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Yesterday, from a friend: “Did you read this? The author Dan Mallory (aka A.J. Finn), author of “The Woman in the Window” (the Joe Wright-directed film version is opening on 10.4.19) has been exposed by Ian Parker as a shameless fantasist and sociopath.

“The 20,000-word article goes on and on, but basically Mallory invented two fake ph’ds, fake executive jobs, fake brain cancer, his parents fake death, his brother’s fake suicide plus he scammed the entire NYC publishing industry into buying his first novel, which they promoted to number one on the bestseller list, only to discover that it might be plagiarized.”

HE to friend, sent this morning: “The article is initially fascinating. Then it gradually starts to feel a bit complex, and then labrynthian and exhausting, and then it continues and continues. I’d love to read the shorter version.

“A talented writer, Mallory is a lying, fabricating, fantasizing bullshitter in his personal and business relationships. He’s a relentless spinner of creative tales — a genetic brethren of former TNR writer Stephen Glass or N.Y. Times reporter Jayson Blair. The bullshit climbs, compounds itself, swirls, reaches for the sky. Mallory is Tom Ripley, a smooth criminal, a sociopath extraordinaire.”

Mallory has admitted to the Telegraph‘s Ben Riley-Smith that he’s been bullshitting for 15 years or so, and that he’s been coping with a severe bipolar disorder and so on.

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Public candor about private failings is not a wise policy in our current situation. You can’t say “I once succumbed to an urge to practice witchcraft back in the ’70s.” To the Cotton Mather crowd that’s like saying you might put a hex on someone tomorrow.

But actors have emotionally expansive, compulsively honest natures, and so poor, impetuous Liam Neeson is going to have to face suspicions and charges of witchcraft for the rest of his life. Hell, they might come for him today and haul his ass over to the nearest lake and dunk him a few times.

Neeson has admitted that 40 years ago, when he was in his mid to late 20s, he experienced an illogical, enraged, tribal reaction to a friend having been raped by a person of color. He told an interviewer that he would have felt the same gut-level animosity “if she had said an Irish or a Scot or a Brit or a Lithuanian [had raped her]…[it] would have had the same effect. I was trying to show honor, to stand up for my dear friend in this terribly medieval fashion.”

Neeson offered the recollection during an interview that was posted yesterday in The Independent. He was promoting Cold Pursuit (Summit, 2.8), his latest revenge thriller. On a certain level Neeson was brave to admit that he was briefly seized by an ugly and bigoted impulse in his presumably intemperate, immoderate youth, but look at what’s happened.

This morning he attempted some damage control in a chat with ABC’s Robin Roberts. “We all pretend we’re all politically correct in this country…in mine, too,” Neeson said. “You sometimes just scratch the surface and you discover this racism and bigotry, and it’s there.”

I’ve mentioned witch-dunking in a satiric vein, but maybe this is actually the best way to handle the Neeson thing. Put him into a burlap bag, drive him out to Malibu pier, dunk him in the Pacific a few times. If he’s still breathing after the fifth or sixth submersion, he’ll be forgiven and allowed to work again. If he doesn’t make it, then at least the world will have one less suspected witch to deal with.

I’ve finally watched Tatyana Antropova‘s televised acting debut. She appears in a protestors-and-placards scene in The Rookie (season 1, episode 11, titled “Redwood“). She’s observed chanting, holding up a sign, being told to disperse, reacting with disgust when a protestor throws up, etc. Shot in downtown Los Angeles on 11.5.18. No biggie but noteworthy.

She’s also performed in episodes of For All Mankind, Veronica Mars, Lethal Weapon, Criminal Minds, The Affair, Games Divas Play (in an S & M club scene) and This Is Us.

Update: I would have said “HE’s own Tatyana Antropova” but it made the sentence structure feel awkward — i.e., possessive of a possessive.

Passerby to Tatyana: “Whaddaya protestin’, blondie?” Tatyana to passerby: “Whaddaya got?”

Julie Adams, the Creature From The Black Lagoon scream queen, has passed at age 92. Adams was 26 or 27 when the Universal cheapie was shot in mid or late 1953. It was released in early ’54.

Adams’ best role was opposite James Stewart in Anthony Mann‘s Bend of the River (’52), but after that she was stuck in mostly B movies — The Lawless Breed, The Mississippi Gambler, The Man from the Alamo, The Private War of Major Benson, The Gun. She also costarred in Slaughter on Tenth Avenue (’57), a semi-respectable, late-period film noir with Richard Egan.

Last August I saw Dennis Hopper‘s The Last Movie (’71) at the Metrograph, and lo and behold there was Adams, playing some sort of lady of leisure whom Hopper hits on.

I realize that red is often used as a design element in black-and-white films as it photographs well, but Gill Man looks fairly ridiculous with bright red lips.

Hollywood Elsewhere readers are requested to read a Hollywood Reporter piece titled “Critics’ Debate: What Is a ‘Sundance Movie’? 2019 Edition Broadens the Picture.”

It’s a discussion forum in which Todd McCarthy, David Rooney, Leslie Felperin, Jon Frosch and Beandrea July consider a few Sundance ’19 offerings.

Their comments frequently allude to the Sundance comintern platform — representation, diversity, political correctness, emerging female voices, LGBTQs, etc. They also cast subtle side-eyes in the direction of white-male filmmakers, who’ve been stinking up the joint for too many years.

Reaction from a journalist friend: “McCarthy reads like he doesn’t want to offend anybody. I understand his position, but that’s the thing about wokesters. Despite barely having any experience in writing, let alone cinema-watching, Beandrea’s resume is scant and only dates as far back as 2016 on Google, and yet she believes she has the authority to dictate what is right and wrong to veterans like McCarthy.

“Imagine if McCarthy, who’s been in the game since the ’60s and who made the definitive doc on cinematography (Visions of Light), spoke back to Beandrea about her opinions? She doesn’t care if he’s a film historian. He’s white and older and so she will set him straight.”

HE response: My impression is that McCarthy, Frosch, Felperin and Rooney sound like they’ve got loaded guns pointed at their heads. You can say what you think, fellas, as long as you don’t say the wrong things. McCarthy and friends are like that terrified family in that Twilight Zone episode, It’s A Good Life. Beandra and the wokesters are Anthony Fremont, and McCarthy, Rooney, Frosch and Felperin are the elders who are afraid to step outside the “happy” arena.

Rod Serling: “This particular monster can read minds, you see. He knows every thought, he can feel every emotion. His name is Anthony Fremont. He’s six years old, with a cute little-boy face and blue, guileless eyes. But when those eyes look at you, you’d better start thinking happy thoughts, because the mind behind them is absolutely in charge. For this is the Twilight Zone.”

Journalist friend again: “Throughout the fest I wanted journalists to be honest with me about why they thought this year’s program was lackluster, at least in terms of the narrative features. Almost all of them mentioned the fact that Sundance’s adamant stance on inclusivity was to blame. You won’t get these critics admitting this in print, of course, but many personally confessed that was a problem.”

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Earlier this evening Rami Malek and Scott Feinberg had a nice, easy chat on the stage of Santa Barbara’s Arlington theatre. Under the auspices of Roger Durling‘s Santa Barbara Film Festival. I had never really listened to Malek talk at length before, and I’m telling you he’s got it. He’s 37, educated, centered, gracious, confident, fairly wise for his years (he could be a guy in his mid 50s) and with a relaxed, sharp-toned voice. Plus he’s an excellent schmooze artist.

And I’m telling you he’s going to win the Best Actor Oscar. Okay, I don’t know anything but I can feel it. There’s a vibe around Malek. You should’ve seen the ridiculously long line to get into show tonight — down State and onto Sola and waaay down the block. In the rain. And the standing ovation when Malek came out…fuhgedaboudit.

We talked a bit during the after-party, and everything was cool and smooth. I had this idea that Rami’s kinda on the shortish side — he’s not. He’s 5′ 9″-ish, or only an inch shorter than the 5′ 10″ Freddie Mercury. And he’s friendly with my hairdresser, Phillip Rothschild. (They live near each other.)

By the way: Feinberg mentioned “the elephant in the room” — i.e., Bohemian Rhapsody director Bryan Singer. You could see Malek tightening at the mention. Most of what he said in response conveyed sympathy for Singer’s alleged victims. But he also said his relationship with Singer during the shoot was “not pleasant…at all.” He wouldn’t touch the subject beyond that, and who can blame him?

Hollywood Elsewhere attended a Santa Barbara Int’l Film Festival tribute to the five gents nominated for the Best Director Oscar — Roma‘s Alfonso Cuaron, Vice‘s Adam McKay, BlacKkKlansman‘s Spike Lee, Cold War‘s Pawel Pawlikowski and The Favourite‘s Yorgos Lanthimos. The moderator was Hollywood Reporter columnist Scott Feinberg. SBIFF board member Linda Weinman introduced him as Scott “Feinman.”

The evening’s tone was jovial, jaunty, collegial. Who seemed the most likable? All of them. Everyone had fun, everyone joshed, everyone smiled and quipped. For my money Lee had the most vivid answers. (My favorite: “It’s hard to make even a bad movie.”) Hollywood Elsewhere regrets to note that Lanthimos was the only director who wore sneakers with white midsoles, a 21st Century shoe design that I’ve previously described as “whitesides.”

(l. to r.) Scott Feinberg, Adam McKay, Pawel Pawlikowski, Alfonso Cuaron, Yorgos Lanthimos, Spike Lee.

It’s very nice — a relief — to attend a well-run, first-rate film festival that treats you with respect and even affection. Unlike (ahem) a certain lefty-progressive Stalinist festival with a passion for diversity and under-represented critics, and a stated concern about the prevalence of seasoned white-guy critics.

SBIFF director Roger Durling interviewing Alfonso Cuaron following a special screening of Roma at Santa Barbara’s Lobero theatre — Thursday, 1.31, 6:25 pm.

Yorgos Lanthimos’ footwear during Directors Tribute at Arlongton theatre.

The closing-credit sequence of Steven Soderbergh‘s High Flying Bird features the famous Woodstock recording of the late Richie Havens singing “Handsome Johnny.” It was a thrill to hear it again, especially on such a sharply tuned, well-amped sound system.

From Richie Havens Wikipage: “On 4.22.13 he died of a heart attack at his Jersey City home, at the age of 72. The BBC referred to him as a ‘Woodstock icon’ while Stephen Stills of Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young said Havens ‘could never be replicated.’ The Daily Telegraph stated Havens ‘made an indelible mark on contemporary music’ while Douglas Martin of The New York Times reported that Havens had ‘riveted Woodstock.’

“Pursuant to Havens’ request, his cremated ashes were scattered from the air over the original site of the Woodstock Festival, in a ceremony held on 8.8.13, the 44th anniversary of the festival’s last day.

“Havens was survived by his wife Nancy, three children, five grandchildren, and two great-grandchildren”

I was fairly shocked when Bradley Cooper‘s A Star Is Born lost the SAG ensemble award last night. I also heard a resounding THUD sound. Because this, to me, seemed like the final kiss of death — i.e., SAG being unable to give this popular musical drama a “poor baby, we still love you” award.

An obviously well made, convincingly performed and hugely successful romantic tragedy, ASIB had consistently failed to win anything big — no Best Picture or directing or acting awards — at the Golden Globes, the Critics Choice Awards or the Producers Guild Awards. So before last night the thinking was “okay, no Best Picture Oscar and no acting Oscars for Cooper or Lady Gaga, but SAG members surely feel sorry for A Star Is Born, and so they’ll probably give it a Best Ensemble award as a kind of consolation prize.”

Nope!

Obviously no one knows anything for sure about the final Oscar tallies, but the Academy Award ambitions of Cooper’s grand musical opus are almost surely dead, dead, deader than dead.

So what killed the award-season chances of what had seemed — on paper at least — like a film that might do exceptionally well with award-season voters and handicappers — a film that was obviously well crafted, expertly refined, beloved by audiences and extraordinarily successful all over ($206 million domestic, $413 million worldwide).

In a phrase, A Star Is Born was way overhyped in the early stages, and that avalanche of pre-release praise produced feelings of irritation (at least as far as Hollywood Elsewhere was concerned) and a kind of “oh, yeah? show us!” attitude among many others.

That plus the fact that it just seemed wrong, wrong, WRONG to give a Best Picture Oscar to a remake of a remake of a remake of a 1932 original.

Warner Bros. publicity, obviously, was the architect of the overhype. Their hubris bears the responsibility.

The first clue came when Warner Bros. decided not to show ASIB in Telluride — a decision that said “we know this is basically a hoi polloi popcorn movie, so we don’t want any critical slams coming out of an elite rarified setting.”

But if you want to focus on overhyping faces and personalities, A Star Is Born was primarily killed by the Murderer’s Row quartet of Robert De Niro, Sean Penn, Variety‘s Kris Tapley and Barbra Streisand.

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I for one admired Ryan Gosling‘s minimalist approach to playing Neil Armstrong in First Man. Armstrong, yes, was an allegedly dull and undemonstrative fellow, at least according to some, but in my eyes (and surely in the eyes of director Damien Chazelle) Gosling was conveying a complete emotive universe…all kinds of feeling, anxiety, ache and seasoned-pilot attitude, but with the tiniest and fleckiest of paint dabs.

I found it a fascinating and courageous performance because Gosling and Chazelle had made a conscious choice to not use the standard-issue emotional strategies that Ron Howard and others have resorted to in similar “solitary man vs. incredible challenge” dramas.

Obviously the ticket-buying public didn’t agree; ditto the industry when it came to handing out awards and acting nominations. File the Gosling-Chazelle experiment under “noble but unsuccessful.”

But another angle on this failure came to light when I read Owen Gleiberman‘s 1.24 review of Apollo 11, the CNN documentary that screened a few days ago at Sundance ’19.

“Even as a die-hard First Man believer, I have to say [that] while Ryan Gosling’s clean-cut, clear-eyed terseness matches up neatly with Neil Armstrong’s, the documentary confirms what I’d always remembered: that Armstrong’s face was frequently graced with the angelic hint of a smile — he was the Eagle Scout as Mona Lisa. Maybe he was just that way for the cameras, but I somehow doubt it.

“In Apollo 11, he comes off as genial and inviting, the very soul of a more optimistic America. I think if he’d come off that way a bit more in First Man, the movie might have won more fans.”

Early yesterday afternoon I did another “what say ye about the Oscar race?” Gold Derby podcast chat with Tom O’Neil and Michael Musto. The usual usual but we had fun. I agreed with Musto that Roma is a lock to win Best Picture “with Green Book on the outside as a close runner-up.”

For my money we didn’t sufficiently discuss the all-but-total collapse of A Star Is Born and Bradley Cooper enough, but Tom was leading the discussion.

HE quote: “I don’t think there’s stopping Mahershala Ali (Green Book) in the race for Best Supporting Actor,” I said. “He’s been ahead since the get-go. I’d like to see Richard E. Grant win because I loved him in that role more than just about anyone else.”

Musto quote: “It’s time for Glenn Close to get the freakin’ Oscar and everyone knows it! [Plus] Glenn plays a character who deserves the award that someone else gets. And she’s getting it this time. There is no chance for Lady Gaga!”

I was forced to participate from the lobby of the Park Regency because that’s the only spot in that otherwise comfy condo complex which the wifi is half decent. At the last minute I moved a small green palm plant right behind me for color design reasons — the green looked good along with the red glasses.