Taped/posted two days ago by somebody with Samantha Bee‘s Full Frontal. Until I watched this last night I’d honestly never (a) considered the possibility that Donald Trump has attracted a certain strata of younger educated supporters or (b) considered what their reasons might be for deciding to vote for him. If any under-35 Trump supporters with a couple of years of college are reading, please explain, elaborate upon, dismiss, rationalize or whatever.

Jodie Foster‘s Money Monster (Sony/TriStar, 5.13), a politically-themed hostage thriller that seems to sorta kinda resemble Costa Gavras‘ Mad City, will apparently screen at the 2016 Cannes Film Festival, according to trade reports. It will probably screen as a second-nighter on Thursday, 5.12 — the same day and almost the same hour as the U.S. commercial debut.

In other words, Money Monster might be okay or entertaining, but it’s probably nothing to throw your critical hat in the air about. Top-tier U.S. critics will have seen it before the festival begins, of course. The producers are simply looking to use Cannes to promote the European openings, which happen the same weekend.

Cannes is the greatest international festival of all, of course, but I’m focusing on U.S.-produced films for the moment, and what serious Cannes-o-philes care most about in terms of potential U.S. entries are the big-bets — the possible award-season contenders that may not open until the fall. In other words, not films like Money Monster or any other “commercial”-sounding title set to open in May or June.

Martin Scorsese‘s Silence, a period drama about faith, devotion, religious persecution and torture, would be a big bet. Cannes critics, trust me, will find ways to praise or at least be kind to this thing one way or the other. What critic isn’t in thrall to Scorsese? I would be frankly stunned if it doesn’t appear on the Croisette two months hence.

Oliver Stone‘s Snowden (Open Road, 9.16) would be another, although it’s been kicked around so much release date-wise that I have my concerns, not to mention Open Road’s decision to open it during the Toronto Film Festival — never a good sign.

I’ve been nursing a left-field suspicion that Damien Chazelle‘s La-La Land (Summit, 12.16) might play Cannes…maybe. Because it’s screening again this weekend for L.A. research audiences (the second time over the last few weeks) and I just have this feeling that Summit execs believe they have something here. Plus Team La-La has every reason to expect critical support for what I’m told is basically an homage to old-fashioned movie musicals, but shot in a modern-day mode. If any group is going to “get” this movie, Cannes critics (most of whom are already favorably disposed towards Chazelle by way of being Whiplash fans) will.

And what about Kenneth Lonergan‘s Manchester By The Sea (Amazon/Roadside)? The domestic family drama is sure to build up an even greater head of steam by way of British and European critics, not to mention those U.S. critics who weren’t able to see it two months ago in Park City.  Then again the Roadside/Amazon guys may decide to hold it until Telluride/Toronto. Who knows?

Watch again the new Ben-Hur trailer and pay attention to the scene when Jack Huston‘s Judah Ben-Hur, unjustly accused by Messala of plotting to kill a Roman Judean governor, is told that his mother and sister may be crucified. Huston’s response is to scream “Nooo!!” Here’s an mp3 of that moment. I’m sorry but any time a movie character so bellows it’s almost always a tip-off that the film will be mediocre.

Face-punching is another indication of trouble in an ancient-period film. Nobody punched anyone in William Wyler’s 1959 version — lashings and crucifixions but no knuckle sandwiches. But there’s a whole lotta sluggin’ — jabs, right crosses, uppercuts — in Timur Bekmambetov’s film.

And lastly, please pay attention to the moment when Morgan Freeman‘s Sheik Ilderim asks Jack Huston‘s Judean prince for his name, and Huston answers “Ben-Hur.” Who self-announces or self-identifies by their last name? When Charlton Heston was asked the same question by Jack Hawkins in the ’59 version, he answered “Judah Ben-Hur.”

If TheWrap‘s Jeff Sneider had endured the same ordeal (i.e., washed up on a beach after escaping three years of servitude as an oar slave) and then was asked his name by Sheik Ilderim, would he answer “Sneider?” No, he would give his first and last name.

I’ll be happy to be proved wrong, but I’ve predicted time and again that Timur Bekmambetov‘s Christian-pandering Ben-Hur (Paramount, 8.12) will be a low-rent, CG-fortified blunt instrument — a Ben-Hur for fans of Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter. But let’s be fair about this. The oar-slave and sea-battle sequences might be flagrantly CG-ish, but at least they’re more persuasive than the fake models-and-water tank footage used in William Wyler‘s 1959 classic of the same name.

You can sense that Jack Huston‘s performance as Judah Ben-Hur is going to be respectably sturdy; the trailer also suggests that Toby Kebbell‘s Messala will be a kind of moustache-twirling Snidely Whiplash thing — he seems to lack the studly gravitas that Stephen Boyd brought to the role in ’59. And they’ve got Morgan Freeman playing Sheik Ilderim, the role that Hugh Griffith played (and won an Oscar for) in the ’59 film. London is Falling, Evan Almighty, this…is there anything Freeman won’t do for a buck?

The new version, co-written by Keith R. Clarke and John Ridley, apparently adheres to the basic story bones of Lew Wallace’s 1880 novel, but — be warned! — it appears to have eliminated Quintus Arias, the Roman general played by Jack Hawkins — at least as far as the sea-battle scenes are concerned.

The new Criterion Bluray of John Frankenheimer‘s The Manchurian Candidate (’62) is 90% to 95% glorious. Lionel Lindon‘s black-and-white cinematography has never looked so rich and crisp and fully harvested. Time and again as I sat on a footstool in front of the Sony 65″ 4K I was going “wow…wow!” And yet the other 5% to 10%, oddly, looks soft or fuzzy at times. Lindon’s work, I mean — shots with soft-focus foregrounds in favor of sharp backgrounds. Odd. Weak tea. I guess I never realized how underwhelming this 5% to 10% looks because for the first time the other 90% looks so stand-out great. Smooth and detailed, serious celluloid textures but clean as a hound’s tooth.

Richard Tanne‘s Southside With You is basically a Barack and Michelle getting-to-know-you thing in the vein of Richard Linklater‘s Before Sunrise. I missed it during Sundance (I’m gifted at this) but that was how everyone was describing it. A smart, engaging piece that you could call a form of soft-sell propaganda if you want to be dickish about it. You can tell right off the top that Parker Sawyers and Tika Sumpter are poised and confident as well as convincing stand-ins; you can also tell it’s charmingly well written. Miramax and Roadside are partnering on an 8.19.16 release.

I’ll eventually get used to all the menu and sub-menu options and finicky calibrations and togglings that you have to suss when you get a Sony 65″ Black Ultra HD 4K LED 3D HDTV XBR-65X850C, but I have to be honest and say that I kind of liked the Samsung 65″ 4K (i.e., the one I just returned) a little better. There seem to be too many visual variables on the Sony, and for whatever reason I was unable to find picture quality that I really liked 100% when I was testing it last night with the Criterion Graduate Bluray. It either looked too vivid, not vivid enough, too yellowish, too grainy, too murky, overly bright or too smooth. I never had any picture issues with the Samsung — I only dumped it because it didn’t have HDR (high dynamic range). It’s always something.

I’m pretty sure this was taken in the late summer of ’99. Outside the Bruin theatre before a screening. Myself, David Poland, the late Marvin Antonowksy. I was at Reel.com and working at the time on a streaming movie-talk discussion show of some kind, which was a ridiculous concept as most of the world was grappling with 56K speeds at that point. And yet one of the greatest ever movie years was unfolding as we spoke…glorious. And we were all 17 years younger.

Depending on how you gauge things Joel and Ethan Coen‘s Hail, Caesar!, which nobody liked all that much, was either a bust or at best a break-evener — cost $22 million to produce, earned $53 million worldwide. Then I checked local listings and was shocked to find it’s still playing here and there — Sundance Sunset, Arclight, Landmark. It’ll be hitting Bluray/streaming sometime in June, apparently.

It was on my mind because I listened this morning to a great little Karina Longworth podcast about the real Eddie Mannix, the MGM fixer who’s played by Josh Brolin in the film. Mannix was scuzzy, all right, and no saint, but he kept the MGM image clean by keeping things private, finessing the authorities, making payoffs, etc. I never bought into the idea that Mannix may have had something to do with the death of George Reeves, but Longworth sounds half-convinced.

Yesterday a former film critic who for some left-field reason has requested anonymity posted the following on Facebook: “Just want to remind everyone: If you ever run into an actor, writer, singer or whatever [whom] you don’t know and ask for a picture with them, you’re being, no matter how well-intentioned, a horrible person who turns strangers into props for the sad validation of their grim insecurity. And if you ‘have to do it for work,’ quit that job.”

Autographed scripts of John Logan’s Any Given Sunday and Robert Towne’s Chinatown. I got everyone to sign the Logan script during an Any Given Sunday junket in ’98, and the Towne script at a 20th anniversary Chinatown gathering at LACMA in ’94.

I’ve never asked any celebrity for a selfie in my life, and I never will. And I’ve only asked for autographs twice, and that was to sign screenplays at an invitational event. Autographs are much more intimate than selfies. A signature is so personal and expressive while a selfie smile is just a mask.

I have to admit that when I got out the Any Given Sunday screenplay this morning and saw that I’d gotten Cameron Diaz‘s signature, I smiled. It felt good. But selfies are grotesque.

Before last night i had never paid to read a National Review article, but I took the plunge when I heard about Kevin Williamson‘s “The Father Fuhrer“, which posted last weekend and is contained with an issue dated 3.28. The piece caused a bit of a ruckus in conservative circles for saying that the rural under-educated whites who worship Donald Trump are basically trash and that their downmarket communities are “vicious and “selfish” and deserve to die.

This is why I paid to read it — I wanted to wade into the words of a presumed conservative who despises submental rurals as much as I do.

Here’s the passage that everyone was talking about yesterday: “It is immoral because it perpetuates a lie: that the white working class that finds itself attracted to Trump has been victimized by outside forces. It hasn’t. The white middle class may like the idea of Trump as a giant pulsing humanoid middle finger held up in the face of the Cathedral, they may sing hymns to Trump the destroyer and whisper darkly about ‘globalists’ and — odious, stupid term — ‘the Establishment,’ but nobody did this to them. They failed themselves.

“If you spend time in hardscrabble, white upstate New York, or eastern Kentucky, or my own native West Texas, and you take an honest look at the welfare dependency, the drug and alcohol addiction, the family anarchy — which is to say, the whelping of human children with all the respect and wisdom of a stray dog — you will come to an awful realization.

Hollywood Elsewhere will be smack dab in the middle of Vietnam (specifically somewhere between Dong Hoi and Hue) when local second-tier journos have their all-media looksee at Batman vs Superman: Dawn of Justice on Tuesday, 3.22. Like I said before, I’m cool with this. I’ll catch this Warner Bros. release when I return on 3.28, by which time its fate will be sealed so what do I care?