Harold Ramis, the director and co-writer of Groundhog Day, one of the greatest, funniest and most profoundly spiritual, philosophically robust comedies ever made, has left the earth at age 69. Everything that Ramis did from his birth on 11.21.44 until be began to develop and prepare for Groundhog Day was Phase One, and everything that came after Groundhog Day was Phase Two. Ramis never did anything better than make Groundhog Day, and he didn’t need to. His life was fulfilled by this 1993 film. Really. And not everyone realized this right away. I did but a lot of people didn’t.

The basic assumption is that the odds of Jennifer Lawrence‘s taking the Best Supporting Actress Oscar have dropped and that Lupita Nyongo‘s odds have been rising. Is this incorrect? Another view, shared earlier today, is that Lawrence shouldn’t get a second Oscar in a row and that the obliquely racist irritated-by-12 Years A Slave crowd feels a corresponding distance about Lupita Nyong’o and that Nebraska‘s June Squibb is something of a comer as a result. It’s just an observation, but this, at least, would be a huge defiance of conventional wisdom. I think Nyong’o is the most likely winner but I just want a surprise…any surprise.

You know what I feel oppressed by? I’m sure I’m not the only one to feel this. The Oscar race and particularly award-season advertising are HE’s bread and butter, but Lord in heaven the incessant articles about Oscar contenders are turning my brain into cheddar cheese. This angle, that angle…this interview, that interview…over and over and over and over and over and over. One more week and it’ll be over.

Earlier today I spoke with Awards Daily‘s Sasha Stone about….what did we talk about? Oh, yes, the Oscar race. We kicked it all around the hockey rink…again. The fun part began when I started reading portions of Michael Musto’s Daily Beast discussion with “Pat,” the Academy voter. Key remark: “Isn’t it true that the Academy is made up of five thousands ‘Pats’?” Again, the mp3.

Boris Kachka‘s New York article about the L.A. Oscar-blogging fraternity (i.e., myself, Sasha Stone, Scott Feinberg, Pete Hammond, Steve Pond, David Poland, Tom O’Neil, Kris Tapley, Anne Thompson, et. al.) will appear online around 6 pm Pacific/9 pm Eastern this evening. (The print edition is on stands tomorrow.) On the page the piece is called “For Their Consideration“, but the cover slug says “The Oscar Whisperers.” Which is curious given that Stephen Rodrick‘s January 2007 Los Angeles piece about the same subject was called “The Blog Whisperers.” (On the first or second page of the article, that is — the cover slug proclaimed “Oscar Wars!“) Kachka and I did a Los Angeles sitdown after Sundance, and then we met up again (along with Sasha) during the Santa Barbara Film Festival. He seemed like a nice, focused, responsible guy. 10:20 pm Update: Kachka’s story is AWOL — four hours and 20 minutes late. Monday, 5:00 am Update: I think we have to at least entertain the possibility that New York‘s tech staffers are, no offense, a bunch of disorganized fuck-ups. The story STILL isn’t up. 5:45 am: The piece is finally available for New York iPad subscribers, but not on the web. I’m told by someone who’s read it that Kachka slaps me up a bit but not too badly. It’s mostly about myself, Tom O’Neil and Sasha Stone.

Three and a half years ago I posted some You Tube clips of a visit that pre-Mothers of Invention Frank Zappa made to the Steve Allen Show on 3.27.63. Zappa was there to demonstrate the musical “playing” of a bicycle. Now the complete visit is viewable on a single clip. Zappa mentions to Allen that he’d recently composed the music to Timothy Carey‘s World’s Greatest Sinner, which he called “the world’s worst movie.” Here’s a YouTube assessment of Carey’s film and Zappa’s contribution. Zappa also mentions that a new single, “How’s Your Bird?“, will be out the following week.

In an early Manhattan scene Woody Allen‘s character, Isaac, asks his friends if they possess real courage. He says something like “if you were walking along a bridge and you saw someone drowning in the river, would you jump in after them and bring them to shore?” I’m asking myself a similar thing after watching this video of peak moments from the Kiev/Ukraine revolution. I’m wondering how many cozy, comfortable denizens of the Los Angeles film industry would have the balls to engage with hostile armed troops in a scenario like this? How many Hollywood Elsewhere regulars would be man enough? I’d like to think of myself as brave but I’m not so sure. I’ve taken part in demonstrations that included beatings and tear gas canisters, and I’m telling you that the impulse to run like hell and save yourself from harm is very powerful.

Investigating magistrate Alfredo Mondeja to his boss: “I am unable to prosecute Sir Sean Connery for fraud charges regarding the long-ago sale of his Costa del Sol estate. I’m sorry but I can’t. I don’t have the horses. But I did my best.” Boss to Mandeja: “Your ‘best’? Losers always whine about their best. Winners go home and fuck the prom queen.” Mondeja: “I might, however, be able to prosecute Connery’s wife, a.k.a. “Lady Connery” or Micheline Roquebrune. That might pan out.”

(l. to r.) Sean Connery in 1962, 1991 and fairly recently.

I spoke to Connery only once, during a roundtable at a 1982 New York press junket for Richard Brooks‘ Wrong Is Right. I wasn’t much of a fan of the film (nobody was) but it was thrilling to absorb the vibe and smell the aroma of the manly Connery. He wasn’t much of a kidder but he had an engaging smile. Every answer he gave was straight from the shoulder, bordering on blunt.

I’m not sure what to think or feel about last night’s “Janet Maslin blasts Nicholas Kristof” report by Gawker‘s J.K. Trotter, but the basics are these: (1) Maslin, the N.Y. Times book critic, sharply criticized Times columnist Kristof for posting Dylan Farrow‘s letter accusing Woody Allen of child molestation, which Maslin called “an outrageous use of an op-ed column” and “a really questionable use of that space”; (2) Maslin also alleged, based on information “through a friend very close to the story,” that the seed of Dylan’s letter was Maureen Orth‘s November 2013 Vanity Fair story, which aired Mia Farrow‘s suggestion that Ronan Farrow may be Frank Sinatra’s son.

Everyone’s attention being focused on Ronan’s possible Sinatra connection rather than her story of an alleged molestation made Dylan “very unhappy that this suddenly wasn’t about her, and I think that’s that part of why she decided to start calling attention to herself,” Maslin said. “Of all the things that have been parsed by total strangers about what went on in that family, no one has ever dared to consider the sibling rivalry issues in there. It’s just too much to think about.”

The story of the origin of the Academy of Motion Pictures Arts and Sciences has been told before, but it’s been nicely re-told by David Thomson in this 2.21 Vanity Fair piece. The Academy was basically Louis B. Mayer‘s idea — essentially a p.r. initiative that Mayer hoped would combat the growing influence of Hollywood trade unions. But the basic idea for the Academy was hatched as a result of Mayer’s having contracted MGM carpenters in early 1926 to build him a Santa Monica beach house. It was constructed in six weeks. Mayer lived there until 1944. The home remains today at 625 Palisades Beach Road, Santa Monica, CA 90402. The residence was sold in 1956 to Peter Lawford, and it was here that President Kennedy enjoyed at least one tryst with Marilyn Monroe. (The Movieland Directory has the address wrong, by the way.)

The Hollywood Elsewhere Oscar Ballot went up three days ago. (Thanks again to the gracious Sasha Stone for making it simple and easy.) Just check your predictions and send it in. The balloting deadline is Saturday, March 1st at midnight. The highest-scoring balloter can, if he/she chooses, sit for an interview/lunch with yours truly, or I’ll just fork over $125 or so…whatever works.

Liam Neeson looks a lot better — thinner, calmer, cleaner, better groomed — during his 60 Minutes interview with Anderson Cooper (airing tomorrow) than he does in Non-Stop, in which he plays an alcoholic, cigarette-smoking air marshall. I doubt if Cooper asked if Neeson is comfortable being known as a guy whose post-Hidden career has basically been about paychecks, but the Irish-born actor says the following: “I’m 61 years of age, man, you know? Going around, fighting these guys…yeah, I feel a wee bit embarrassed, you know?” Maybe but that’s bullshit. Neeson is a big, strong, manly-looking guy in decent shape, and he can do the action thing until he’s 70, at least, and perhaps beyond that. No Non-Stop reviews until Wednesday, 2.26 at 9 am Pacific. Congrats to Neeson for landing a major role in Martin Scorsese‘s Silence, which I’m probably going to have difficulty with.