SAG-AFTRA Slowboats Never Got Hawke Thing

There are two ways to process the absence of First Reformed‘s Ethan Hawke among the SAG Best Actor nominees, which were announced yesterday — one likely, another less likely.

The less likely explanation is that the SAG-AFTRA membership somehow didn’t get the memo about Hawke being an undismissible contender, particularly after recently winning Best Actor trophies from the Gothams, the New York Film Critics Circle, the Los Angeles Film Critics Association and the San Diego Film Critics Society.

The more likely explanation is that the tastes and preferences of SAG-AFTRA members have devolved to the level of the People’s Choice Awards, and they just don’t get it. To paraphrase Hal Holbrook‘s Deep Throat, “The truth is that the typical SAG-AFTRA member these days isn’t all that hip and certainly not very sophisticated, and things just got out of hand.”

The fact that they nominated BlacKkKlansman‘s John David Washington, who is reasonably good as Det. Ron Stallworth but whose performance fell short of of blowing critics or audiences away, tells us this was almost certainly an identity politics vote. I liked Washington’s vibe in Spike Lee’s film and thought he pretty much held his end up, but c’mon.

Hawke was also blown off by the HFPA/Golden Globes, but you have to remember he only picked up serious heat a short while ago. Even the Gold Derby gang, my own finger-to-the-wind, sheep-herd group, was snubbing Hawke until the NYFCC vote. It was only five days ago when I wrote that the Gold Derby-ites “finally took the plunge when the Gothams and the NYFCC insisted that Hawke has heat.” ESPN’s Adnan Virk and I are the only award-season spitballers who were with Hawke from the get-go.

Clean Slate

This afternoon I went back to the Smilow Cancer Hospital in New Haven to have my neck stitches removed. The problem, as previously noted, is that I had a basal-cell cancer tumor on an area behind my left ear, but there was a slight chance that I might have developed a bit of squamous-cell cancer, which is a little trickier than basal-cell, and that some of this, God forbid, might have infected my lymph nodes. So they took lymph node samples during the 12.4 surgery. If they’d found any issues I would have had to sit for radiation therapy.

Except the test came back negative all around. No squamous cell carcinoma, no lymph node problems, no radiation therapy…none of it. Plus they removed those awful drainage tubes today so I can actually walk around like a free man again.

Nerves of Steel

Miserable Wanderer is a new feature of HE Plus — a travel column based upon real roaming-around adventures that have happened in my life, recently or years or decades ago:

One of the most difficult maneuvers I’ve ever faced in my life was being on a scooter in the world-famous Arc de Triomphe roundabout and moving at a pretty good clip while surrounded on all sides by antsy cars, and trying to figure a way into the outer lane so I could eventually escape this merry-go-round.

[Click through to full story on HE-plus]

Language Aside, “The Mule” Delivers With Honor

WB publicists have been adopting a qualified-hands-off posture with Clint Eastwood‘s The Mule because they’re scared of reactions to casually racist dialogue spoken by Clint’s p.c.-oblivious character, the 90-year-old Earl Stone (based upon real-life drug runner Leo Sharp).

They’ve presumably been fearful that the outrage brigade (a member of which would seem to be Variety‘s Peter Debruge) would howl about what an offense Earl’s vocabulary is to our delicate ears. An old white coot talking like an old white coot…horrors!

Debruge is all but apoplectic about Earl’s racist vocabulary — his review is almost a parody of knee-jerk woke-ism. “Most white Americans have a relative like Earl, who’s old enough to remember a time when good old boys ran the country and everyone else was their inferior,” Debruge notes. So when they start “spewing politically incorrect garbage, most of us let it slide, accepting that you can’t teach an old dog new tricks. Except you can and we must.

“There’s nothing inherently wrong with presenting bigoted people on-screen, since heaven knows they exist in real life,” Debruge goes on, “but the trouble with The Mule is that it invites audiences to laugh along with Earl’s ignorance. From here, it’s no great stretch to imagine a movement — call it ‘Make Hollywood Great Again’ — advocating for movies in which politically incorrect characters like the ones Eastwood has played for most of his career will be free to speak their minds again.”

Debruge is like Sessue Hayakawa‘s Colonel Saito in The Bridge on the River Kwai. There’s a part of him that would like to put Eastwood, his producing partners and screenwriter Nick Schenk into tin-box cages and let them bake in the sun.

Yes, there is a kind of amiable, jocular tone in the way Clint’s character tosses off politically incorrect racial terms and other inappropriate-isms, and it does make you half-flinch or at least shake your head. Yup, there are crotchety old guys who think and talk like this, and yeah, they probably voted for Trump, but at the same time they don’t appear to be emissaries of Satan as much as indifferent about whether or not guys like Peter Debruge approve.

As is usually the case with the 80-plus set, it’s best to just offer them a chair and a glass of lemonade and hope for the best.

The bottom line is that The Mule is a very decent, nicely handled film about family, aloofness, guilt and facing one’s own nature.

Indiewire‘s David Ehrlich says it’s Clint’s best in “more than 25 years” — better than Unforgiven? — but I’m playing it safe and calling it his finest since Gran Torino. It’s a plain-spoken, well-ordered saga of a guy coming to terms with his failures as a man and a father — a selfishly-inclined fellow who’s always preferred work over being with family, etc. I think it’s an entirely decent film in this respect, and a well-structured one to boot.

Read more

Late To The Party

Directorwriter friend from the South: “Just saw Green Book yesterday. Thoroughly enjoyed it, one of the best films of the year. I don’t understand critics sometimes. This is a movie about human beings with very little or no CGI (only for period detail). This kind of film should be celebrated, not scorned. Viggo and Mahershala were both amazing. This is a huge step up for Peter Farrelly.”

HE to Southern Pally: “A significant portion of big-city critics these days are filing from Planet Woke. And if not, they’re filing with a fear that they’ll sound like rubes if they don’t incorporate at least a little woke-ness. They won’t admit this, of course.”

What Happened to Regina King?

As recently as two weeks ago, I was being chided for being the only Gold Derby spitballer who didn’t have Regina King (If Beale Street Could Talk) as one of the top five Best Supporting Actress contenders. I thought she was good but not great in Barry Jenkins‘ film, but I had second thoughts because everyone was saying “Regina King, Regina King…she’s so well-liked, this is her year,” etc. Then the SAG noms popped this morning and she was nowhere to be found. They drop-kicked her. So what happened?

Rushfield Calls, HE Answers

Thanks to Ankler editor Richard Rushfield for chatting me up yesterday afternoon. And thanks to Mrs. Fields cookies for sponsoring! How does Hollywood Elsewhere actually feel about Mrs. Fields? I love the idea of cookies or cupcakes or anything in that realm, but two seconds after taking a bite of anything fattening I’m immediately filled with guilt and remorse. So HE unequivocally endorses the idea of eating Mrs. Cookies cookies, but no more than that. A delicious thing to contemplate if not actually embark upon.

Description-wise, I would politely dispute Rushfield’s notion that I’m “the most dangerous man in movie blogging” and replace that with “the most”…I don’t know, “curiously individualistic, idiosyncratic, gut-impulse, conventional-wisdom-disputing blogaroo”…something like that.

My other correction is that Clint Eastwood’s The Mule, which I saw last night, is not “shock humor-heavy.” That idea was conveyed by a guy who posted on a Clint Eastwood fan site. The Mule is jocular in the way Clint’s old-guy character tosses off insensitive, politically incorrect racial terms and other old-guy inappropriate-isms, but the tone is not satirical.

The Mule is basically a sincerely-told saga of an old guy coming to terms with his shortcomings as a man who’s always selfishly preferred work over family, etc. It’s an entirely decent film in this respect. Yes, Warner Bros. publicists have gone with a minimal, semi-hands-off approach because they’re concerned about potential adverse reactions to the offensive dialogue, but it’s a respectable film overall, and a well-structured one to boot.

Again the podcast.

Letter to Sundance, You Bet

DATE: 12.12.18
TO: Jason Berger, John Cooper c/o Sundance Film Festival
FROM: Jeffrey Wells, Hollywood Elsewhere
RE: Sundance ’19 press pass

Hope you guys are doing well.

Before I jump in on the issue of my usual press pass being denied for next month’s Sundance Film Festival, I’d like to offer an apology to whichever parties within the Sundance organization who have decided that I’m a bad or unworthy fellow, and a pledge that I will try to do whatever it is that they would prefer I try to do henceforth.

Obviously I’ve rubbed this or that person the wrong way, but I am a determined, hardworking columnist-critic who’s been diligently covering Sundance each and every year since ’93, and I’d like to continue doing that. If nothing else Sundance saves me from award-season coverage for roughly ten days, and it’s wonderful for this aspect alone.

Since announcing in my column that the Sundance press office is denying me a press pass for the first time after 25 years of coverage, I’ve heard from colleagues and filmmakers who’ve found this decision “alarming, deplorable, appalling, ridiculous,” etc.

One response I’ve been pondering is to post a letter-to-Sundance that various veteran journalists and producers might want to sign — something to the effect of “we the under-signed feel it is extremely ill-advised of the Sundance press office to withhold press credentials of a 25-year veteran of the festival because they don’t agree with his viewpoints. This smacks of ‘woke’ McCarthyism, and is clearly not in keeping with the liberal, inclusive, independent-contrarian spirit of the Sundance Film Festival”…something like that.

It’s a fairly simple notion that arbitrary withholding of press credentials under these circumstances (all of us being in the the midst of revolutionary changes in the industry as far as inclusion, identity politics and representation, #MeToo and #Timesup advocacy, p.c. admonishings of older white guys, SJW sloganeering and a general climate of “woke” political intimidation) is not a good idea and that it sets an unhealthy precedent, freedom of the press-wise.

Anyway, I’d be most grateful if the offended parties with the Sundance organization could find it within their hearts to turn the other cheek and let bygones be bygones, etc.

Regards,

Jeffrey Wells, Hollywood Elsewhere

SAG Nominations Checklist

The SAG ensemble award is more or less SAG’s idea of a Best Picture trophy, and so the inclusion of Crazy Rich Asians — an oppressively downmarket wealth-porn romcom that is noteworthy for the all-Asian cast aspect (inclusion) and its impressive box-office performance — is a little startling.

The two basic criteria behind this morning’s SAG ensemble award nominations — A Star Is Born, Black Panther, BlacKkKlansman, Bohemian Rhapsody and Crazy Rich Asians — seem to be (a) commercial popularity and/or (b) inclusion.

All five made their mark in terms of box-office and/or representation, but none are anyone’s idea of profoundly great cinema. I felt immediately that A Star Is Born is the best of the five versions (including What Price Hollywood?) but it peaks during the first half, and Black Panther — a very strong film in some respects — doesn’t really kick in until the final hour.

Clearly the old-fashioned idea of quality for quality’s sake has been more or less tossed. SAG actually nominated the somewhat bland John David Washington for his lead performance in BlacKkKlansman….c’mon!

Inclusion and box-office, inclusion and box-office, inclusion and box-office.

Congrats to Ozark‘s Jason Bateman for Outstanding Performance by a Male Actor in a Drama Series nomination — his episode-by-episode performance is perfectly measured and emoted in an adult, low-key, entirely gripping way,

(HE) = special Hollywood Elsewhere approval; (NSM) = not so much.

Outstanding Performance by a Male Actor in a Leading Role:
Christian Bale, Vice / (HE)
Bradley Cooper, A Star Is Born
Rami Malek, Bohemian Rhapsody
Viggo Mortensen, Green Book / (HE)
John David Washington, BlacKkKlansman / (NSM)

Outstanding Performance by a Female Actor in a Leading Role:
Emily Blunt, Mary Poppins Returns
Glenn Close, The Wife / (HE)
Olivia Colman, The Favourite
Lady Gaga, A Star Is Born
Melissa McCarthy, Can You Ever Forgive Me? / (HE)

Outstanding Performance by a Male Actor in a Supporting Role:
Mahershala Ali, Green Book / (HE)
Timothee Chalamet, Beautiful Boy
Adam Driver, BlacKkKlansman
Sam Elliott, A Star Is Born
Richard E. Grant, Can You Ever Forgive Me? / (HE)

Outstanding Performance by a Female Actor in a Supporting Role:
Amy Adams, Vice / (HE)
Emily Blunt, A Quiet Place
Margot Robbie, Mary Queen of Scots (makeup)
Emma Stone, The Favourite
Rachel Weisz, The Favourite

Outstanding Performance by a Cast in a Motion Picture:
A Star Is Born (best of the five Star Is Born flicks, but peaks at halfway mark)
Black Panther (historic superhero film, rooted social metaphor, soars only during final hour)
BlacKkKlansman (police caper flick, GREAT ENDING!) (NSM)
Bohemian Rhapsody (paint by numbers but immensely likable regardless)
Crazy Rich Asians / (NSM)

What A Simpleton!

The Trump wall has never been anything more than a symbolic totem for the rubes — a rhetorical us-vs.-them concept, and a line-in-the-sand presentation thqt President Trump would like to put on to the tune of $5 billion, solely for the emotional benefit of his information-challenged base. Trump threw it out during the ’16 election, of course, and has continued to hail the wall in subsequent hillbilly Nuremberg rallies.

Sen. Chuck Schumer: “The President made clear that he wants a shutdown. If he sticks to his position for a $5 billion wall, he will get no wall and he will get a shutdown. We want border security, we offered high border security, but Americans know that the wall is not the way to border security, and the experts say that. This Trump shutdown, this temper tantrum that he seems to throw, will not get him his wall. The $1.3 billion that we gave him last year for border security — no wall but border security…less than 6% of [this amount] has been spent.”

Read more

Goat’s Milk Factor

You Broke My Heart is a new feature of HE Plus — a personal relationship advice and recollection column based entirely upon real episodes that have happened in my life or the lives of friends:

Zackey: There’s an issue with this woman I’ve been seeing. It sounds vapid but it’s getting in the way. Not her problem — mine.

[Click through to full story on HE-plus]

Cat Stevens and Mick Jagger Serenading

Wes Anderson‘s Rushmore, far and away the best film he’s ever made (not to mention the funniest), opened exactly 20 years ago today. For me the more meaningful anniversary was a couple of months ago, or the 20th anni of the New York Film Festival debut on 10.9.98.

I had just begun my Mr. Showbiz column that month, and boy, was I delighted with Rushmore when I saw it out at the Disney lot one night! I was floating when it ended. Wes, whom I’d known since he hit town with Owen Wilson in the fall of ’94, had allowed me to read a copy of the script when I was miserably working at People, and I was pretty happy with it. But the film version represented one of the very few times in my life that a movie turned out to be significantly better than the script. (It usually works the other way around.)

At what point was I dead certain that Rushmore was a one-in-a-million bull’s-eye? It may have been when I realized that Mason Gamble‘s little-kid performance (he was seven years old during filming) was something I’d never seen in a film before. No one had ever heard a kid that age say a line like “do you say my mom gave you a hand-job?” And he meant it. It wasn’t a joke line.

There was also that scene in which Jason Schwartzman‘s Max shoots Steven McCole‘s Magnus Buchan character in the neck with a beebee gun, and the way McCole played it when he got hit — “Aarrgghhh!”, like he was really hurt, which is how I used to howl when I was shot with beebee pellets when I was nine or ten — is perfect. Has anyone ever had to deal with a hailstorm of crab apples thrown by the “enemy” (i.e., other kids in the neighborhood)? I have, and it’s very serious when this happens. It hurts, I mean.

When I posted HE’s 150 Greatest American Films list on 7.24.15, I ranked Rushmore as my #8, and I meant it. I still do.

[All of the preceding except for paragraphs #3 and #4 was previously posted on 8.23.17.]

Read more