Snakes on a Plane doesn’t open for another three and a half weeks so take this was a grain, but however well it’s going to perform, there’s going to be a signficant group — over-40s who don’t go online much, I’m guessing — that’s going to avoid it like the plague. This doesn’t mean it’s not going to do very well with the people who want to see it. But it’s a film that folks are either hot or cold on. Not a lot of middle grounders. That’s all I’m saying.

When someone takes something from you it feels like a kind of rape. Like some kind of home invasion. I’m feeling that now because my $450 bicycle — a really nice one, my pride and joy — was stolen last night. It was locked to a sign pole in front of the Clarity Screening Room building at 100 Crescent Drive, where I went for my second viewing of Alejandro Gonzalez Innaritu’s Babel and a small after-party.

I knew it was gone and filing a theft report was probably a waste of time all around, but I called the Beverly Hills Police three times anyway between 11 and 11:45 pm. They never managed to send a car over. I finally took a cab home. Stuff like this puts you in a foul and bitter mood. I feel like joining a support group for people who’ve gone through similar traumas. Maybe the guy who stole it will meet with appropriate payback some day. I wish I could go to Don Corleone for justice.
It was a dark green racing bike with slightly thicker tires and a really nice squishy seat, and a little strobe light on the front bars and a rear-facing red-blinker light , and dual collapsable baskets for putting groceries into. And it had one of those great compressed-air horns on the front bars — a horn so loud that it would make SUV-drivers stop cold.
I loved seeing Babel again. I’m more convinced than ever that it’s going to do well with paying audiences over 25 or 30 because it’s about parenting and children, and who outside of childless singles doesn’t have strong feelings about that? Memories and worries and regrets to dip into? It sank in emotionally a little deeper because I saw it at home in a more settled frame of mind, and not in one of those cranked-up states that I’m always in during the Cannes Film Festival.

The trailer for Brian De Palma ‘s The Black Dahlia in Windows Media and QuickTime. There’s no official website, which is odd for a film opening in seven weeks time (i.e., 9.15).

Among the highlightsof the just-announced 63rd Venice Film Festival (August 30 th September 9): Darren Aronofsky’s The Fountain (which I favorably riffed about after seeing it during Comic-Con), with Hugh Jackman and Rachel Weisz; Allen Coulter‘s Hollywoodland) with Adrien Brody, Ben Affleck, Diane Lane and Bob Hoskins; Alfonso Cuaron‘s Children of Men (which has been seen by Babel director Alejandro Gonzales Innaritu and “on a shot-by-shot basis [is] beautifully filmed and superbly composed, like Kubrick”, as he told me last night).

Plus Brian DePalma‘s The Black Dahlia; Stephen Frears‘ The Queen with Helen Mirren, James Cromwell and Michael Sheen; Emilio Estevez’s Bobby, which will probably never be as intriguing as the stories about the making and financing of this film, which costars Demi Moore, Sharon Stone, Anthony Hopkins, Laurence Fishburne and Lindsay Lohan; Alain Resnais‘ Private Fears in Public Places and Benoit Jacquot‘s L’intouchable . The two big docs are David Leaf and John Scheinfeld‘s The U.S. vs. John Lennon and Spike Lee‘s When the Leeves Broke: A Requiem Iin Four Acts, which runs for 240 minutes.

Congratulations to Gunner Palace helmer Michael Tucker for The Prisoner, Or: How I Planned to Kill Tony Blair (Germany/USA), his doc (made with partner Petra Epperlein) about an Iraqi cameraman’s wrongful arrest and interrogation by American forces, being accepted as one of the docs playing at the Toronto Film Festival.

Congrats also to Danish director Asger Leth and producers Cary Woods and George Hickenlooper for their doc, Ghosts of Cite Soleil, getting into Toronto also. I wrote about Ghosts after catching it last March. It’s about two pistol-packing Haitian brothers who ran slum gangs during the final months of Jean Bertrand Aristide‘s presidency, and how things got worse for them after Aristide was deposed.

After seeing it, I wrote that “I now see Haiti as less of a Ground Zero for abstract political terror and more of a place where people on the bottom rung are trying to live and breathe and create their own kind of life-force energy as a way of waving away the constant hoverings of doom. In short, this excellent 88-minute film adds recognizable humanity to a culture that has seemed more lacking in hope and human decency than any other on earth.”

Ethan Hawke‘s The Hottest State is a drama based on Hawke’s debut novel, set in Manhatttan, about a frustrating relationship between a Texas actor named William (Mark Webber) and a singer/songwriter named Sarah (Catalina Sandino Moreno), with a previous romantic interest named Samantha (Michelle Williams) flitting in and out of his life. And now Hawke’s 117-minute film will play as an out-of-competition selection at the upcoming Venice Film Festival. Which means, presumably, it’ll show at the Toronto Film Festival also. State also stars Laura Linney, Sonia Braga and Hawke.

I’ve been reading about Doug Liman‘s currently-lensing Jumper, a $100 million-budgeted supernatural thriller based on the Steven Gould novel about a 17 year-old (played by 20 year-old Vanity Fair and Being Julia costar Tom Sturridge) with emotional problems who discovers he can teleport from one place to another, and how he uses this gift to sleuth around for the guy who killed his mother, blah, blah. Another variation on Spider-Man (young superhero with hang-ups) and Batman (murdered parent naturally calling out for exposure and revenge). I should mention there are reports that Sturridge has been whacked and that Liman is replacing him with (God forbid) human death-star Hayden Christensen or costar Jamie Bell. This Moviehole Comic-Con item, based on a chat with Jumper costar Samuel L. Jackson, says “Christensen might be joining [Jackson]” on Liman’s film. There’s are two IMDB postings stating flat-out that Sturridge has been fired. The plan is allegedly (emphasis on that word) to do re-shoots in November with whomever the new star is, if in fact Sturridge is history. I think I’m supposed to care about this and make calls to New Regency right about now. That’s the expected thing, I mean.

Episode #1 of “Tabloid Wars“, the six-part series focusing on the uphill, day-to-day hump that various N.Y. Daily News staffers experienced last summer, preemed on Bravo last Monday evening and will be repeating all this week. (There’s an airing today at 6 pm eastern.)
N.Y. Times critic Allesandra Stanley says the series is “not really about the circulation battle between New York’s two famously competitive tabloids” — Bravo’s home-team paper and the New York Post . The latter “is barely seen” in the series, she says, and its name “is invoked with smoldering hatred, like Osama bin Laden or Moby-Dick.” Instead, the series “follows reporters and city editors as they scramble to cover hate crimes, cop shootings and celebrity scandals.”
I’m especially interested in the episodes that focus on gossip columnist pals George Rush and Joanna Molloy, who were good enough to give my son Jett an intern gig last summer. George tells me that episodes featuring himself, Joanna and Rush & Molloy contributors Jo Piazza and Chris Rovzar are #1 and #5. (The Bravo guys shot footage of Jett so maybe there’ll be a glimpse.)

On one hand, this trailer for Asylum’s straight-to-video Snakes on a Train (8.15) makes a persuasive case that it’s just a jerkwad ripoff of Snakes on a Plane with ickier makeup and prosthetics. But having seen that eight-minute product reel for Snakes on a Plane at Comic-Con last weekend, it doesn’t seem that much sillier than the New Line film. It seems trashier, yes, but also trippier and more ludicrous. And with a wider selection of snake sizes. (Train‘s poster-art concept of a big snake putting its mouth around an entire train car isn’t, it turns out, just a drawing-board concept.) Oh, and here‘s New York Post critic Lou Lumenick interviewing Asylum’s David Latt.

I finally saw Stuart Gordon‘s film of David Mamet‘s Edmond last night, and I was startled by how good most of it is. Good as in brave, brazen, uber-declarative. It’s about a middle-aged businessman (William H. Macy) who just can’t stand it any more and cuts loose and goes mad over the course of a single evening in Manhattan’s seamy sexual underground. (If you have to ask what “it” is then you won’t get this movie.) I’ll get into this more in a day or two but here’s a taste of the dialogue. It’s a little echo-y and hard to make out, but it’s Macy and costar Joe Mantegna having a very pared-down, Mamet-like conversation.

Sometimes it’s okay to just go with an idea that pops into your head. Because sometimes that idea can be astonishing. (And sometimes it can go the other way.) A guy wrote in today said he didn’t care for the title of Curtis Hanson’s film Lucky You, and right away an alternative came to me: Lucky Jew. Not because it sounds like an impertinent Mel Brooks title, but because I would simply want to see a movie about a Jewish gambler. I just would. It speaks to me. It sounds like rude fun. I would also be a bit more intrigued if the film was called Luck You. This implies that being visited by luck can be a bad thing, because it throws you off your game. I don’t mind Lucky You as a title — it’s okay — but I like these alternatives better.