No columnist is obliged to riff on the death of Charles Manson, surely the most despised and deplored murderer and arch-criminal of the last 50 years, and probably the last century. An instinct is telling me that the less said, the better.

Manson’s brief destructive spree in 1969 made his last name into a kind of demonic brand, which in successive decades was used partly for ironic comedy. Manson Family Vacation, which I quite liked by the way. “Manson!”, the Lassie-like skit from the early ’90s Ben Stiller Show. Marilyn Manson.

No one’s forgetting, of course, that Quentin Tarantino‘s “Manson in the backdrop” movie will begin shooting in June.

Nobody has to ruminate on this monster or ponder his legend. Or poke a stick at it like a burnt-out fire. The best way to absorb the reality is via Karina Longworth‘s “You Must Remember This” podcast, which goes on for twelve episodes. For me the definitive Manson read is still Ed Sanders‘ “The Family,” with Vincent Bugliosi and Curt Gentry‘s “Helter Skelter” running a close second.

Two days ago Vanity Fair‘s Rebecca Keegan reported two interesting tidbits about Quentin Tarantino‘s 1969 “not Manson” film, which will be produced and distributed by Sony Pictures.

First, a thumbnail synopsis according to somebody who’s read the script: “Set in Los Angeles in the summer of 1969, Tarantino’s upcoming movie…focuses on a male TV actor who’s had one hit series and his looking for a way to get into the film business. His sidekick — who’s also his stunt double — is looking for the same thing. The horrific murder of Sharon Tate and four of her friends by Charles Manson’s cult of followers serves as a backdrop to the main story.”

Second, a rumor that Tarantino wants Sony to give him “a production budget of close to $100 million, first-dollar gross and final cut on the film…it’s not yet clear if Sony has agreed to all these terms.”

If I was in Rothman’s shoes, I would tell Tarantino to take his “close to $100 million” budget demand and shoveituphisass.

I would say that as much as I like the idea of Quentin Tarantino time-tripping back to the late ’60s, the truth is that I stopped really liking his scripts 20 years ago. I would tell him that whatever kind of golden touch he had during the making of Reservoir Dogs, Pulp Fiction and Jackie Brown left him a long time ago, and that he’s been more or less coasting on the fumes of those films all through the aughts. And I’d tell him I hated The Hateful Eight.

I’d tell Tarantino that I’ll go $50 or $60 million, tops, and that a profit participation deal needs to be agreed to. No humungous upfront checks for anyone — just decent-sized ones. If anybody wants a super payday, they’re going to have to risk it along with me. If the ’60s film is a big hit, we’ll all profit handsomely. If it’s not a big success, which is what I suspect will happen, then I won’t take such a big bath.

Tarantino will reportedly begin shooting “not Manson” in June. All Los Angeles locations.

Tom Cruise, Brad Pitt and Leonardo DiCaprio, ages 55, 53 and 43 respectively, are being considered for the role of the TV actor who’s trying to break into films. Question for HE readers: If you were looking to cast the role of a TV actor looking to break into films, which would almost certainly be someone in his late 20s or 30s, would you cast a 55 year-old like Cruise or a 53 year-old like Pitt?

I was at my lowest ebb last night. The walls were closing in. Anxiety meter in the red zone. And then, like the best elder brother I never had, a fellow New Jerseyan sauntered into the room and said “get hold of yourself, paisan…never let ’em see you sweat.” Then he said, “Here, have a drink.” My reply was on the sheepish side: “Uhm, I don’t drink…five years plus.” Mr. New Jersey gave me a disapproving look. “Maybe you should,” he said. “Naah…I’m good,” I replied. He shook his head. “Pretty much,” I added. Suddenly I felt better. I had stood my ground.

Dylan Baker, 58, is in the prime of his life, but when he passes, God forbid, the friend or family member who plants his tombstone needs to attach a durable, all-weather video screen playing this clip on a 24-hour loop. It’s hard to accept, but six days hence (11.25.17) John Hughes‘ Planes, Trains and Automobiles will celebrate its 30th birthday.

I’ve never paid the slightest heed to Michael Curtiz‘s Dr. X (’32), a pre-code horror film that was shot in two-strip Technicolor. It costarred Lionel Atwill, Fay Wray, Lee Tracy and Preston Foster. The pre-code conditions allowed for murder, rape, cannibalism and prostitution to be threaded into the script. A 1932 film with a cannibalism subplot? That in itself prompts…uhm, curiosity

But even if I wanted to pay attention I’d be stopped in my tracks by a lack of availability. As far as I can tell Dr. X is only watchable via an old Warner Home Video twin DVD that also includes The Return of Doctor X, which costarred Humphrey Bogart. (Bogart considered the latter, his only foray into horror, one of his all-time worst.)

I don’t think I’ve ever watched a two-strip Technicolor film ever, and Dr. X seems at least moderately attractive and reasonably well-hued. The trailer indicates an unfortunate adherence to the stiff, theatrical tone of early ’30s films, but you have to take the good with the bad. Somebody should pop out a remastered Bluray.

I’ve always wanted to settle into a candid, well-written biography of Hollywood uber-director Michael Curtiz, whose vigorous, efficient, well-honed direction of The Adventures of Robin Hood, Yankee Doodle Dandy and Casablanca made me perk up at an early age.

Now, it seems, that book has finally arrived — Alan K. Rode‘s “Michael Curtiz: A Life in Film” (University Press of Kentucky). Amazon says it’s been out since 10.16.17, but the promotional push is just starting to seep through.

I’ve been reading a sample section via Amazon. Spry and confident, pulsing with tasty quotes and catchy prose…anecdotes, side-shots (Curtiz was a hound), insights, ironies. An abundant, 698-page, six-course meal.

The Hungarian-born Curtiz had directed 64 films in Europe when he arrived in Hollywood in 1926, at age 38. He directed 102 films during his Hollywood career, most of them at Warner Bros.

HE’s Curtiz picks: Captain Blood, The Charge of the Light Brigade, Angels with Dirty Faces, The Private Lives of Elizabeth and Essex, The Sea Wolf, Dive Bomber, Captains of the Clouds, the afore-mentioned Robin Hood, Yankee Doodle Dandy and Casablanca (for which he won a Best Director Oscar), Mildred Pierce, Young Man with a Horn, Jim Thorpe — All-American, White Christmas (Paramount’s first VistaVision film), We’re No Angels, King Creole (arguably guiding Elvis Presley to his best-ever screen performance) and The Comancheros (which John Wayne finished directing when Curtiz’s cancer left him bedridden — Wayne naturally took no credit).

During last night’s SNL “Weekend Update” segment, Colin Jost fairly and appropriately upbraided Sen. Al Franken for crude, intrusive behavior with Leeann Tweeden during that 2006 USO episode. Displaying that ubiquitous fratboy photo of Franken pretending to grab Tweeden’s breasts, Jost noted that the pic “was taken before Franken ran for public office, but it was also taken after he was a sophomore in high school…it’s pretty hard to be like ‘Oh, come on, he didn’t know any better, he was only 55.’”

But SNL‘s decision to include Franken, a single-incident offender, in a group shot with serial predators Bill Cosby, Roy Moore, Louis C.K., Donald Trump and Harvey Weinstein was odious, tabloid-level smearing of the lowest order. SNL management was presumably fearful of being accused of going soft on an ex-colleague (Franken having worked for SNL for 15 years), but in this instance they grossly over-compensated.

The annual film panel at the Key West Film Festival happened yesterday afternoon (11.17, 3 pm) at The Porch. With Indiewire‘s Eric Kohn moderating, the panelists included L.A. Times critic Kenneth Turan, Josh Rothkopf of TimeOut New York, Buzzfeed‘s Alison Willmore, Rolling Stone‘s David Fear, Shirrel Rhodes of the Key West Citizen, Miami New Times, Hans Morgenstern of Miami New Times and freelance critics Steve Dollar and Juan Barguin. I was invited to attend but couldn’t make it — earnest apologies.

If I had been Kohn, I would’ve asked the panelists the following: (1) “What’s going to win Best Picture Oscar this year, and why?” (2) “When’s the last time you paid to see a film at a regular theatrical showing at a megaplex, and what were your impressions after doing so?” (3) “So why are there so few really exceptional films this year, and why are the less-than-complete-knockouts getting all the Best Picture attention?” (4) “Without regard to the Oscar race, what has been your personal favorite Best Picture fave, and why?”

(l.) Juan Bargin, (middle) L.A. Times critic Kenneth Turan; (r.) Rolling Stone critic David Fear.

(l. to r.) Dollar, Willmore, Rothkopf, Barguin, Turan, Fear, Kohn.

Steve Dollar, Alison Wilmore, Josh Rothkopf

I know very little about what it takes to be a good stand-up comedian, but I suspect it might be a little bit like writing or working out. You can’t avoid it for 25 years and expect to just jump back in the saddle and be able to perform as well as you did in ’92. It’s not like riding a bicycle. It takes a long while to get your muscles back in shape. If I were to stop writing for a week, I would probably have a hard time getting back into it. If I were to stop for a year, I would have a horrible time resuming. But 25 years? Forget it.

That said, I admire Judd Apatow‘s willingness to jump back in.

Yesterday’s Deadline statement from Get Out director Jordan Peele was apparently a backpedal of some kind. It was apparently released because of what Peele actually said to Indiewire‘s Eric Kohn on the fly when Peele and Kohn spoke earlier this week.

An educated guess would be that Peele got into trouble for what he said to Kohn, and so the statement given to Deadline reads like a mea culpa to the Golden Globes. Peele clearly didn’t realize that Get Out was submitted in the comedy category. It would appear that Universal did that without telling him.

From Kohn’s piece: “At a lunch event for [Get Out] at New York’s Lincoln Ristorante, Peele elaborated on his reservations. ‘The problem is, it’s not a movie that can really be put into a genre box,’ he said in an interview prior to the lunch. ‘Originally, I set out to make a horror movie. I ended up showing it to people and hearing, you know, it doesn’t even feel like horror. It’s in this thriller world. So it was a social thriller.’

“While Universal submitted Get Out as a comedy to the Hollywood Foreign Press Association, Peele clearly had no input into that decision. ‘I don’t think it worked like that,’ he said. ‘I think it was just submitted.’ In fact, submissions are made to individual categories, but the HFPA makes the final decision about which categories each film falls into.

“A rep for Peele did not respond to a request to clarify whether the movie had been submitted as a comedy without his input.”
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