It felt like mid-July earlier today. In late January. No jackets, strictly T-shirts, almost sweltering. When I saw a guy walking down Beverly Blvd. with his shirt off, I pulled over and asked if I could take a shot. He wrote his name and Instagram handle on my iPhone notepad, and then it somehow disappeared. High ’70s for the rest of the week. Motorcycle weather. We like it like that.
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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