I’d forgotten that Fresh Cream was recorded in August ’66, and released four months later (December). If you accept Terry Valentine‘s definition of the ’60s (“It was just ’66 and early’67…that’s all it was”), Fresh Cream was right in the sweet spot. If you ask me N.S.U., Dreaming and Toad are as good as that group ever got. I realize this is a minority opinion, hut there it is.
Halfdan Ullmann Tondel’s Armand will enjoy a qualifying theatrical run in New York City on 11.29.24. A limited theatrical release will kick off on 2.7.25 with a wide theatrical break slated for 2.14.25. It runs 117 minutes.
Posted from Cannes on Sunday, 5.19: “Armand” — Best Film of the Festival So Far, Hands Down
Scott Feinberg’s Awards Chatter podcast interview with Horizon maestro Kevin Costner begins in a few minutes so distraction levels are high, but there’s no question whatsoever that Halfdan Ullmann Tondel’s Armand, which I caught early this morning, is the finest film here, and I mean way, WAY above the level of Emilia Perez.
All hail the lead performance by Renate Reinsve (The Worst Person in the World)!
…I immediately flashed on this legendary clip from Conan’s talk show, which was taped on 5.15.97 — 27 and 1/2 years ago. Conan, Courtney Thorne-Smith and Norm McDonald. The comedic back and forth was between Norm and Conan, of course, and Thorne-Smith was the tennis ball. Conan wasn’t the instigator, of course — Norm was. Conan mainly tried to protect Thorne-Smith, but he quickly gave up.
Thorne-Smith is now 57 or 58 years old, married to Roger Fishman, and mom to a 16 year-old son, Jacob Emerson Fishman.
Has Walter Brennan been posthumously cancelled? Hollywood’s progressive vanguard needs to do so tout de suite. Perhaps install a special Brennan exhibit in the Academy museum called “Hollywood’s Shameful Shielding of a Rightwing Fanatic”? Seriously, Brennan’s social-political views made John Wayne look like Norman Thomas.
Here’s Rollyson’s website.
With Jesse Eisenberg‘s A Real Pain finally playing commercially or at least about to open in suburban locations, here’s a refresher of my 9.25.24 Telluride review:
Jesse Eisenberg‘s A Real Pain (Searchlight, 11.1), a quirky, shifty dudes-travelling-through-Poland thing, is going to connect because of Kieran Culkin‘s richly eccentric and occasionally unhinged character, Benji Kaplan…one of those hyper, live-wire guys whose irreverent, unfiltered energy most of us can’t help but enjoy or even get off on in short bursts.
But Culkin’s stoned-jumping-bean manner is also a bit much after repeated exposures. And knowing that Benji is doomed to some kind of arduous instability later in life…a poet who’s fated to “die in the gutter,” as Bob Dylan might put it…Benji is, of course, quite sad.
Everyone has encountered a Benji or two in their life, and this is the film’s big irresistable draw. A Real Pain has to be seen for the Culkin effect. I had heard quite a lot about his firecracker turn, and yet Culkin didn’t disappoint in the least. God, what an amazing, infectious asshole…love his shpiel! And I adore the fact that he loves to sit in airline terminals and study the travellers.
Pic is basically about a pair of tristate-area Jewish cousins, crazy Benji and anxious, straightlaced, somewhat dull David (Eisenberg, who is strangely being campaigned for Best Actor with Culkin going for a Best Supporting nom) embarked on a group holocaust tour in Poland. The usual intrigues and complications ensue.
On top of which Dirty Dancing‘s Jennifer Grey, 63 years young when the film was shot in mid ’23, is also a participant. (The others are like lumps of mashed potatoes.)
This, trust me, is an excellent trailer:
I’d like to say something positive about Robert Zemeckis’ Here (Sony, 11.1), a bizarrely stilted adaptation of Richard McGuire’s 1989 graphic novel, and it’s this: the de-aging of Tom Hanks and Robin Wright, accomplished through Metaphysic Live, is much, much better than the de-aging of Robert DeNiro and Joe Pesci in The Irishman. Serious points for this.
But if you’re going to focus primarily on a location — a living room in a suburban New Jersey home — and secondarily its various residents over the span of roughly 100 years (early 1900s to early 21st Century), which is basically an Our Town-ish concept (people come and go but the relentless, ever-expanding scheme of life pushes on), I think it’s a really, really bad idea to lock your camera into a single, static unmovable shot. I know…that’s the bravery aspect but it’s tedious all the same.
The nicest thing you can say about Here is that it’s an ambitious concept, although it would’ve worked better on-stage.
Who cares about dinosaurs stomping around millions of years earlier? Nobody. And William Franklin, the illegitimate son of Benjamin Franklin, radiates the same indifference.
Zemeckis shows a young, attractive Native American couple making out in the 1700s and a black family moving into the home in the 1980s or ‘90s because woke Hollywood rules demand diversity.
Would a typical American family on February 9th 1964…would they have had their black-and-white TV tuned to The Ed Sullivan Show and the debut performance of The Beatles in particular but ignore this because of some domestic issue they happened to be focusing on?
The Dean Martin Show (‘65 to ‘74) was broadcast in color so you can’t show it playing in the same family’s living room in black-and-white. It just wasn’t a black-and-white show…c’mon.
Due respect to the Forrest Gump gang (Zemeckis, Hanks, Wright, screenwriter Eric Roth, dp Don Burgess) for having given Here the old college try, but it’s one of the most shoulder-shrugging, close-to- embarrassing “who cares?” flicks I’ve ever seen.
It should’ve been a play.
…and nothing Bobby Peru or anyone else in the “Conclave is too commercial for awards consideration” fraternity can say or do will change this all-but-unalterable fact.
Fiennes has been plugging away for 30 years and no serious awards action to speak of. He’s earned it, he’s “due” and that’s final.
Not now, not in the 1950s…not ever. What is Dr. Benjamin McKenna (James Stewart) trying to prove to all those Moroccan natives that he and his wife Jo (Doris Day) are running into? What is he so afraid of? Why is he wound so tight?
McKenna: “We may be in a land of camels and snake charmers and marketplaces in the medina, but we intend to talk, behave and dress like stodgy, uptight middle-Americans regardless…no sport shirts or safari jackets or desert boots…no apparel that might seem the least bit relaxed…nothing even vaguely North African.”
Look at all those #1 votes for Zoe Saldana!
She’s such an overwhelming favorite for Best Supporting Actress right now that Academy voters are going to decide early on that one acting Oscar is enough for Emilia Perez, which will leave Karla Sofía Gascón with the short end of the stick.
Saldana, trust me, plays the actual lead in Emilia Perez. Gascon’s titular character is an “almost” lead or a strong supporting role, but Netflix is campaigning her for Best Actress as a trans identity thing.
Aunjanue Ellis-Taylor (Nickel Boys) will probably earn a Best Supporting Actress nomination.
Yesterday Olivia Nuzzi filed a civil lawsuit against ex-boyfriend Ryan Lizza, claiming that Lizza, desperate to somehow prod or manipulate her into re-starting their sexual relationship, fed details to reporters about her provocative (if non-physical) relationship with RFK, Jr.
New York‘s Herb Scribner reported the story today. The things that jilted ex-lovers will do to keep things going. Nuzzi’s lawsuit is unproven but would Nuzzi have filed it if she didn’t have the proof horses that affirm her argument and then some?
There are two sides to every breakup saga.
…in a family relationship film, co-written by DDL and his twentysomething, red-haired son Ronan Day-Lewis and directed by the latter. But dear God, the title of the film is so precious-sounding, so dandified, so high-falutin’and Charlie Kaufman-esque (remember Anomalisa?) that it will probably repel or elude 97% of potential moviegoers or streaming viewers out there….trust me.
It’s called Anemone, and while the word signifies a kind of flower, to most people it will probably sound like an exotic disease.
Don’t get me wrong — I’m delighted that DDL is back on the stick. I’ll probably watch Pheromone…sorry, Anemone at least two or three times theatrically. I love pretentious-sounding titles and the movies they adorn, seriously, and I’m literally humming with excitement about this one. Even though we all understand that this is purely DDL’s gesture of love and support for Ronan, which makes you wonder how good the script is.
There’s been a slight press dispute about the title. It’s almost certainly called Anemone (according to Variety and other outlets) but if you’re inclined to believe Daily Mail reporter Amelia Wynne, it may instead be called Avelyn.
Who’s betting on Avelyn? Not me. I’m just presuming Wynne made a rookie mistake, even though her story was updated last night at 6 pm eastern.
If you ask me the Day-Lewis clan probably wants the Anemone title to repel or elude or at least sightly confuse. It’s their way of saying “we’re too sensitive and attuned to the invisible, spiritual beauty of life to use a schlubby common-man hot dog title, and if you don’t like our decision….well, sorry.”
There would be more interest in this film among the schmoes, trust me, if Anemone was called Flapdoodle or Manchester Soup or Sod Off, Dad! or Advanced Toenail Fungus.
Either way DDL, 67, is back in business after retiring from acting in 2017, when he turned 60.
DDL’s Anemone costars are Sean Bean, Samantha Morton, Samuel Bottomley and Safia Oakley-Green.
