13 years ago Forbes magazine asked three critics (Richard Roeper, Neil Rosen, Jeffrey Lyons) “which are the ten best films ever made about money?”

What a question! Aren’t 70% to 80% of all the films ever made in one way or another about people trying to make, steal, hold onto or somehow get hold of more money?

The ten that Rosen, Roeper and Lyons chose suggest their real criteria was choosing the best movies about the corrosive effects of greed: Wall Street, Trading Places (what?), The Sting, Boiler Room, Ocean’s Eleven (’60 version), It’s a Mad Mad Mad Mad World, Casino, Glengarry Glen Ross, The Treasure Of The Sierra Madre (good choice) and American Psycho (another good one).

HE’s top 13 as of right now: The Wolf of Wall Street, A Simple Plan, Glengarry Glen Ross, The Treasure of Sierra Madre, L’eclisse, Wall Street, There Will Be Blood, Inside Job, The Big Short, Margin Call, Capitalism: A Love Story, The Queen of Versailles and Eric Von Stroheim‘s Greed.

The significant thing about this morning’s Ridgecrest quake was how long it kept going. At first it was a faint nudge, and then a vague two-step shimmy. And then I went into my usual “okay, this is happening, show me what you got” mode. (Quakes don’t upset me because I’m constantly quaking inside — I regard them as interruptions in the ongoing uncertainty and anxiety of day-to-day life.) Then came the soft, semi-serious rolls…”hominah-hominah-hominah.” Then it was over.

If you’d asked me to gauge I would have said 5.8 or 6, tops. They’re saying it was a 6.4. HE rule: If no framed photos fell off the wall, it was no biggie.

Tatyana has vivid memories of the 1986 Vrancea earthquake, which was centered in Romania. She was 12 years old and living in Moldova. (Known at the time as Moldova Soviet Socialist Republic.) That quake killed more than 150 people, injured over 500, and damaged over 50,000 homes.

What is there to celebrate? We’re in the middle of a national authoritarian, verging-on-fascism nightmare — the lowest ebb that U.S. Democracy has known since 1776. Trump has turned an occasion for traditional patriotism into celebration of rightism and, of course, his own Mussolini-ness. Carole King has stated that she’s not participating in a Trump celebration, but if I were her I wouldn’t go anywhere near the nation’s capital today. I mean, good God.

What aspects of this once-great nation really deserve celebration? Presently speaking, I mean. The good would-be leaders (Buttigieg, Warren, Harris, O’Rourke), the native music (rock, jazz), the great movies and plays, the humor, kindness and neighborliness from everyday folks, the natural scenic beauty, etc. Not the military might (although that’s obviously essential for a world power), not the tanks and jets, not the drums and rifles. Everyone enjoys the comfort and privilege that comes with American citizenship, but who’s actually proud of being the Romans of our time — a rogue state that strikes when and where we please? I feel warm surges of patriotism whenever I watch The American Experience on PBS, but not so much when I look around today, and especially when I think of the the redhats standing behind Trump.

I love the culture of the great American cities, of course (including the one I live in), and I love the great natural wonders of this country. And pretty much every small rural town I’ve ever visited. But I’ve always felt happier in Paris, Rome, Prague, Bern, Munich, Lauterbrunnen, Berlin, Hanoi, Belize, the Pyrenees, the Italian Alps, southeastern Spain…anywhere across the pond. Especially these days. As far as I’m concerned this is a National Day of Mourning. Our Democratic traditions are being dismantled, and 40% or more of the populace thinks that’s just fine.

Anthony Mann‘s Thunder Bay was shot sometime in mid to late ’52, and released on 5.21.53. This was just as a general industry-wide mandate about projecting all non-Scope, full-frame (1.37:1) features at 1.85 was starting to kick in. There was a DVD version out in 2010 that presented the full-frame version, but look at the forthcoming Kino Bluray version (7.9) that slashes the fullness and balance of those original framings all to hell.

We don’t need to see Dan Duryea‘s arm or the watch he’s wearing — slash it off! And that shirt he’s wearing is too blue — let’s green it up some. And who needs to see Jimmy Stewart‘s white T-shirt just below his neck? Get rid of it.

When are the American Cinematheque guys going to stop shovelling the same old Lawrence of Arabia 70mm ghoulash? The super-luscious, extra-detailed 4K digital version, which is sourced from Grover Crisp‘s 8K scan, is the only way to go. After the 4K Lawrence DCP played last April at the Bedford Playhouse, original Lawrence restorer Robert Harris told me it’s “the finest looking version I’ve ever seen, including any and all 70mm presentations.” For decades 70mm was the cat’s meow of theatrical presentation, but no longer.

Last night I finally saw Lulu Wang‘s The Farewell, which A24 will open on 7.12. It’s brilliant — the most emotionally affecting, most skillfully assembled family drama I’ve seen in many years, and never in an overbearing way. At times Wang’s touch is light and darting, and other times matter of fact. But each and every scene hits the mark, and the ending nails it perfectly (and at the same time delivers an unlikely, last-minute surprise).

Billi (Awkwafina), a Chinese-American 20something, flies to northeastern China after her grandmother Nai Nai (Zhao Shuzhen) has been diagnosed with stage-four lung cancer. The tension stems from a family decision not to tell Nai Nai of her condition, as they’re afraid that knowing will hasten her demise. I still don’t understand how an 80something cancer victim wouldn’t be acutely aware that something dark and dangerous is growing within, but this was the only roadblock…call it a speedbump.

I was deeply impressed by Anna Franquesa Solano‘s widescreen (2.39:1) lensing, which is unusual for a film that’s almost entirely about MCU and CU interiors. And the editing (by Michael Taylor and Matthew Friedman) is fleet and to the point.

I was a touch suspicious of those Sundance raves and that 100% Rotten Tomatoes rating, but now I understand. I really think The Farewell belongs in the family-drama pantheon along with Little Miss Sunshine, It’s A Wonderful Life, The Descendants, The Grapes of Wrath, Kramer vs, Kramer, Parenthood…it’s one of those.

It addresses all the basic sorrows and frustrations affecting older members of any large family — death in particular but with a particular focus on the gulf between traditional Chinese culture and U.S. culture and a certain melancholy affecting those suspended between the two.

Awkwafina‘s lead performance will definitely snag critics awards in December and be Oscar-nominated the following month — no question.

The Farewell mostly happens in Changchun, a large auto-manufacturing city in northeastern China. To go by Silano’s lensing, it’s nothing but dull, uniform, rotely designed high-rise apartment buildings, one after another after another. You’re saying to herself, “My God, who could live in a high-rise nightmare city like this?” The Changchung Wikipage says it’s “one of [China’s] four National Garden Cities, due to its high urban greening rate.” You’d never know this from watching The Farewell.

I mentioned a couple of months ago that the Farewell trailer “strongly indicates that family members (Akwafina included) are making very little effort to mask their sadness over their grandmother’s situation, to the extent that Nai Nai seemingly has no choice but to ask ‘what’s wrong?’ What’s the point of a family deciding to keep bad news a secret if they’re going to convey their true feelings this blatantly? Wouldn’t everyone try to mask their feelings with too much gaiety?” I still feel this way.

The more I think about it, the more I’m convinced that Jack Palance performed the greatest villain-defining scene of the 20th Century. It happened about two-thirds of the way through George Stevens‘ Shane. A big lanky guy with cheekbones you could shave roast beef with, Palance was playing hired gun “Jack Wilson”, a guy with such a sinister vibe that twice a dog got up and left the room when he walked in (or stood up).

We all remember Palance’s showdown scene with Elisha Cooke, Jr., slowly putting on his black gloves and then drawing his big six-shooter like lightning, and then waiting a couple of seconds before drilling Cooke — his gun sounded like a two-ton cannon — and sending him flying backwards into the mud.

But the defining moment happened when Palance climbed off his horse like a lizard, swinging off his saddle and then freezing for two or three seconds before lowering himself to the ground. And then reversing the routine when he got back on, pulling himself up and then freezing for a bit before swinging his legs over and into the saddle. Unforgettable. From that moment on viewers were saying to themselves, “This guy is only half-human…the other half is a gila monster.”

Palance passed 13 years ago at age 87.

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Yesterday Deadline‘s Michael Fleming reported that four contenders were recently screen-tested for the Elvis Presley role in Baz Luhrmann‘s biopic about the relationship between Presley and Colonel Tom Parker (to be played by Tom Hanks).

I’ll tell you right now that three of them aren’t right. Ansel Elgort (Baby Driver, West Side Story) is way too tall and just doesn’t feel like a fit. (Elvis wasn’t a basketball player.) The 32 year-old Miles Teller doesn’t resemble Presley even a little bit, and couldn’t hope to convince as the young Elvis, who began to catch on at age 20 in 1955. And Harry Styles (Dunkirk) bears no resemblance at all.

The 28 year-old Austin Butler (The Dead Don’t Die, the grubby and psychotic Tex Watson in Quentin Tarantino’s Once Upon a Time In Hollywood) seems the most interesting possibility among the four.

You know who could theoretically rock the role, at least in terms of genetic follow-through? Elvis’s 26-year-old grandson Benjamin Keough, who’s nearly a dead ringer. I’ve no idea if Keough can act or sing or anything, but he’s a chip off the old block.

My all-time favorite Elvis? Kurt Russell in John Carpenter‘s Elvis, a 1979 made-for-TV flick that was well above average.

(l.) G.I. Blues Elvis in ’60; Benjamin Keough.

In a 7.1 Hollywood Reporter piece about the hundreds of newly invited members of the Academy of Motion Pictures Art & Sciences, Scott Feinberg says the following about the two main Roma women, Marina de Tavira and Yalitza Aparicio:

“Most would agree that it makes sense to invite people who did excellent enough work to garner Oscar nominations or wins during the most recent awards season. This year, such courtesy was extended to Roma supporting actress nominee Marina de Tavira but not, a bit oddly, to lead actress nominee Yalitza Aparicio, who was eligible for an invite, despite this being her first film role, because of her nom.”

HE to Feinberg: “I’m sure that you and I suspect the same thing. The Academy regards Marina as a serious working actress (screen and stage roles), but they suspect that Yalitza’s performance in Roma was probably a one-off. She was chosen by Alfonso Cuaron because she looked right (those earnest eyes, that aura of innocence and simplicity) and could behave in the right way, which is to say plainly and minimally in the absence of honed acting skills.

“The odds of Yalitza starring or even costarring in another film are…well, who knows? I think it’s fair to say at this stage that she’s more of a ‘type’ than a performer. Her Wikipage reports that she’s “currently enrolled in EF international school in New York City to learn English.”

Congrats to HE’s own Svetlana Cvetko on the big, swanky Taormina Film Festival debut of Show Me What You’ve Got, a black-and-white menage a trois love story set in Los Angeles and Italy. Directed, shot and co-written by Svetlana (along with producer David Scott Smith).

The screening happened Tuesday night (7.2, 6 pm). Congrats also to Svetlana for having just been invited to become a member of the Academy. Well deserved.

Jett and I visited this ancient Sicilian town in 2010.

Show Me What You’ve Got director-cowriter Svetlana Cvetko with executive producer Phillip Noyce prior to Tuesday evening’s screening.

Show Me What You’ve Got director-cowriter Svetlana Cvetko (center) basks in post-screening applause with executive producer Phillip Noyce to her left.

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