The six Supreme Court righties — John Roberts, Clarence Thomas, Neil Gorsuch, Samuel Alito, Brett Kavanaugh, Amy Coney Barrett —- aren’t behaving like totally slavish Donald Trump facilitators, but they’re mostly doing what they can to allow him to sidestep moves by special prosecutor Jack Smith,
They’re certainly setting the stage for endless delays in the Jan. 6th case and a complete cancellation of all federal prosecutions if Trump wins — and how can he not win after last Thursday night’s debate?
Alito and Thomas are nothing short of fiendish in their opinions, and the Trump-appointed Kavanaugh and Gorsuch are especially odious.
No Venice, no Telluride, no Toronto, no New York…a LondonFilmFestivalpremiere is the kiss of death in an award-season context. Finito. Sidelined. Dead herring in the moonlight.
A few weeks ago a trusted friendo said he’d been told that Blitz is ”great”. The source of this viewpoint is either a gladhander or a denialist or a fucking liar.
London Film Festival premieres NEVER score in an award-season sense.
I’m not saying SteveMcQueen has made a bad or seriously problematic film. He’s too good of a filmmaker. But there’s obviously something wrong with it. If it was all hunky-dory it would be premiering at Venice or Telluride or at the New York Film Festival.
We all understand the hometown sentiment aspect of debuting Blitz in London, and that’s fine. But it’s no Best Picture contender —- you can take that to the bank.
Well, not “instant”. A mere four days ago (i.e., last Thursday afternoon) JillBiden wasn’t a demonic figure. But she sure as hell is now. She’s become the head cheerleader of our national doom spiral.
“For those who love the President, starting with his wife, it’s time to tell him: for God’s sake, and the country’s, and his own —- don’t run.” — from BretStephens’ “The ‘BadDebate’ Nonsense’, posted on 6.30.24.
And LadyMacbeth in particular. The ruthlessness, the arrogance, the willingness to risk the health of our democracy in order to satisfy Joe and Jill’s ego…bastards. They couldn’t do the decent, devotional thing so they can go fuck themselves. I shudder at the idea of The Beast winning in November, so I will vote for Joe if he stays in. He’s obviously the “better” man. But there’s a part of me that almost wants him to lose. Not a big part but I’m enraged at those two hellions. Actively enraged.
…taste, to me, like Union County, New Jersey, where I spent my mostly miserable childhood and early teenage years. Until ten minutes ago I hadn’t eaten a nice, steamy, non-nutritious WhiteCastle slider in a good 20 years, if not longer.
I’m sitting inside a franchise outlet at 2900 East Tremont in the East Bronx.
15 minutes ago a youngish bearded animal with his checked shorts hanging way below his ass rushed in, breathlessly asking to use the bathroom. He’s been inside a good while. Five minutes ago I heard him go “aaahhh!” Management just knocked on the door and said “c’mon, man! Other people want to use the bathroom!” Beardo is either shooting up or vomiting. A uniformed cop just came in, knocked on the door…”c’mon!”
Slender black women with exquisite symmetrical features, man…they really do it to me. Or they used to, I should say, back in the day. I’m thinking of oldsters like Iman, Diana Ross, Marilyn McCoo, Halle Berry, Grace Jones, Diahann Carroll, Leslie Uggams, Lena Horne, etc. Outside of high-fashion modeling circles and rare birds like Lupita Nyong’o, slender seems to be less of a thing these days. Certainly among the hoi polloi.
A24 is opening Greg Kwedar and Clint Bentley‘s Sing Sing, a spiritual rehab prison drama, on Friday, 7.12 — less than two weeks hence. A fair-sized crowd saw it in Toronto last September, but I’m not hearing about upcoming local screenings.
Oscar! Sing Sing has Oscar written all over it! It’s an Oscar movie, especially in the case of presumed Best Actor nominee Colman Domnigo.
Hotshot critic #1: “I haven’t seen it yet, but I think it looks vaguely terrible. Like some outdated gritty-but-facile-black-dude-saint movie from 1993. Who knows, right? I only know that every time I see the trailer, I cringe. And I love Colman!”
Hotshot critic #2: “Who says it’s a Best Actor slamdunk for Colman?” HE: “The chorus of praisers who saw it in Toronto last September…no?” Hotshot critic #2: “I don’t know if they know what they’re talking about. If it was that great, or even just better than Rustin, why didn’t they put it out last fall? And why put it out now in July?” HE: “Good question. Beats me.” Hotshot critic #2: “I love Colman and hope it’s great, but these hosannas seem suspicious.”
Posted on 6.9.24: I somehow hadn’t watched the Sing Sing trailer when I tapped out last Friday’s Best Picture projection piece, but now I’ve seen it and am persuaded…well, certainly that Colman Domingo will be right at the top of the Best Actor nominees list but also that Greg Kwedar and Clint Bentley‘s allegedly spirit-lifting prison drama, about a wrongfully imprisoned guy putting on a play alongside other cons, will probably end up with a Best Picture nom. Maybe.
Based on a true story about the Rehabilitation Through the Arts (RTA) program at New York’s Sing Sing prison, pic follows the friendship of two RTA alumni, John “Divine G” Whitfield (Colman Domingo) and Clarence “Divine Eye” Maclin (Clarence Maclin himself) as they work together to stage an original production. Vulnerability, trust, integrity, pride, etc.
Sing Sing will open limited on 7.12.24. Pic will expand in August.
I speculated on 5.7 that 2025’s strongest Best Picture contenders will probably be those that don’t feel especially woked-up or agenda-driven (i.e., POC narrative, #MeToo-assertive, LGBTQ- or trans-promotional).
That doesn’t mean there won’t be any agenda-driven nominees. Emilia Perez (Netflix) will almost certainly be nominated upon the shoulders of musical fans as well as gay and trans celebrationists.
I’m actually not detecting anything especially wokey about Sing Sing. Okay, it focuses on a mostly black cast with two or three white guys (including Sound of Metal‘s Paul Raci) on the side, and given the setting it has to be a little bit gayish…no? But mostly I’m sensing soulful and heartwarming.
Plus it automatically earns an extra five points for presenting itself within a 1.66:1 aspect ratio.
Over the years Academy and guild members have been trained like dogs to focus only on award-season releases (Labor day to Christmas) for potential Oscar contenders, but exceptions pop up every so often. Sing Sing may be one of them.
I am therefore projecting that the following eight films have the best chances of being nominated for Best Picture:
Todd Phillips‘ Joker: Folie à Deux (Warner Bros., 10.4) Jacques Audiard‘s Emilia Perez (Netflix) Steve McQueen‘s Blitz (Apple, undated but surely opening during award seaeon) Sean Baker‘s Anora (Neon, 10.18) Greg Kwedar and Clint Bentley‘s Sing Sing Edward Berger‘s Conclave (Focus Features, 11.15) Ridley Scott‘s Gladiator II (Paramount, 11.22) Robert Zemeckis‘ Here
…the wavering Blackfence–sitters — i.e., the 2020 Joe voters who’ve been nursingdoubts about firmly standing by him a second time and have even flirted with Trump alignment — will, in greater numbers, simply stay home on 11.5.24.
Joe committed political suicide last Thursday night, and there’s no undoing this. The sand is draining out of the hourglass and it can’t be replaced
And this will mean the death of Joe in the battleground states (Wisconsin, Michigan, Pennsylvania). We all saw him — he’s a withered old nag on his way to the glue factory. The Beast will win, and democracy as we’ve known it will exist mostly as a memory.
…and thereby make life miserable for God knows how many thousands of innocent, considerate, responsible drivers…these are badpeople, and if you ask me the obstructionists should be severelypunished.
I’m talking 60, 70 hours of picking up roadside garbage, minimum, while wearing orange jumpsuits. Supervised by CoolHandLuke guards in aviator shades
I don’t dare suggest a more brutal penalty. Okay, I’ll mention it. Don’t be alarmed but I’m thinking of the mass crucifixion of Spartacus’s slave army along the Appian Way. Theatrical “pretend” crucifixion, I mean. No nails or spikes or blood but tied to crosses alongside highway signs and forced to bake in the sun for hours on end. Drivers would be permitted to throw eggs and tomatoes.
