The charitable view, according to nearly everyone on the planet, is that The Mummy (Universal, 6.9) stinks. Or has cut one in a big Battlefield Earth way. “A holy mess“, the “worst Tom Cruise movie ever“, “so impressively awful it deserves study“, “deserves to be buried”, “never should have been unwrapped“, etc.

And yet, curiously, The Mummy got a pass from 25% of the Rotten Tomato gang — one out of four! — while 39% of the Metacritic crowd went “c’mon, it’s not as bad as all that!.”

This is an opportunity to identify and burn into our collective consciousness the names of critics who gave this thing a modified thumbs up, and in so doing revealed themselves as accommodating to a fault or, if you will, movie-critic versions of Trump supporters (i.e., no matter how appalling they’ll give it a pass).

There is, of course, no right or wrong opinion about anything except when it comes to rancid bullshit CG-driven corporate franchise movies, in which case the only legitimate response is to show no mercy.

I’m not suggesting that the following critics are easy, but…well, I guess I am. They’re certainly indicating an unwillingness to consider the bigger picture, which is that the 21st Century corporate branding and franchising mentality has become a spiritual pestilence — the equivalent of digital locust swarms invading and blackening the souls of moviegoers who, as recently as 10 or 12 years ago, went to megaplexes with actual expectations (close to absurd in a present-day context) of seeing a good, smart, emotionally affecting film.

Brian Truitt, USA Today: “A tomb full of action-packed guilty pleasure that owns its horror, humor and rampant silliness equally.”

Louise Keller, Urban Cinefile: “Beyond the splendid visual effects and extravagant locations, the fun lies in watching Tom Cruise in top form, boyish charm intact, carrying the film with energy and charisma.” Forgive!

Read more

President Donald Trump to FBI Director James Comey on 1.27.17: “I need loyalty, I expect loyalty.”

In response to which Comey said, according to a prepared opening statement prior to Thursday’s testimony, “I didn’t move, speak, or change my facial expression in any way during the awkward silence that followed. We simply looked at each other in silence. The conversation then moved on, but he returned to the subject near the end of our dinner.

“At one point, I explained why it was so important that the FBI and the Department of Justice be independent of the White House,” Comey continues. “I said it was a paradox. Throughout history, some presidents have decided that because ‘problems’ come from Justice, they should try to hold the department close. But blurring those boundaries ultimately makes the problems worse by undermining public trust in the institutions and their work.”

Later on Trump returned to the “l” word: “He said, ‘I need loyalty.’ I replied, ‘You will always get honesty from me.’ He paused and then said, ‘That’s what I want, honest loyalty.’ I paused, and then said, ‘You will get that from me.’

Read more

For whatever reason Universal chose not to preview this Doug Liman-Tom Cruise adventure flick at Cinemacon, the mid-March exhibitor confab in Las Vegas. Why, I wonder — because it’s not popcorny enough? It feels totally popcorn — a broad attitude drug-smuggling thriller that seems to fuse the surreal and comedic. Barry Seal, the pilot-smuggler played by Cruise, was in his early to mid 40s when the action of the story occured, so Cruise, who turns 55 in July, is playing more or less age-appropriate. (Seal’s wife is played by 33 year-old Sarah Wright.) By my count Cruise has died in two films thus far — Interview With The Vampire (via natural vampirism) and Collateral (a death scene that improves with each re-viewing).

It would seem that the decades-old Blade Runner suspicion about Harrison Ford‘s Rick Deckard being a replicant has been answered by the trailer for Blade Runner 2049. Deckard, like Ford, has aged, and that, for me, feels like proof that Deckard is flesh and blood. Why on earth would the Tyrell Corporation have constructed replicants that age like humans? This would make no sense at all — none. The official synopsis says 2049 is about LAPD Officer K (Ryan Gosling) discovering “a long-buried secret that has the potential to plunge what’s left of society into chaos,” etc. This “leads K on a quest to find Deckard, a former LAPD blade runner who’s been missing for 30 years.” It would follow, naturally, that the K-meets-Deckard moment happens in the third act. I’ve been told, in fact, that the latest cut of Blade Runner 2049, which was test-screened last night in Paramus, New Jersey, runs between 160 and 165 minutes, and that Ford doesn’t appear until “around” the two-hour mark. A guy who attended suspects the Denis Villenueve‘s film will play better with the critics than with your run-of-the-mill, popcorn-inhaling sci-fi geeks. That, to me, would be excellent news.

Two days ago we did our big Cinque Terre hike — Monarola to Volastra to the medieval village of Corniglia. The Manarola-to-Volastra phase was rough — a 45-degree uphill trek that came close to killing me. (I had to laugh when I saw the “arresto cardiaco” sign at the end of it.) But this led to a mile-high vineyard path between Volastra and Corniglia that was visually to die for — probably the most stunning sea vista my eyes have ever beheld.

Read more

It was reported yesterday in the Washington Post that director of national intelligence Dan Coats “told associates in March that President Trump asked him if he could intervene with then-FBI Director Comey to get the bureau to back off its focus on former national security adviser Michael Flynn in its Russia probe.” The Last Word‘s Lawrence O’Donnell: “There are now three people who we know about” — Coats, CIA director Dan Pompeo, former FBI director James Comey — “who can testify that President Trump tried to interfere with the FBI investigation.” Given that proof of obstruction of justice is precisely what sank President Nixon, the Russia thing is now Watergate chapter and verse. And yet it isn’t because the grotesquely corrupt mindset of Congressional Republicans assures they won’t stand up for the rule of law. The only way Trump goes down is if Democrats win a majority in both houses.

It took me a month to read Geoff Edger‘s 5.11 Washington Post piece about Richard Goldstein‘s “scathing” pan of the Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper, which ran in the N.Y. Times on 6.1.67.

As it turned out Goldstein’s stereo system at the time had a busted speaker, so he hadn’t really heard the album fully or properly. But Goldstein’s primary complaint was that the album wasn’t proper rock ‘n’ roll, that the posturing tone and lack of raunch felt “precious” and cloistered behind the “electric sanctity” of the studio. (Where’s the hurly burly?) This complaint was tied, Goldstein now admits, to a strong affinity for masculine-sounding rock, which was tethered to his then-suppressed (or at least not publicly admitted to) homosexuality.

But if you re-read Goldstein’s 21-paragraph review, you’ll discover that nearly half of it — ten paragraphs — praises “A Day In The Life”, the album’s final track. If a so-so or underwhelming movie delivers a great, earth-shaking ending, a review that acknowledges this can’t be a “scathing” pan. Goldstein’s is a mixed-bag response that nonetheless urges a buy.

“The Beatles have produced a glimpse of modern city life that is terrifying,” he wrote. “It stands as one of the most important Lennon-McCartney compositions, and it is a historic Pop event.” Goldstein was particularly enthralled by the song’s mad orchestral crescendos — “an extraordinary atonal thrust which is shocking, even painful, to the ears [and yet] parallels a drug-induced ‘rush.'” The only odd part is Goldstein twice misquoting the “I’d love to turn you on” line as “I’d like to turn you on.” (Significant difference!)

Read more

I’m not happy with the in-and-out, fuck-you wifi aboard moving trains.  No one is.  The signal is so spotty that the iPhone’s hotspot signal is all but worthless as far as the laptop is concerned.  

So I’m basically doing the old first-class lounge potato routine, surfing and browsing (it took me 90 minutes to read summaries of the history of Salo and the life of Benito Mussolini, which would have taken 20 minutes with a half-decent connection) and staring at the ravishing French countryside, basking in boredom and taking the occasional stroll.

If I wasn’t restricted to my iPhone and two thumbs, I would express regret at Bill Maher’s unfortunate use of a term that only guys like Chris Rock and Quentin Tarantino are allowed to use in a smirking, mock-nervy context.  

A few years ago I was speaking to a couple of Paramount publicists on the lot, and while making a point about Sydney Poitier‘s status among Hollywood producers from the late ’50s to late ’60s I used a term that starts with “house” and ends with a word I dare not repeat, and the publicists recoiled in horror.  One of them moaned.  They looked at me like I’d suddenly turned into a lizard.

We all know what the term means — an affable black guy whose behavior is regarded by other blacks as overly obliging or obsequious.  But that’s not what Maher was alluding to.  He was joking about working in the fields vs. being a house worker.  He just blurted it out.  Wrong blurt, of course, but he’s always had a rapier manner.

Obviously he shouldn’t have said it, but it wasn’t a “gaffe,” which means some kind of foot-in-mouth Freudian truth slip — he was being his usual brutally candid self.  Maher’s liberal-progressive credentials are impeccable,of course, so I don’t understand why this story is still bring kicked around.  Because of Al Franken, I suppose, on top of the p.c. banshees and harridans.  Give them the slightest reason to call for your head, and they always will. 

Maher blundered, plain and simple.  Has any HE regular ever gotten into trouble by deliberately using the wrong term to (a) provoke a somewhat cautious, mild-mannered friend to gasp or (b) to demonstrate that you’re insouciant or brash or unintimidated by the rules?  We all have at one point or another.

By the way:  We trained from Manarola to La Spezia just after 7 am, and then drove for something like four hours (five with detours and cappuccino pit stops) back to Nice Airport, where we dropped the rental car. We took a cab to downtown Nice and caught a 3 pm train to Paris.  It’s now 7:30 pm (10:30 am in Los Angeles) — 70 minutes remain before we pull into Gare de Lyon.

Posted by New Republic‘s Alex Shepard on 6.6.17: “[Donald] Trump will exploit (and lie about) a crisis for perceived political gain. We’ve been fortunate so far that Trump has created most of the crises that have defined the first four months of his presidency. But not every disaster that happens over the next four years will be of Trump’s own making and we should be terrified — and should start preparing — for what Trump will do when a terrorist attack occurs in America.”

“Just Around The Corner,” posted on 11.20.16: “Serious jihadists surely understand that an optimum time to strike the U.S. with a major terrorist act will be after Donald Trump takes the oath of office. Optimum because there’s a high likelihood that Trump will strike back all the harder, that he and his hardline advisers will go ballistic, and in so doing they will greatly intensify the U.S.-vs.-Islam divide that terrorists have been hoping for all along.

“For the Jihadists, Trump will be the gift that keeps on giving. You know this is what the ISIS guys are telling each other now. A blustery, trigger-happy loose cannon in the Oval Office? Allahu Akbar!”

“I’m afraid the adversaries overseas see us as a sitting duck of provocation…with a person who will lash back,” Ralph Nader told The National‘s Wendy Mesley. 

Great Nader quote about Trump not really wanting to be president when he launched his campaign:

“Along comes a failed gambling czar who’s a corporate welfare king and cheats his suppliers and workers, and lo and behold, he was surprised like all of us — he’s suddenly on his way to the presidency, even though he lost the popular vote. When he came out of the White House, after the meeting with President Obama, I looked at him and said ‘here’s one of the most scared men in the country.'”

Bluetooth has nothing on Mentadent toothpaste, which I bought and used last night. It covers your teeth in blue dye, and if you spit some of it out it stains the sink with little blue globs. You have to keep brushing and brushing before the blue gradually subsides, but what a horrible innovation.

Now that Ridley Scott‘s Alien: Covenant has more or less tanked domestically (a pathetic $67 million so far), will any of the learned fanboys who creamed in their pants when reviews popped in early May admit that they over-sold it to their trusting readers, and that they basically didn’t have the balls to call a spade a spade?

Of course not, but 71% of the Rotten Tomatoes gang gave it a thumbs-up. For whatever fickle reasons ticket buyers didn’t agree for the most part. Could this have been because this 20th Century Fox release more or less blows? I was looking like an outlier when I called it crap on 5.7.17, but it’s fair to say I’m looking a bit more sage now.

“I didn’t dislike Ridley Scott‘s Alien: Covenant — I hated it,” I wrote. “And I’m not saying that out of some lazy-wrath instinct or pissy posturing or what-have-you. I’m talking about serious stomach-acid sensations here. Then again I mostly despised Prometheus so it didn’t take a great deal of effort to come to this.

“If Prometheus rang your hate bell, you’re going to despise this one also. For Alien: Covenant, which runs 121 minutes but feels like 150, is truly a spawn of that awful 2012 film.

“Is it ‘better’ than Prometheus? All right, yeah, I suppose it is. Is it therefore worth seeing? Maybe, but only if you like watching films that make you resent everything on the face of the planet including yourself. I’m not going to tap out the usual story, character and actor rundown. All you need to know is that I didn’t give a damn about any of Alien: Covenant. Nothing. I was muttering ‘Fuckyoufuckyoufuckyoufuckyou’ the whole time.”

During an appearance on England’s Sunday Brunch talk show, Dan Aykroyd basically called Ghostbusters director Paul Feig an irresponsible asshole, claiming that Feig “spent too much on it and he didn’t shoot scenes we suggested to him…[when we mentioned] several scenes that were going to be needed, Feig said, ‘No, we don’t need them.’ And then we tested the movie and they needed them, and he had to go back — about $30 to $40 million in reshoots.”

From my own HE review, posted on 7.10.16: “It’s formula bullshit, of course — what else could it be? — but if you can lower your standards and just sit back and take it, it’s 80 minutes of silly ‘fun’ — fun defined as nodding submission to a super-budget presentation of a franchise concept that’s moderately amusing here and there and doesn’t piss you off. But after the first 80 minutes it eats itself, leaving us to endure 35 minutes of CG overkill — Zack Snyder‘s Man of Steel finale meets the Independence Day sequel meets the Pillsbury doughboy monster meets the end of the world.”