A little less than 150 years ago, or in late December of 1864, the city of Savannah surrendered to Union troops led by General William Tecumseh Sherman. Here is the message sent by Sherman to Confederate General William J. Hardee on 12.17.64:

Gen. Sherman and troops entering Savannah just before Christmas 1864.

“I have already received guns that can cast heavy and destructive shot as far as the heart of your city. Also, I have for some days held and controlled every avenue by which the people and garrison of Savannah can be supplied, and I am therefore justified in demanding the surrender of the city of Savannah, and its dependent forts, and shall wait a reasonable time for your answer, before opening with heavy ordnance. Should you entertain the proposition, I am prepared to grant liberal terms to the inhabitants and garrison; but should I be forced to resort to assault, or the slower and surer process of starvation, I shall then feel justified in resorting to the harshest measures, and shall make little effort to restrain my army — burning to avenge the national wrong which they attach to Savannah and other large cities which have been so prominent in dragging our country into civil war.”

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HE Savannah wheels parked outside the Sentient Bean, located near the south end of Forsyth Park.

Savannah is all about hauntings. The whole town is a kind of ghostly theme park.

Quiet vibe in the Sentient Bean — Friday, 10.24, 9:45 pm.

Third floor hallway of the Marshall House.

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After Thursday night’s Interstellar screening I was heading down the escalator inside the Chinese/Dolby complex, heading for the orange level in the parking garage. On the up escalator I noticed this shapely ginger-haired girl with really tight jeans, maybe 23 or 24, with some big-shouldered, dark-haired guy standing behind her. There was another girl with them, I think. Then I realized the guy, who was wearing a powder-blue shirt of some kind, was Miles Teller….”yo, Whiplash!” I naturally started eyeballing him instead of ginger girl. Then ginger girl dropped something and bent over to pick it up just as she and Teller were passing me, and I couldn’t resist checking out the cheeks. Hey, anybody would have…c’mon. She wasn’t looking so what the hell…right? Except Teller was looking at me. And then the humiliation: “Don’t be a pervert, man.” And he kind of bellowed it. Shamed, I tried a little “oh, no, no, man…I was just…you know, you and Damien Chazelle, man…I’m on the team!” But he kept looking at me like I was scum. The irony is that I never gape at women shamelessly. I’ll sneak looks, sure, but covertly. But Teller, man…he wouldn’t back off. Typical guy thing: “Hey man, she might be hot but I’m with her so avert your fucking eyes, and keep them averted!”

Two days ago (Wednesday, 10.22) I ran a quickie about Renee Zellweger’s surgical face-change and noted that she’ll be attending the Savannah Film Festival. (A 10.18 JustJared piece was one of the articles that reported this.) But Zellweger, it turns out, cancelled her Savannah plans on or before 10.17, per Do Savannah‘s Linda Sickler. The story said that Zellweger’s withdrawal was due to her having “signed to appear in a film and [having to be] on set during the film festival.” Maybe, but I think she didn’t want to be near any out-of-town press people who might ask about her new appearance. Who would hire Zellweger to be in a film? The Oscar-winning actress she used to be, facially-speaking, no longer exists.

Hollywood Elsewhere touched down at Savannah Airport today around 5:35 pm. I got to the Marshall House on Broughton Street around 6:45 pm. Sure enough, just like the last time I visited, the festival tried to palm me off with a dinky broom-closet-sized room. (Journalists never get the class-A treatment — I totally understand that — but I won’t be humiliated.) And just like the last time I had to stamp my feet and throw a hissy fit and tell them that a broom-closet room wouldn’t do, etc. I was ready to go right back to the airport and fly back to Los Angeles…I really was. They finally put me into a decent-sized room — not a suite or a grand movie-star room by any standard…just a nice, simple, modest-sized room with a king-sized bed and a TV and a bathroom…big deal.

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In this featurette for Rob Marshall‘s Into The Woods (12.25), Disney marketers have actually decided to use a little sliver of Stephen Sondheim‘s score and thereby admit it’s a musical. Encouraging! They’ve been keeping this little aspect under wraps, you see. Last July’s trailer contained no music at all. Now they’re leaking it out, note by note.

The sound at the TCL Chinese during last night’s Interstellar screening was so bassy and woofer-throbby and aimed at my rib cage that I couldn’t hear half the dialogue. My ears felt left out, not to mention the part of my brain that enjoys hearing words and sentences and…you know, understanding what’s up and putting it all together. And don’t say it’s just me because five or six others were saying the same thing in the lobby after the show. I for one was particularly flummmoxed by Matthew McConaughey‘s dialogue due to his shitkicker accent on top of everything else. I’d hear a word or sometimes a phrase now and then, and sometimes an actual whole sentence or two. But there was no winning. I realized that early on. The atmospheric rumbles and impact sounds and vibrating whomps are top-of-the-line, but too many sound systems in too many state-of-the-art theatres are calibrated so that the shake-rattle-and-roll stuff rules above all. This is the way it unfortunately is today, and for me is frankly another reason to think twice about going to the megaplex. People expect to hear sound so strong and pulverizing that their bones vibrate and their inner organs detach and collapse in a heap. Has anyone in the Los Angeles area been to that 4D Motion FX theatre in Oxnard? This is what a lot of people want these days. The problem is that vibrating rib cages are at war with being able to hear simple speech. I could hear a lot of what’s being said last night — don’t get me wrong. But enough dialogue was obscured or murky enough for the experience to be a general pain in the ass. You know when I’ll be able to understand all of Interstellar? Without having to lean forward and cup my ears or make faces? When I watch it next summer on Bluray with my own home system with my personally calibrated sound bar and woofer.

My LAX-to-Atlanta plane leaves at 6:30 am. A 90-minute layover and then a connection flight to Savannah. I don’t know if Delta offers wifi these days but I wouldn’t put it past them if they didn’t. I won’t be at Savannah’s Marshall House until 6 pm Eastern. 9:20 am Pacific Update: Missed 6:30 flight — don’t ask. Took 7:30 am flight. Sitting semi-miserably in seat 40D. Listening to Television’s “See No Evil.” But at least Delta has on-board wifi. Likelihood of missing the Atlanta-to-Savannah flight (35 minutes between LAX flight landing and Savannah flight departing) is high-ish. 1:45 pm or 4:45 pm Eastern Update: Sitting next to Gate B6 inside Atlanta’s William Tecumseh Sherman Airport. Seriously, it’s called Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport. The Savannah flight leaves at 4:40 pm.

It’s been revealed that the late Elizabeth Pena (La Bamba, Rush Hour), whose recent passing was attributed to “natural causes after a brief illness” by her manager Gina Rugolo, died of alcohol abuse. A death certificate obtained by CNN says the actress died from “cardiopulmonary arrest, cardiogenic shock, acute gastrointestinal bleeding, and cirrhosis of the liver due to alcohol.” Pena, who recently played Sofia Vergara‘s mom on Modern Family, succumbed on 10.14 at Cedars-Sinai Medical Center. When I questioned the curious initial explanation, I was trashed by HE commenters Dave Strot and Herr Plop, among others.

Those Fort Hood guys had no balls except for that “play with my balls” guy. All they did was monkey-chat after Interstellar screened there four days ago. And forget last night’s elite industry screening at the California Science Center. It’s not in the DNA of “talent” — actors, directors, writers — to share anything but effusive, damp-love comments. No, the only thing that matters are the opinions of the tough guys (journalists, critics, columnists) who are about to see Interstellar in Manhattan, and who will see it in Los Angeles starting at 6:30 pm Pacific. It’s now 6:05 pm back there. Chris Nolan‘s film begins at 6:30 pm, and with the film running 169 minutes (2 hours and 49 minutes) it will break around…oh, roughly 9:20 pm or 6:20 pm Pacific. The first tweets will start about 20 or 25 minutes after that. Obviously the L.A. gang won’t start tweeting until 9:40 or 9:45 pm Pacific.

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William F. Buckley‘s loathing of the late ’60s counter culture was delicious. In his mind the word “hippie” was nearly inseparable from “fecal matter.” It wasn’t an act — Buckley really felt and meant it deep down. On top of which you could almost take pleasure in that velvety purring daddy voice without considering his words. He seemed to also hate queers (or so Gore Vidal believed) or at the very least had little tolerance for them. I don’t know from Yablonsky but the murky alcoholic gloom of Jack Kerouac (“I’ve lost the entire train of thought”)…yeesh. Ed Sanders (Village Fugs, “The Family“) was obviously a fairly sharp guy. But Buckley’s snooty patrician vibes…that’s entertainment.

Is there any Steven Spielberg film apart from Schindler’s List that has truly aged well? Or, to put it another way, that seems better now than it did when it first opened? Or that hindsight hasn’t exposed as improbable and manipulative and always pitched to the cheap seats? Be honest. Spielberg has often made great high-craft, flash-in-the-pan popcorn movies, but no major director of the 20th Century will (trust me) be more disparaged by the passage of time. I don’t even know if I can stand to watch E.T. again, and I loved it 32 years ago. Who today talks with real admiration about Cecil B. DeMille? Spielberg is regarded as a big wheel because he’s a multi-billionaire and his films are tremendously popular. Except popularity is the slutty cousin of prestige. The one film in this Bluray collection that I’d like to see on Bluray? 1941. Stanley Kubrick allegedly once suggested that Spielberg make it as a drama. When Kubrick saw the finished film, he told Spielberg (according to Spielberg at Kubrick’s wake in ’99), “This is a very well-made film…it’s not funny but it’s very well made.”