For years, Anita Busch was like Old Faithful. Every time I saw her at a screening or a party, she always gave me a vaguely dirty look. Every…damn…time. Which is one reason why I enjoyed…no, not enjoyed…why I didn’t especially grieve over Nikki Finke’s respectful vivisection and entombment of the former entertainment journalist in this just-posted L.A. Weekly column. The subhead reads, “Pellicano charges are vindication for the former Hollywood reporter, but we’ve already buried her.”
Roughly two months ago a very early draft of Eric Roth‘s screenplay for Killers of the Flower Moon (dated 2.20.17,...
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Frances McDormand‘s Fern was strong but mule-stubborn and at the end of the day self-destructive, and this stunted psychology led...
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Can’t decide which performance is better, although I’ve always leaned toward Tina Vitale, her cynical New Jersey moll behind the...
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Two days ago (1.19) a Facebook tribute congratulated Tippi Hedren for having reached her 94th year (blow out the candles!)...
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A friend suggested a list of the Ten Best American Crime Flicks of the ‘70s. By which he meant films...
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I’ve never been able to give myself over to Sam Peckinpah’s Major Dundee, a 1965 Civil War–era western, and I’ve...
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