If the past is any indication, for the rest of his life Elvis Mitchell is going to lose or quit a never-ending series of cool film-industry jobs. And within two or three months of each departure he’s going to land another new cool film-industry job. Since the ’90s he’s been one of the most frequently hired guys in liberal Hollywoodland. And a cat — incapable of not landing on his feet. Mitchell’s latest bounce-back, announced by Indiewrie‘s Anne Thompson, is a gig as “outsourced film curator” at the Los Angeles County Museum of Art. Mitchell will book films and guests.

Rep. Anthony Weiner will resign this afternoon. Revealing your tumescent animal member on any social-media platform robs you of any aura of authority. The more you allow Mr. Happy to run the show, the weaker and stupider you are. And it breaks my heart because Weiner’s speeches about the corrupted dynamic of Washington power were right on the money.

I’m hearing that Weiner isn’t independently wealthy and needs a job. What’s he going to do? Who’s going to hire the poor guy? He’s radioactive.

Until Monday night’s Republican presidential contenders debate, I hadn’t quite realized how tiny Rep. Michelle Bachmann is. Notice how shrimp-like she seems compared to the other guys (i.e., much shorter than Ron Paul, who’s about 5’9″), even in heels. She appears to be 4′ 11″, which is right next to dwarf territory. And nothing I’d heard or read about her previously even mentioned the height factor…odd.

(l. to r.) Former Sen. Rick Santorum, Bachmann, former House speaker Newt Gingrich, former Mass. Gov. Mitt Romney, Texas Rep. Ron Paul, Former Minnesota Gov. Tim Pawlenty, businessman Herman Cain (i.e., “the Hermanator”).

I remain convinced that one of the many reasons Michael Dukakis lost to George Bush, Sr. in ’88 is that a certain percentage of voters felt he was just too short to be President. (He looked like Rocky the squirrel in that catastrophic tank footage.) Modest-sized candidates like John McCain (around 5’8″) will never take any height flack, and I would imagine even a candidate standing 5’3″ or 5’4″ would be semi-acceptable to most voters. But to be less than five feet tall strikes a symbolically inappropriate note on some level.

All this time I’ve been presuming that the big Moneyball dynamic would be between Brad Pitt and Phillip Seymour Hoffman. And maybe it will be in the actual film. But in this just-out teaser it’s between Pitt and Jonah Hill. You can feel the almost Martin-and-Lewis-like rapport. Pitt is the energy guy with the rap and the set-up, and Hill (pre-weight-loss) delivers the punchline.

Sony/Columbia will open Moneyball — directed by Bennett Miller, written by Aaron Sorkin, Stan Chervin and Steven Zaillian, and produced by Scott Rudin, Michael De Luca and Rachael Horovitz — on 9.23.

HE’s Dylan Wells attended the New York premiere of Andrew Rossi‘s Page One: Inside the New York Times (Magnolia Pictures/Participant Media) on Monday, 6.13, at the new Elinor Bunin Monroe Film Center on West 65th. It’s interesting to hear a view from a 21 year-old art student who’s developed a half-notion or suspicion that the Times, solid organization that it clearly is and always has been, isn’t necessarily the most trustworthy news source around.

CBS newsman Morley afer, N.Y. Times media columnist & reporter David Carr during Page One after-party at the Elinor Bunin Monroe Film Center.

“It’s important to note that I walked into this feature with a bias, which is that I’m generally distrustful of conventional news sources. Although I’m particularly disdainful of TV news, whether it’s MSNBC or Fox, I’m not entirely trusting of newspapers either. It’s not that I think these organizations are necessarily spreading disinformation, or that the people that work for them lack integrity. I just happen to believe that interests outside of objective news reporting have a tendency to seep through the cracks every now and then.

“You can certainly maintain a healthy knowledge of world and national events by strictly keeping up with the American news media, but I choose not to rely on it. Call me a conspiracy theorist or a misguided Chomsky-holic, but these are my beliefs and I do not seek validation.

“That said, the New York Times is more than just a newspaper. It is the standard, the American mecca of information. Not only does it serve as the paramount source of information for all other U.S. newspapers, but it is also the primary record of our history. Now and forever what is written in the Times will most likely be accepted as historical fact. That is what is what I find simultaneously incredible and terrifying about it. Much in the same way many goliath investment banks have been deemed ‘too big to fail’, the New York Times has long held a status of ‘too respected to misinterpret’.

“The Times is an integrity-laden, highly regarded institution, and for good reason, but it I find that it’s generally healthy to practice at least a moderate amount of skepticism in the face of such great power.

(l. to r.) Producer Celine Rattray, Magnolia honcho Eamonn Bowles, former Paramount marketing exec and WIE Symposium co-founder Dee Poku.

“Andrew Rossi’s Page One is more of a praising of the New York Times organization than anything else, but it certainly isn’t misguided. The documentary presents several valid reasons as to why it is such a great newspaper. Fine writing and reporting, first-rate journalists, high standards, exactitude. However much I would have liked to see a more critical eye turned towards the institution, if only for the sake of debate, I would be dishonest to say I did not have a rather pleasant time watching it.

“David Carr‘s personality made the movie for me, and judging by the amount of screen time he gets I don’t think Rossi would disagree. It’s delightful to watch him sit down and get old school with the cool-kid Vice Magazine team (no offense to Vice, I’m a big fan, but a certain head of the organization had it coming with the comment he made to Carr).

“As a graphic designer I also appreciate the animated transitions, and would perhaps even liked to see more of such. I think they could have taken that a step further. The shots of the newspaper factory also pleased me, much in the same way I drool in front of to back episodes of ‘How It’s Made’.

“All in all, Page One works, and I would recommend it to anyone who wants to learn the story behind ‘all the news that’s fit to print’. That said, if you’re looking for somebody to confirm your disdain for America’s greatest newspaper, I would stick to YouTube.”

In agreeing to play Jor-El, the biological father of Superman, in Christopher Nolan‘s Man of Steel, Russell Crowe has essentially taken out a huge trade ad that says, “I am now a high-end character actor….I am no longer the bankable movie star I was when I made The Insider and Gladiator and Master and Commander and Robin Hood. If Marlon Brando could take this paycheck role in the 1978 Superman, so can I. And if Nick Nolte could downshift and become a cool character actor in the ’90s, so can I. It’s all cool.”

John Edwards’ mug shot photos, taken earlier this month, were released this morning. To me that smile says, “I didn’t do anything that bad, not really, and I’m going to charm and finagle my way out of these charges…yeah!” Or it says, “I’m not going to frown and look contrite…eff that…that’s for people who are guilty, unlike myself!”

If I was a six-foot-eight gay black guy doing a life term in a prison that Edwards might conceivably be sentenced to, I’d be wetting my lips right now. If Edwards does any kind of prison time anywhere, his ass will be owned in record time. Imagine the prestige in having a good-looking ex-Presidential candidate as your personal bunk bitch.

Comic-book CG-crap moves like The Green Lantern don’t absolutely need major fanboy sites to cheer them on, but they’re definitely in trouble if brilliant, high-end geek critics like Hitfix‘s Drew McWeeny give them a thumbs-down. This morning McWeeny shoved his gleaming switchblade between the ribs of this hugely expensive (reportedly $300 million) Warner Bros. film. I think it’s over now. It’s a dead movie.

“I want to like Green Lantern,” McWeeney begins. “I don’t want to be the guy who calls the time of death at the scene of the crime. [But] I don’t like Green Lantern. I think the movie is pretty much inert, artificial and dead-on-arrival. I don’t think is the first building block of a world I want to spend more time in [and] I don’t have any faith in this as a franchise, much less step one in the DC Universe. Martin Campbell is as wrong for this film as he was right for Casino Royale. In general, I was deflated and depressed by the film I saw.”

After joining Carey Mulligan, Zoe Kazan and Paul Dano at the Lincoln Center Institute’s Junior Spring Benefit at the Grammercy Park Hotel, the N.Y. Observer‘s Nate Freeman asked Mulligan about a book adaptation she’ll be making soon.

“What book adaptation?” Ms. Kazan gasped.

“Oh, I’m doing this little known thing, The Great Gatsby.”

“Oh my god, that’s amazing!” Kazan said. “Are you playing Gatsby?”

“Yes,” Ms. Mulligan said. “I’m playing Jay Gatsby. It’s a really big role for me, I’m gonna wear a sock down my trousers, give it everything.”

The future Daisy Buchanan said filming would start in September, in director Baz Lurhmann‘s home country of Australia.

“In Australia, that’s where the book is set, right?” Ms. Kazan said.

Ms. Mulligan nodded.

“It’s a great Australian novel.”

Can you sense Mulligan’s undercurrent? What her whimsy is really about? She’s a bit skeptical about Luhrmann and the film and going to Australia and the whole thing. She knows what a cranked-up personality and style monster Luhrmann has become. She knows that he’s mad. She saw what happened to Nicole Kidman when she made Australia. If I were her, I’d be saying to myself, “Thank God for Nicholas Winding Refn and Steve McQueen and Lone Scherfig.”

Update: Kazan is obviously very sharp, very quick, just playing a game.

HE reader Bill McCuddy suggested this morning that my recent riff about Midnight In Paris “being better the second time would make a good column where we all weigh in. Not the bona fides but surprises that underwhelmed the first time and then get better with each subsequent viewing.

“For me, two come to mind immediately. One is Michael Clayton, which I only liked the first time and love now. The other is Duplicity, which is so much fun to listen to now. Great writing, giant shaggy-dog story, good fun. Other suggestions?”

Wells to McCuddy: Tony Gilroy makes movies that take a while to settle in and make you realize how good they are. Last January I wrote a mea culpa piece about my not being more initially enthusiastic enough about Michael Clayton. But I’m not so sure about Duplicity.

I don’t have a big argument with yesterday’s decision by the Academy to install a merit system into the voting for Best Picture, but I’m asking myself “what’s the upside?” In 2009 the Academy expanded the Best Picture field to ten nominations. Now the Academy is requiring a minimum of 5% of first-place votes in order to receive a Best Picture nomination, which could result in only eight or seven or nine Best Picture finalists. Or five, even.

So basically they’re declaring that it’s better to weed out some of the pikers — to focus a little more on discrimination rather than inclusion. This is obviously a conservative backlash to what some on the Academy board felt was an overly liberal policy of nominating ten films for the Best Picture Oscar.

I thought the idea of expanding the field to ten nominations was to pass around a little nomination-love to five soft contenders — i.e., the bottom five. Movies like The Dark Knight that were highly popular with the public but which didn’t fit the mold of a typical Best Picture contender. Or for movies which met some of the criteria (well-crafted story, stirring emotional theme, great performances, “important” subject) but didn’t quite have across-the-board acclaim. Or movies that are highly admired but considered to be worthy on a 7 or 8 or 8.5 level rather than a 9 or 10 level.

All that appears to be out the window now. Now to get a Best Picture nomination you’ll need 5% of Academy voters declaring on their ballot that your film is the absolute best of the year. This means that a lot of very good, perhaps less emotional, perhaps more “art for art’s sake”-type films (which are rarely embraced by the blue-hairs) aren’t going to make the cut.

The new system favors those older Academy members with lazy attitudes who’ve complained over the last two years that they find it hard to come up with ten nominees. Every year I come up with 20 to 25 films that range from excellent to very good to highly respectable.

Deadline‘s Pete Hammond wrote last night that “with the [2009 addition] of 10 nominees, such popular box office hits as Up, The Blind Side, District 9 and Inception earned Best Pic stripes, [but] they likely would not have received if only five films had been eligible.” The new “merit system” pretty much boil things down to a five- or-six- or-seven-nomination finale.

This morning a publicist working for Nicholas Winding Refn‘s Drive was wondering why I was so keen to see it at the LA Film Festival this weekend, since I’d already seen it in Cannes. That’s true, I said, but with only half of my hearing. My right ear was totally clogged during my Thursday evening screening (5.19) in the Grand Palais, I explained, and I’d love to see it again now that both ears are back in operation.

Nice things that put you in a great mood are rarely interesting. It’s always more fun to write about anger or irritation and opposition of some kind. But losing almost all of the hearing in my right ear made me feel weak and vulnerable in the most awful way, and getting it back two and half days later made me feel ecstatic, renewed…saved. There’s nothing like having one of your senses severely impaired to make you really appreciate, etc.

Bath water had seeped into my right ear canal on the morning on Thursday, May 19th, my last full day at the Cannes Film Festival, and I couldn’t get it out to save my life. I tilted my head back and forth and slapped the side of my head repeatedly. I jumped up and down like a pogo stick. I started applying some ear drops and an ear-cleaning solution that I’d bought at a pharmacy. Nothing worked. And no one had sharply yanked my ear (the cause of Thomas Alva Edison‘s hearing problem) or hit me on the side of the head (which is what Brian Wilson‘s father had done, causing his singer-songwriter son to go deaf in one ear) and I hadn’t allowed it to get infected or anything. It was just bath water! But after a while I began to wonder if it was something else.

My left ear was okay but I couldn’t hear a damn thing on the other side. All I could hear was a droning inner-ear noise that sounded like distant crickets or locusts on a hot summer night. My Drive viewing was probably affected in some vaguely negative way by this, although I didn’t let on in my review. I was feeling a bit freaked but I told no one.

My right ear was still clogged late Thursday night and all day Friday. I arrived in Paris around 10:30 or 11 am on 5.20 and lived with it all day and that night. The ear drops, etc. Everything that was said to me I had to lean forward and say, “Come again?” Saturday morning, same thing. And then around noon I was driving my rented scooter down a cobblestoned hill in Montmartre, and….whusshhhhhh. My ear opened up. I could suddenly feel air seeping in, and I was hearing in glorious stereo again. It was like escaping from prison but without any guards or cops chasing me. I was free. All the intense worry about possibly having to deal with some kind of ongoing hearing issue disappeared. Wow! It was the most the purely happy moment I’ve known in a long, long time.