In the wake of Nikki Finke‘s 2.16 article about “shockingly soft” tracking for Disney’s John Carter (3.9), The Daily Beast‘s Chris Lee has written a hit piece (“John Carter: Disney’s Quarter-Billion-Dollar Movie Fiasco“, 2.21) that focuses on possible repercussions if and when the $250 million Carter does indeed tank.

Lee mainly foresees trouble for Disney chairman Rich Ross, even though he states that Carter “is a problem [Ross] inherited from his predecessor” — i.e., former Disney honcho Dick Cook — “and that has provided him a certain level of insulation from the slings of his detractors.”

Lee’s recounts the bizarre thinking on Cook’s part when he approved the hiring of Finding Nemo and Wall-E director Andrew Stanton to helm a monstrously expensive Avatar-like fantasy adventure without stars. “Unless you’re Peter Jackson or Jim Cameron, it’s unheard of,” a rival studio exec tells Lee.

But the biggest forehead-slapper was the decision by Disney marketers to remove “of Mars” from the title. I understand the thinking that one needn’t show loyalty to Edgar Rice Burrough‘s John Carter of Mars, which began as a magazine serial in 1912. But why make a film set on Mars if you’re afraid to use the words “of Mars” in the title? How wimpy can you get?

“Although the character has been known as ‘John Carter of Mars’ and was envisioned as a movie trilogy under that name, Disney marketers dropped the ‘of Mars’ part because of industry-think holding that female movie fans are more likely to be turned off by such overtly sci-fi elements,” Lee writes. “And after the big-budget failure of last year’s Cowboys & Aliens seemingly confirmed that modern audiences are uninterested in Westerns — or, by extension, vintage Americana — Carter’s Civil War connection has been all but excised from the marketing.

“‘You take out ‘of Mars,’ you don’t tell where he came from? That’s what makes it unique!’ a former Disney executive is quoted as saying. ‘They choose to ignore that, and the whole campaign ends up meaning nothing. It’s boiled down to something no one wants to see.”

“After seeing several John Carter trailers, a rival studio executive agreed. ‘You don’t know what it is,’ the source said. ‘The geek generation isn’t responding. It’s too weird for the family audience. Then it has the Disney brand and PG-13? I’m not sure who it’s for.'”

The best that can be hoped for, it seems, is that John Carter will become the Heaven’s Gate of sci-fi actioners. No, not the most ruinously expensive and financially disastrous film of this genre, but the most ruinously expensive or financially disastrous film of this genre that will eventually a become a cult favorite, as Heaven’s Gate has gradually managed to become with the help of guys like F.X. Feeney.

John Carter‘s principal photography went from January to July 2010, so it’s been in post-production for 20 months, which might as well be two years.

And there’s still no spillage from the John Carter junketeers who recently basked in the Arizona sun on Disney’s dime. A John Carter fansite found some tweets that indicated positive reactions. Here’s another tweet-based summary that suggests positive responses to come.

I finally watched Criterion’s Anatomy of a Murder Bluray, and I have to admit that while I’m adamantly opposed to slashing off the tops and bottoms of films that looked perfectly fine in their natural 1.33 state, and while I would have preferred a 1.66 aspect ratio (if a cropping had to be done), the 1.85 aspect ration began to grow on me after a spell. I came to accept it. It’s not a mauling of Otto Preminger‘s 1959 courtoom drama — just an unfortunate decision.

The Criterion Anatomy of a Murder Bluray contains to my knowledge the color photographs taken during the making of the film.

Most of the Anatomy Bluray looks fantastic. Wonderful blacks, enormous range, luscious detail. But every now and then a shot comes along that just looks so-so. Why does Stewart’s hair look a tiny bit soft? Is this starting to feel a little bit grainstormed? Okay, maybe not. But in a certain way, the Anatomy Bluray doesn’t look dramatically “better” than the 2000 ColTristar DVD. I didn’t feel as if it upped my viewing pleasure of the film one iota. It looks better on my 50″ Vizio than the DVD, of course, but that’s to be expected. That’s the format.

I only know that when I first saw that DVD 11 and 1/2 years ago on my 32″ Sony flatscreen, I was knocked out by its beauty. The monochrome tonalites were so rich and vivid that I felt as if I was watching a lab-fresh print in a studio screening room. But when I saw the Criterion Bluray, I went “uh-huh, yup, good work, very nice”…but I wasn’t blown away. I wanted that extra kick, and I didn’t get it. Put your face up to the screen and it’s swarming with natural grain (which is fine) and it looks like real celluloid. So it’s a good job. But honestly? I would been a tiny bit happier with a little digital sweetening, and I’m saying this as a huge fan of Criterion’s Sweet Smell of Success Bluray, which wasn’t sweetened at all. I just know when a Bluray has that extra-special dimensionality and sheen, and Anatomy…well, it’s a solid ground-rule double. Okay, a triple. But it’s no homer.

One thing I did notice is that you can now study James Stewart‘s hair piece (which has too much laquer on it) and figure exactly where the hairpiece ends and the natural hair begins.

Whenever I’m driving slowly (in a parking lot, say) and I see a soda can, I always flatten it. This isn’t horrifically difficult, but it’s not easy either. It takes a deft touch, a certain instinct. But a good driver can do it every time, and always the first time. If you know your car you just know.

I’m mentioning this because (a) I flattened a can earlier this evening, and (b) I was reminded on my way home how some drivers (women especially) will clench up and take forever when faced with the slightest challenge, like driving through a tight spot between two cars or parallel parking or whatever. It’s like following a 15 year-old who’s just learning to drive.

Either you’ve let the Zen of driving into your system or you haven’t. There’s no third way. The ghost of Steve McQueen and the very-much-alive Ryan Gosling know all about this.

“In the (still unlikely) event that Rick Santorum captures the Republican presidential nomination, his campaign would probably be to social conservatism what Barry Goldwater‘s 1964 campaign was to small-government conservatism: A losing effort that would inspire countless observers to declare the loser’s worldview discredited, rejected, finished.

“In the longer run, a Santorum candidacy might suggest a path that a more electable pro-life populist could follow, much as Reagan ultimately followed Goldwater. But in the short run, it would almost certainly be a debacle – a sweeping defeat for the candidate himself, and a sweeping setback for the causes that he champions.” — N.Y. Times contributor Ross Douthat in a 2.21 “Campaign Stops” column.

A movie that nobody of any consequence really loves is going to win seven Oscars on Sunday, in the view of Hollywood Reporter forecaster Scott Feinberg.

How can this be? There’s a solid current of like for this agreeable little film, and that’s about it. No one who knows or cares about Film Catholicism truly respects The Artist as a work of striking originality or spirit or technique or anything. All through the season people haven’t voted for The Artist — they’ve defaulted to it.

I’m trying not to pay too much attention to this or give it too much weight, but when I do I get a little bit sick. It’s 1953 all over again, and we’re about to give the Best Picture Oscar to The Greatest Show on Earth.

Who are the gelatinous AMPAS members who are voting for it? Are they feeling at least a twinge of regret or inner conflict as they mark their ballots? Because — this is the truth — I haven’t spoken to a single person who’s been really knocked flat by The Artist…not one.

That euphoric current that many of us felt when Roman Polanski‘s The Pianist won for Best Director, Best Adapted Screenplay and Best Actor? That electric-jolt feeling that says “wow, amazing…the good guys are winning for a change”? That was one of the biggest Oscar highs I’ve ever felt. Who in the world is going to really be jumping for joy when The Artist starts sweeping the table? Most of us are going to be feeling the opposite — resignation, melancholia, puzzlement. This pastiche is the best we could do? This hodgepodge of imitation?

The Artist is a 2011 version of That’s Entertainment! in a silent, black-and-white mode with a strong narrative assist from A Star Is Born and Singin’ in the Rain.

I personally blame the New York Film Critics Circle for getting the ball rolling. They were first out of the gate and gave The Artist their renowned stamp of approval, and that in turn made it easy (or certainly easier) other critics groups, voting bodies and guilds to follow suit. Award voting is about pack mentalities and currents in the river. It’s very easy to get swept along. Nobody wants to be a loner.

From a 2.18 entry in Andrew O’Hehir‘s Salon column:

“So here we are, a week out from the big night in the No-Longer-Kodak Theatre, with Oscar’s big prize all but awarded to a silent black-and-white film made by French people. If we can pull that fact free of the massive ennui we’re all feeling about Oscar season this year, it remains objectively amazing. I mean, don’t get me wrong: The Artist is agreeable lightweight entertainment, and I can see exactly why it appeals to the wounded, nostalgic and crisis-ridden industry insiders of the Academy. Jean Dujardin is an irresistible performer, and I bet he’s been hitting the ‘apprenez l’anglais’ CDs hard in preparation for his likely Hollywood career.

“Still, the likely Oscar triumph of The Artist, like the movie itself, is a novelty hit, a one-off parlor trick that demonstrates the weakened cultural position of the Academy Awards and the lack of confidence endemic to mainstream American filmmaking.

“As a spoof and tribute to the glories of Hollywood’s silent age, The Artist is not especially subtle, but a lot of love and talent and pure high spirits went into making the movie, and that shows up on-screen. It’s not a great film and may not even be an especially good one, but it’s going to win the prize because it resounds with good cheer and confidence and willingness to entertain. Those are precisely the qualities usually associated with American cinema, good or bad, and precisely the qualities lacking in this year’s other nominees.”

Here’s how I put it the day after the NYFCC voted on 11.29.11:

“With The Artist having taken yesterday’s New York Film Critics Circle Best Picture prize, there will be a natural tendency for critics groups around the country to regard this Weinstein Co. release as a safe and likable default choice for Best Picture in their own balloting. Plus any critic voting for an entertaining black-and-white silent film is sending a message to colleagues, editors and especially readers that he/she is willing to embrace the novel or unusual, which indicates a certain integrity.

“Most Joe Schmoe readers are going to say ‘what?’ at first. And the critic will be able to say, ‘Yes, a black-and-white film without dialogue….which you should really see! It’s fun! Trust me!’ And they should. The Artist is a special film and a very nice ride. But the critics need to take two steps back and think things over. Please. I’m begging them.

“The Movie Godz are just as concerned and nervous as I am, trust me, that over the next two or three weeks other critics groups are going to tumble for The Artist like dominoes. Please tell me this won’t happen and that we’ll be seeing some kind of mixed awards salad out there.

“I understand how celebrating a film that mimics how movies looked and felt in the 1920s is a way of saying that you respect classic cinema and Hollywood’s history, blah blah. And by doing so critics will get to lead at least some of their readers into the past, and seem wise and gracious in the bargain, and all the while supporting a film that’s mainly about glisten and glitter and decades-old cliches.

“Have The Artist supporters within the NYFCC given any thought to what it actually meant to choose this film as the best of the year? It presumably meant that they feel it amounts to more than just a sum of delightful silver-screen parts. It means that in their estimation The Artist delivers something in the way of mood or narrative or meaning or style that really got them, Kinks-style. In a truly profound, bone-marrow, deep-soul way, I mean. More than Hugo or The Descendants or Moneyball or whatever…right?

“The NYFCC obviously rejected this notion in choosing The Artist. They said ‘look, whatever…there’s nothing really lifting us up this year so let’s choose something we really like, at least.’ Terrific, guys. It must have taken a lot of character and conviction to hand out your prestigious Best Picture award to the shiniest bauble.”

This isn’t funny. It’s well-shot, spunky, disciplined…but not funny. At all. I…uhhm…I was…uhm, going to say…aaah, it’s just not funny.

In this Press Play video, Matt Zoller Seitz is suggesting a new Oscar for Outstanding Achievement in Collaborative Performance — an Oscar that would “honor memorable characters created by mixing performance with CGI, immersive makeup, puppetry, or other behind-the-scenes craft.” In this, the first of four essays, the focus is Andy Serkis, who should, of course, have been nominated for Best Supporting Actor for Rise of the Planet of the Apes…alas.

If anyone has a copy of Cormac McCarthy‘s The Counselor, which Ridley Scott will begin filming on May 1st with Michael Fassbender in the lead, please forward. Deadline‘s Michael Fleming reports that “insiders” are describing The Counselor as “No Country For Old Men on steroids.” What does that mean? That some regarded No Country for Old Men as…what, languid, laid-back, lacking a serious pulse?

Every time I see Michael Fassbender he’s wearing that cock-of-the-walk smirk. He had it when I spoke to him at the 2009 New York Film Critics Circle dinner. I saw him again at last month’s Fox Searchlight Golden Globes party, and he was with a hot lady and smoking a big cigar. I hear stories about him. He likes the ladies. I’m not judging at all but on some level I’m not sensing indications of profound meditative depth. He loves being a movie star. Just saying.

Whenever I’m hit with a fever it always lasts for 36 to 48 hours. Yesterday was the worst of it. I had no energy at all. Standing up and walking was a challenge. Picking up the remote and changing a channel was a challenge. I slept the whole day except it wasn’t sleep. You can’t really sink to the bottom of the pond because there’s an alien virus in your system and your muscles are aching so badly. You’re floating on the surface, bobbing in and out.

I’m coming out of it now. You know you’re home free when the damp sweaty stage kicks in. Right now I’d say I have about 1/2 of my normal energy and strength, but that’s a big improvement over yesterday when I had about 1/16th.

Yes, another 1.85 vs. 1.33 aspect ratio piece on Criterion’s Anatomy of a Murder Bluray. But no, not another “1.85 fascism” rant. I’m…well, I guess I am talking about fascism. Otto Preminger‘s 1959 film looks sublime at 1.33. Needle sharp and comfortable with acres and acres of head space. Plus it’s the version that was shown on TV for decades. It looks stodgy and kind of grandfatherly, and that’s fine because it’s your grandfather’s movie in a sense. Boxy is beautiful.

It is perverse to deliver the Bluray — obviously the best that Anatomy of a Murder has ever looked on home screens — with one third of the originally captured image chopped off. Flip the situation over and put yourself in the shoes of a Criterion bigwig and ask yourself, “Where is the harm in going with the airier, boxier version?” Answer: “No harm at all.” Unless you’re persuaded by the 1.85 fascist view that a 1.33 aspect ratio reduces the appeal of a Bluray because the 16 x 9 plasma/LED/LCD screen won’t be fully occupied.

The above comparison shows that cropping the image down to 1.85 from 1.33 doesn’t kill the visual intention. In the 1.85 version James Stewart simply has less breathing room above and below his head. But the comparison below makes my case. A scene in a small jail cell. The boxier version is clearly the preferred way to go. It feels natural and plain. The 1.85 version delivers a feeling of confinement, obviously, but Otto Preminger wasn’t an impressionist. He was a very matter-of-fact, point-focus-and-shoot type of guy.