As gender transformations go, Larry Wachowski‘s — she’s now called Lana — hasn’t turned out too badly. Not drop-dead ravishing but moderately appealing in a no-big-deal, sitting-around-Starbucks sort of way. The shot on the right (posted by Us Weekly) is the first time I’ve seen Larry/Lana looking 100% female. If a sense of fulfillment and/or happiness is part of the dividend then it’s all to the good, right?

(l. to r.) Geeky heavy-cat Larry about a decade ago; transformative Larry about six years ago; Lana snapped at LAX on 4.17.

To be totally honest, if I saw Lana coming towards me in an airport corridor I’d probably say to myself, “Wow…no hips. And her feet are too big.” I need a kind of hippy-breasty hourglass thing or it doesn’t work for me. But she looks relatively normal. Just another hard-working girl.

Early last October it was revealed that Jim Sheridan‘s Brothers, a remake of Susanne Bier‘s original 2004 film, was being bumped by distributor MGM out of its 12.4.08 slot to either a late summer or fall ’09 release. Producer Mike DeLuca confirmed this and also told me that the plan was to take the domestic drama to the ’09 Cannes Film Festival.

Then I ran into Sheridan several weeks ago in Manhattan and he told me Cannes was a no-go, due to one or more of the actors (the costars are Jake Gyllenhaal, Tobey Maguire and Natalie Portman) either being against promoting the film there or being unavailable for same. And then yesterday came the news that Ryan Kavanaugh‘s Relativity Media has cut a deal to supply Lionsgate with five films annually, and that Brothers will be the first to open under this new pact. Dave McNary‘s 4.27 Variety story said only that Sheridan’s film would be released “later this year,” which doesn’t sound like summer to me.

David Benioff‘s script is about a younger “bad” brother (Gyllenhaal) stepping into the familial shoes of his older “good” brother (Maguire) after the latter disappears during an enemy skirmish in Afghanistan. Portman plays the wife-mother whose loyalties shift, or at least adapt to new realities. Sam Shepard plays Gyllenhaal and Maguire’s dad.

I’m not saying IMDB reader comments can be trusted, but a few correspondents have claimed to have attended research screenings of Brothers in recent months and found it satisfying. This plus the quality of Bier’s film plus Sheridan’s pedigree tells me it must be at least a moderately decent if not better-than-decent film. But there’s always a reason when a movie gets repeatedly postponed and kicked around. Here’s hoping otherwise.

Yesterday morning a 747 Air Force One and an F16 fighter jet buzzed lower Manhattan at low altitude, causing thousands to fear the worst. The reason for the flyover was a photo op. This prompted Darth Mojo to write this morning that “not only was this stunt thoughtless and cruel — it was totally unnecessary. Hasn’t the government heard of CGI? Why didn’t the guys who wanted shots of a Manhattan flyover just call Hollywood? They can do fake planes like nobody’s business.”

Well, I’ve seen Marshall Curry‘s Racing Dreams (i.e., having been urged to do so by L.A. Times columnist Scott Feinberg) and I have to be honest and say that despite it being a well-crafted portrayal of a world I didn’t know (and have never wanted to know), it alienated and creeped me out because of the NASCAR culture and lifestyle issues it brings to the fore.

Racing Dreams director Marshall Curry (second from right), exec producers Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson (left), Dany Garcia (left of Curry), and Bristol Baughan (right of Curry), as well the subjects of the doc (l. to .r) — Annabeth Barnes, Brandon Warren, Josh Hobson. Taken outside Tribeca Film Festival screening on Saturday.

Curry shoots and cuts like a pro and knows how to charm and engage and make it all come together within the confines of the material, but if you see NASCAR world as a ghastly cultural prison, as I and Will Ferrell certainly do, then it’s hard not to see Racing Dreams as a mixed-bag thing, at best.

It’s about three nice kids — Annabeth Barnes, Josh Hobson, Brandon Warren — going through a year of NASCAR Little League, and the various issues and challenges they and their parents are confronted with along the way. It’s mainly about positive and dedicated parenting and the teaching of solid values. I admired and identified with the parents (and in one instance a grandfather and grandmother) doing everything they can to help their kids make it in a very tough realm, and within these limits Racing Dreams is fine, I suppose, as a junior-sized Hoop Dreams on wheels. It’s well-cut, well-ordered, and stirring as far as it goes.

But I couldn’t help feeling sorry for the kids all through it. Here, I thought to myself, are three good drivers with skill and desire but doomed to live in NASCAR world for the rest of their lives. They’re in a cultural Devil’s Island and they don’t even know it, and they probably never will.

I trust I’m not the only urban-residing blue-state guy who despises the whole blue-collar NASCAR thing — muscle cars, all-over machismo, burning oil like there’s no tomorrow and certainly no global warming, a culture that loves its barbecued ribs and cans of beer and chili with ketchup and is totally about fortifying its own bullshit while keeping the outside world out, all the guys wearing Van Dykes and Fu-Manchu moustaches and everyone just enjoyin’ the noise and the exhaust fumes and the fast drivin’ and occasional wipeouts and rollovers and the everybody puttin’ on the sunscreen in the bleachers….hell, man… yeehawww!

Indiewire reported yesterday that Racing Dreams got a “five minute standing ovation at the end” and that “execs from Fox Searchlight, Magnolia, and Sheila Nevins from HBO were all in the audience.” It might play in shitkicker country but I don’t see it working out all that well in blue territory because it’s just too damn strange and alienating. Where’s the upside in succeeding in a world like this? At the end of the day it’s still a culture that pours blobs of ketchup into bowls of chili. If by clapping my hands three times I could eradicate NASCAR and the NASCAR muscle-car mentality, I would clap my hands three times.

Feinberg told me it’s “definitely gonna be nominated for the Best Feature Documentary Oscar and could well win.” Well, I don’t think it’s a shoo-in at all. I know for certain I will never sit through it again.

Anybody who uses “Mr.” before speaking or writing the name of a famous person is a small-time thinker and an old-time Charlie. (Photo snapped in Westwood within the last 24 to 36 hours by Jeffrey Ressner, formerly of Time and Politico.)

I’ve just reminded myself of another under-valued ’70s film — Bob Rafelson‘s Stay Hungry (1977). An eccentric Southern-style comedy about family wealth, corruption and the body-building world, it starred Jeff Bridges, Sally Field, R.G. Armstrong and — in his first significant acting role — Arnold Schwarzenegger.

Charmingly oddball comedies of this sort, the socially observant kind about values and growth arcs that began with Preston Sturges in the ’40s, have all but disappeared from the landscape. Robert Zemeckis‘ Used Cars is another comedy of this type. What do we have today? Big corporate CG comedies directed by guys like Shawn Levy. How many comic directors with a semblance of edge and attitude and social conscience are working today besides David O. Russell?

“Quirky is the keyword here — but quirky in a highly entertaining way,” critic Marshall Fine wrote about Stay Hungry. “Bridges is a not-so-good ol’ boy. Wealthy and aimless and involved in a real estate deal with a group of high-powered partners, his only responsibility is to evict the tenants of one building that needs to be torn down and has a gym filled with body builders.

“Disconnected from everything in his life, he feels a bond to these outsiders, particularly the surprisingly articulate, fiddle-playing Schwarzenegger. He also finds himself attracted to the blue-collar gym employee played by Field and in so doing becomes an impediment to his own business partners.

“Oddly funny and affecting — a sleeper that never had much of a release.”

I just had a conversation about how being hungry has always been a great incentive to do good work and being too well fed has always had the opposite effect. Nothing new in this, but when I mentioned the curious case of the once-great Cameron Crowe and how he seemed to go off the rails after Elizabethtown, the guy said “I think he got too rich. Too comfortable, too much luxury, too many friends in the same position with the same comforts, and after a while the fire just simmers down.”

The Providence Journal and the Ivy Film Festival website declined to run anything about the Jack Nicholson-Robert Evans-Brad Grey-Peter Bart‘s panel discussion at Brown University last Saturday (which I had considered attending until practical considerations intervened). But Variety‘s recently laid-off Dade Hayes attended and filed a report yesterday afternoon.

After nearly 22 years of reviewing films for the Charlotte Observer, Lawrence Toppman has been taken off the beat and will concentrate on the barely existing Charlotte theater scene and start an arts column of some kind. “Except for the Orlando Sentinel‘s Roger Moore and another guy in Miami, I was the last critic at a daily paper in the Southeast reviewing as often as I did,” Toppman wrote last Friday. To supplement his reduced income Toppman will now do occasional deliveries and pick up sandwiches and coffee for the remaining staffers at lunch hour…kidding! But not that much.

Eight cases of swine flu reported in New York City means no touching anyone for any reason and frequent hand-washings (and carrying around sanitary towlettes). No Michael Jackson surgical masks, but let’s see how it goes.