I won’t be seeing Inherent Vice for a couple of hours (it’s now 7:03 pm) but Xan Brooks’ tweet is perfect. And a technical violation of the embargo because it constitutes a comment. He’s saying that Paul Thomas Anderson‘s film doesn’t add up in a whodunit sense, and if that kind of thing is a make-or-break then…what can I say? You’re probably not in the right head space, bro. Man, I mean.

Tweet from Indiewire‘s Eric Kohn: “THE BIG SLEEP, THE LONG GOODBYE, THE BIG LEBOWSKI, INHERENT VICE: Not a ranking, but a tradition.”

I don’t mean to nitpick but the headline copy on WildAid’s website about Kathryn Bigelow‘s Last Days, a short doc about how rampant elephant poaching is threatening extinction, isn’t quite right. If you were a stupid ultra-literalist you might infer that the director’s name is Kathryn Bigelow Tackles Blood Ivory. The copy should read Coming Soon: Kathryn Bigelow Tackles Blood Ivory With “Last Days”…right? Why isn’t Bigelow’s film available now? They just had the NYFF-related press conference…c’mon.

From Anne Thompson‘s report about today’s NYFF Inherent Vice press conference that followed the 10 am press screening: “Martin Short, who plays a coked-out dentist-cum-syndicate-member clad in a deep, nearly ultra-violet suit, received the biggest applause of the ten-person cast. Sitting in the seat furthest from moderator Kent Jones, Short was the only cast member who wore a suit (Phoenix wore black jeans and a hoodie — never change, Joaquin). One member of the press stood up and professed his love for Short, which spurred more applause from the audience, as well as a call of ‘about time!'”

Update: A Warner Bros. rep might be able to slip me into the 5:30 screening and definitely the 9 pm screening if it comes to that, he says. So I’m good…late but good. Earlier: I completely forgot about the 10 am New York Film Festival press screening of Paul Thomas Anderson‘s Inherent Vice. There’s a public screening at 5:30 pm and 9 pm…my only shot. Brilliant! No tweets or reviews until 9 pm eastern — I promised to adhere to this request yesterday. I guess I will one way or the other.

The abysmal reviews for Vic Armstrong and Paul LaLonde‘s Left Behind indicated the arrival of a classic wackazoid stinker — a movie so bad it might be hilarious. Alas, no. I saw it last night in the East Village at 10 pm, and I only chuckled four or five times. It’s fairly awful but never that outlandish — it’s simply a mediocre film made by untalented, not-smart-enough people. Among the least intelligent is Nicolas Cage, who really, really must have a screw loose to have agreed to be in this thing. Is he that desperate for a paycheck? Does he…what, hate himself on some level? In all fairness I should note that the fetching Cassi Thomson, who portrays Cage’s blonde daughter, handles herself reasonably well and somehow sidesteps much of the awfulness. She has a certain planted quality…calm, presence, conviction. Plus a nice rack. (Which director Armstrong is definitely pushing or at least allowing us to notice — don’t kid yourself.) Where Cage mostly comes off as a whore and a fool, Thomson manages to exude dignity.

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Two nights ago I caught Vanessa Lapa‘s The Decent One, a fascinating arm’s-length portrait of infamous Nazi exterminator Heinrich Himmler, at the Film Forum. Pic blends archival footage of Himmler and the his era (1900 to ’45) with actors narrating Himmler’s (and his family’s) private letters and journals. Discovered and then kept by U.S. serviceman, the documents were hidden in Tel Aviv for decades and sold to Lapa’s father. The doc is a portrait of the chief architect of the Holocaust who — naturally, what else? — saw himself as a decent, dutiful, sometimes heroic fellow. And whose family kept themselves ignorant of his evil as much as possible, if not altogether. I think we all understand that evil always figures out a way to justify or at least live with itself. I was fully engaged and never bored, but I would have preferred to see a detailed doc about Himmler’s strategic maneuverings and political relationships throughout the ’20s, ’30s and ’40s. The personal/family stuff merely affirms our capacity for self-delusion — what else is new? I stayed for Lapa’s q & a afterwards. Her film played Telluride a few weeks ago.

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I’ve been looking to re-experience Rafi Pitts’ 2003 documentary since seeing it at the Locarno Film Festival, the attendants of which were sweltering in the midst of a legendary heat wave. Ferrara doesn’t like the film but it’s definitely worth watching. From Leslie Felperin‘s Variety review: “[Pic] gets so close and personal with one of U.S. cinema’s most erratic talents that the focus, metaphorically and almost literally, gets slightly fuzzy. Fascinating and frustrating in near equal measures, pic benefits from the extra-large personality of its subject, seen here prowling the streets of New York, explaining how he shot key scenes from some of his movies, shooting a pop vid, but most of all shooting the breeze with his posse of friends and collaborators.

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I hereby apologize for being a bit late to a 5 pm interview yesterday with Pasolini director-writer Abel Ferrara and star Willem Dafoe. (I mostly blame the C train.) I was there for three reasons. I’ve admired both of these guys for exactly 33 years (Ferrara since 1981’s Ms. 45, Dafoe since Kathryn Bigelow‘s The Loveless). I was sufficiently impressed by Pasolini to warrant further inquiry. And I’ve been a lifelong worshipper of Pier Paolo Pasolini himself, or since I caught The Gospel According to St. Matthew on the tube with my parents way back when.

Abel Ferrara, Willem Dafoe — Friday, 10.3, 5:35 pm.

Our chat happened inside a small windowless room inside the Elinor Bunin Munroe Film Center on West 65th Street. Ferrara and Dafoe are amiable, easy-going guys who’ve spent their life scaling mountains and who know just about everyone and everything. Fascinating, occasionally flinty…nothing but the truth. They both live in Rome and, of course, previously collaborated on Ferrara’s Go-Go Tales (’07).

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The sometimes wonderful Richard Brody has joined the ranks of those who understand that Gone Girl is about much, much more than a friggin’ airport-thriller plot. And is much more than just a film about the Five D’s — despisings, deceit, disgust, deception and disappearance. I tried explaining to a friend earlier today that Fincher’s film is not really about the tale. It’s about the broader (and yet highly particular) strokes. The tale is just the clothes line. It’s the socio-cultural stuff…the rotting-yuppie-hell-vile-media wash that Fincher hangs on it — that’s what the movie really is. Brody also floats a Stanley Kubrick analogy. Yes, I realize that Fincher-Kubrick comparisons have already been kicked around on this site but you need to be patient as these arguments tend to pop up when they pop up.

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Gone Girl‘s Ben Affleck, Bill Maher, N.Y. Times columnist Nicholas Kristol, Michael Steele and author Sam Harris, a critic of severe Islamic repression and brutality, engaged in a spirited discussion on Friday night’s Real Time with Bill Maher. Watch Affleck’s body posture and particularly his hands — he’s very unhappy with what Harris and Maher are saying and is marshalling all his strength to keep himself in check. It should be noted that on three previous Real Time visits Affleck expressed frustration about Muslims and Arabs being unfairly characterized and/or painted with too broad a brush — on 10.18.12, 10.23.08 and 5.27.07.

Yes, it’s a bit early for East Coast theatregoers to have caught a commercial screening and walked around and collected their thoughts (it’s 2:20 pm) but as the day wears on…

Read this Cara Buckley N.Y. Times story about a fight that Ben Affleck had with David Fincher during the shooting of Gone Girl and ask yourself the following: if you were Fincher, how resolute would you be about Affleck wearing or not wearing a Yankees cap? I wouldn’t have cared. I would have actually had Affleck wear a St. Louis Cardinals cap, his character being from Missouri and all. I would never have agreed with the Boston-born Affleck wearing a Red Sox cap as that would have seemed too in-jokey, but I would have never said “you have to wear a Yankees cap!” That’s a bit nutty, but then again that’s what makes Fincher a world-class director…right?