Last night I watched Robert Clift and Hillary Demmon‘s Making Montgomery Clift (1091 Media, streaming on 10.15), which may be the most deep-down accurate and highly complex portrait of the closeted, achingly sensitive, Oscar-nominated actor (best known for From Here To Eternity, Red River, I Confess, Freud, Judgment at Nuremberg, The Misfits) ever presented on a screen. Seriously — it’s really something else.

I’ve read two Clift biographies (Robert LaGuardia‘s “Monty” and Patricia Bosworth‘s “Montgomery Clift: A Biography“), and I came away from this viewing what felt like a more intimate, finely textured understanding of who the poor guy really was.

The 88-minute film is basically an assemblage of home movies, tape recordings and talking heads mixed with first-hand narration by Robert Clift, the son of Clift’s older brother, William Brooks Clift (1919–1986) and journalist Eleanor Clift, with creative collaboration from Hillary Demmon.

I was afraid at first that the film might be some kind of family-approved gloss-over, but it’s not. It feels like an honest, upfront, no-bullshit assessment. Nobody’s afraid or reluctant to discuss anything.

It contends, for one thing, that while Clift was closeted he wasn’t conflicted or tortured over his sexuality.

It goes a little soft in talking frankly about the alcohol and drug addictions that ended Cliff’s life at age 46 (from a heart attack), but it insists that despite everyone having concluded that Clift spent the last ten years of his life slowly committing suicide, he loved living and wanted to keep going as best he could for as long as he could. The conversational tapes and movie footage reveal a relatively happy, spirited, engaged, curious, intellectually agile fellow for the most part.

It’s especially fascinating because Brooks Clift, dissatisfied with the LaGuardia biography and even the respected Bosworth chronicle, wanted to write his own biography of his younger brother, but never got it done. And so Robert, utilizing all kinds of movies and tapes that his father had kept, has kind of written it for him, in a way. He’s told the tale that his father would have.

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She cackled and fainted and the bumblefucks hated her guts, but Hillary Clinton was no dummy. She probably still isn’t.

I finally saw Ang Lee‘s Gemini Man last night, and wouldn’t you know I’d pick a screening that didn’t show the 4K high-frame-rate 3D version? I saw a plain old 2D at 24 fps version, but it looked fine. And I was never in any serious pain during the 117 minute running time.

Yes, Gemini Man has a lousy 30% rating on Rotten Tomatoes, but I found it to be an agreeable so-whatter. It diverts, it moves along, it’s not overly irksome. Especially during the first 25 to 35 minutes.

Will Smith does a reasonably good job of playing two versions of an ace professional assassin named Henry Brogan, or more specifically his own 50 year-old self along with a digitally composed 20something version (aka “Junior”). And I like the deft way that Lee cuts away from the grisly stuff from time to time.

I didn’t “turn” on Gemini Man, exactly, but it gradually let me down, and I found myself sinking deeper and deeper into my seat. It gradually hit me, in other words, that the story was kinda routine in a flat-footed way. There were basically too many cooks working on too many drafts for too many years, and so the script feels over-written, over-honed, over-edited, ground into mush. It feels like re-heated leftovers.

The credited writers are David Benioff, Billy Ray and Darren Lemke but Andrew Niccol, David Benioff, Brian Helgeland, Jonathan Hensleigh, Stephen J. Rivele and Christopher Wilkinson also took whacks at it.

But the de-aging VFX are better than The Irishman‘s in one respect. In Martin Scorsese‘s world-class film the face and hair styles give to Robert De Niro, Al Pacino and Joe Pesci are definitely younger but the bodies are their own — older, chunkier, less than athletic. Will Smith’s “Junior”, on the other hand, is slim and lean and a physique of a workout Nazi.

That Greenpeace banner allegedly hanging outside Trump Tower in Las Vegas and lambasting Donald Trump for betraying the Kurds is presumedly a deepfake. Not to diminish the horror of the Syrian-Kurd-ISIS situation, but as long as we’re talking deepfakes I prefer the below variation.

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My heart goes out to DVD Beaver‘s Gary W. Tooze, who can’t even pay his heating bill. The world can be a cold (i.e., heartless) and brutal place, but the bell began tolling on physical media big-time six or seven years ago. I’m stunned that Studio Canal, Warner Archive, Network and Shout! Factory won’t even send Tooze review copies of their Blurays. DVD Beaver has been a necessary home-video pit stop for a long, long time. What kind of people are running these outfits?

Yes, Tyler Nilson and Michael Schwartz‘s The Peanut Butter Falcon, a Down Syndrome buddy dramedy, got rave notices when it opened a couple of months ago. And yes, it has the right kind of cast for an indie, Mud-like venture of this sort — Shia LaBeouf, Dakota Johnson, John Hawkes, Bruce Dern, Jon Bernthal, Thomas Haden Church. I plan to watch within two or three days, or certainly by the weekend. It begins streaming on 11.5. My bad, but I’ll soon make amends.

As I understand this latest development, Donald Trump and his attorneys have decided to stonewall any and all attempts from House Democrats to obtain pertinent testimony or documents in their ongoing impeachment inquiry. Basically a blanket “eff you” posture. This in itself would and should add another article of impeachment along with the “get the Bidens” Ukraine whistleblower thing.

The bottom line (and please inform if I’m missing something) is that Adam Schiff and other pro-impeachment House Democrats don’t have the power or the cojones to force Trump to do anything. They’ll strongly protest, of course, and will eventually vote for impeachment, but we all know the drill about the Republican-dominated Senate being all but certain to vote it down.

Excerpt: “Trump administration lawyers and aides have spent days puzzling over how to respond to the impeachment inquiry, and [now this] abrupt move suggests that the president’s team has calculated that he is better off risking the House’s ire — and even an impeachment article focused on the obstruction — than setting a precedent for cooperation with an investigation they have strenuously argued is illegitimate.

“The strategy, if it holds, carries substantial risk to the White House. Privately, some Republicans had urged the White House to allow witnesses…to appear, in order to deflate Democratic accusations of a cover-up and offer a public rationale for the president’s actions toward Ukraine. Now, some Republicans worry, Democrats have more fodder to argue publicly that Mr. Trump has something to hide.”

I’m more of a Mel’s Drive-In type, certainly alongside alternate options like Middleburg’s Red Fox tavern. I bought this little pin on the spot a few minutes ago. Mel’s is plain and beautiful with a perfect indoor climate on hot days, and I adore the absence of tasting menus. On the other hand I’ve been in love with Pier Luigi in Rome since my first visit there in ‘01. It’s a little complicated.

Robert Downey, Jr.: “It is this very large, multi-head hydra at this point. And according to [Martin] Scorsese, it’s not cinema — gotta take a look at that. And by the way, there’s a lot to be said for how these genre movies [have] degraded the art form of cinema…and you come in like a stomping beast and eliminate the competition in such a demonstrative way, it’s phenomenal. ”

Yes, elbowing aside the proverbial Scorsese brand of cinema has been phenomenal — he’s not wrong about that.

Hollywood Reporter get-around guy Scott Feinberg polled a fair number of Academy members about Joker, and got a fair number of mixed responses.

HE favorite: “I don’t know if it should be banned or it should be given every award.”

HE 2nd favorite (male member of the producer’s branch): “I saw this one at the Academy. I probably wouldn’t have seen it at a public theater. But wow, what a movie, huh? It’s hard to know where to start. Joaquin deserves an Oscar nomination — he blows the doors off the fucking place — and the cinematography was fantastic. Even so, I sure don’t want to see it again. I’m not an expert on mental health, but I’m sure there are a lot of people who will see the insane dancing after the killing as a sexy thing to do, and the worshipping of him at the end could also seem pretty cool to an insane person. As someone who was once held at gunpoint, I can’t get some of the images of gun violence out of my head. I’m very torn on this movie, but I’m glad I saw it.”