This is admittedly a day late and a dollar short, but yesterday Brian Wilson celebrated his 81st birthday. On the very same day Sutton Wells, aged 19 months, was dancing in her bedroom to that Pet Sounds instrumental track (i.e., the second-to-last cut, just before “Caroline No”). Will someone please send this to Brian already? Seriously.

In keeping with the general wokester view that older white guys are evil, and especially so if they’re wealthy, Melissa Hung recently complained about receiving three N.Y. Times alerts about the lost (and apparently still missing) OceanGate submersible vs. zero alerts about the week-old (4.26) drowning of 55 Libyan migrants after their boat capsized and sank.

Hung’s lament sounds like a close relation of that classic joke about what to call a thousand lawyers at the bottom of the ocean. Answer: A good start.

It’s now 5:30 pm eastern on Wednesday, 6.21. The oxygen supply aboard the Titan is due to run out around 10 am on Thursday morning. If they’re still alive, the five trapped travellers (British billionaire Hamish Harding, OceanGate honcho Stockton Rush, French explorer Paul-Henry Nargeolet, Pakistani billionaire Shahzada Dawood and his son Suleman Dawood) have about 16 hours of breathable air left as we speak. To the best of my knowledge the submsersible hasn’t even been located; the odds of finding it and somehow hauling it to the surface seem astronomical.

Warner Bros. Discovery, under the command of untrustworthy buccaneer David Zaslav, has begun to weaken and undermine Turner Classic Movies, beginning with 100 employees (overseen by Kathleen Finch) cut loose. TCM general manager Pola Changnon, a 25-year veteran, is ankling TCM.

I feel the same outrage as everyone else, but can someone help me understand Zaslav’s thinking? He talked a good supportive game during a panel discussion at the 2023 TCM Classic Film Festival, and now he’s whipped around and wreaked havoc.

Zaslav doesn’t have an apparent argument with TCM’s film lover programming — he does, however, seem to have a beef with TCM’s spread sheet, due to on-demand streaming and new financial realities. But TCM represents a fundamental faith among movie-culture fanatics, and killing this channel is wrong, wrong, terribly wrong.

I’ve never once watched the Turner Classic Movies channel — really, not once — but I recognize the value and importance that it occupies in the hearts of film lovers everywhere.

So the dinky eyebrowless gremlin in charge of Warner Bros. is gutting TCM, one of their most beloved brands?

What an utter nincompoop. pic.twitter.com/iVG64Perqv

— Movies Silently 🐀 (@MoviesSilently) June 21, 2023

Sofia Coppola‘s Priscilla (A24, 10.23) is about Priscilla Presley‘s relationship with Elvis Presley, starting with their first meeting in 1959 (when Priscilla was 14), continuing through their 1967 marriage and the 1968 birth of the now-deceased Lisa Marie, and presumably ending (I’ve no clear idea) with Elvis’s death in August 1977.

How, you may ask, will Coppola’s film pass the bullshit test given that (a) it’s based upon Priscilla Presley’s “Elvis and Me (’85),” a suspicious and almost certainly sanitized account of her life with Elvis, (b) the fact that Priscilla is an executive producer on the film, and (c) the possibility that Coppola will adopt the same (or perhaps a similar) mindset that informed her highly fanciful and historically inaccurate Marie Antoinette (’06), another film about a woman who comes to enjoy privilege and splendor by marrying a wealthy and powerful man (i.e., Louis XVI) — a work of impressionism that was obviously not meant to be factual.

And forget about what the #MeToo wokesters will say…pedophilia! depravity! Priscilla was a total victim! Sasha Stone mined this aspect of things a few hours ago.

Before we get into the particulars, consider the fact that the actual Elvis and Priscilla were separated by eight inches of height — Elvis was 6’0″ and Priscilla was (and presumably still is) 5’4″. But in the film, the former Priscilla Beaulieu (later Presley) is played by the 4’11” Cailee Spaeny and Elvis is played by the 6’5″ Jacob Elordi.

Elordi, in short, is 18 inches taller than Spaeny — nearly a foot beyond the eight inches that existed in real life. This in itself pretty much destroys the boundaries of realism. At what point do giant-vs.-midget marriages become visually ludicrous? What if Elordi was 6’7″ and Spaeny was 4’10”, or separated by 21 inches? Spaney is too shrimpy to begin with. She’s the size of a nine-year-old.

I haven’t read Priscilla’s book, but it reportedly presents a well-scrubbed portrait of her sexual life with Elvis. Some biographers believe that Presley was almost immediately intimate with Priscilla, who was 14 when they met in Germany, when Presley was serving in the Army. Presley manager Colonel Tom Parker claimed that their relationship was chaste and proper until Priscilla came of age…HE says bullshit.

According to Alanna Nash‘s “Baby, Let’s Play House“, a seemingly credible, well-written 2009 book, reports that the sexually insecure Presley was totally into “cherries,” as he called them — girls who were barely pubescent.

The same view is held by Presley biographers Susan Finstad, author of “Child Bride,” and Joel Williamson, author of “A Southern Life”.

Presley was apparently more into erotic fiddling around than becoming an actual conquistador. But carnal knowledge is carnal knowledge.

A 14 year-old named Frances Forbes and two girlfriends (Gloria Mowel, Heidi Heissen) participated in “pajama parties” with Presley, Nash’s book says. “Elvis didn’t pay any attention to me [when I was 13], but when I was 14, he noticed me,’ Forbes says. “14 was a magical age with Elvis. It really was.”

In 1960 Presley reportedly fiddled around with Sandy Ferra, the 14-year-old daughter of the owner of the Cross Bow nightclub in L.A.’s Panorama City. In 1974, when Presley was 39, he took up with 14-year-old Reeca Smith.

“Jailbait Confidential,” posted on 10.30.22: If you’re talking inappropriate violations of way-too-young girls in the 1950s, is there really a substantial difference between 23-year-old Jerry Lee Lewis marrying a 13-year-old cousin (obviously not cool but then Lewis and Myra Gale Brown stayed together for 12 years) and 24 year-old Elvis Presley doing the nasty with Priscilla Beaulieu in 1959, when she was 14?

The difference is that Presley and manager Tom Parker kept the particulars under wraps while Lewis stupidly admitted everything.

From “Jerry Lee Lewis’s Life of Rock and Roll and Disrepute,” a 10.29.22 New Yorker piece by Tom Zito:

Reported around 5 pm (6.20) by Nicholas Bogel-Burroughs for the N.Y. Times: “A spokesman for OceanGate confirms that Stockton Rush, its chief executive, was piloting the company’s vessel that is lost in the North Atlantic. All five occupants have now been identified.”

Reported around 3 pm (6.20) by Emma Bubola and Anushka Patil of N.Y. Times: “Hamish Harding, a British explorer aboard the submersible missing in the North Atlantic, acknowledged in a 2021 interview that he had taken on deep-sea missions in the past knowing that rescue would not be an option.

“If something goes wrong, you are not coming back,” Harding told the Indian newsmagazine The Week after he made a record-setting trip to Challenger Deep, the furthest depths of the Mariana Trench. At almost seven miles, the Mariana Trench is far deeper than the Titanic site that the submersible was set to visit, which is about two-and-a half miles down.”

Journalists and editors being fallible, articles in the entertainment realm sometimes contain wrongos. Misspelled titles and names, misleading plot synopses, bad release dates, etc. What matters is how quickly the errors are spotted and corrected.

Last Saturday (6.17) Vanity Fair‘s Jordan Hoffman posted a fluff piece about the half-century-old relationship between Godfather collaborators Francis Coppola and Diane Keaton (“Diane Keaton Asks Francis Ford Coppola a Question 50+ Years in the Making“). Hoffman flubbed the title of Coppola’s forthcoming Megalopolis, spelling it Megapolis.

This wasn’t a felony. But his Vanity Fair editors never fixed it, and now this dumb-ass misspelling has been sitting on the site for four days — Saturday (6.17), Sunday (6.18), Monday (6.19) and today (6.20). It would have been mildly embarassing if the Vanity Fair editors hadn’t corrected the misspelling until Sunday, let’s say, but four days of inaction? These guys are out to lunch.

This signifies something, I fear. It probably signifies that people don’t care very much about Megalopolis. If they did somebody would’ve spotted the error last weekend. (If a journalist had written an article in early 1979 about Coppola’s forthcoming Apothecary Now, an editor would have instantly fixed it.) This probably means that when Megalopolis finally opens, people are going to watch it listlessly, half-attuned, perhaps in a slumbering mode.

For days and days the French Connection censorship story has confounded everyone. The “whodunit” factor, I mean, although it’s been obvious for several days that the nine-second deletion was done at the behest of director William Friedkin (formerly known as Hurricane Billy).

Has the 87-year-old Friedkin gone silly in his old age? Bending over in obeisance to the wokesters? I personally think —- all due respect —- that this formerly ballsy, gold-standard helmer should be roasted on a spit for censoring his own film. It sets a terrible precedent.

Last Wednesday (6.14) I summed it all up. The bizarre deletion of that brief French Connection scene (’71) has apparently been done with Friedkin’s approval or at his behest….good heavens!

On Friday, 6.9, HE commenter “The Multiplex” reported that “in Disney’s DCP asset list the currently-streaming version of The French Connection is listed as ‘2021 William Friedkin v2.'” This info, I noted, “is seemingly fortified by a statement from The Criterion Channel, passed along by “The Connection” in another 6.9.23 HE story titled “HE to Friedkin re Censorship Fracas.” CC’s statement said that “according to our licensor [Disney], this is a ‘Director’s Edit‘ of the film.”

So that’s it. Shame on that Friedkin mofo. And yet all the while several HE commenters have insisted that the issue won’t be settled until Glenn “the last word” Kenny has reported on it. I had expected Kenny’s piece to appear last week, but it didn’t. Behold…it finally surfaced this morning (“Who Censored ‘The French Connection’?” Is A Case That Only Popeye Doyle Can Solve“), and yet — hold on to your grief and your weltschmerz, Kenny fans! —the article contains no Friedkin smoking gun.

After reciting the same evidence that I reported several days ago — “2021 William Friedkin V2.” plus Criterion calling the censored version a “Director’s Edit” — Kenny merely says that “this ostensibly puts the ball in Friedkin’s court.” Ostensibly?

Kenny adds that (a) he’s “reached out to Friedkin through CAA and received no response” and that (b) “a film asset manager I’ve asked about this matter has reached out to Friedkin personally and received a response from Friedkin’s personal assistant saying basically nothing.” And the name of that tune is The Guess Who’s “No Sugar Tonight (In My Coffee).”

My favorite Kenny passage in the whole piece: “Jeffrey Wells, as mentioned, first brought the issue up on June 3rd, in a post titled “Criterion’s ‘French Connection’ Censorship.”

“Wells likes to cultivate a barrel-chested, combative, curmudgeonly air in his writings. (Commenting on the blanket of orange wildfire smoke that recently enveloped Manhattan, he shrugged it off, stating, “You should try breathing Hanoi air on a shitty day. Tough guys only.”) He’s long had differences with Criterion’s physical product practices, over issues like aspect-ratios and color timing. He almost invariably couches his complaints in ad hominem terms, and this French Connection business allowed him to really go to town in that respect.

“In one of several subsequent posts commemorating the Twitter rage over what many were still calling Criterion’s censorship of Friedkin’s film, Wells instructed the company’s president to ‘blow it out your ass,’ never specifying the “it” to which he referred. As with the inference that Criterion is some kind of ‘woke’ company, Wells believes that the label represents what he calls a ‘dweeb’ sensibility, and is populated by people who would more than likely snub him at receptions and on movie queues. And honestly, on the latter count, he’s probably not wrong, although not necessarily for the reasons he thinks.”