“Some people think they’re born born better than others. I’m trying to prove it’s the way you’re raised that counts. Even a monkey brought up in the right surroundings can learn the meaning of decency and honesty.” — Professor Peter Boyd (Ronald Reagan) to Jane (Diana Lynn) in Fred DeCordova‘s Bedtime for Bonzo (’51).
Final Stretch
THR‘s Scott Feinberg posted this yet-to-see list the other day. I’ve seen Ad Astra, of course. It’s just Richard Jewell now…an AFI Fest thing. I’m presuming but don’t know for a fact that 1917 will also debut at that November festival. Bombshell peeks out tomorrow (Sunday, 10.12). The first Little Women screening is slated for Wednesday, 10.23. I’m finally seeing The Painted Bird on 10.15. My first Knives Out experience will happen at the Middleburg Film Festival (which starts on Thursday, 10.17). I don’t know what’s up with Dark Waters, but expectations are fairly high. Catching the highly regarded Peanut Butter Falcon (that title!) this weekend. Queen and Slim has been seen and praised. JJ Abrams’ The Rise of Skywalker won’t happen for a while yet. Cats? I tingle with anticipation. I don’t know from The Good Liar. Seeing Zombieland: Double Tap on Tuesday, 10.15.
Robert Forster at the Silver Spoon
I began to be friendly with the amiable Robert Forster 22 years ago, or just after I’d seen Quentin Tarantino‘s Jackie Brown. I was with People at the time, and had wrangled an interview with the 56 year-old actor because I absolutely knew (and had convinced People‘s bureau chief Jack Kelly) that Forster’s career, which had been slumping since the late ’80s, was about to take off again.
Because his low-key, straight-from-the-shoulder performance as bail bondsman Max Cherry was a perfectly assured mellow-vibe thing. Right in the pocket. It landed Forster a Best Supporting Actor nomination, and he was suddenly back in the game.
Forster worked steadily after that, and in 2011 he scored again as George Clooney‘s cranky father-in-law in The Descendants. I interviewed him right after seeing Alexander Payne‘s film at Telluride. Forster sure knew how to play pissy.
Both interviews happened at West Hollywood’s Silver Spoon cafe, which was Forster’s favorite haunt for many years. It closed on 12.31.11, and I distinctly recall Forster telling me that he was pretty broken up about this. (A seafood place, Connie and Ted’s, opened in the same spot two years later.)
And now he’s gone, dear fellow. I must have run into Forster at two or three hundred industry gatherings over the last 20-odd years. “Hey, Bob,” “Hi, Jeff,” small-talk, sound byte….”later.”
I’m very sorry that he’s left the room. Really. Only 78 — old not that old. Brain cancer.
When death comes knocking, you can hide in the cellar or duck into a closet and sometimes it’ll go away and forget about you. For a while. But if your number’s up, it’s up. Ask Warren Beatty‘s Joe Pendleton. Or Robert Redford‘s wounded cop character in that famous Twilight Zone episode, “Nothing in the Dark.”
In my book Forster made only four really good films and two pretty good ones: Medium Cool, Reflections in a Golden Eye, The Don Is Dead, Jackie Browne, The Descendants, What They Had.
Greener Pastures
Shepard Smith, whose penchant for truth-telling and lie-lamenting made him the only honorable Fox News anchor, is out the door. President Trump despised him, which was very good. Tucker Carlson and Sean Hannity were no friends either.
N.Y. Times: “The internal tensions [at Fox] had frustrated Mr. Smith, 55, who was dismayed at the disconnect between some of the pro-Trump cheerleading in prime-time and the reporting produced by the network’s newsroom, according to two people close to the anchor who requested anonymity to share his private observations.
“Mr. Smith had been considering an exit from Fox News for several weeks, [sources] said.”
Wheels of Steel
Tatyana is in shock — before today she’d never once purchased a car. Because Russian princesses don’t buy cars — their wealthy, adoring husbands buy cars for them as a birthday gift, or their employers give them snazzy, spotless, brand-new vehicles to drive as a business perk. It’s important for Tatyana to project a certain flush, well-tended aura, you see. Which I understand, knowing her Russian attitude and all. Me? I’ve always been a rumblehog type of guy, and always will be. Best way…hell, the only way to get around.
Tatyana’s car hunt, in any event, is why I didn’t post much today. We started early this morning — all the papers had been signed by 3 pm.
Les Garcons de la Plage
Tatyana bought her 2016 black VW Beetle convertible earlier today at Hawthorne Square (11646 Prairie Ave., Hawthorne, CA 90250). As it happens this is only five or six blocks from the Beach Boys memorial (3701 W. 119th Street), or where the home of Murry and Audree Wilson (parents of Brian, Dennis and Carl) stood before it was demolished by the construction of the 105 Freeway in the mid ’80s. I visited the site while test-driving the Beetle.
Nothing lasts. Asphalt and concrete cover everything. Especially in the Los Angeles area.
Led Away in Cuffs
The difference between myself and Jane Fonda as far as political protest and civil disobedience are concerned is that I’ve never been arrested and led away by the bulls. I’m too fleet of foot or, to put it more bluntly, too chickenshit. Jane is now living in Washington D.C. (temporarily) and intending to get arrested each and every Friday (“Fire Drill Friday”) in the vicinity of the Capitol steps, all in the name of climate change and the grotesque refusal of the Trump administration to even acknowledge that the clock is ticking, much less trying to do something about it.
A Bigger Boat
So Emily Blunt‘s Lily Houghton is basically Indiana Jones — a smart-assed, two-fisted, kick-boxing Jackie Chan-like scientist searching for a tree’s magical cure a la Medicine Man. And Dwayne Johnson‘s Frank is a smirking, Hawaiian-born body builder who has tried and failed to model himself on Humphrey Bogart‘s Charlie Allnut.
For what it’s worth, Dwayne’s river boat is much cooler than Allnut’s African Queen. Jungle Cruise opens on 7.24.20. Director Jaume Collet-Serra is shameless, but then you knew that.
Indictment
Fallen hound and allegedly insensitive assaulter Matt Lauer has lost everything by way of termination and excommunication — the man is finished. But NBC News chief Andy Lack still has skin in the game, and Ronan Farrow’s new book has painted an equally negative portrait of Lack, his allegedly cozy relationship with Harvey Weinstein and a reluctance to move forward on Farrow’s Weinstein reporting.
Two days ago Lack stated in part, “It disappoints me to say that even with passage of time, Farrow’s account has become neither more accurate, nor more respectful of the dedicated colleagues he worked with here at NBC News. He uses a variety of tactics to paint a fundamentally untrue picture.”
This morning Farrow told George Stephanopoulos that the book speaks for itself, but that it’s hard to believe Lack’s account of what happened.
Best Bluray Cover Design of the Year?
If you’re part of the dwindling community of physical-media buyers, every so often a Bluray comes along with such a great-looking cover that you almost want to buy it just to pick it up and fondle the darn thing. This is one such occasion. Those glowing yellows, reds, greens and browns.
The 1996 winner of the Best Documentary Feature Oscar is one of the best feel-good docs ever made.
I showed Kings at my Woodland Hills screening series, “Hot-Shot Movies.” I remember an older woman raising her hand and asking somewhat peevishly “why are we watching this film?” before it even began, and I remember shrugging my shoulders and saying “well, because it captures something special…one of those once-in-a-lifetime occasions in which life on the planet earth seemed truly beautiful and fair.”
Need Rockstar Factor…Please
I want a rockstar Democratic candidate for President. Somebody who reminds me somewhat of Bobby Kennedy…someone exceptionally bright and eloquent with that certain hard-to-define quality of extra-ness. I’m serious about the fact that I’ll die if Joe Biden gets the nomination. Okay, I’ll survive but the blood will drain from my face. And if Elizabeth Warren wins I’ll be scared shitless that Trump might beat her. I’ll wind up chewing my nails to the bone.
From “Pete Buttigieg’s Undeniable Allure,” a Walter Shapiro piece in The New Republic: “Four months before the Iowa caucuses, it is time to reckon with the reality that Pete Buttigieg probably has a better chance to be the Democratic nominee than anyone aside from Biden and the surging Warren.
“With Sanders ailing and Kamala Harris sputtering, Buttigieg has enough money to go the distance (he has raised $44 million in the last six months) and enough polling support to guarantee his place on every debate stage. Whatever happens next, this youthful candidate with a long resume (Harvard, Rhodes Scholar, McKinsey analyst, failed statewide candidate, mayor, and intelligence officer in Afghanistan) has already emerged as the political surprise of 2019.”
HE acknowledges that Warren and “Typewriter” Joe are approvable candidates if you want to relax your standards and say “okay, yeah, sure…I’d prefer to see either of them be sworn in as President on January 20, 2021…anyone but The Beast.”
But they’re not Mick Jagger candidates, and they never will be. Only Mayor Pete fills that bill. Definitely the only magic-medicine guy out there. On top of which he’s not a woke fanatic (and that’s a huge plus).
But garden-variety homophobes and especially the African-American variety (there’s a real mental blockage against gays in the black community) don’t quite see it that way. And they don’t much care for Warren either. And so we’re still stuck with Droolin’ Joe. And that is such a drag when you consider the kind of transformative Democratic candidates who have run before.
“These are not ordinary times and this is not an ordinary election,” a certain Presidential candidate said 51 and 1/2 years ago. But what are Biden and Warren if not, in a positive sense, ordinary? As in “okay, good people, obviously better than Trump and I’ll definitely vote for one or the other but I have to be honest — neither of them quicken my pulse.”
From Frank Bruni‘s “The Agonizing Imperfection of Pete Buttigieg,” posted on 10.8: “If I dreamed up an ideal Democratic opponent for President Trump in 2020, I’d locate that candidate in the industrial Midwest. That’s where Hillary Clinton lost the last election, and it’s where the next one could very well be decided.