Anyone who says “even though Roman Polanski is a child rapist, The Ghost Writer is a pretty good film” is, in my eyes, contemptible. The absolute lowest level of film criticism or appreciation is to assign a lack of merit or to attempt a tarnishing of some kind by condemning a filmmaker for a single act (as opposed to a pattern) that is morally offensive. John Huston made me a cuckold in 1947 and ’48 by seducing my wife so Treasure of the Sierra Madre…well, it’s not a bad film but boy, that Huston!

Since most artists throughout history have been known to have their failings, weaknesses or unfortunate obsessions, assessing a film (or any work of art) by the above-described standards is the worst form of pedestrian thinking. I’m saying this with a recent sample of Deathtongue Groupie-think running around my brain, and with the knowledge that Polanski has just been handed the Best Director award at the Berlin Film Festival.

“Perhaps the most shocking element in Luis Bunuel‘s L’Age d’Or pertains to its eroticism, which, though tame by today’s standards, is peculiarly, disturbingly degrading. Or perhaps it’s the sequence, based on the Marquis de Sade‘s ‘120 Days of Sodom,’ in which the chief sadistic erotomaniac turns out to be none other than Jesus Christ. Though much of the film is comic, and some moments may even seem laughable, the joke, now as then, is largely on us.” — The New Yorker‘s Richard Brody on 2.16.

L’Age d’Or is in public domain and available both to stream and download online.

“The narrative for The Hurt Locker is, ‘We’re the underdog…we will allow you to feel great about awarding the first female director ever…you like us, you really really like us…and there’s not a lick of CG in our masterful little film…the kind of film Hollywood should be making but forgets to…send a message that you want more quality films.’

“Good story. And a great film with great work by director Bigelow and on down the line. But the only reason this narrative works this year is because of the other great narrative…

“‘Over 2.5 billion dollars. We are the biggest f-ing film in history. We are leading the way to all the things that keep this town working. You want to raise ticket prices? People were willing to pay $3 premiums in a recession to watch our movie…at least 200 million people dug deeper into their pockets. You want to see how the future will work? Forget about the blue people and look at the ability to create a completely believable, living breathing photo real universe. We’re doing over $150 million in China, folks…land of the illegal DVD…almost 4 times the previous record holder for an American film. International is where the money is…and we have the Godzilla of international grosses…$1.7 billion and counting…

“‘And you heard about that budget? Not only wasn’t it the most expensive film ever, but by breaking through technologically, the film opens the door to films with smaller budgets and ambitions to use this technology at a price, much as CG has become standard in most studio movies, even if only to clean things up. (And yeah, Hurt Locker… that includes you!) When you look back at what film got Best Picture 20 years from now, what movie will be remembered most fondly…what film is a landmark? And you can thank us for the ratings that might save the Academy’s deal with ABC at something close to the current price, thanks.'”

— from David Poland‘s 2.18 “20 Weeks to Oscar” column

Websters.com has no recognition of/definition for “behanding.” (“Do you mean beheading?”, the site asks.) If Martin McDonagh hadn’t decided to call his latest play A Behanding in Spokane no one on the face of the planet would have ever used the term. (If your right leg has been severed have you been belegged?) I’m fated to see this alleged black comedy, which costars Christopher Walken, Anthony Mackie, Zoe Kazan — no! — and Sam Rockwell, sometime in March.

Sean Penn is reportedly looking at time for this? He didn’t even swing at the guy — two kicks, “get out, get out,” a snarly-dog expression. That’s absolutely nothing.

I’m not condoning physical brutality, but paparazzi and the editors who pay them are vermin — who other than terrorists and child molestors are more deserving of wrath and agitation and unpleasantness than they?

You think every celebrity who’s ever been dogged by paparazzi isn’t cheering Penn on when they watch this?

“The Ghost Writer is a piece of thrilling cinematic creepiness, beautiful in its gloom and knuckle-crackingly sinister in its pacing that puts it right up there with the best things Roman Polanski has ever done — say Repulsion, Rosemary’s Baby and his stupendous Knife in the Water,” writes Daily Beast columnist Simon Schama.

“It seems amazing that this study in many kinds of contemporary isolation and confinement, including those of the public glare, was written and filmed before Polanski himself became involuntarily re-acquainted with those themes, though perhaps the editing might have been sharpened by his experience.

“Mostly Polanski and novelist/screenwriter Robert Harris have caught the worlds they are representing: the publishing industry with old-style editors desperately hanging on amid the Bottom Line butchers; the better-paranoid-than-porous security detail surrounding Pierce Brosnan‘s Adam Lang — with complete authenticity. There’s a clammy dampness hanging over the whole enterprise, and I don’t mean the chowder.

“So forget the real-world echoes — or at least don’t let them get in the way of immersing yourself in the gloomy joy of this brilliant movie. And how could you not surrender to a film in which the GPS voice is a crucial character? Would Alfred Hitchcock have liked that? Hey, is Massachusetts rainy?”

The Ghost Writer has a Rotten Tomatoes rating of 79%. Who are the naysayers? The N.Y. Post’s Kyle Smith, MTV’s Kurt Loder, N.Y. Observer‘s Sara Vilkomerson, Cinemablend‘s Katey Rich and, of course, Variety‘s Derek Elley.

From Time Out New York‘s David Fear, Joshua Rothkopf and Keith Uhlich, a list of the 50 Most Deserving Oscar Winners of All Time. The cinematography for Barry Lyndon, Days of Heaven and The Third Man. The musical score for The Sting. Humphrey Bogart ‘s performance in The African Queen and Robert De Niro‘s in Raging Bull. The editing for The French Coonnection. The sound for The Exorcist and Apocalypse Now.

There was an LA screening last night of Oliver Stone‘s Wall Street 2: Money Never Sleeps (20th Century Fox, 4.23). A friend of a friend attended. The first blast (i.e., from the guy who talked to the guy) read as follows: “I’ve heard it’s a strong return to form for both Stone and Douglas. It also proves Shia can play with the big boys. A surprisingly satirical movie. It’s the first time I’ve heard a Stone movie described as ‘fun.'”

Michael Douglas, Shia Lebouf in Wall Street 2: Money Never Sleeps.

Satirical? Really? I asked for a bit more, and the following came in an hour ago: “It’s an entertaining movie with Shia a better match for Douglas than Sheen, who was a stiff. It’s a sardonic, slightly satirical film with Josh Brolin and particularly Frank Langella scoring well.

“Stone handles the show without either his heavy left hand or his neutered right one that made W not what we’d hoped it. Douglas is the big-ticket item, of course, and revisiting this character is clearly a joy for him as he navigates his way through a world where he’s a player holding a very different hand. Gekko is dealing with stocks while taking his own, and seems like a cobra who’s conflicted about whether to bite…or just charm.

“People will show up for this one, so Fox was right to get it out there quick.”

I then wrote Wall Street 2 producer Ed Pressman, who got back with the following: “Oliver’s first cut is brilliant, witty, complex and emotionally powerful. I couldn’t be happier.”

I was still kind of wondering about the slightly satirical element, so I called someone familiar with Stephen Schiff‘s original script.

“I don’t know whether you ever read Schiff’s script,” he said, “but there are definitely satirical elements in it (the chatter of the hedge-fund guys, the huge Robin Hood Foundation-like charity gala, the Dubai material, the Russian oligarch, the Asian commodities specialist with his Maybach, etc.). Of course, Oliver has always been a fairly earnest filmmaker, but I don’t think satire is particularly rare in his work.

“Natural Born Killers, whether you enjoyed it or not, is certainly satiric in intent from start to finish, and so is W. There is a lot of satiric content as well in Wall Street and Talk Radio and U Turn, and I would argue that there’s some as well in Salvador, Nixon and The Doors.

“Keep in mind, too, that a lot of satire is in the playing. A line or a scene may or may not look satirical on the page, but can be turned in that direction in the performance and even in the cutting.”

Two significant reactions have been posted in response to my 2.15 “Rally Round” piece in which I predicted deferential responses to Martin Scorsese‘s Shutter Island because of a “give Marty a pass as long as the film isn’t too bad” impulse that many older critics seem to hold dear. One is an Auteurs piece by Glenn Kenny called “Carrying Marty’s Water“; the other is a piece by Marshall Fine called “In The Tank for Scorsese?.”

Ben Kingsley, Leonardo DiCaprio, Martin Scorsese and Mark Ruffalo during filming of Shutter Island.

Significant Kenny quote: “If I say that I actively try to find things to like in Scorsese’s films, does that make me a strong Scorsese man, or his patsy, or his water-carrier? I responded very strongly to Shutter Island — but a lot of that had to do with my state of being when I saw the film twenty-two days ago. Is my reaction illegitimate?

“I attended the New York press junket for Shutter Island a couple of weeks ago (the fruits of my labors in this respect are here). Breakfasting with the cream of the television and online video critic crop, I have to say — in all honesty! — that I did detect a note of obligation in their words as I overheard many of them discuss the film. As if they didn’t particularly like it, or ‘get’ it beyond its plot machinations…but that they were going to give it a pass not just because Scorsese’s a revered American filmmaker but because Leo’s a movie star.

“I don’t, however, detect much of the same thing going on in the print reviews.”

I wrote the following to Fine after I read his piece: “I’m not questioning your integrity, Marshall. I’m saying that rooting for an admired director and perhaps bending over backwards to be nice or at least understanding is very human. We all do it. I’ve certainly done this with the Coens (except in the cases of The Ladykillers and The Man Who Wasn’t There). Everyone is prejudiced in one way or another. Nobody is impartial. The best you can hope to be is fair-minded in your dispensations.”

To which he replied: “Thanks, Jeff. I guess what I’m saying is that, while recognizing that no one is impartial, it’s still possible to be honest. Of course, I hope that each Scorsese film (or Coens or Cameron) is great; but I’m also not going to avoid expressing disappointment if it isn’t.

“I don’t take this stuff personally; I don’t take the movies personally either. But I think you do and that’s what makes your work what it is. Indeed, what I find most entertaining and occasionally infuriating about your writing, Jeff, is your absolute sense of being right.

“I have strong opinions and am not afraid to air them, but I guess I stopped worrying/caring about always being right. There is too much evidence in the world at large — and the movies in particular — that suggests that no one cares (and nothing is going to chance because of) what I think. It doesn’t mean I’m going to stop sharing what I think or believing in it, just that I no longer feel that outrage that I used to over what is an immutable fact of life. So who’s the cynic and who’s the idealist?”

All these Inglourious Basterds-may-win-the-Best-Picture-Oscar stories have become ubiquitous. In fact, if you’ve got Nicole Laporte, Patrick Goldstein, Tom O’Neil, Jack Mathews, Steve Pond and Pete Hammond saying the same thing, isn’t it fair to call it a blitzkreig?

And I’m feeling kind of hurt about this. How come I haven’t been called by Harvey Weinstein? I can bang this stuff out as well as anyone else. Here, listen: “Is this an excitement tremor or what? Inglourious Basterds is a come-from-behinder, a last-minute sprinter…breathless at the Kentucky Derby! The old ’90s Harvey is back in action! And Quentin’s no spin-slouch either!”

They haven’t called me, I’m guessing, because they see me as too much of a Hurt Locker guy. Too opposed to the baseball-bat scene, etc. But I could at least write about how Harvey has hijacked the Oscar-blog conversation. Even though, as I said two days ago, it’s mainly happening out of columnist boredom.

If I wanted to be contrarian, I could openly ask how Harvey got sop many people whose job it is to be skeptical to suddenly swig the Kool-Aid.

Or I could argue that Harvey has had an Oscar “upset” once in his career — Shakespeare in Love — and it wasn’t really an upset as the film did have the most nominations that year.

Or I could get pissy and argue that Harvey’s suggestion that actors are monolithically voting en masse for Inglourious Basterds because Quentin writes such good parts is arguably deluded if not offensive to almost everyone else in the race. I mean, to suggest that Jason Reitman or any of the other Best Picture screenwriters haven’t written good parts is like…hello?

And I could argue the idea that Inglorious Basterds is a consensus choice in the year of a preferential ballot is laughable. Isn’t any “love it or hate it” movie by nature not a consensus choice?

Or I could just quote this L.A. guy I spoke to this morning — call him a dispassionate pundit — who says that…uhm, well, actually, he goes on a bit so I’m going to give him a stand-alone HE berth. It’s in the story that follows (i.e., is right behind, even though it has a more recent time-code) this one.