I’ll tell ya where. A black and an Asian dude turn up at the 1:24 mark so let’s not hear any shit talk about He’s Just Not That Into You (New Line, 2.6.09) being some kind of white-ass, whiter-than-white heart of darkness romcom. 15 years ago, and it feels like a half-century. The makers of this film knew they should’ve blacked it up more, but they dropped the ball.

Yesterday New Yorker critic Richard Brody posted the following comparison between Barbie and 2001: A Space Odyssey (which Barbie briefly spoofed, of course, by aping the “Dawn of Man” sequence):

This is primarily a political tweet, of course. Brody is giving Barbie director Greta Gerwig a sympathetc fistbump after she was snubbed for a Best Director Oscar nomination last Tuesday.

I also think Brody likes to throw around eccentric, extreme opinions. Does he really, actually think Barbie is a “better” film than Stanley Kubrick’s 1968 mastepiece? Maybe, but I doubt it. I think he mainly wants the congnoscenti and the wokerati to consider that he might be the Albert Einstein of film critics…that he’s seeing things on a white-light, laser-beam level no one else has quite managed…that he’s some kind of Rasputin-like genius.

I understand that sometimes the best writing happens when you don’t think it through that much in advance. Just go with it, jump off a cliff and see where it all lands. But once you get into the afore-mentioned Rasputin provocation game (not a fact but a perception on my part) what you write becomes more performative than persuasive.

Dev Patel‘s Monkey Man (aka “John Wick in Mumbai“) is not a Hollywood Elsewhere-type film. Did I even need to write that?

Monkey Man completed shooting in early March of ’21. or roughly 34 months ago. Why did the producers need three years before it was ready for release? Netflix had originally expected to release it in ’22, then it was pulled from their lineup. They sold it to Universal last year. That studio will release it on 4.5.24.

You know it has problems.

Actual narration excerpt from Monkey Man (1:17 to 1:21): “Every day I’ve prayed for a way to protect the weak.”

Ditto (:20 to :36): “A demon king and his army…they brought fire and terror to the land until they faced the protector of the people…the white monkey.”

Monkey Man is obviously bottom-of-the-barrel pulp exploitation, aimed at action-fan guttersnipes…the lowest of the low. It actually looks more like John Wick meets RRR sans musical scenes.

Logline: “A recently released ex-felon living in India struggles to adjust to a world of corporate greed and eroding spiritual values.”

Patel directed, produced (along with many others), stars, wrote the story and co-wrote the script (along with Paul Angunawela and John Collee).

HE thinks it will be a better thing if American Fiction‘s Sterling K. Brown wins the Best Supporting Actor Oscar, and in so doing denies Barbie‘s Ryan Gosling his moment in the sun. Because the outraged reactions to Greta Gerwig not being nominated for Best Director have been excessive, and Gosling, I feel, needs to be disciplined for throwing fuel on the fire.

Now, appropriately, there’s a pushback against that pushback. No whining or stamping your feet if you’re not nominated in your category. Suck it in, congratulate the nominees and let it go. Let the caning of Gosling be a lesson to all future would-be complainers.

“We’re just a shittier people than we used to be…sorry.” — Bill Maher, last night’s “New Rules” rant.

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The vast majority of well-regarded films shot in frigid temperatures share a basic visual trait — snowscapes.

The highest ranking members of this fraternity include Fargo, The Revenant, The Hateful Eight, The Dead Zone, the ‘51 and ‘82 versions of The Thing, The Shining, Cliffhanger, Snowpiercer, Everest, Misery, Society of the Snow and, last but not necessarily least, the currently unfolding True Detective: Night Country.

But there have been damn few shot in miserably cold climes that aren’t swamped in whiteness, and there may, in fact, be only two of these: Elia Kazan’s On The Waterfront (‘54) and William Freidkin’s The French Connection (‘71).

I’m not saying there aren’t more that qualify in this regard; I’m saying I can’t think of any.

I realize that only a morally bankrupt admirer of a director who behaved selfishly and hurtfully 45 years ago would even flirt with paying to see Roman Polanski’s WWII-era masterpiece, but…

Native American history, identity and (if the New Academy Kidz along with Variety’s Matt Donnelly have their way) inevitability.

Sorry but the concept of merit needs to step aside; bigger, more important social fish need to be fried.

But Leonardo DiCaprio never had a shot at a Best Actor nom. No way. Certainly not after that “idiot” quote from Paul Schrader got around.

No more Iron Eyes Cody-resembling Native American mannequins wearing deerskin and moccasins, living in forest-shrouded teepees and armed with spears and bows-and-arrows….displays of this sort in various museums are now history, thanks to the sensitive policies of the Biden administration.

Perhaps museums could replace these horrific displays with depictions of suburban habitats of middle-class Americans during the Eisenhower, Kennedy and LBJ administrations? You know…white-bread types watching 18-inch black and white TVs while eating dinners of meat loaf and mashed potatoes?

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When I was a young buck I had this primal thing for Jovan musk cologne, which hit stores sometime in the mid ‘70s. The scent did something to me, and perhaps for me. I had this possibly bogus idea, you see, that occasional Jovan slap-ons might have upped my batting average, which was in the .350 to .400 range during the Ford, Carter and Reagan administrations.

Yesterday I bought a reduced-cost bottle of the stuff (CVS discount) and the scent just time-travelled me…whoooosh! Decades were erased in a flash. I was suddenly Marty McFly, driving my 1975 VW Fastback and wearing flared jeans and puka shells and Frye boots. Aromas are as good for time travel as Rod Taylor’s valour-seat, spinning-wheel device in George Pal’s The Time Machine (‘60).

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From Doug Liman‘s 1.24.24 Deadline essay, in which he explains his decision to not attend Road House‘s SXSW premiere on March 8th:

“The action [in Road House] is ground-breaking. And Jake Gyllenhaal gives a career-defining performance in a role he was born to play.

“Alas, Amazon has no interest in supporting cinemas. Amazon will exclusively stream Road House on Amazon’s Prime. Amazon asked me and the film community to trust them and their public statements about supporting cinemas, and then they turned around and are using Road House to sell plumbing fixtures.

“That hurts the filmmakers and stars of Road House who don’t share in the upside of a hit movie on a streaming platform.

“And they deprive Jake Gyllenhaal — who gives a career-best performance — the opportunity to be recognized come award season. But the impact goes far beyond this one movie. This could be industry shaping for decades to come.”

HE to Liman: I’ve always loved Jake and I’ve loved many of your films (Swingers, Go, The Bourne Identity, Fair Game, Edge of Tomorrow, American Made), but there’s no way in hell Jake’s Road House performance will be part of the Best Actor discussion at the end of this year. You can’t play a Zen-minded bouncer in a Florida Keys bar and expect any kind of award-season attention…forget it, man.

For what it’s worth, I’d love to see Road House in a theatre.