Three days ago I was on my way to returning a SIXT rental car (La Cienega south of Wilshire) when I decided to pick up my Beatle boots from a West Hollywood shoe guy. They were too tight so I’d asked him to stretch them out. I wasn’t wearing socks but I put them on and they fit well enough. I impulsively decided to ask the guy to repair the banged-up suede mocassins I was wearing, so I wore the Beatle boots from then on.

Or at least until I’d dropped the car off and began walking back to the pad. My bare heels began rubbing against the inner boot and were starting to really hurt. So I went into a men’s store opposite the Beverly Center and bought a pair of socks.

But with the socks on I discovered that the Beatle boots were too tight again. So the hell with it — I walked the rest of the way home in the socks, carrying the boots in a plastic bag. At that moment I was the only sober guy in Los Angeles who was walking on a major boulevard in socks — nobody else was doing that. I had to stare at the sidewalk the whole way, of course, as I had to watch for stones or shards of broken glass.

I’m realizing now that the Beatle boots will probably never work. I used to be a size 12 but now I’m a 12 and 1/2 or a 13.

Back in the mid ’90s Robert Evans told me the following: “When you get older your feet get a little bigger, your ears get longer, your teeth get smaller and your nose gets bigger. And women won’t fuck you as much. Or you don’t want to fuck them as much. Or something like that.”

Last night I asked HE Photoshop guy Mark Frenden to attempt a paste job over Dennis Hopper and/or Bruno Ganz‘s face on an original American Friend poster from Germany. I’ve long felt an affinity for the noirish, neon-lit mood and ambiance in this poster. “That’s me,” I told myself when I first saw it. “That’s where my heart and soul are at.” (The poster inspired me to pitch a column to several magazines called “Hollywood Weltschmerz.”) I’ve been planning to attempt this for years, but my Photoshop skills are shit. Hat tip to Frenden — a master at this stuff. (Here’s the full-sized version.)

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Graffiti not far from David Bowie‘s two-story condo at 285 Lafayette Street, between Houston and Prince. The photo, taken by Getty Images’ Nicholas Hunt, is featured in a 1.16.16 N.Y. Times piece, titled “David Bowie: Invisible New Yorker” and written by Steven Kurutz.

Yesterday The Hollywood Reporter‘s Scott Feinberg singlehandedly energized the Best Actress Oscar race by NOT half-yawning and muttering “Brie Larson, of course it’s Brie Larson…she’s totally locked” like every other fucking Oscar pundit out there, but by suggesting that Charlotte Rampling, whose 45 Years performance is easily the year’s finest, may be in a better position to win.

The great Charlotte Rampling, star of 45 Years and now a possible Best Actress frontrunner. Maybe. If you follow the thinking and calculations of Scott Feinberg.

“The Best Actress race just got a lot more interesting,” Feinberg wrote yesterday morning. “Room‘s Brie Larson, 26, and Brooklyn‘s Saoirse Ronan, 21, were expected to duke it out for the win, but the far-from-assured nomination of Joy‘s Jennifer Lawrence, 25, might further split the support of people who want to champion a young up-and-comer, to the benefit of the revered veteran Charlotte Rampling, 69, a first-time nominee, for 45 Years.”

The words “first-time nominee” coupled with Rampling’s age, which in the wake of the deaths of David Bowie and Alan Rickman is a reminder that it’s all over too quickly (a couple of days ago somebody tweeted that “69 is the new 27”), may prompt older GenX and boomer-aged Academy members to vote with a generational attitude.

I wrote Feinberg yesterday about the Rampling thing, and here’s what he said:

“I’m certainly not rooting for or against anyone in the category, and I reserve the right to change my pick as events unfold over the coming weeks. But many voters have responded in a major way not only to Rampling’s performance, but also to her personal narrative, and the fact that she’s pitted against three ‘It’ girls who are all 26 or younger (Larson, Ronan and Lawrence) is much better for her than if it was one-on-one sort of contest.

“‘Which of these things is different?’ many ask themselves when filling out a ballot, and Rampling surely is. Plus she’s someone whose name and work they know far better than her competitors. So we’ll see.”

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High-def versions of Howard Hawks‘ Only Angels Have Wings have been available on a TCM Bluray and Vudu HDX streaming (purchase or rent). I own both and they look terrific. Now I’m supposed to fork over $30something for a Criterion Bluray boasting a 4K digital restoration? My eye is going to notice the difference between a 1080p and 4K harvest? If you say so. Is Daisy Ridley reading this? The ghost of Cary Grant, aroused by that Carrie Fisher interview, is wondering about your possible level of interest. Yes, he cares. Yes, he wants to live on. Who doesn’t?

During last weekend’s Golden Globe awards a guy sitting near me opined that Quentin Tarantino‘s The Hateful Eight was more or less a box-office disaster. I knew it was underperforming (it dropped over 50% last weekend after the wide break on January 1st) but the word “disaster” startled me. I’m not much of a fan of Tarantino’s western talkathon, and certainly not of the ultra-violent final third, but I feel badly for the Weinstein Co., which is under some financial strain.

I’m no box-office analyst but would it be a stretch to call The Hateful Eight more of a disappointment than a wipe-out? As of last night it was at $44 million and change. It’s on the way down so it’ll finish with…what? $55 million or a touch more? Worldwide earnings will probably surpass…what, $110 or $115 million? Boxoffice.com’s Shawn Robbins: “My initial assessment is that it’s not a disaster at this stage…it still has several overseas territories to open, and it’s difficult to project what it will do there, but the U.K.’s opening wasn’t far off from Django‘s (which may or may not be a good sign for other countries).”

The 70mm thing seems to have definitely been a costly indulgence that didn’t pay off, especially as the 70mm marketing indicated to Average Joes that regular digital projection might be a lesser thing. (The truth is that Robert Richardson‘s Oscar-nominated cinematography didn’t scream 70mm; I’m presuming that a digitally projected version in a good theatre will look nearly identical.) Grindhouse/Deathproof is still Tarantino’s lowest grosser this century. Jackie Brown, his third best film after Pulp Fiction and Reservoir Dogs, grossed $39.8 million domestically and $74.7 million worldwide.

One of the finest opening paragraphs in the history of movie reviewing came from N.Y. Times critic A.O. Scott in his 5.25.01 review of Michael Bay‘s Pearl Harbor: “The Japanese sneak attack on Pearl Harbor that brought the United States into World War II has inspired a splendid movie, full of vivid performances and unforgettable scenes, a movie that uses the coming of war as a backdrop for individual stories of love, ambition, heroism and betrayal. The name of that movie is From Here to Eternity.” (Honest Trailer riff posted on 1.12.16) (Link to “It’s No Good With Us, Milt. It’s Never Been Any Good, posted on 3.7.15)

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Last night I bought and watched the new Criterion Bluray of Wim Wenders‘ The American Friend. Oh, the power and the glory of that 1.66:1 aspect ratio! The disc presents the film exactly as it looked on the big screen at Alice Tully Hall when I first saw it at the 1977 New York Film Festival. No digital tweaking, like pure film. And quite perfect in that regard. But of course I wanted a little extra. I wanted my Bluray “bump” — a subtle but noticable enhancement that makes a film seem sharper and more robust than it did in theatres. But no. Wenders (who oversaw the mastering in Berlin) and the Criterion guys have shut that down. I’m not saying there’s anything “wrong” with a Bluray looking like film. I’m saying that in my heart of hearts I’m a wee bit disappointed. Just a bit.

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This morning a N.Y. Times guy who had obviously read last night’s “Let It Go” post asked if I wanted to tap out 300 or 400 words about diversity in the film industry. I gave it a quick shot and sent it right off. He thanked me but said he’s heard from too many people deploring racial factors and asked me to try again. I said thanks anyway and no worries, but I’ll just post it myself:

There exists a certain constitution, sheen or formula that spells “Best Picture contender”, and the definition of these resides in the mind of your seasoned industry viewer. Many of whom look or sound like Kevin Costner or Bruce Feldman or Brenda Vaccaro or Rod Lurie or Rob Reiner or Hope Holiday, the actress from The Apartment who so angrily derided the crude bacchanalian aspects in The Wolf of Wall Street.

We all know what your classily generic, “aimed at older white people” Best Picture contender looks and behaves like — The King’s Speech, The Imitation Game, The Danish Girl. As lulling and tiresome as this equation is (British-favoring, tasteful, poised) there is still in these films an attempt to hone and refine and deliver some kind of thematic, observational summation. Who we are, what we are (or were), what this aspect or chapter in our lives amounts to in the end, etc.

Too few were willing or able to recognize this element in Cary Fukanaga‘s Beasts of No Nation, and the Academy’s failure in this regard is, many feel, arguably “racist.” This was the big 2015 outrage, if you ask me — not just a dismissal of Fukunaga’s art but a refusal to admit that the horrors of African tribal warfare are as much a part of our global narrative and social fabric as anything else.

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From 1.15 story in Des Moines Register: Donald Trump has rented space at a Des Moines movie theater and is offering free tickets for a single 6 pm showing of Michael Bay‘s 13 Hours, which opens today. Excerpt: “Mr. Trump would like all Americans to know the truth about what happened at Benghazi,” the GOP presidential candidate’s Iowa co-chair Tana Goertz said Thursday night. “The [Urbandale] theater is paid for. The tickets are paid for…you just have to rsvp,” she said.

A pain-in-the-ass HE reader named Brad was putting me down yesterday for being inconsistent in my appraisals of subtle acting. When Sasha Stone and Erik Anderson labelled Rachel McAdams‘ Oscar-nominated performance in Spotlight as “robotic” during Oscar Poker #120, I suggested they were looking for “big” moments when none were written or intended. On the other hand, he complained, I’ve been dismissing Mark Rylance‘s Bridge of Spies performance as annoyingly, even arrogantly subtle. Let me explain something to Braddie-poo. Subtle acting is not just one, precisely quantified thing. There is overly subtle (Rylance), perfectly subtle (McAdams, Liev Schreiber‘s Marty Baron in Spotlight, Saoirse Ronan in Brooklyn) and not subtle enough (Brie Larson and Jacob Tremblay in Room come to mind). I’ll admit it’s rare to witness a performance that is irksomely underplayed and even smug, but Rylance takes the cake in this regard. If I was king Schreiber would be a Best Supporting Actor nominee right now, and he’d be favored to win.