious nutters didn’t like my post, but honestly? I don’t care that much. Only children believe in traditional religious imagery, and surely the nutters don’t actually believe l’m some kind of devout Christian, right?…surely they understand that I’m an executive branch version of a mafia crime boss, and that allows or ushers in louche behavior…how can they not understand this?

“But you know what? I am kind of a Christ-like redeemer because I’m up to something ‘holy’, in a certain sense, by attempting to restore American life to the way it used to be back in the Eisenhower Wonderbread days when I was a kid watching Fess Parker as Davy Crockett on Sunday nights. I’m obviously not a huge fan of ethnic diversity and that’s why they’ve always liked me so who’s kidding whom?”

President Trump claims the viral image that was posted on Truth was not a depiction of him as Jesus Christ but was him being depicted as a doctor.

Reporter: Did you post that picture of yourself depicted as Jesus Christ?

Trump: I did post it, and I thought it was me as a doctor… pic.twitter.com/4pfSRFPdrp

— Collin Rugg (@CollinRugg) April 13, 2026

[Filed from Cannes 11 months ago] Thomas Ngojil‘s Untamable (Quinzaine des Realisateurs / Director’s Fortnight) is aces. Ngojil directs and stars in a solid, tight, straightforward ensemble drama about Billong, a strictly moral, highly intelligent and demanding detective who not only plays it rough, tough and judgmental on the job, but also at home with his wife and five or six kids.

It’s basically a character study with a murder investigation (a fellow investigator shot in the back) driving the narrative.

Set in relatively poor, unpaved, hand-to-mouth Yaounde, Cameroon, which is fascinating, Untamable is rigorous, well-honed and 100% believable. It’s unquestionably one of the three best films I’ve seen here so far, and I haven’t yet seen Jafar Panahi‘s It Was Just An Accident (or A Simple Accident), which is currently seen as a likely Palme d’Or winner.

And then there’s Joachim Trier‘s Sentimental Value, which I’m seeing tonight (Wednesday) at 10:30 pm.

Here’s a URL containing the entire film but without subtitles.

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A surreal, frenetic, darkly imaginative fantasy from Ari Kuschnir, posted two days ago.

One of Kuschnir’s inspirations, I believe or at least suspect, was Spike Jonze‘s legendary “Pardon Our Dust“, a 2005 Gap commercial.

Both use Edvard Grieg‘s “In The Hall of The Mountain King” on the soundtrack. Grieg supplies an arch, mock-bombastic air to the raucous destruction, etc.

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By HE standards there were three stand-out James Tolkan performances. All supporting, of course. Tolkan wasn’t a charismatic lead-actor type. He always played clenched hardasses.

The first that really connected was a rigid, button-down Boston mob guy hiring Peter Boyle to clip Robert Mitchum in The Friends of Eddie Coyle (’72).

The second was George Polito, the vindictive, hard-nosed district attorney who went after Treat Williams‘ Danny Ciello (and some of the others on the original narco team, including Jerry Orbach‘s Gus Levy) in Sidney Lumet‘s Prince of the City (’81).

Tolkan’s third big score was playing Chicago real-estate salesman Dave Moss in the original 1984 B’way stage production of David Mamet‘s Glengarry Glen Ross. I caught that show on opening night (42 years ago) with all the big-gun critics in the room.

Have any of the Tolkan obits so far mentioned these three performances? Of course not. They only acknowledge his roles in Top Gun and the Back to the Future franchise and yaddah-yaddah.

The 2026 Oscars will kick off Sunday evening. Finally. But there’s a whole world out there that doesn’t know or care about them. Zero. Donut.

On Saturday afternoon I spoke with two employees of Wilton’s Village Market — Linda, a friendly, somewhat older checkout person with big glasses and long brown hair, and Andrew, a blond-haired trainee who seemed about 19 or 20.

As of 3:20 pm, Linda didn’t know the Oscar telecast was a day away. Nor had she seen or even heard about any of the Best Picture nominees. Linda: “You’re talking to the wrong people.”

HE: “How about last year’s Best Picture winner, Anora?” Linda: “No, but thanks for telling me. Maybe I’ll stream it.”

I asked Andrew if he’s seen Anora. He looked at me with a flat, emotion-less expression. Eyes as dead as a shark’s.

I asked Linda if she’s ever watched the Oscars, and if they’ve ever made any kind of impression if she has. Yes, she said, but she mainly likes watching the red-carpet fashion parade. “Cool”, I said. “Nothing wrong with that.” And that was it.

This isn’t Linda and Andrew’s fault — it’s the film industry’s. I blame wokeism. We all know the alleged causes and the drainage factors, but for the last nine or ten years Hollywood has been camped out inside its own social-political rectum. All I know is that 15 years ago there was a monoculture out there, and supermarket checkout folks were at least passively aware of the Oscars and had maybe seen one or two Best Picture contenders, or at least had heard about them.

Things have changed…something’s missing. Linda and Andrew don’t care for a reason.

During my initial viewing of One Battle After Another I had an immediate problem with Teyana Taylor‘s obviously worked-on facial features, which look unnaturally inflated and scrunched and super-sculpted. But I chickened out. I was afraid I’d be accused of racist pigeonholing or something, so I kept my arrows in the quiver.

But while listening last night to Maureen Callahan’s 3.13 pre-Oscar interview with “James From Corporate”, I heard the term “cat-face” and immediately went “yes!…of course it is!…this is my turf and I should’ve said this last November, but I chickened out! Because I’m a candy-ass.”

Who am I to talk with my Prague eyelid and neck-wattle surgery plus my two hair-plug treatments, which happened in ’12, ’14 and ’15? Obviously I’m not one to talk. But I’m agreeing with James that Taylor’s injections and knife-styles get in the way of the reality of her Perfidia Beverly Hills character.

“James From Corporate’ to Maureen Callahan, 9:40 mark: “So my whole take with One Battle After Another starts with the miscasting of Teyana Taylor. I think a lot of people have an issue with this movie because the prologue doesn’t work [but] just her casting alone…

“I’m trying to find a better way to say this, but [my problem is that] her plastic surgery is very distracting. She has sort of like a cat face that resembles Lauren Sanchez. And it just doesn’t read to me at all as being authentic of a hand-to-mouth revolutionary as someone like of that world.

Callahan: “That’s a great point. She’s partnered in the film with her lover, Leonardo DiCaprio, and they are aggressively depicted as having no money.”

“James From Corporate”: “So yeah, where is she getting the money for this to look plastic surgery-ized, almost Kardashianized? So casting-wise Taylor is sort of anointed as someone new and important. I’m not sure who is behind this and who’s backing her, but Taylor really took me out of the movie. It took like another full hour for me to sort of settle into it. Although I really like the young actress, the daughter…Chase Infiniti.”

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Last night I was inspired to re-watch The Year of Living Dangerously after writing about it two days ago. It’s still rich and magnificent and 100% genuine. You can really feel the Indonesian heat and humidity, and the Mel Gibson-Sigourney Weaver affair is one of the most erotically charged in film history. And Maurice Jarre‘s score — primarily the delicate, gently dancing theme that is often repeated — is perfect.