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“I am delighted to be your cousin, but I’m still voting for Sal Mineo.”

With these 14 words, which appeared in a Variety ad sometime in early ’61, Groucho Marx killed any chance that Chill Wills‘ nomination for Best Supporting Actor Oscar, earned for his performance as “Beekeeper” in John Wayne‘s The Alamo (’60), might result in a win.

Marx did more than that actually — he articulated a general industry feeling that Wills had gauchely overplayed his hand by running trade-paper ads that promoted his performance, and thereby solidified Wills’ reputation as a craven hustler for the rest of his life.

On Oscar night (4.17.61) Bob Hope cracked “I didn’t know there was any campaigning until I saw my maid wearing a Chill Wills button.” Peter Ustinov‘s witty Spartacus performance won the Best Supporting Actor Oscar, beating out Wills, Mineo (Israeli freedom fighter in Exodus), Peter Falk (gangster in Murder, Inc.) and Jack Kruschen (Jack Lemmon‘s friendly doctor-neighbor in The Apartment).

How could Wills have drunkenly imagined he had even the slightest chance against Ustinov or the excellent Kruschen, who played the voice of moral conscience in The Apartment (“Be a mensch, Baxter…a human being!”).

So Wills’ self-promotion was ill-advised, but to err is human. An avid poker player and a rabid Republican who supported George Wallace’s 1968 third-party campaign for President, Wills passed in 1978 at the age of 76.

Here’s the odd part: As someone who’s watched The Alamo at least two or three times, I can honestly say I can’t remember Wills doing or saying anything in that 1960 film that really stood out. I’ll go farther than that: I don’t remember Wills at all in that film. Really.

In the 21st Century realm Wills is known for one line at best, and that was spoken in George Stevens Giant, in reference to James Dean‘s Jett Rink**: “Vic, you shoulda shot that fella a long time ago. Now he’s too rich to kill.”

** My son Jett was named after Jett Rink. The idea actually came from publicist Bruce Feldman.

I’m not sure if Myrna Loy (1905-1993) ever gave a great performance. She shares a great “welcome home” scene with Fredric March in The Best Years of Our Lives (‘46), and is dryly amusing in a somewhat stiff-necked way in The Bachelor and the Bobby Soxer (‘47). But she was certainly in full command of a sexy exotic vibe in her late 20s and early 30s. She also gave great vibe in the Thin Man series.

Previously unreported fact: I stood five feet from the still curiously radiant Loy at a National Board of Review awards ceremony in late ‘81 or early ‘82. Ragtime costar James Cagney was also there; ditto Warren Beatty, who said something flattering about Loy — something about her beauty still making his pulse race a bit.

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If Hollywood Elsewhere had Roger Durling‘s job as director of the Santa Barbara Int’l Film Festival, right now I’d be doing everything I could to add Andrea Riseborough to the SBIFF Virtuosos panel. She has to be included…no debate!

The current Virtuosos lineup includes Austin Butler (Elvis), Kerry Condon (The Banshees of Inisherin), Danielle Deadwyler (Till), Nina Hoss (Tár), Stephanie Hsu (Everything Everywhere All At Once), Jeremy Pope (The Inspection), Ke Huy Quan (Everything Everywhere All At Once), and Jeremy Strong (Armageddon Time).

The Academy’s statement, by the way, is merely about straddling the gulf between (a) ass-covering and (b) placating the conversation.

Read Pete Hammond’s excellent “Much Ado About Nothing” assessment.

The only February ’23 releases I’m vaguely looking forward to are M. Night Shyamalan‘s Knock at the Cabin (2.3), Steven Soderbergh‘s Magic Mike’s Last Dance (2,10) and Elizabeth Banks‘ Cocaine Bear (2.24), although the premise of the latter seems repulsive — deriving laughs and thrills from the accidental torture murder of an innocent bear, which actually happened in the ’80s.

I’m told that Benjamin Caron‘s Sharper might be worth a watch. I’m not looking forward to Neil Jordan‘s Marlowe (2.3), as it allegedly stinks, but I’ll see it regardless.

We’ve all been touched by that haunting Citizen Kane moment when the elderly Mr. Bernstein (Everett Sloane) recalls glimpsing a beautiful young lass in a white dress on the Staten Island ferry. No conversation or eye contact — just a glancing whatever when Bernstein saw her and melted, and then the ferry pulled out and that was it…”I only saw her for one second and she didn’t see me at all, but I’ll bet a month hasn’t gone by since that I haven’t thought of that girl.”

Being the impressionable type and certainly a lot more impressionable than Bernstein, I’ve experienced several such moments over the decades. Probably dozens. But there was one in particular…oh, man. Early Clinton era, ’93 or ’94…yours truly inside West Hollywood’s Monkey Bar (8225 Beverly Blvd.), a highly magnetized, hard-to-get-into joint that had opened in October ’92 with a general understanding that Jack Nicholson liked to drop by now and then…probably the hottest place in California or maybe even the world that night. How do you calculate this stuff?

And suddenly my gaze fell upon actress Joan Severance, a total smoke show and a reasonably decent actress who was known for Red Shoe Diaries and Lake Consequence…around 35 at the time. Severance had risen from her seat at a well-located table and was staring at something or someone across the room, and my first thought was “she’s standing there because she knows everyone is looking at her and she loves the attention, and who can blame her?”

But my God, the beauty…those eyes, the cheekbones and that mouth, that exquisite jawline and the perfect hair and tanned skin…nothing happened and she certainly didn’t notice my marginal journalistic ass, standing at the bar some 30 or 40 feet away. But here we are 30 years later and this moment is a memory tattoo.

One reason I want to see Frances O’Connor‘s Emily is because of Emma Mackey, who has a bit of that Severance thing going on. She plays the titular role of “Wuthering Heights” author Emily Bronte.

…but he could really turn on the warmth and humanity when called upon, and he had the kindest and gentlest eyes of all the classic marquee-brand actors of his generation. Which is why I’m disappointed with the Kino jacket art for a forthcoming 4K Bluray of 12 Angry Men. I’m sorry but those Fonda peepers are nowhere to be found. They belong to someone else.

I’m delighted with my Criterion Bluray version, and can’t imagine how a 4K bump (out on 3.28.23) could make that much of a difference. I sound like a broken record but still.

[Note: I’m aware that stories about dental matters can be distasteful. Please feel free to ignore.]

Getting older unfortunately means having to cope with our teeth getting gradually smaller due to grinding and whatnot. I have reasonably decent dental insurance but it doesn’t cover cosmetic stuff, and I can’t afford to shell out $15K or $20K for a set of new crowns (top and bottom). So last summer I decided to try the Instasmile veneer guys. Top and bottom veneers for around $700 and change. Not a massive amount of dough for an experiment that might turn out.

The veneers arrived two days ago. Instasmile offers a warranty agreement that allows for a re-do if there’s a problem. Here’s what I wrote to a customer rep named Autumn:

The basic problems are these: (a) They fit, but they don’t fit snugly enough. The bottom teeth especially. They generally feel a bit bulky. I feel as if I’m wearing HORSE TEETH — like I’m Mr. Ed. Plus they actually hinder my ability to handle consonants.

I’d hoped they would slip right on without issue. Except they feel a tiny bit large (especially on the bottom ridge), and seem a little too big. (b) There’s a saber tooth on the top left bridge that makes me look like a fecking VAMPIRE. It’s ridiculous and embarassing. The vampire tooth has to be ground down and eliminated. It makes me look like Christopher Lee in The Horror of Dracula (’58).

Generally speaking the feeling of looking like a hybrid species (half HORSE and half VAMPIRE) is not pleasant or welcome.

I need veneers that are delicate and generally lighter — ones that fit snugly but are a tiny but smaller on the bottom ridge. And the ridiculous VAMPIRE TOOTH has to be eliminated. I am a human being — I do not sink my fangs into the virginal necks of fair young maidens. Nor am I a HORSE — I don’t whinny or trot or eat oats or gallop around the horse track. To paraphrase F. Lee Ermey in Full Metal Jacket, I am a human fecking being.

SUMMARY: I need dentures that feel lighter and which fit more snugly without hindering my ability to speak clearly. Veneers, in short, that don’t make me look and feel like a HORSE, especially due to an overly large and bulky lower bridge. And you really need to eliminate the upper left VAMPIRE tooth. (I realize that I have a large upper left saber tooth but the Instasmile dentures make me look RIDICULOUS, like a drooling vampire.)

In short, your tech team needs to try again and do a better job. Sorry but that’s the situation, — Jeffrey Wells, HE

There’s something terribly somber and sobering in the idea of the David Crosby dynamo being silent and still, above and beyond the fact of a life having run its course and come to a natural end. I don’t like finality as a rule. I prefer the idea of fluidity, of a beating pulse and the constant search for action and opportunity. I don’t like it when a store closes and is all emptied out and boarded up with “for lease” signs pasted on the windows. Keep it going, sweep the floors, stock the shelves, pay the bills. All things must pass, of course, but not now…later.

Incidentally: On 1.19.23 NPR’s David Westervelt posted a Crosby tribute piece, and in the fifth paragraph he wrote the following: “Crosby, Stills & Nash at times would soar with electric jams. But their foundation was a unique California sound built on harmonies, acoustic guitars and a dose of self-awareness often missing in rock lyrics. Exactly where in LA’s Laurel Canyon Crosby, Stills & Nash first sang together is still debated, lost in a smoky haze.”

Actually, it’s not debated. In A.J. Eaton and Cameron Crowe‘s David Crosby: Remember My Name (’19), Crosby says the very first time they sang together and knew they really had something was in Joni Mitchell‘s kitchen, inside her modest-sized home at 8217 Lookout Mountain. Crosby says this to the camera while standing in front of Michell’s former pad. Who has ever claimed otherwise?

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“Whenever it’s a damp, drizzly November in my soul…whenever some pain-in-the-ass HE commenter (Renaissance, Vic Lizzy, Jeremy Fassler) posts something prickly or ugly…whenever I feel like stepping into the street and knocking people’s hats off, then it’s high time to pop an Oxy and stream a comfort flick…Charley Varrick, Fear Strikes Out or any black-and-white VistaVision title, 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea, The Horse Soldiers….that line of country.”

Thanks again to Mark Frenden, HE’s go-to guy for any kind of visual tweak or manipulation….fast turnaround, never fails. I realize that I need to be weathered up to fit in…working on it.

Many of us believed that that Banshees of Inisherin costar Kerry Condon was an Oscar shoo-in for Best Supporting Actress. She was and is the heart and soul of Martin McDonagh‘s metaphorical dysfunction drama — no one disputes this. But then the Golden Globes gave their Best Supporting Actress prize to Wakanda Forever‘s Angela Bassett as (be honest) a make-up gesture for the HFPA’s racist history in terms of membership. And then last night the insufferably woke Critics Choice voters went for Bassett also.

So now Academy voters undoubtedly FEEL OBLIGED to award Bassett also. If they give their Best Supporting Actress Oscar to Condon instead Twitter may detect a very slight after-aroma of racism, so they have to give it Bassett…even though we all agree that her banal, quarter-of-an-inch-deep Wakanda performance doesn’t deliver a fraction of the soul and substance that Condon provided.

Bassett is 64 and has been plugging away since the early ’90s, so her supporters are calling it a career tribute award now. It’s a rigged game. Life is unfair. The actress who gave the best supporting performance probably won’t win.

Friendo: You’re not allowed to criticize the idea of Angela Bassett winning an Oscar for a histrionic performance in a stupid superhero flick. I was thinking about saying “it’s great Bassett is finally winning an award but too bad it’s in a superhero movie”, but then I realized I’d get attacked for it. You can’t attack religious symbols.

HE: As I said last night, Sunday night’s Critics Choice awards show felt like some kind of Twilight Zone experience. Voting the woke party line (sacralization of race, gender, sexuality plus focusing on emotional core issues over an instance of morbid self-destructive obesity) means NOTHING in this context. It’s Maoism.

Friendo: Wokeism is a cult, that’s for sure. Look at what Cate Blanchett said last night…”the patriarchal notion of competition for a top award” or whatever she said.

HE: I thought Cate was more of a circumspect type.

Friendo: I just mean that actresses like Blanchett at this point are stuck between a rock and a hard place. They feel obliged to suggest they don’t want to win if they’re already at the top and are white. They feel a bit guilty so they’re saying ‘let’s get rid of the awards…everybody should get a certificate of merit.’ They’re almost there now. Merit has gone out the window.

HE: Oh, I see. Cate feels obliged to project a certain blithe spirit…a vague sense of guilt about this, and so she’s saying “I don’t need to win”. She’s not hungry for it, clearly. It’s unseemly to project hunger or ambition. Maybe this means Michelle Yeoh will take the Oscar now.

Friendo: She felt guilty about the possibility of beating Michelle Yeoh at her moment of near-triumph, and so rather than beating a woman of color with a decades-long narrative she probably doesn’t want to win.

HE: That’s what she was saying — you’re right. From a racial or tribal perspective, white artists defeating artists of color is not a good look.

Friendo: Exactly.

HE: Under our current Maoism defeating a person of color flirts with a morally unsavory narrative.

Friendo: Be honest — does anyone honestly think Angela Bassett should win for that Wakanda performance role? Equity mindsets mean that artists of color can never really rise on their own merit. Awards have to be gifted to them by whites.

HE: It’s totally ridiculous that Bassett has beaten Kerry Condon twice so far…c’mon!

Friendo: No intelligent human could argue even half-heartedly that Bassett’s performance is superior to Condon’s.

Steven Spielberg‘s Close Encounters of the Third Kind opened in New York City on Wednesday, 11.16.77. That very day I caught an afternoon show at Manhattan’s Ziegfeld theatre, and the instant that John Williams‘ music delivered the big crashing crescendo, concurrent with the appearance of the faded-yellow sandstorm vista in the Sonoran desert, the Ziegfeld’s massive sub-woofer speakers delivered a rib-vibrating whomp. Actually a combination of a whomp and a whoom. It was wonderful.

The shooting of When Harry Met Sally happened in mid to late ’88, when Billy Crystal was just turning 40 and Meg Ryan was 28 or thereabouts. Aline Brosh McKenna‘s Your Place or Mine is from the same romantic hymn book, except the would-be lovers are in their mid 40s — Ashton Kutcher is 44 and Reese Witherspoon is 46. Working from her own script, McKenna is making her directorial debut. She previously wrote The Devil Wears Prada, 27 Dresses and Morning Glory. She knows how to make this kind of material work. The film opens on Netflix on 2.10.23.