One of the first results of Quentin Tarantino‘s hostile takeover of the New Beverly Cinema, which Deadline‘s Jen Yamato reported about on 9.7, was, of course, getting rid of that damn digital projector and committing to an all-35mm, all-the-time policy. It also resulted in the respectful removal of Michael Torgan (son of the late honcho/founder of the New Beverly) who had managed the cinema for many years. (I posted a recap and reaction on 9.17.) And now recently appointed co-manager Julia Marchese, who’s also been with the New Beverly for years, serving as the face and the personality of that down-at-the-heels establishment, has revealed that QT’s personal assistant and NB superior Julie Mclean has told her she’s “not manager material” and that she’s perfectly free to leave the New Beverly if she wants. This action apparently had something to do with Marchese balking at an order from Tarantino that no one can talk about the new operation on social media. What has happened to Marchese is standard African wildlife behavior. When a new lion takes over the pride, all the cubs sired by the previous lion have to be killed. “It absolutely breaks my heart to say this, but the New Beverly Cinema that have I loved and stood so ardently for — and that I believe so many of you out there love and stand up for — is gone,” Marchese has written on her site.

I generally regard Fox News anchor Megyn Kelly as a rightwing harridan and a cold-hearted, logic-defying ideologue, but not this time. CDC Director Dr. Tom Frieden is obviously too moderate, too mellow, too laissez-faire. He needs to be whacked and I mean right now. Frieden obviously hasn’t taken the lessons of Steven Soderbergh‘s Contagion (’11) or Wolfgang Peterson’s Outbreak (’95) to heart. President Obama needs to man up and get someone with the temperament of Dustin Hoffman‘s Colonel Sam Daniels to take Frieden’s place. Two Dallas-based infected hospital workers now — how many more have been exposed? Mild-mannered bureaucrats don’t cut the mustard in situations like this. The CDC needs a strong decider who isn’t afraid of pissing people off or being…you know, “brutally efficient.”

Jimmy Fallon goes to all this trouble to film a Goodfellas-tribute promo (the restaurant, lighting, camerawork and Hawaiian-style waiter clothing are perfect), and then blows it with the dialogue snips. Stevie The Sidekick: “Hey, howz it goin’, bada bing bada boom” or whatever…awful. And Hashtag, the Dancing Panda? There’s no sincerity. That’s the beauty of the Scorsese original — “Como sa va?,” “Whassap guy?,” “Took care of that thing for ya,” “I saw that guy, yeah, wenna see him.” You sensed that Henry’s pals, sociopaths and criminals all, really looked out for each other. And Fallon allows for just a little too much lag time between spotting the player and the dialogue. Scorsese got the choreography and the timing just so, and you know how? I’m guessing it’s because he did it over and over and over and over again, and I mean until the actors and the crew were begging to go home.

Yesterday morning The Atlantic‘s David Sims posted a hatchet piece about poor Jason Reitman, who’s in a hole right now because of the double-whammy of Labor Day and Men, Women & Children. Reitman will probably climb out sooner or later but for now Sims has him pegged as (a) “a fascinating cautionary tale” and (b) the new M. Night Shyamalan, “a wunderkind gone sour.” Sims is saying that Men, Women & Children sucked eggs because Reitman “committed the fundamental hubristic error of thinking himself a great social commentator…taking his material far too seriously, [having] lost sight of the humor and humanity of his earlier works. Up in the Air really felt like it had something sweeping to say about the state of our nation, and it did it by telling a personal story. By contrast, Men, Women & Children explicitly criticizes people for having their heads in their phones, but forgets to ground the story in anything relatable.” Everybody drops the ball at one time or another. Reitman in the shower: “Each time I find myself…flat on my face, I pick myself up and get back in the rayaaace…that’s life!”

Quentin Tarantino‘s Pulp Fiction opened exactly 20 years ago today, on 10.14.94. No Tarantino film since has felt as fresh and nervy and perfectly in synch with the times. Where that movie was “at” was exactly where Hollywood and 30ish yuppies and the culture-at-large were “at”…only nobody knew it until they saw it. And then it happened…pow! That was the peak, and it’s been a long slow downhill swirl for Tarantino ever since. Imagine the glory of being Tarantino and being able to say “Fucking-A, I did that,” but also the agony of waking up every day and knowing you’ll never fucking do it again. QT’s next is The Hateful Eight, which I saw performed live in downtown LA last April. It’s so far below Pulp Fiction…I don’t want to talk about it. The reason that the John Travolta-Uma Thurman dance scene wasn’t 100% perfect was, of course, due to the fact that Travolta wore gold-toe socks. I believed 20 years ago and I still feel today that those gold tips take this scene down a notch. It’s obviously not a big thing, but it’s just enough to get in the way.

When Javier Bardem snagged a Best Supporting Actor Oscar for playing the malevolent Anton Chigurh in Joel and Ethan Coen‘s No Country For Old Men (’07), he knew he’d be at the top of the list to play flamboyant bad guys in big-studio flicks, which of course would mean hefty paychecks. How many paycheck villain roles has Bardem played over the last six and half years? Only one — “Raoul Silva” in 2012’s reportedly signing to play another paycheck baddie in another big-budet flick, Pirates of the Caribbean 5, which will open in June 2017. Bardem and wife Penelope Cruz have two young kids, kids are expensive, they have to put them through college…I understand. Bardem is cool. He’s no Liam Neeson.

Journos who missed the initial Los Angeles screening of 3D Exodus footage on Tuesday, 9.30 (which I couldn’t attend due to covering the New York Film Festival) will get another looksee on Thursday at 1 pm on the 20th Century Fox lot. The exact same presentation will be shown to New Yorkers that day, screening three times (10 am, 1 pm, 6 pm) at the AMC Empire on 42nd Street. Except Thursday’s footage will include more material than what was shown two weeks ago, which consisted of eight scenes that ran 37 minutes.

If Zach Galifianakis can drop 50 pounds, so can LexG. Totally achievable if you stop drinking and stop eating crap and work out two or three times a week. I’m presuming ZG did this to up his success rate with the ladies…fine. He has my temporary respect for not only the weight-drop but for not playing a repulsive diaper-man in Birdman, but let’s see how this goes. I suspect it may be a phase. I know that he’s the least funny guy I’ve ever watched in my life and that I despise Between Two Ferns. He’s on the right path but I don’t trust him.

I’m always watering my plants too much or too little — I’m good at misting but I never water them just enough. And I’m always putting off scooping out the cat shit. Not to mention taking out the garbage. Instead of doing that I put my foot in the trash can and cram it down. That always buys me an extra day or two. It usually takes me three to four days to do a wash…make that four or five days. A couple of days of thinking about it, and then thinking about it a little more and making sure I have enough liquid detergent, etc. And then doing the first wash and then forgetting about putting it in the dryer for a day or so, and then finally doing that and starting the second wash. I also have to go down to the Cole Avenue DMV on 10.29 and renew my driver’s license and get my motorcycle license and also add my Yamaha 400 to my AAA insurance and yaddah-yaddah. And poor Zak has a castration appointment at Laurel Pet Hospital next Tuesday. I hate all this stuff. Well, I don’t “hate” it but I wish it would just go away. I just want to write and fiddle and ride my sickle and see movies and pet my cats. But it won’t.

I missed Andrew Rossi and Kate Novack‘s Ivory Tower, an allegedly striking examination of the appalling student-loan situation, at last January’s Sundance Film Festival. Having been urged by Jett (struggling himself with a massive Syracuse University Bachelor’s degree debt) to see it, I’m finally renting it on Vudu and catching it tonight. Elizabeth Warren recently told Bill Maher that the U.S. government realizes an annual $60 billion profit on student loans? It’s a big corrupt racket and for what? So some college buddy will will tell you about a job or recommend you to someone? Edward Snowden never even graduated from high school. I’m self-educated (I barely attended college) and look at me….”made it, ma! Top of the world!”

This morning’s question from Gold Derby‘s Tom O’Neil: “Can Big Hero 6 take down Lego Movie for Best Animated Feature? Please sign in and update your predix.”

HE answer: I respect the animated realm as far as it goes (including, if you must, anime) but I hate watching it for the most part, and that definitely includes anime. Anything drawn or dreamt or hard-drivey. If I never see anything swirly or magical or shimmering or visionary-for-vision’s-sake again, it’ll be too soon. Aside from the usual welcome exceptions from the world-class visionaries (Hayao Miyazaki, Fantastic Mr. Fox‘s Wes Anderson, the Lego Movie guys, Brad Bird, the Disney/Katzenberg run of the late ’80s to mid ’90s, etc.) and the usual high levels of craft, animated films are mostly about the Big Shill — selling tickets and merchandise to families. Take your corporate family neckrubby pitty-pat hucksterism and shove it. It’s an open coin toss as to which I hate more — animated or just about anything Asian (excepting the rare exceptions).