Back in my Westfield days there was a big, dark-haired beefy guy named Bob Simon who used to give me all kinds of shit in junior and senior high. I hated him with a passion, and I seem to recall hearing a few years back that he’s dead. God’s grace if true! I was once beaten by Simon in the back of a car on a trip back from Staten Island, where’d we’d go every weekend to get drunk as skunks. Admittedly I would act like an asshole after downing four or five cans of beer (“I’m a six-can man!” I triumphantly slurred one night) but that’s a side issue.

The animus between Simon and I began during 8th grade band practice. I played second trumpet; Simon was on the bass drum. During an attempt to perform a marching number, the headstrong music teacher (Mr. Buriss, called “Mr. Bur-ass” by some of his more spirited students) got angry with Simon for repeatedly missing a cue. He lost his temper, whacked his conductor’s stick on a metal bandstand, glared at Simon and blurted out “my God, man…you are thick!” I told the guys in our peer group about the incident, and for the next few days “Simon, you’re thick!” was a thing. From that moment on I was on Simon’s shitlist. The goadings, humiliations and degradings were constant.

The Westfield high-school climate was hellish, no question. I suppose on some level it sharpened or toughened my game, but I think I suffered from a kind of PTSD for a couple of years after our family moved to Wilton, Connecticut.

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From a Jeffrey Toobin New Yorker interview with former Massachusetts Congressman Barney Frank, posted on 11.23:

(1) “The fundamental reason that Trump won is the anger in America and other developed countries at the unfairness of the distribution of wealth. It’s been building and building, and all of a sudden it broke through.” HE comment: “Globalism has sent manufacturing jobs to less wealthy countries, but at the same time white bumblefucks haven’t acquired the skills or the mindset to be part of the new economy. Faced with an ‘adapt or die’ situation, they chose to throw a hand grenade by electing a sociopathic strong man who lacks the necessary temperament and brain-cell count. I hope and pray that the misery quotient in their lives will continue to be strong and draining. The sooner these people die out, the better for all of us.”

(2) “Sanders wounded [Hillary Clinton] badly. He’s the one who sold the argument that she was corrupt and bought by Wall Street. Sanders helped Trump become the guy who says we are tired of rich guys getting away with everything. Sanders helped persuade people that she is on the wrong side of that issue.” HE comment: Sanders spoke the truth about Clinton but ran, for the most part, a highly principled and inspirational campaign.

(3) “If [Hillary] hadn’t been using that e-mail system, she would have won, and [FBI director James] Comey exacerbated the problem.” HE comment: The majority of Americans wanted Hillary to be President — she’s currently over 2 million votes ahead of Trump in the popular vote — but without the emails and the Goldman Sachs speeches, Hillary would have most likely won an electoral college majority.

From Geoff Berkshire’s 11.12 Variety review: “Robert De Niro’s fans may be hoping for a spiritual successor to his classic Martin Scorsese dark comedy The King of Comedy, but The Comedian falls much closer to actor’s forgettable showbiz satire also penned by writer-producer Art Linson, What Just Happened?  In fact, that’s a question viewers may ask themselves almost any time De Niro’s character, Jackie Berkowitz, grabs a mic.

“There’s a strange disconnect between the scenes of Jackie awkwardly performing comedy routines, which play like De Niro gamely reading material on Saturday Night Live, and the more authentic moments of Jackie going about his life as a seventysomething man who still has a lot left to prove. Even though De Niro never quite sells the stand-up, the movie still may have worked if it surrounded him with characters worthy of the actors playing them.”

Donald Trump is a serious monster — an opportunistic, unprincipled, whatever-sounds-right or whatever-flatters-me sociopath. A selfish, loutish Queens-born salesman. A temperamental ADD-afflicted nine year old. Doesn’t read, can’t focus, hasn’t a clue, instinct-driven. But he wants the approval of the N.Y. Times, a paper that he loves, hates and holds in high regard, and so during yesterday’s lunch meeting with Times staffers Trump soft-pedaled his views. He spoke softly and behaved very politely. But deep down he’s an arrogant, pot-bellied dog who only wants to enrich his empire and that of his friends.

Donald Trump during yesterday’s lunch meeting with N.Y. Times staffers. Trump spokesperson Kellyanne Conway sits to his right.

To me his ridiculous views on climate change (i.e., that it’s highly debatable if not a hoax) aren’t all that different than General Jack D. Ripper‘s views about the Communist plot to fluoridate the U.S. water supply.

And yet when Trump shares his fuzzy-brain statements on this or that the mainstream media sounds like General Buck Turgidson, i.e. “We’re still trying to figure out the meaning of that last phrase.” To which President Merkin Muffley said, “There’s nothing to figure out, General…the man is obviously a psychotic.” To which the mainstream media today replies, “Well, we’d like to hold off judgment on a thing like that, Mr. President, until all the facts are in.”

During Donald Trump’s Tuesday chat with several N.Y. Times staffers, columnist Thomas Friedman asked for the President-elect’s views on climate change. Trump basically said “blah blah I don’t want to get into an argument with you guys so I’ll just I’ve just give you a little blah blah to obscure the fact that I’m not much of a sipper of climate change kool-aid.”

What he actually said was (as) “I have an open mind to it,” (b) “We’ve had storms always, Arthur [Sulzberger]” and (c) “You know the hottest day ever was in 1890-something, 98…you know, you can make lots of cases for different views.”

In other words, “Sorry, guys but naaah. I’m basically with the climate deniers. Because I think we need to get those fossil fuel industries rolling again…what matters to me is creating jobs for the bumblefucks who voted for me. The climate can wait. I’m a sociopath…whadaya want from me?”

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A producer friend saw Allied last night, and when she got home she called and said she hated it and claimed that The English Patient, which Allied is roughly similar to — passionate love story during World War II, a couple entwined with British intelligence although one may be in secret cahoots with the Germans**, sexy aura, partial use of a North African setting — is a much better film.

I said okay, maybe but that the general reaction to Allied has been one of approval. If nothing else it reminds that director Robert Zemeckis can be a consummate, old-school filmmaker when he steps out of the fantasy realm, and that he knows how to make an unexceptional story feel more haunting and classically textured than it might seem on the page. Allied didn’t make me do somersaults but I liked it for the most part. It’s a high-toned period popcorn movie — toney, well-crafted, excellent CGI.

Producer pal said she was also reminded of The English Patient due to Allied‘s first act being set in romantic Morocco (mostly Casablanca), and particularly by a lovemaking scene between Brad Pitt and Marion Cotillard, one that feels all the more intense due to occuring inside a car that’s parked near picturesque, Lawrence of Arabia-like sand dunes. Patient has a vaguely similar scene in which a heavy North African sandstorm nearly buries a group of travellers, and in fact buries one of their cars completely. Patient certainly romanticizes the desert in similar ways.

One of the strongest scenes in Allied delivers a slap to Pitt’s Max Vatan, a spy-assassin with ties to British intelligence. He’s informed during a meeting with a senior intelligence official (Simon McBurney) and a British officer (Jared Harris) that his wife (Cotillard) may be a German double-agent.*** At first Pitt reacts with anger (he kicks a chair) and denial, but he soon realizes that his only choice is to help clear his wife of suspicion.

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Not these, I mean. I’ve seen ’em all but I definitely plan on re-watching Patriot’s Day, a good portion of which turned out to be way better than expected. I was really enjoying Ben Affleck‘s Live By Night (all hail Robert Richardson!), which I began to watch around 10:30 pm. Alas, my couch is too comfortable. Will try again later today. No Paramount screeners so far — no Arrival, no Allied, no Silence (hah!), no Florence Foster Jenkins.

From my Cannes Film festival review, posted on 5.14.16: Andrea Arnold‘s American Honey is the second truly exceptional film I’ve seen in Cannes since the festival began last Wednesday night. It’s a kind of Millenial Oliver Twist road flick with Fagin played by both Shia Labeouf and Riley Keogh (Elvis’s granddaughter) and Oliver played by Sasha Lane…but with some good earthy sex thrown in. There’s no question that Honey stakes out its own turf and whips up a tribal lather that feels exuberant and feral and non-deodorized. It doesn’t have anything resembling a plot but it doesn’t let that deficiency get in the way. Honey throbs, sweats, shouts, jumps around and pushes the nervy. (Somebody wrote that it’s Arnold channelling Larry Clark.) It’s a wild-ass celebration of a gamey, hand-to-mouth mobile way of life. And every frame of Robbie Ryan‘s lensing (at 1.37:1, no less!) is urgent and vital.

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I was in the Hollywood Arclight last night around 8 pm, buying a ticket for Allied so I could see the Silence trailer. After the purchase I asked one of the ticket guys “so what’s dying?” He looked at me oddly and said “huh?” I said, “You know, which films aren’t selling tickets?” “Oh, heh-heh…nobody ever asks me that,” he chuckled as he scanned some data on a screen. “Uhm, let’s see. Rules Don’t Apply…Loving…Elle.”

According to Boxofficemojo, Rules Don’t Apply opened on 1100 screens last night, and managed a $65,000 haul. Repeating: It opened on 1100 screens last night and earned $65K. In other words, it earned 59 dollars per situation. Five-nine. I’ve done the math over and over and get the same figure.

I ran this by a box-office analyst this morning, and here’s what he said: “This movie was never supposed to do well. Ever. It’s out of its time. [Beatty] should have made this back in 1975. Rules is really an arthouse release, but it made no sense to platform it” — i.e., open it on 20 or 30 or 40 screens and let the word of mouth build — “because it doesn’t have awesome reviews.”

I’m heartbroken that Rules turned out like it did and has now obviously hit the pavement. I half-liked it. It’s flawed, yes, and all over the place but brilliant in spurts and far from dismissable. Here’s my 11.12 review.

By the way: I told the Arclight ticket guy that he should really see Elle. “It’s taut and perverse and sexual and really different,” I said. “It’s really turns you around. And you can see it for free!” “Yeah,” the guy said, smiling, “but I’ve been really jammed.”

9:55 pm: Early this evening I bought a $15 ticket at the Hollywood Arclight in order to see the new trailer for Martin Scorsese‘s Silence, which I’d read wouldn’t be online until Saturday. I sat down just before the 8:15 pm show, pulled out my phone and read that Paramount had decided to release the trailer online tonight. Yes, I was surprised and a little pissed, but I’m not sorry I saw the trailer on a big Arclight screen. The film looks wonderful, fascinating, exotic…full of feeling. Ciarin Hinds! I can’t wait to see the whole magila. 5:50 pm: Hollywood Elsewhere will pay to see one of tonight’s pre-holiday showings of Allied so I can see the Silence trailer, which won’t appear online for another three and half days.

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Last week’s reviews were accurate: Patriot’s Day works, delivers, does the job. And it’s not a “Boston fuck yeah!” film until the last five or six minutes in a tacked-on epilogue that pays tribute to all the real-life participants, heroes and victims of the April 2013 Boston Marathon massacre. Make no mistake — if you edit out the tribute section and a heartfelt but unnecessary movie-ish monologue delivered by Mark Wahlberg, Patriot’s Day (CBS Films, 12.21) is director Peter Berg‘s best film ever. Really. It’s sharp, fast, crackling and on-target for the most part. Not entirely but close. The 90% that works really works.

The Patriot’s Day highlight is an adrenalized Act Two sequence that follows the Tasrnaev brothers (Alex Wolff‘s Dzhokhar, Themo Melikidze‘s Tamerlan) as they hijack a car and get into a wild-ass gunfight with local cops in Watertown. J. K. Simmons‘ character, Watertown Police Sergeant Jeffrey Pugliese, plays a highly significant part in this shoot-out, and J.K. is almost good enough to warrant an acting nomination. Confident as shit. Alas, it’s not enough of a part.

To his credit, Berg tried to emulate the Paul Greengrass aesthetic, and he more or less accomplishes that. (The handheld lensing is by Tobias Schliessler, and the bouncy, brilliant editing is by Colby Parker Jr. and Gabriel Fleming.) Blame the CBS Films/Lionsgate marketing guys for suggesting in their trailers that Patriot’s Day would be some kind of “Boston, fuck yeah” thing. I responded to that suggestion, but now I’m happy to report that it isn’t that until the very end. This is a very well-handled thing — not an AA but a solid A-minus. And that’s good enough.

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Ellen DeGeneres began to quake with emotion as she received the Presidential Medal of Freedom at the White House earlier today. She smiles, she beams, she starts to tear up, she shakes her head very slightly as if saying to herself “I can’t believe this is happening,” she looks down, the emotion wells a bit more, President Obama looks over to see if she’s okay and gives her a supportive hug, she looks up and glows, and then her eyes water over even more as he attaches the medal ribbon. I felt it. I was right there with her. The full ceremony is after the jump.

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