For me at least.

From Brett Easton Ellis’s recollection of seeing The Shining for the very first time on 5.23.80, at the Westwood Village:

As I began to glumly settle into an awareness of the kind of film Cocaine Bear is — a film that’s weirdly cottonball and barren but at the same time not a piece of shit and which is reasonably well-framed, cut, written and directed…as I took stock of what it was up to, I didn’t know what to make of it. Really…I was lost.

I can report that I laughed twice, which should count for something.

I honestly don’t know what to say except that CB is some kind of dopey–ass hybrid deadpan comic gorefest, and yet one that’s chortle-worthy at times and even touches bottom once or twice. “This is a wank, a waste of time,” I was muttering, “but it’s not that awful.”

I found myself lamenting, in fact, that director Elizabeth Banks and screenwriter Jimmy Warden had decided to go for dumb laughs — if they’d only committed to making some kind of dry, half-realistic ensemble docu-dramedy, CB might have amounted to something (though I can’t quite imagine what that would be exactly).

I’ll tell you this much — the late Ray Liotta plays it totally straight as a furrowed-brow drug dealer, and I felt really badly that he wasn’t allowed to play a nogoodnik of greater consequence, or at least that he wasn’t given better lines.

Alden Ehrenreich (whose hair is going gray already!) plays Liotta’s half-heartedly criminal son, and I swear to God he’s more compelling in this role than he was in Solo or Rules Don’t Apply.

The steadily low-key O’Shea Jackson Jr. is wasted, and that bummed me out. Ditto Keri Russell as a good mom searching the forest for her 13-year-old daughter (Brooklyn Prince, who of course looks nothing like Russell)…she also plays it straight like Ehrenreich and Liotta.

I just wish Banks hadn’t tried to goof her way through it. I wish she’d made this film in a Steven Soderbergh-type way. That’s all I’m saying.

Hollywood Elsewhere will be submitting to Elizabeth Banks‘ Cocaine Bear sometime around 5:25 pm eastern. Call it 5:30. I’ll post some kind of half-assed, lean-and-mean, “don’t fuck with me” reaction by 8 pm…okay, no later than 9. Meanwhile the early birds are saying it’s not awful, “reasonably silly”, “gonzo goofy,” etc.

HE readers know that Martin Scorsese‘s Killers of the Flower Moon will almost certainly have its big debut at the 2023 Cannes Film Festival. So what follows is mostly water under the bridge.

I know that I popped in for a little taste on 7.26 (i.e., seven months ago) after Mike Fleming and Justin Kroll reported that Flower Moon would be skipping a late ’22 release in favor of “a possible ‘global showcase premiere’ at the 2023 Cannes Film Festival.”

On Jan. 12 World of Reel‘s Jordan Ruimy reported that “two sources” had told him Flower Moon would play Cannes.

I was told privately on February 1st that this would indeed happen.

The last columnist to report same was Showbiz 411‘s Roger Friedman, on Monday, 2.20.

And now (Thursday, 2.23) Variety‘s Elsa Keslassy and Justin Kroll have posted a Cannes caboose story, timidly reporting that Killer Moon is “eyeing” a Cannes debut. Their story qualifies three times that the Cannes booking isn’t 100% firmed, but it is, I’ve been told. Plane fares and hotels are booked — done deal. Probably in an out-of-competition slot.

Nearly three months ago bbc.com’s Nicholas Barber explained why Top Gun: Maverick is the only film that deservers to win the Best Picture Oscar….okay, he didn’t say that but he might as well have.

Barber also made it clear that anyone who votes instead for Everything Everywhere All At Once is a cinematic philistine and a sworn enemy of the Movie Godz ethos…okay, he didn’t say that but he might as well have.

Barber: “Top Gun: Maverick was a romantic-comedy-drama-action-thriller – which is another way of saying that it was simply a Hollywood movie that everyone could enjoy. To people who had stayed away from cinemas since before the pandemic, TG:M felt like a warm welcome home.

“Still, it was a bittersweet feeling — as if we were being welcomed home, but we had to leave again soon. Even while we were cheering, laughing and crying at the film, we were aware, on some level, that it was a one-off. Top Gun: Maverick won’t set any trends because it isn’t part of a trend. It’s unique, the last of its kind — just as its hero was the last of his. It marked the end of an era. But as long as the film was on the screen, we could tell ourselves that it hadn’t ended yet.

“The screenwriters put it best. ‘The future is coming, and you’re not in it,’ says Ed Harris says to Tom Cruise. ‘Your kind is heading for extinction.’

“‘Maybe so, sir,’ says Cruise. ‘But not today.'”

Will you listen to this freshman kid’s voice? Remind you of anyone? Ben Shapiro‘s perhaps? The reedy-voiced kid says that he wrote “ALL LIVES MATTER” on a blackboard and was soon after told by school supervisors that this sentiment is politically problematic (i.e., racist). This is why we need Seth Rogen to school this little prick.

Freshman in high school SMOKES the school board. pic.twitter.com/Gv489lQqq5

— Liz Wheeler (@Liz_Wheeler) February 22, 2023

Herewith David Thomson ‘s assessment of Tom Hanks, written 22 years ago. The words are mean but Thomson isn’t wrong. Except, that is, when he writes that Jonathan Demme’s Philadelphia (‘93) and particularly Hanks’ “Andy Beckett” performance don’t really convey “courage, convictions, or some resolution of what [the film is] about.” Perhaps so, but you know who does bring that stuff? Denzel Washington.

Posted on 4.14.15:

In Matt Ruskin‘s Boston Strangler (Hulu, 3.17), Boston Record-American reporters Loretta McLaughlin (Keira Knightley) and Jean Cole (Carrie Coon) combat sexism and corruption among fellow Boston journalists and within the police ranks in order to investigate a serial killer who later became known as the Boston Strangler. Mclaughlin and Cole have to fight tooth and nail, but their diligence gradually prevails.

Boston Strangler is apparently a one-off feature.

In Ali Abbasi‘s Holy Spider, journalist Arezoo Rahimi (Zar Amir Ebrahimi) arrives in the Iranian Holy City of Mashhad to investigate several murders of local street prostitutes. She uncovers evidence that suggests a serial killer, but her hunches are not taken seriously by male journalists and policemen. Cultural misiogyny blocks or restrains at every turn, but by posing as a prostitute and placing herself in danger Rahimi manages to identify and incriminate the killer, Saeed Hanaei (Mehdi Bajestani). Soon after police arrest him.

So that’s a major, get-outta-here ixnay on Quills, a kind of grumpy wave-away when it comes to About Schmidt and a thanks-but-no-thanks in the matter of Vanilla Sky, Donnie Darko and American Psycho, and I can’t even remember Bully and Igby Goes Down. But approvals for the other eleven, and especially for Sexy Beast and Adaptation.

For the concept, the lighting, the wardrobe…each and every aspect. Usually you’re asking for trouble if you pose someone against hazy flooded sunlight, but this time it works.

My honest opinion of Jack Lemmon (1925-2001) is that he was always an engaging actor and sometimes an extraordinary one, but his performances began to feel overly neurotic and mannered when he hit his late 30s, or roughly from ’64 onward. His best period began with Mr. Roberts (’55) and ended with The Fortune Cookie (’66) — an eleven-year stretch. His peak years amounted to only four — Operation Mad Ball (’57) to Some Like It Hot (’59) and The Apartment (’60).

Posted on 9.8.19: “Lemmon was the hottest guy in Hollywood after starring in the one-two punch of Some Like It Hot (’59) and The Apartment (’60), both directed and co-written by Billy Wilder. Because the latter mixed ascerbic humor and frankly sexual situations, Lemmon was offered almost nothing but frothy sex comedies for five years following The Apartment.

The only decent film he made during this period was Blake Edwards‘ Days of Wine and Roses (’62).

“The sex comedies were The Wackiest Ship in the Army (’60), The Notorious Landlady (’62), Irma la Douce (’63, minor Wilder), Under the Yum Yum Tree (’63), Good Neighbor Sam (’64) and How To Murder Your Wife (’65). He also costarred that year in The Great Race, a period costume comedy about arch humor, empty artifice and scenic splendor.

“Lemmon finally broke out of that shallow, synthetic cycle with Wilder’s The Fortune Cookie (’66). Not grade-A Wilder but certainly half-decent, and a great boost for Walter Matthau. And then Luv, The Odd Couple, The April Fools, The Out-of-Towners, Kotch, Avanti! and Save the Tiger. And then he hit another wall with Wilder’s The Front Page.

“The Lemmonisms are all over Save The Tiger (’72), but five or six scenes in that film are true and on-target, and that ain’t hay. His performance in The China Syndrome also made me snap to attention. Ditto Ed Horman in Missing.”

I relate to the Lemmon profile in David Thomson‘s “The New Biographical Dictionary of Film” (2002 edition), page 513:

“I have to confess that sometimes one squeeze of Lemmon is enough to set my teeth on edge. There’s no doubt that, as a younger actor, Lemmon could be very funny. He is very skilled, meticulous and yet — it seems to me — an abject, ingratiating parody of himself.

“Long ago worry set in. The detail of his work turned fussy, nagging and anal. His mannerisms are now like a miser’s coins. There have been a few films — like James Foley‘s Glengarry Glen Ross (’92) — that used this demented worryguts as necessary material. And Lemmon is very good in that film. But far too often, he stops his own roles and starts preaching anxiety, leading everything away from life and into the jitters.”