[WARNING: HE regulars who routinely complain about political-minded or inside-the-Hollywood-beltway posts should just ignore this. It's just an angry reply to an ex-friend that I wrote last weekend. Don't worry about it.]
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Due to pressing work issues and whatnot, Tatiana insisted Monday morning that we drive all the way from Telluride to West Hollywood (858 miles, 13.5 hours) in a single daylight-to-darkness marathon. We left at 11:30 am and arrived at the WeHo homestead around midnight, or 1 am Telluride time. Two (or was it three?) gas-ups. No meals or leg-stretching time-outs. The worst part was the endless uphill trek between Needles and Barstow.
Most long-distance drivers succumb to acute exhaustion after seven or eight hours. Tatiana drove the first seven; I took over in mid-Arizona. Any way you slice it 13 and 1/2 hours inside a VW Beetle at 80 mph is grueling.
I’ve been through one similar experience — a coast-to-coast, Los Angeles-to-NYC marathon that lasted 52 hours. Meals and one roadside snooze but no motels. The fastest potential time is 42 hours, but the pace would be inhuman. The most agreeable way to drive long distances is to bag 400 to 500 miles per day. Less if you can afford it and have the spare tine.
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11.1, 9:05 am update: Kenneth Branagh‘s Belfast is a Telluride lock. The Toronto honchos lied.l about their world premiere, etc.
Earlier; So the Toronto Film Festival is lying about a so-called world premiere of Kenneth Branagh‘s Belfast (Focus Features, 11.12.21). The TIFF screening is slated for Sunday, 11.12.21, but it will have its actual world premiere, I’m hearing, at the Telluride Film Festival.
I can’t say “take it to the bank” because I’m not holding a 2021 Telluride Film Festival brochure in my hand as I write this, but it appears that the TIFF guys have been fabricating on this particular matter.
Hallelujah: Leonard Cohen, A Journey, A Song, which will debut at the Venice Film Festival on 9.2, will also screen in Telluride.
And Rebecca Hall‘s Passing, by the way, is not playing Telluride.
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Remember that bitchy hospital administrator in Little Miss Sunshine, the one who told the family (Greg Kinnear, Steve Carell, Toni Collette, Paul Dano, Abigail Breslin) that they couldn’t take Alan Arkin‘s body with them because of all the rules and regulations? Well, four years ago in Telluride I ran into the same kind of person. Let’s call her Ilsa, and describe her as the most reptilian and cold-blooded Airbnb host I’ve ever exchanged words with.
Posted on 9.4.17: During the just-concluded Telluride Film Festival, Tatyana and I stayed in a second-floor unit at the Mountainside Inn. The MI is a simple, clean, unpretentious operation, and not too pricey, at least by Telluride standards — just under a grand for four nights and a wake-up. For years it’s been known as the poor man’s solution to lodging during this excellent, world-class festival.
Our unit was fine. Okay, the shower nozzle wasn’t working very well but you can’t have everything. Well located (333 South Davis street), comfortable, no major concerns. The wifi was surprisingly excellent, and that obviously matters a lot.
I do think, however, that it was dishonest of the owner, a local attorney named Jerry, to not state in the Airbnb posting that he wasn’t subletting a presumably attractive stand-alone condo but a down-at-the-heels Mountainside Inn unit. There was no indication of this on the Airbnb profile page. Again, I wasn’t especially displeased by our stay, but Jerry should have laid his cards face-up.
A pretty local named Ilsa greeted us when we arrived. Pretty but, to be honest, a bit brittle and bitchy. After showing me the place and giving me a single room key (the MI manager graciously offered a second), Ilsa asked if I was happy with the place. I said I was feeling a bit underwhelmed, to be perfectly honest, as I’d been under an impression that the unit would be some kind of upscale condo. I said it would have to do, but that I wasn’t thrilled.
Ilsa didn’t care for the candor. Adopting an icy, officious tone, she said that if I felt that way maybe it would be a good idea if I stayed somewhere else. No fooling, she actually said that. My jaw dropped. I had just driven six hours from Albuquerque, I told her, and so I was rather tired and stressed. Plus I had paid for this unit a few months earlier and everything was set. And yet Ilsa actually suggested what she suggested.
Sensing danger, I pleaded with Ilsa not to be punitive. I all but dropped to my knees and begged. She finally took pity and agreed to honor the Airbnb contract. Thank you, I said. You’re so kind and considerate.
I am hereby nominating Ilsa for the Telluride Chamber of Commerce Hospitality award. But there’s no need to harp on this. I’ve stayed at the MI before. The sheets are clean and every unit has a little refrigerator and stove. The TV wasn’t of this era (probably made during the George W. Bush administration) but there was no time to watch it anyway.
…in which the habit of moviegoing is at its lowest ebb ever, and certainly nowhere near the semi-regular thing it used to be even in the ’90s and early aughts, and amongst those few intrepid souls who still occasionally flirt with the idea of seeing a film in a theatre, the vast majority don’t have clue #1 who this guy is or what film it’s from or anything. And if you lament this state of affairs (as I am now), you’ll be dismissed as a grumpy, out-of-it asshole who has lost touch with 2021 film culture, if you want to call what’s happening in theatres and in the streaming world “film culture,” and that you’re living inside some cranky membrane.
Which is absolutely not me. Because I for one can’t wait to get ripped and see Dune!
The best humor is either the silliest or the cruelest, but let’s focus on the former for now. There are two dumbshit lines that have made me chortle or at least smile for years. (Every so often a guffaw will break through.) No matter how many times they’ve flown in and out of my head, the reaction is the same.
And I’m not mentioning them because I think they’ll “get” anyone else. My point is that we’re all susceptible to dopey chuckle pellets.
Pellet #1 happens every time I visit the default representation site, www.whorepresents.com, and say to myself “yup, whore presents.” The site has been apparently been healthy and solvent for 21 years now.
Pellet #2 is a bit from Woody Allen‘s horribly racist and deeply nauseating What’s Up, Tiger Lily (’66). I’m overdoing the adjectives, of course — I love this dopey film. At the same time you know that if the right kind of Millennial or Zoomer fanatics were to happen upon it, they’d emerge all the more convinced that Allen needs to be triple-shunned, scalded with molten lead and dropped into the hottest cavern of hell.
I’m speaking of an exchange inside an ornate golden palace or temple of some kind. The players are Tatsuya Mihashi‘s “Phil Moskowitz” (amiable zany, lovable rogue) and Tetsu Nakamura‘s “Grand Exalted High Macha of Rashpur.” The subject is ruthless Tokyo gangster and egg-salad recipe thief Shepherd Wong (Tadao Nakamaru).
At one point the GEHMR reaches into a breast pocket and, for Moskowitz’s edification, unfolds a hand-drawn map of a residence. High Macha to Moskowitz: “This is Shepherd Wong’s home.” Moskowitz reply: “He lives in that little piece of paper?”
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A friend has persuaded me that going to CinemaCon for four days next week may not be the wisest course of action, all things considered. Right now I’m undergoing an agonizing reappraisal. I’m honestly leaning toward bagging it. I don’t want to flirt with danger only a few days before Telluride, which I regard as a much safer proposition.
It seems as if the infection potential will be rather high inside Caesar’s Palace, which is always jammed with Middle-American hee-haws, and I don’t want to be on pins and needles for 96 hours.
Plus yesterday HE commenter “ripoleh” posted an apparently legit study, dated 8.8.21, suggesting that even if I’ve had Pfizer shots, the protection level is a mere 42% against the Delta variant (whereas Moderna has a significantly higher rating of 76%). I might escape infection (okay, I probably would) but I might not.
The general assessment is that Telluride will be a relatively safe and secure event (everyone has to be vaxed and needs to submit a negative CRP Covid test obtained no more than 72 hours before arriving), but not Cinemacon. How many thousands of unvaxed gamblers will I be hanging with inside Caesar’s all that time, and in a state with fairly high positivity, particularly in Clark County?
Some are going, and some have decided to bag it. Disney isn’t sending studio reps in for its portion — their plan is simply to screen Destin Daniel Cretton‘s Shang-Chi (Disney, 9.3), which I’ve read about and seen the trailer for and wouldn’t sit through with a gun at my back. I was kind of hoping that Paramount might surprise the exhibitor convention with a special advance screening of Top Gun: Maverick (Paramount, 11.19) but that’s not in the cards, I’m hearing.
Yes, attendees have to be vaxxed but breakthrough infections are happening regardless. (The vaccinated Rev. Jessie Jackson and his wife have both gotten it.) If I could somehow get a third jab before driving up on Monday morning, okay, but I won’t be eligible for my third until late September at the earliest and more likely October.
HE re-welcomes the great Owen Wilson once again, but wait, wait, wait a minute…look at the size of those elephant collars! Guys haven’t worn shirts with collars the size of Dumbo ears since the mid ’70s. Are you telling me that contempo designers are trying to re-ignite these godawful things? Is this part of the normcore thing?
The scruffier get-up that Wilson wears inside the current issue of Esquire…that’s totally cool. But the guy who said “hey, I know….let’s bring back elephant collars!”…that guy needs to be hunted down with shotguns and machetes and poison darts.
My first chat with Owen happened over the phone in the summer of ’94, when he was 25. It was actually a three-way — myself, Owen and Wes Anderson. They were parked in Houston at the time but about to leave for Los Angeles for the development (guided by James L. Brooks and Polly Platt) and making of Bottle Rocket, which was no picnic. 27 years ago, man…time just flies out the door, doesn’t it?
Now we’re living in a completely different culture and a wholly different realm…just about everything that seemed loose and casually cool and pocket-droppy in ’94 is now highly suspect. For “we the people” are now living under the lash of woke terror. Once it was an extremely cool thing to be a pair of young white Texas dudes with a dry sense of humor and voices all their own…okay, let’s not get caught up in this.
The 52 year-old Owen has just been profiled by Esquire‘s Ryan D’Agostino, the idea being to promote (a) the Disney + Loki series in which Owen plays Mobius M. Mobius, even though it’s been running since last June, and (b) Anderson’s forthcoming The French Dispatch (Searchlight, 10.22), which was shot eons ago but was delayed, of course, by Covid.
Congratulations to Tatiana Antropova for passing her U.S. citizenship exam (written and oral) this morning with flying colors. She will officially become a U.S. citizen on Friday at 10 am when she takes the oath. Hollywood Elsewhere expects to capture the ceremony on video, of course. A bottle of champagne inside an ice-filled bucket is another good idea.
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On 6.15 the great Scott Alexander (co-author of all the great Scott-and-Larry screenplays including Ed Wood, Man on the Moon, The People vs Larry Flynt and the miscast American Crime Story series about O.J. Simpson) posted the following on Facebook:
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This Al Jazeera video of Taliban cadres inside the now-abandoned Kabul presidential quarters reminds me of the 1.6 insurrectionists roaming around inside the U.S. Capitol building (or lounging around inside Nancy Pelosi‘s office) on 1.6.21. They sure do love their beards and turbans and automatic weapons, don’t they? Keep those fingers on the triggers, guys!
Bennett Miller‘s Capote cost $7 million to make, and earned just shy of $50 million worldwide. I’d forgotten that. It made $28,750,530 domestic, $21,173,549 overseas for an exact total of $49,924,079.
I was visiting Miller’s lower Manhattan loft apartment around the same time, maybe a few weeks hence, I forget exactly when. But I distinctly recall Bennett showing me some original Richard Avdeon contact sheet photos of Truman Capote, Perry Smith and Dick Hickock, and for whatever reason Bennett happened to call Phillip Seymour Hoffman about something, and as he was saying goodbye he called him “Philly.”
I loved the idea of a distinguished hotshot actor being called Philly, and so I used it myself a few weeks later. I knew it was inappropriate to project an attitude of informal affection with a guy I didn’t know at all first-hand, but I couldn’t resist. I was immediately bitch-slapped, reprimanded, challenged, castigated, stomach-punched, dumped on, stabbed, karate-chopped, slashed and burned….”How dare you call him that? Who the hell do you think you are, some kind of insider?…soak yourself with gasoline and light yourself on fire!”
HE review, posted three or four weeks before the 9.30.05 opening: “I’m taken with Capote partly because it’s about a writer (Truman Capote) and the sometimes horrendously difficult process that goes into creating a first-rate piece of writing, and especially the various seductions and deceptions that all writers need to administer with skill and finesse to get a source to really cough up.
“And it’s about how this gamesmanship sometimes leads to emotional conflict and self-doubt and yet, when it pays off, a sense of tremendous satisfaction and even tranquility. I’ve been down this road, and it’s not for the faint of heart.
“I’m also convinced that Capote is exceptional on its own terms. It’s one of the two or three best films of the year so far — entertaining and also fascinating, quiet and low-key but never boring and frequently riveting, economical but fully stated, and wonderfully confident and relaxed in its own skin.
“And it delivers, in Phillip Seymour Hoffman’s performance as Capote, one of the most affecting emotional rides I’ve taken in this or any other year…a ride that’s full of undercurrents and feelings that are almost always in conflict (and which reveal conflict within Capote-the-character), and is about hurting this way and also that way and how these different woundings combine in Truman Capote to form a kind of perfect emotional storm.
“It’s finally about a writer initially playing the game but eventually the game turning around and playing him.
“Hoffman is right at the top of my list right now — he’s the guy to beat in the Best Actor category. Anyone who’s seen Capote and says he’s not in this position is averse to calling a spade a spade.
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