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Six days ago (7.11) I reported that my horrific iPhone 8Plus sign-in passcode problem was about to be solved. That morning a senior Apple tech person had written the following to Hollywood Elsewhere: “Thank you for your patience. We reviewed the documents you provided and [have] turned off the Activation Lock on your device.” I took that to mean that the six-digit, two-step security code that had been making my life hell since my iPhone 6s Plus was stolen would be sidestepped or neutered.

False alarm! The “activation lock turn-off” was some kind of red-herring or misunderstanding. Worse, all my contact information is now gone from the new iPhone 8 Plus.

I bought the new iPhone 8 Plus three hours after the 7.5 theft of the iPhone 6s Plus. I tried to Cloud-synch it right away, and was partially successful due to the thief not having fully persuaded Apple that his/her phone (ending in 14) was a trusted second device. So at least I had my contacts and notes. But when I showed up for a Genius Bar appointment at the Grove Apple store on 7.12, a guy wiped my iPhone clean, taking it back to factory settings. And then the info download failed because the “activation lock turn-off” was a non-starter.

I’ve been in fresh hell ever since. I’m in a slightly better place now in terms of history and receipts, granted, but I’m still unable to find the right Apple techie who can not only shrewdly assess the particulars but stay with me until the problem has been put to bed.

That’s almost the most difficult part — finding a high-end Apple support professional who not only has the smarts to understand and diagnose the problem (I’ve so far spoken to three people who fit this description) but one who won’t abandon me after two or three exchanges of information. This is what Apple people have done so far — helpfully engage and then vaporize — and I don’t mind saying I’ve become very perturbed about this.

I’ve dealt with two Apple senior consumer-tech-support persons — Stephanie Owen, who told me that she’s based in Hamilton outside of Toronto, and Charnae Shorter, who told me she’s based in Virginia. They were both very focused, constructive, caring and helpful until they flaked. Since then I’ve written and called repeatedly, pleading for follow-up — silencio.

I also spoke to an Apple iCloud engineer named Arryon Maiden, a bright and friendly guy (only 23) who’s based in Austin. As of last Saturday I’d sent him all the pertinent information that I had at that time (including copies of five email messages between Apple and the thief who took my phone — a guy who persuaded Apple’s system that his phone number, ending in 14, is a trusted second number of mine). Arryon said in a breezy, light-hearted way that he was satisfied that the problem would soon be taken care of, and that he’d be speaking to senior staffers and would probably be back to me “within a couple of hours.”

That was the last I ever heard from Arryon Maiden. I’m written and left phone messages, asking again and again, down on my knees…nothing.

I’m now back to square one, trying to find a responsible iCloud whizkid who can step in and solve the problem, and who won’t abandon me to fate and happenstance after a couple of encounters.

I’m now thinking my only prayer is to persuade a big-time tech or consumer-support columnist to write about this. Maybe David Lazarus, the “Consumer Confidential” guy for the L.A. Times. Or Walter Mossberg, former tech columnist with The Wall Street Journal, currently with of The Verge and Recode. I don’t know this realm very well, but the right columnist would only have to double-check my facts and then rewrite what I’ve already posted about this nightmare — article #1, article #2, article #3 and article #4.

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Remember the good old days (i.e., eight years ago) when directors of historical fables would deliver at least a semblance of historical realism? No one presumed that Ridley Scott‘s Robin Hood, Kevin Reynolds and Kevin Costner‘s Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves or Michael Curtiz‘s The Adventures of Robin Hood were scrupulous representations, but at least they gave it a shot — half historical, half Hollywood costume values of the moment.

Otto Bathurst‘s Robin Hood (Summit, 11.21) is a perverse renunciation of the Curtiz, Reynolds and Scott approach. The idea seems to be “let’s nominally indicate that our Robin Hood is set in the distant past, but otherwise let’s undercut any hint of historical realism and turn the whole enterprise into a preening video game.” I’m thinking in particular of Ben Mendelsohn wearing a 21st Century, corporate-friendly, side-parted $250 undercut as the Sheriff of Nottingham, not to mention his costume looking like something he bought at Rag & Bone.

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When the world premiere of Orson Welles‘ The Other Side of the Wind didn’t happen in Cannes two months ago, the likelihood of a big splashy debut at either the Venice or Telluride film festivals (or perhaps at both) became a fait accompli. I’m now hearing a rumor that TOSOTW will open the Venice Film Festival…fine. If this doesn’t happen it’ll almost certainly be screened there, and then at Telluride a few days later with Toronto to follow. How could these festivals not be on the first-viewing list?

“Seamless Wind Assessed,” posted on 1.19.18: “The first-ever screening of a full-boat version of Orson Welles‘ The Other Side of the Wind happened last Tuesday night (1.16) at Santa Monica’s Ocean Ave. screening room. The reconstituted, inside-the-industry, early ’70s montage-hodgepodge will presumably be further refined before debuting at a forthcoming 2018 film festival.

HE to friend who attended Tuesday’s screening: “Is it…what, a fascinating but surreal early ’70s timepiece? Is it a slipshod, free-associative whatsit without a narrative spine, or does it sorta kinda have something going on? Orson was a near-genius at times, and he obviously did his very best and worked his fingers to the bone, but be honest — is it some kind of visual dazzler, an interesting piece-of-shit or a major discovery or what? Can you give me a hint or two about how it plays?”

Cruddy, bleachy image of scene from The Other Side of the Wind with costars Peter Bogdanovich, John Huston.

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Dwayne Johnson and Rawson Marshall Thurber‘s Skyscraper (Universal 7.13) has been assessed as a serious box-office shortfaller, if not a calamity. Yesterday it made a lousy $9,268.000 on 3782 screens for an average of $2451, and will end up with an estimated $24 to $28 million by Sunday night — a third-place finish behind Hotel Transylvania 3: Summer Vacation and Disney-Marvel’s Ant-Man and the Wasp.

“Skyscraper Falls,” a Variety headline announced; “Skyscraper Up In Flames,” proclaimed Deadline.

Could it be that audiences are finally waking up to Hollywood Elsewhere’s longstanding assessment of Johnson, which is that he’s fundamentally opposed to making good films and that his default instinct is to topline high-concept action flicks that are relentlessly stupid and implausible? Did audiences steer clear because critics are saying that Skyscraper is so bone-dumb it’ll turn your brain into a volley ball? Are they finally starting to realize that Johnson has repeatedly shown contempt for audiences by making nothing but crap?

Not so much, says Deadline‘s Anthony D’Alessandro. “There [are] a few reasons why Skyscraper is in shambles,” he wrote this morning, “but chiefly Johnson’s family crowd here is being swallowed up whole by both Hotel Transylvania 3 and the second weekend of Ant-Man and the Wasp.”

AD also said something about Johnson’s brand being over-exposed with the recent release of Jumanji and Rampage, i..e, “where’s the fresh face?” He quotes a RelishMix observation about Skyscraper “literally [looking] like a Die Hard update, but with a hero challenged by a prosthetic.” But shouldn’t the fact that Skyscraper is a shitty film…shouldn’t that at least be factored in? Quality counts for a little something…no?

It’s ironic that on a day that everyone is talking about Johnson’s first significant box-office stumble, The Guardian‘s Steve Rose has posted a “yay, Dwayne!” piece called “Let’s Rock! Why Dwayne Johnson is the new Schwarzenegger.”

Posted on 12.8.16: “With the exception of Michael Bay‘s Pain and Gain, Johnson has demonstrated time and again that he’s fundamentally opposed to appearing in films that are (a) good and (b) at least semi-believable. He makes big, dopey, adolescent cartoons.”

On this, the 100th anniversary of Ingmar Bergman‘s birth (7.14.18), I am holding to my conviction that the darkest, hottest and most despairing Bergman film of all time is The Silence (’63). And therefore my favorite, in part because it’s so crystalline and unified — a perfect distillation of a sensual gloomhead mentality.

A ten year-old boy (Jorgen Lindstrom, who’s now 67) travelling with his ailing mother Ester (Ingrid Thulin) and her younger sister Anna (Gunnel Lindblom) through a grim Central European landscape, and then renting a couple of rooms at an old-world hotel. The boy watches as Anna settles into a kind of scowling sensual abandon. As always, Sven Nykvist‘s black-and-white cinematography is exquisite, and his capturings of of the sultry, vaguely self-disgusted Anna in various states of undress in that hotel room and bathroom are the stuff that lifelong dreams are made of. For me anyway.

I’m mentioning The Silence because you can’t buy a stand-alone Bluray version, not from Criterion or anyone else. You can watch it on Filmstruck and The Criterion Channel but I’m not yet a subscriber. (For whatever reason my initial reaction to Filmstruck was “a bridge too far” — lame, I realize.) It’s included in Criterion’s $239 Ingmar Bergman Bluray box set, and you can buy a DVD version in a 2003 Bergman trilogy package that includes Through A Glass Darkly and Winter Light. So right now it’s FilmStruck or nothing. Bummer.

In a 5.27.13 Criterion-posted essay, David Blakeslee wrote that “as significant as The Silence was in Bergman’s development as a filmmaker and person, there’s no doubt that it marked an even bigger advance in terms of expressive freedom in dealing with human sexuality, especially as it involved both nudity and the portrayal of women in pursuit of their own erotic fulfillment rather than as passive sex objects.

“With the Palme d’or winner Blue is the Warmest Color and Lars Von Trier‘s Nymphomaniac, we can trace a tangent that didn’t necessarily begin with Bergman’s 1963 masterpiece but is clearly continuous in using on-screen sex to drum up interest. And it works! Through its lasting influence and continuing beguilement as to what it’s all about, The Silence still makes a lot of noise.

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It was announced earlier today that Steve McQueen’s Widows (20th Century Fox, 11.16) will open the BFI London Film Festival on Wednesday, 10.10. The fact that the screening is being called an “international premiere” suggests that the caper thriller will start things off in Telluride or Toronto.

Pic is based on Lydia LaPlante’s Widows mini-series that ran on British television in ’83 and ’85. Wikipage logline for McQueen’s film: “Four armed robbers (Liam Neeson, Garret Dillahunt, Jon Bernthal, Manuel Garcia-Rulfo) are killed in a failed heist attempt, only to have their respective widows (Viola Davis, Cynthia Erivo, Elizabeth Debicki, Michelle Rodriguez) step up to finish the job.”

Viola Davis, Liam Neeson in Steve McQueen’s Widows.

Widows also stars Colin Farrell, Robert Duvall, Daniel Kaluuya, Jacki Weaver, Lukas Haas and Brian Tyree Henry.

In what particular way[s] could Widows fit into the ’18/’19 awards season? From what I’ve been told, Viola Davis is more or less a slamdunk for a Best Actress nomination. A guy who allegedly saw an early cut has said that “Viola is the standout, a force of nature in a showcase lead role…and she’s so respected as an actress.”

I’ve assumed all along that McQueen, an esteemed art-film director (12 Years A Slave, Shame, Hunger), wouldn’t go slumming by directing a boilerplate robbery caper flick. I’ve been told that he hasn’t done that. I’ve been told that he blends the Chicago-based robbery plot with political commentary involving police brutality, political corruption (Colin Farrell‘s character racking up odious points in this regard) and Black Lives Matter. So you should most likely put out of your mind any thoughts of Widows being an Ocean’s 8 companion piece.

All hail the 88 year-old Clint Eastwood and his never-say-die work ethic. Clint has been directing and starring in The Mule since June 4th, shooting in various Georgia locations. The shoot will move later this month to Las Cruces, New Mexico, the town where Walter Matthau and two cohorts robbed a small bank in Charley Varrick some 45 years ago.

Eastwood costars with Bradley Cooper, Michael Pena, Laurence Fishburne, Dianne Wiest.

Pic is based on Sam Dolnick‘s June 2014 N.Y. Times Magazine piece, “The Sinaloa Cartel’s 90-Year-Old Drug Mule.” The screenplay is by Nick Schenk (Gran Torino). IMDB logline: “A 90-year-old horticulturist and WWII veteran is caught transporting $3 million worth of cocaine through Michigan for a Mexican drug cartel. Here’s some coverage from August’s WRDW.com.

Chris McQuarrie and Tom Cruise‘s Mission: Impossible — Fallout (Paramount, 7.27) screens tonight in Los Angeles for journo elites. (Reviews will pop tomorrow — Thursday, 7.12 at 2 pm Pacific.) The NYC and LA all-media screenings will happen on or about 7.23. You can’t trust the junket guys, but even if you dial down their praises by 30% or 40% it still sounds pretty good.

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The branding has begun on Josie Rourke‘s Mary, Queen of Scots (Focus Features, 12.5), even though it won’t open for another five and a half months. I’ve heard that the film offers a kind of Game of Thrones aesthetic — hard R, vivid sex scenes, bloody battle sequences, unflinching. I’ve also heard that that Saoirse Ronan, playing the title role, delivers big-time. A guy who’s seen it says she’s “incredible, one of her very best performances, a physically demanding role that she throws herself into, really gets to shine, a full range of emotions.”

Danny Boyle and Aaron Sorkin‘s Steve Jobs (’15) bothered me from the get-go. It was close to three years ago when I saw it for the first time (at Telluride), and after re-thinking and re-thinking it again, I realized that it didn’t work for two principal reasons.

One, the relentless use of “Sorkin walk-and-talks.” (I don’t remember at what point I flinched in my seat and almost stood up and said aloud, “Are they gonna walk and talk through this whole damn movie?”) And two, Michael Fassbender. I was just starting to realize how much I disliked the guy because of those cold fuck-you eyes of his. From a 8.28.16 riff called “Shorter Steve Jobs Review”: ‘I know this is a class-A enterprise with a sharp Sorkin script, but how much longer do I have hang with this prick?'”

In short, Andrew Saladino‘s “12 Angry Men: A Lesson In Staging,” a seven minute and 41-second video essay, reminded me how much I disliked Steve Jobs. Because of those infuriating walk-and-talks (and how more inventive and confident 12 Angry Men director Sidney Lumet was at shooting straight-dialogue scenes), and, yes, because of that super-prick Fassbender.

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If you get eaten by a 95 foot-long Megalodon shark, at least you’ll die quickly…right? Thank God we have Jason Statham on the case. I’m sensing a comedic attitude lurking beneath the generic chops. The director of The Meg (Warner Bros., 8.10) is Jon Turtletaub, whose last theatrical feature was Last Vegas (’13). Should moviegoers be concerned about principal photography having begun in October 2016 and concluded 18 months ago? Post-production was presumably slowed down by the CG. The film will work if the shark looks real, but if the effects look even a little bit shitty…aiiiy, pobrecito mío! Costarring Li Bingbing, Rainn Wilson, Ruby Rose, Winston Chao and Cliff Curtis. Pocket those paychecks.

Two days ago clips from Barry Jenkins‘ If Beale Street Could Talk (Annapurna) were shown at Essence Festival, the New Orleans-based cultural gathering which wraps today. Jenkins, director-writer of the 2016 Best Picture Oscar winner Moonlight, took bows along with leads Kiki Layne and Stephan James, who play engaged lovers Clementine “Tish” Rivers and Alonzo “Fonny” Hunt. Regina King, who plays Kiki’s mom Sharon, was also on hand.

Here’s a fairly thorough report from Blackfilm.com’s Wilson Morales.

The Annapurna release has no release date, but will probably pop through at the Venice, Telluride or Toronto film festivals — i.e., some combination thereof.

If Beale Street Could Talk castmembers Stephan james, Kiki Layne, Regina King + director-writer Barry Jenkins.

Based on the 1974 James Baldwin novel and set in early ’70s Harlem, Beale Street is about difficulties faced by Tish, a 19 year-old, and Fonny, a 22 year-old sculptor, and their extended family. Fonny is unjustly accused of raping a Puerto Rican woman, Victoria Rogers (Emily Rios), and is sent to prison. Soon after Tish discovers she’s pregnant. She, her family and her lawyer struggle to find evidence that will free Fonny before the baby is born.

Regina King and Colman Domingo portray Kiki’s mom and dad. Michael Beach plays Fonny’s profane dad and Aunjanue Ellis his strictly religious mom. Nobody seems to know who plays the lawyer but it’s either Dave Franco or Finn Wittrock.

Morales: “The first clip showed all the principal cast in the house of Kiki’s parents. It happens right after Stephan has been taken to jail and everyone is talking about his young lawyer. Stephan’s parents come in (Beach and Ellis) and it’s clear that his mom and dad are different from one another. Mom is very church-like and strict while dad curses in front of others and says his foul language is considered hip. There’s a lot of tension in the room when Kiki talks back to Steph’s mom.

“The second scene, apparently a flashback, shows Stephan and Kiki hanging at a Spanish restaurant where he says hi to Pedrosito (Diego Luna). It’s raining as he walks Kiki outside, and then asks her to come home with him.”

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