Here’s a conversation of President Trump apparently lying to “Fear” author Bob Woodward about how nobody ever told him Woodward wanted to talk to him for the book, etc. I would respect Trump on a certain level if he’d told Woodward something like “look, I strongly suspected your book would be a hit job no matter how I played my cards so I figured fuck it, write what you want and make all kinds of mistakes but I won’t help you.” But no — Trump claims no one ever told him that Woodward wanted an interview. He always wimps out and spreads the horse manure. All kinds of rage and bluster on Twitter, but otherwise a side-stepper and a candy-ass during one-on-one discussions.

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In John Carpenter‘s Halloween (’78), Jamie Lee Curtis‘ Laurie Strode was roughly Curtis’s age, or around 20. In David Gordon Green‘s Halloween (Universal 10.19), which takes place 40 years later and disregards all previous Halloween sequels, Laurie is 60 or thereabouts. And Michael Myers aka “the Shape”, principally played by Nick Castle in the original, was also supposed to be around 20, give or take. So the present-day Myers, who’s an actual human mortal, is around 60 also. (The 70-year-old Castle will play him again along with James Jude Courtney.) All killers in horror films have to be all-powerful, hard to elude, super-strong, etc. Who would believe that a 60-year-old psychopath is just as fearsome today as he was 40 years ago? Hasn’t Myers mellowed out some? Does he work out? Has he put on weight?

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Cameron Diaz shared this in 2013, when she was 41 going on 42. She wasn’t wrong, but it sounded disingenuous. Some may understand that fame can be a kind of plague or albatross, but everything Diaz has in life came from the fountain of Hollywood success and worldwide fame. HE to Diaz: “Okay, you’ve convinced us, but if you could suddenly become anonymous and divested of all the perks you’re currently enjoying by clapping your hands three times, would you clap your hands three times?”

Pasted on 3.15.18: People‘s Mike Miller has posted a story about how the 45 year-old Diaz “is loving her life outside the Hollywood spotlight.” Quoting “a source”, Miller writes that Diaz and her 39 year-old, tattoo-covered musician husband Beji Madden are “great” and “both very happy living the quiet life.”

Translation: Diaz’s career is in eclipse but she doesn’t want anyone thinking she’s not ready to return if the right part comes along.

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New Favourite poster to Joe and Jane Popcorn and Millennials In Particular: “We’re a witty upmarket award-season comedy set in the 17th Century. We realize you may find the idea of two hours of arch, wicked humor slightly intimidating, but rest assured you’ll be quite comfortable. And don’t worry about the sepia-toned colors in the poster — our film is actually bursting with lovingly lighted, Barry Lyndon-like compositions, each glowing with God’s natural palette.”

In this trailer for Paul Greengrass‘s 22 July (Netflix, 10.10), I can feel the fleet hand of editor William Goldenberg (Zero Dark Thirty, Argo, Detroit). Not so much an account of the 7.22.11 far-right terrorist attacks but “one survivor’s physical and emotional journey to portray the country’s path to healing and reconciliation,” to go by the notes. Greengrass directed and wrote.

22 July is one of the Netflix films that got yanked from last May’s Cannes Film Festival as a result of that now-infamous dispute.

One of the reasons I’ve seen United 93 eight or nine times is Barry Ackroyd‘s cinematography + the editing by Clare Douglas, Richard Pearson and Christopher Rouse. Remember the “too soon!” crowd? They needed more than five years after the 9/11 catastrophe to sit through a first-rate recreation. I was knocked dead flat.

World of Reel‘s Jordan Ruimy suspects that down the road there may be an SJW backlash against Yorgos Lanthimos‘ The Favourite. When someone describes the film in November as a drama about three lesbians being horrid to each other, a Twitter brigade may respond that this kind of negative representation is unhelpful and even arguably homophobic.

I don’t see this happening as the film is obviously delivering a certain kind of dry black comedy that requires venal behavior for the humor to kick in, but never underestimate the snowflake capacity for taking offense. The scheming, viper-like nature of Rachel Weisz and Emma Stone‘s characters is, of course, just an aspect of the same perverse, mean-spirited shit Lanthimos puts in all his films.

Earlier today Gold Derby‘s Tom O’Neil asserted that I’m predicting Melissa McCarthy‘s performance in Marielle Heller‘s Can You Ever Forgive Me? to “win” the Best Actress Oscar. Nope — I’m just saying that right now MM’s unaffected, often riveting performance feels like fresh fireworks, and that she’s suddenly even-steven with The Wife‘s Glenn Close.

Emphasizing: I did not bump Close down to third place. Well, I did but that wasn’t the intention. The Gold Derby format doesn’t allow for ties and, as noted, I’d just seen Can You Ever Forgive Me? when I voted and was feeling a Telluride contact high.

Repeating: I put The Favourite‘s Olivia Colman into my #2 slot, but Colman’s performance doesn’t belong in the Best Actress category. She’s totally supporting. If you regard The Favourite as a kind of palace-intrigue con movie, Queen Anne is the “mark” while Rachel Weisz and Emma Stone are the con artists. Colman is being played the whole time, and lead actors are always the players, not the played.

I’m not saying Weisz and Stone are hoodwinking the queen a la Robert Redford and Paul Newman conning Robert Shaw in The Sting, but ask yourself this: If you were in charge of The Sting‘s Oscar campaign, would you put Shaw up for Best Actor?

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I missed Lee Chang-dong‘s Burning in Cannes, but caught it late last month in Manhattan. A chilly Patricia Highsmith-meets-F. Scott Fitzgerald drama about class envy and resentment, Burning is creepy, thoughtful and mystifying in a good way. It percolates and resonates and stays with you.

But it’s a half-hour too long (148 minutes) and suffers, I feel, from an underwritten protagonist (Jong-su, played by Yoo Ah-in) who’s allegedly a writer but doesn’t talk like one, and who regards everyone and everything with a kind of dazed, open-mouthed stupor.

Fitzgerald and William Faulkner are referenced by Jong-su, but he looks and behaves more like a lazy student than a writer hungry to say something. At one point he notes that South Korea is full of Jay Gatsby types — that’s the sum total of his insights shared in the entire film. Plus he dresses poorly and has a dorky flat-top haircut. Sorry, bruh, but will you close your fucking mouth, please?

The film starts intriguingly when Jong-su falls for Hae-mi (Jeon Jong-seo), whom he vaguely knew and found unattractive as a teenager, but he soon realizes she has a rich, blase. socially connected boyfriend named Ben (Steven Yeun) who drives a Porsche.

Jong-su, Hae-mi and Ben became a kind of odd trio, hanging out and going to parties, etc. Around the halfway mark Ben casually reveals he’s into burning rural greenhouses, presumably as an expression of sociopathic contempt for the middle and lower classes. Then Hae-mi disappears, and Jong-su begins to wonder if Ben might have killed her for sport.

Based on “Barn Burning,” a 26 year-old New Yorker short story by Haruki Murakami, Burning will open in New York on 10.26 and in Los Angeles on 11.2 before opening nationwide on 11.9.