Id vs. Conscience

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From Ryan Lizza‘s New Yorker piece, “How Climate Change Saved Steve Bannon’s Job,” dated 6.2:

“Just as [Steve] Bannon seemed to reach a low point in his relationship with Trump, [Jared] Kushner’s role in the Russia probe emerged as the most important piece of White House intrigue. Kushner, though he didn’t have the title, was the Trump campaign’s de-facto campaign manager. He was at Trump’s side through the eras of Roger Stone, Carter Page and Paul Manafort. And more important, as we learned last Friday, Kushner was working closely with Flynn, during the transition, on his dealings with the Russians, and he has attracted a similar level of interest from the F.B.I.

“The second change since Bannon’s low point was that a decision on whether to withdraw from the Paris climate accord finally needed to be made. It was the most important fight pitting Bannon against Jared and Ivanka yet. And it played to all of Bannon’s strengths. The first Trump adviser described Kushner and Ivanka as ‘more or less Trump’s conscience,’ and as ‘more pragmatic, a little less ideological,’ or perhaps ‘multi-ideological.’ Bannon, he said, ‘speaks to Trump’s id.’

“A third Trump adviser, more closely aligned with the Bannon faction, was less charitable. ‘I think Jared and Ivanka are concerned with being accepted in the right places, they care about what the beautiful people think,’ he said. ‘They care about being well received in the Upper West Side cocktail parties. They view Steve as a man with dirty fingernails, with some weird, crazy, extremist philosophy they don’t think is in the best interest of the President.

“With all respect to them, they don’t understand how Trump got elected. They don’t understand the forces behind it, they don’t understand the dynamics of the situation, and they certainly don’t understand his appeal and the people who voted for him ** — they can’t understand it.” He added, “They would like the President to be more like George Bush: one-dimensional, predictable, neocon, mainstream.”

** rural and rust-belt dumbshits, marginally educated if that, Fox News-watching, the dregs of 21st Century society.

Land of Opportunity

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Kenneth Branagh‘s Murder on the Orient Express is, of course, set aboard an elegant, first-class train chugging through Europe but also, like the original Agatha Christie thriller, in the early 1930s. Among the elite, well-heeled travellers is an African American doctor (i.e., “Dr. Arbuthnot”), played by Hamilton Tony Award-winner Leslie Odom Jr.. This is a completely accurate and representative bit of casting for the time period, of course. I can’t imagine why Alfred Hitchcock didn’t include a black physician character when he cast The Lady Vanishes (’38). As I understand it early ’30s Europe was teeming with wealthy, refined, richly educated black dudes.

Seriously: Just as Hamilton reimagined America’s 18th Century founders and architects as non-white and non-European, Branagh has decided to reimagine the Christie realm, at least in this one respect.

Dead Zones

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Amir Bar Lev‘s Long Strange Trip, which I’ve tried to persuade everyone to see, is now streamable as a six-part series via Amazon. From 4.13 riff: “Long Strange Trip is more about what happened within — creatively among the band members, managers and hangers-on, and particularly among the Deadhead throngs in the ’80s — than any kind of rote, surface-y rundown of their performing and recording history (this happened, that happened). Act One (’65 to ’71 or thereabouts) is a good, comprehensive mid-to-late-’60s history lesson — efficient, amusing, well-honed. But Act Two (or the last two hours) really brings it home. This is where the heart is, what turned the light on — the thing that told me what Amir Bar Lev is really up to.”

 

Pit Stops

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A couple of months ago there was an odd kerfuffle about the armpits of Wonder Woman‘s Gal Gadot having been shaved. Feminists actually felt it was some kind of betrayal or undermining of the Wonder Woman metaphor. But when have hairy armpits of any heroic movie figure ever been shown? 50-plus years ago some rolled their eyes over Jeffrey Hunter’s armpits having been shaved for his performance as Yeshua in Nicholas Ray‘s King of Kings.

 

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Brazilian VHS Mud

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Until this morning I’d literally never heard of Running Out Of Luck, a 1987 Julien Temple film starring Mick Jagger, Rae Dawn Chong (as a”slave girl”), Dennis Hopper, Jerry Hall and Jim Broadbent. Co-written by Temple and Jagger; music by Jagger and Luis Jardim. (Jagger’s “Lucky At Love” had popped a couple of years earlier.) The fact that you can’t stream it or watch on DVD — it’s only on VHS — tells you how good it is. But this clip is fairly decent.

Historic Earnings, Fairly Sturdy Film

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I apologize for not catching Wonder Woman yesterday. I was all set to attend a 4:30 pm showing at the Savoy multiplex (Via Bergamo, 25, 00198) but the day fell apart when I was called on the carpet for (a) having exhibited bad taste in the choice of a former girlfriend and (b) more specifically because I foolishly failed to delete photos of same from one of my laptops. I’ll try again today. But in the meantime, now that a fair portion of HE community has seen Wonder Woman, the consensus is that it’s….what, pretty good but not great? That’s what I’m getting from over here.

“When They Go Low…”

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A little more than a month ago a N.Y. Times piece, reported by Alexander Burns and Jonathan Martin, assessed a list of possible contenders for the 2020 Democratic Presidential nomination. It boiled down to an oldsters vs. youngsters thing — the well-branded, 70-plus trio of Sen. Elizabeth Warren, Sen. Bernie Sanders and former vp Joe Biden vs. the 40ish fraternity of California Lieutenant Governor Gavin Newsom (my favorite) plus Senators Kamala Harris (my first runner-up), Cory Booker (the closet thing shouldn’t matter but will come up), Amy Klobuchar of Minnesota (who?) plus Massachucetts Congressman Seth Moulton (his look and demeanor scream “affable vp pick”).

Adapt or Die

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The wifi at Hollywood Elsewhere’s Rome apartment (154 via Monserrato) is all but worthless, so I’ve been tapping stuff out at the nearby Barnum Cafe (Via del Pellegrino 87, Rome). A half hour ago the Barnum proprietors told me I’d have to take the Macbook Pro across the street as their place turns into an eating establishment around 8 pm or so. No problem. The wifi is strong enough to extend several feet beyond the cafe’s walls. So here I am, tapping away on a worn-down cobblestoned street that’s been here for at least 2000 years.

One More Time

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40 years and six days ago, George Willig became an instant folk hero when he ascended the south tower of the World Trade Center, climbing 110 stories with all the New York-area news channels covering like crazy. It happened on 5.26.77. Apologies for not acknowledging the anniversary until today, but I’ve been running around. Here’s a portion of a piece I ran nine years ago (8.9.08) about Willig and his feat:

“A toymaker and rock-climber from Queens, the 27 year-old Willig had built a special climbing device that utilized the vertical window-washing channels in the corner of the south tower. He began his climb at 6:30 am that morning, and made it to the top three and a half hours later. When he was a little more than halfway up the cops came down on a window-washing scaffold and tried to get him to abandon the climb, but Willig refused. He was arrested when he finished, but public acclaim was so enthusiastic — the N.Y. Daily News headline hailed ‘the Human Fly!’ — that authorities only fined him $1.10, or one cent for every floor.

“I was in the midst of producing a Save the Whales benefit concert in Wilton, Connecticut. I was as blown away by Willig’s stunt as everyone else, and so I decided to invite him to make an appearance at the concert, which was held in a large amphitheatre-like area on property owned by David and Linda Black, the parents of my ex-girlfriend, Sophie Black (who later became a respected poet).

“Willig didn’t say yes or no, but I announced in the Whale concert posters that ‘the Human Fly’ would attend anyway. If he didn’t show I figured I’d just get on the mike and say ‘them’s the breaks.’

“To my surprise, Willig and a couple of friends turned up on the day of the concert — a warm sunny day sometime in mid to late July of ’77 — and took a bow before a totally cheering crowd. It was quite a moment. David Black introduced him by saying Willig ‘believed in something — he believed in himself.’

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