Brett Ratner‘s intention to direct a biopic of Hugh Hefner will fail for one very simple reason. Ratner, one of Hollywood’s more ardent hounds, is too invested in bacchanalian appetites and indulgences to look at Hefner’s life (and the cosmic meaning of same) with any kind of divested perspective.

Brett Ratner, Hugh Hefner (sometimes in the late ’50s), Brian Grazer

Fortified by producer Brian Grazer, a guy also known for randy recreation, Ratner will feel a natural pressure from within his own soul to not only adorn Hefner with flattery and hero worship, portraying the Playboy founder as a super-cool, pipe- smoking revolutionary who relaxed and liberalized 1950s American attitudes about sex, but to cut him a break every which way.
Unless Ratner submits to a personality transplant, his nature will most likely rob the Hefner flick of judgment, tension and angularity. Roman Polanski (who has a small role in Ratner’s Rush Hour 3) was obviously a hound in his day, but he could have brought serious moral focus and irony to the Hefner saga. Anyone in town would have been a better choice than Ratner to direct this thing. The best thing would have been to hire a total non-hound, or at least a guy (or a girl) known for taste and restraint, or even dweebiness. (Todd Solondz?) If Karel Reisz of the ’70s or ’80s had been around…
If physical similarity is the criteria, there’s a fairly obvious choice for the best actor to play Hefner. Does everyone know who I mean?

Iran president Mahmoud Ahmadinejad has shown that if you push paranoia and bullheadness far enough, you can transform these qualities into rank stupidity. Turning down Oliver Stone‘s request to make a documentary about him, Ahmadinejad explained that “while it is true that Stone is considered to be among the opposition in the US, the opposition is still part of the Great Satan…we believe that the American cinema system is devoid of all culture and art and is only used as a device.” Idiot — the iconoclastic Stone would have portrayed Ahmadinejad in a fairer light than he would have gotten from almost any other U.S. filmmaker.

Hollywood Wiretap‘s Nancy Vialatte wrote today that “after a series of back-and-forth reports over the past week, it’s finally official: Bryan Singer‘s Valkyrie” — the Tom Cruise World War II flick about the German military plot to kill Adolf Hitler — “will not be allowed to use the Bendlerblock historical site for filming.” Big effin’ deal — it just means Singer will have to find a building somewhere in Europe that looks sufficiently similar to the building-with-a-courtyard pictured below. How hard could that be?

As this Wikipedia page explains, the Bendlerblock is a building in Berlin in which the military resistance to Hitler’s regime was launched. Infantry General Friedrich Olbricht “developed the Valkyrie operation plan into a plan for a coup d’etat against Hitler. In October 1943 Colonel Stauffenberg” — Cruise’s character — “was transferred to the General Army Office as Chief of Staff. His position gave him direct access to situation briefings in Hitler’s Wolf’s Lair headquarters.
“On July 20, 1944 he set the fuse of a bomb there and returned to Berlin, [but] Hitler survived the blast and the conspirators all died for their failure. Following the arrest of the conspirators in the Bendlerblock, General Olbricht, Stauffenberg, Werner von Haeften and Albrecht Ritter Mertz von Quirnheim, all members of the uprising, were executed that same night in the courtyard of the building, by firing squad. A fifth plotter, General Ludwig Beck, chose to shoot himself.”

The ending of Rescue Dawn “is triumphant, with [Christian Bale‘s] Dengler surrounded and cheered by his comrades,” writes New Yorker critic Anthony Lane. “This is accurate enough — the man himself confirmed it in the documentary — and yet nobody watching the freeze-frame of Bale’s grin, and hearing the thudding surge of the musical score, would guess for a second that this is a Werner Herzog film.

“I wouldn’t go so far as to call it a Michael Bay moment, but in its mood — the solid pomp of emotional relief — it slides into the groove of Uncommon Valor, Behind Enemy Lines and other mainstream parables of men lost and found. Most of Herzog’s previous films were made by his own production company; this one was made partly by Top Gun Productions. What is going on?”
My sentiments exactly as I was walking out of a Rescue Dawn screening at the Toronto Film Festival 10 and 1/2 months ago.

The following sentence can be found in a 7.1.07 Benjamin Anastas N.Y. Times piece about various authors, radio talk-show hosts and Biblical nutjobs who believe that it’s all coming to an end in 2012: “Polls indicate that up to 50% of Americans believe that the Book of Revelation is a true, prophetic document, meaning they fully expect the predictions of ‘Rapture,’ ‘Tribulation’ and ‘Armageddon’ to be fulfilled.”
I re-read that sentence two or three times before it really sank in. Let’s bend over backwards and allow for the possibility that 50% may be a little high. Maybe only 40% to 45% believe that the Rapture is really coming. Maybe only one in three Americans believe in this…who knows for certain? But think of how thoroughly divorced you have to be from reason and rationality to seriously buy into the notion that “God” has orchestrated a Big Moral Finale to the whole of human existence because of high levels of evil and collective moral failings.
But the real “tell” in this statistic is an explanation of why a significant portion of American righties are still saying that the science isn’t in yet on global warming, that Al Gore is mostly a fantasist, and even if global warming is real it’s man’s right to plunder and destroy the planet if he’s so inclined. No guilt trips, no cutbacks, no re-thinks…we’re keeping our SUVs, McMansions, dune buggies, 24-hour air condi- tioning and power boats because we work hard for our lifestyles.
We all know there some ardent Christians who are liberal, centrist or non-political, but the general acknowledgment is that most Christians are allied with right-wing Republicans. We also know from polls that a large percentage of righties don’t believe global warming is real — I read a poll a few months ago that said as much as 40% think that global-warning data is bogus.
The “polls” referred to by Benjamin Anastas provide a theoretical explanation for this. 40% to 50% of Americans don’t believe we’ll be here all that long, so why worry about the devastation that global warning will bring to the planet 50 or 100 years hence? “God” will probably be ending things sooner than that, so kick back and gas up the tank.

At the ’06 Santa Barbara Film festival — sixteen and a half months ago — I ran my first piece about John Scheinfeld‘s Who is Harry Nilsson (and Why Is Everybody Talkin’ About Him?). I started out both liking it enormously and disliking it — I couldn’t get past the depressing aspects of a story about another ’60s-era rock musician self-destructing, but I was deeply moved by the music and the obvious love and care that Scheinfeld put into his film.

For whatever reason a distribution deal never happened. A logical suspect, Sony Pictures Classics, never bit despite Sony BMG owning the Nilsson catalogue, which would allow for an obvious cross-promotion potential.
And now with Scheinfeld’s doc about to have another screening at yet another film festival — a July 14th showing at Martin Lewis‘s Mods and Rockers festival at the American Cinematheque — its rep has become that of a proverbial wanderer, doomed to roam the seven seas without a port to call home.
I don’t know what the problematic particulars may be, but a film as good as this one deserves to be seen. It’s a profound insult to Nilsson, his legacy and his thousands of fans that the best this doc can hope for is some cruddy straight- to-video deal. The man was one of the greatest songwriter-singers of the ’60s and early ’70s — what’s the problem?
Obviously Nilsson never attained Beatles-level fame, and obviously Scheinfeld’s doc has a limited commercial potential. But for the film to fail to get any kind of deal whatsoever is absurd. Sounds like somebody’s being obstinate or unrealistic or both, and that other parties are asleep at the wheel.
Lewis suggested last week that one problem is the title. He thinks the doc should be called Everybody’s Talkin’. As soon as he said this I knew he was right. Are you listening, John?

Neil Jordan‘s The Brave One (Warner Bros., 9.14), otherwise known as Jodie Foster-does-Death-Wish-slash-Ms. 45, is starting to be shown to select long-lead press with the idea of interviewing Foster before she leaves the U.S. later this month to start shooting her next film, Nim’s Island (20th Century Fox), in Queensland, Australia

A WB publicist told me this morning that The Brave One will play at the Toronto Film Festival a few days before it opens. An L.A. critic friend who’s seen it had some positive things to say about it last weekend, calling it very compelling, interesting, thumbs-uppy, etc.
The generic online synopsis: “New York radio host Erica Bain (Foster) has a life that she loves and a fiance she adores.” What…a guy? “All of it is taken from her when a brutal attack leaves Erica badly wounded and her fiance dead. Unable to move past the tragedy, Erica begins prowling the city streets at night to track down the men she holds responsible.”
Obviously the basic set-up is close to the one used in the cheesy but historic 1973 Michael Winner/Charles Bronson classic. Abel Ferrara‘s Ms. 45 (1981) is more of a feminist-rage, kill-all-male-predators movie, but the story kicks off because of a brutal assault upon a young girl.
“[Bain]’s dark pursuit of justice catches the public’s attention,” the synopsis continues, “and the city is riveted by her anonymous exploits.” Again — exactly like Death Wish. “But with the NYPD desperate to find the culprit and a dogged police detective (Terrence Howard) hot on her trail, she must decide whether her quest for revenge is truly the right path, or if she is becoming the very thing she is trying to stop.”
The most satisfying solution would be for Howard and his cop colleagues to huddle with Foster after she’s been wounded in a shootout and explain that they know she’s the renegade shooter, and that the best solution would be for her to move to another city. She does that, and it’s deftly implied in the final shot that she’ll soon be back in action.

Some people are actually working today and tomorrow, but virtually everyone I know will be out of the office for five days straight starting on Wednesday. I wouldn’t drive anywhere during this 4th of July getaway period if you held a gun to my head. Okay, I might go hiking in Lone Pine, but no daytime driving. Holidays are hell. When the going gets easy, the tough sit down at their desks and catch up on their bookkeeping. Face it — it’s going to be a light week.

I was chatting with a Fox Searchlight publicist at last night’s LA Film Festival finale party outside the Wadsworth, and for a while the subject was Stephen Walker‘s sad/funny/soulful Young@Heart, that doc I wrote about last week about a Massachucetts-based octugenarian singing group performing various rock tunes.
I shared my view that Young@Heart is an almost-certain lock to win be nominated for a Best Feature Documentary Oscar, but apparently that’s a no-go due to the doc having played last year on British TV. Thanks to A.J. Schnack for pointing this out in a 6.30 posting on edendale.typepad.
I also told the Fox Searchlight publicist that I’d been told that an indie-level distributor had picked it up a few hours earlier for theatrical distribution. She smiled and expressed general interest but added nothing to the discussion. This morning Variety‘s Anne Thompson reported that Fox Searchlight is the company that made the deal.
I was told last night that Young@Heart will be released sometime between Labor Day and year’s end. In order to Oscar-qualify it would have to play for a week with twice-daily shows before the end of August, but again — last year’s British TV airing apparently disqualifies it.
The L.A. Film Festival award for best international feature, announced last night at the Wadsworth before a screening of Danny Boyle‘s Sunshine, went to Young@Heart. Focus Features has reportedly picked up the remake rights. I couldn’t find the trade story this morning, so I called Focus to see if they could help. That was two and a half hours ago.

Last night I attended an LA Film Festival discussion called “Shock & Awe: New Wave Exploitation.” Moderated by F.X. Feeney, the panelists were directors Eli Roth (Hostel, Hostel Part II), Craig Brewer (Hustle & Flow, Black Snake Moan) and Jack Hill (the ’70s exploitation flicks Foxy Brown, Switchblade Sisters). I recorded the whole discussion — here it is.

Director Eli Roth following last night’s disucssion at Westwood’s Armand Hammer Museum — 6.30.07, 8:10 pm

The idea was mainly to size up the 35 year-old Roth, who’s recently been on the skillet for two reasons. One is his having been tarred as the leading purveyor of “torture porn” (a term coined two years ago by New York magazine critic David Edelstein) and particularly due to the loathing expressed over the fetishistic gruesomeness in Hostel Part II, particularly the scene in which a character played by Heather Matarazzo is hung upside down and knife-sliced to death. The other is the recent notion that torture porn is on the wane or starting to be “over” due to the underwhelming earnings generated by Hostel Part II.
I learned last night that Roth is a bright, sophisticated operator — he’s hard-core and full of fire. He knows himself, his movie history, his directors, how to shoot cheap, what he’s proudest of, etc. The key thing is does he want to keep on being “Eli Roth” or does he want to shift into a new gear in order to avoid being typed and confined within the walls of the horror/torture-porn dungeon? (You’ll hear me asking this right after Feeney opens the session up to questions.)
The talk went on for a little more than an hour. I came out of it feeling a lot more respect for Roth than I had going in. He’s much more talented and sophisticated that his films and subject matter suggest. I only hope he doesn’t end up like Tarantino — a B movie fetishist and wallower who refuses to do anything but recycle and reconfigure old-time exploitation movies he fell for in his teens and 20s.

Director Curtis Hanson hosted an L.A. Film Festival screening last night at the Armand Hammer Museum’s Billy Wilder theatre of John Ford‘s The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance. I slipped into the theatre right after the exploitation films panel around 8:30 and caught the last 25 or 30 minutes, and then I sat through the post-screening discussion between Hanson and L.A. Weekly critic Scott Foundas. Variety critic Robert Koehler was also in attendance.

The scratch-free 35mm print was from John Wayne‘s private collection, Hanson said. It looked great, although it didn’t seem to have that super-silvery sheen and needle-sharp focus that I’ve gotten off viewings of the Paramount Home Video DVD.
The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance was critically dismissed for the most part when it opened in April 1962. N.Y. Times critic Bosley Crowther called it “creaky” and declared it proof that “the western, ravaged by repetition and television, has begun to show signs of age…[a] basically honest, rugged and mature saga has been sapped of a great deal of effect by an obvious, overlong and garrulous anticlimax.”
It didn’t make very much money either, and the reasons weren’t hard to figure. Ford shot Valance in black and white, and most of it on a somewhat echo-y sound stage. It’s very talky for a western. James Stewart and John Wayne are both 20 years too old to be playing their parts. And it’s basically an old man’s movie — an elegy for bygone times and regrettably false legends.
But elite critics starting calling it an absolute classic about 30 years ago. Transformers fans will never, ever rent the DVD, but every serious film critic from Maine to San Diego will tell you it’s one of Ford’s very best — his saddest and most personal film ever, and worthy of the highest respect.

I don’t dispute this for a second. You can talk about this film for hours and never run out of new things to discover or re-review. I’ve seen Liberty Valance many, many times on the tube, and I absolutely love the transfer on the most recent DVD.
But the older I’ve gotten (and I’ve said this before), the more trouble I’ve had with Ford’s sentimental cornball streak. The man’s affection for actorly colorfulness among his supporting players seems to get worse every time I re-watch one of his films. Andy Devine‘s performance in Liberty Valance as a cowardly, squealy- voiced sheriff is, for me, 90% torture. (His one good scene is in the very beginning when he takes Vera Miles out to visit Wayne’s burned-down ranch.) Edmond O’Brien‘s alcoholic newspaper editor is a problem performance also. The movie is littered with them.
As Newsweek critic Malcom Jones observed in March 2006, Ford’s movies “are a little antique, a little prim.”
The irony, of course, is that despite the irritating aspects, The Man Who Shot LIberty Valance becomes a greater and greater film with each re-viewing. Some- thing majestic and touching and compassionate seems to come out in greater and greater relief. Genius-level films always gain over the years, but to my surprise I was almost moved to tears last night — and this stagey monochrome oater has never quite melted me before. Go figure.

Ratatouille is still way in front of Live Free or Die Hard, but it’s been inching down over the last three days while the Bruce Willis actioner has continued to inch up. Both are doing very well with the French rat movie almost $14 million in front of the Willis, but a friend says that at a Marina del Rey showing of Ratatouille yesterday 80% to 85% of the crowd was adult, indicating that this “very sophisticated” film is “not really getting the kids.”
Is this true in Baton Rouge and Jacksonville also? How about Portland? I plan on checking out at least one major theatre showing the Disney/Pixar film later today, but has anyone noticed any similar audience proportions?
Ratatouille‘s three-day estimate is now down to $46,315,000. Thursday’s tracking said it would take in around $50 million while numbers for Friday, 6.29 (reported yesterday morning) projected a weekend tally of $48,406,000.
It would appear that a certain percentage of not-very-worldly types whose idea of world-class, mouth-watering cuisine is a double hamburger with ketchup and fried onions are saying to themselves (and their kids in particular), “Do we really want to go to an animated haute cuisine movie? Maybe the Die Hard flick is more our speed even if it’s not supposed to be as good…Bruce is family, after all, and absorbing familiar emotional assurances from a coarse action flick seems like a safer, more comfortable bet.”
Live Free or Die Hard is now looking at a three-day total of $32,750,000 and a five-day cume of $47,779,000, having been handed a five-day projection of just shy of $40 million last Thursday and $45.8 million yesterday morning.