I’ve seen Alejandro G. Inarritu‘s Bardo, you bet. It’s a Fellini-esque dreamscape, a meal-and-a-half and quite the ride. I’ve “let it in” and thought it through and digested it as best I can, and I’m telling you that this new Bardo trailer — a haunting, wordless, perfectly-timed, dead-brilliant merging with John Lennon‘s “I Am The Walrus” — is fucking perfect.
It’s almost as if an unmurdered Lennon was hired by Inarritu to score the trailer, and this is what he composed.
Here’s my Telluride review, except Inarritu has now removed 22 minutes (it was 174 minutes in Telluride — now it’s 152) and may fiddle around even more before the U.S. release date. Just watch it and let it sink in.
It didn’t feel like a burn, I mean. I was mildly intrigued as far as it went. It’s a mid-level creeper about the lure of idyllicfantasyrealms, and how people are so forlorn or morose in their day-to-day that they find fantasies all the more tantalizing.
That’s not a bad thematic premise to rest a film upon. You have to give DWD credit for aiming at people with the capacity to process a metaphor.
Florence Pugh is given all the big “what the fuck is going on?” acting moments, and she handles them pretty well. Harry Styles absolutely passes the test — he’s a completely decent actor and pleasing to gaze upon, and can dance reasonably well. Chris Pine is passable as the Manipulative Bad Daddy of Victory.
Yes, I had a few logic quibbles but I’d rather take issue tomorrow. It’s kinda late and I’m on a slightly bumpy train.
After all the alleged bad blood and off-screen scandal I guess I kinda expected something mildly shitty or a tiny bit disappointing. But DWD is mildly watchable, and that I didn’t expect.
Do I think it’s an extra-brilliant, extra-delicious, top-tier film? No, but it’s certainly tolerable, and the ‘50s cars are in great shape. I especially liked the black T-bird.
Honestly? I found it slightly more engrossing than Booksmart.
Okay, one complaint: The first time Harry goes down on Miss Flo he doesn’t yank off the undies so I didn’t believe it. Why didn’t he just flip ‘em off? (That’s a lyric from “Louie Louie” — “It won’t be long now…she’s flippin’ ‘em off”). But the second time he does.
One more: You can’t run barefoot up a hard dirt road — it would be painful as hell and you’d wind up limping.
The strangest thing happened about one-third of the way through — there’s a close-up of a large, thick uncooked steak that’s been marinated and sprinkled with peppercorns. And then it’s cooked and placed on the dining table, and I couldn’t stop thinking about eating at least a portion of it. My mouth was literally watering.
I don’t know how many minutes of screen time Michelle Williams has in TheFabelmans, but the tally was apparently low enough to persuade some that her performance as Sammy Fabelman’s mom belonged in the Best Supporting Actress category.
Screen time, of course, is not the ultimate measure. Patricia Neal’s Hud performance only amounted to 21minutes and 51seconds (or one-fifth of the 112-minute running time) and she was nominated for Best Actress anyway. And she won.
HE instantly approves of Carlota Pereda‘s Piggy (aka Cerdita) for the 1.37:1 aspect ratio. This rural horror thriller film, shot in Villanueva de la Vera between June and July of ’21, feels like a blend of Catherine Breillat‘s Fat Girl (’01) and Brian DePalma‘s Carrie (’76). Directed and written by Pereda, based on her short film.
LauraGalán plays the lead; Richard Holmes, Carmen Machi, Claudia Salas, Irene Ferreiro, Camille Aguilar and Pilar Castro costar.
Women who are merely fat or overweight are one thing; Galan is morbidly obese. Fair is fair.
“There’s actually something quite old-fashioned about [Harry] Styles. With his popping eyes, floppy shock of hair and saturnine suaveness, he recalls the young Frank Sinatra as an actor.” — from Owen Gleiberman‘s 9.5.22 review.
Sinatra was 29 when he made AnchorsAweigh (’45); Styles is 28 as we speak.
Yesterday an HE reader named Michael2021, who strikes me as a possible antagonist, suspiciously asked “X-factor (white) guy“…what exactly is this supposed to mean?”
HE reply: I’m white because of my ancestral heritage. As much as I’d like to do something about that (as it would win me points with the fanatics), I can’t. But the X-factor thing…
X-factor people are leftie (or, in the current atmosphere of woke political terror and dread, formerly leftie) iconoclasts who tend to sidestep the usual usual in terms of attitudes and behaviors. Semi-original, in some cases quirky or vaguely oddball types (but not too oddball…think Bill Murray-type weirdos) or against-the-grain thinkers, and in many cases serious creatives.
No age requirements, although there seem to be more over-40 X-factors than under-40s. (Go figure.) X-factor fellows never wear flip-flops and generally despise man-toes as a rule. Luca Guadagnino, Cate Blanchett, Phillip Noyce, Tilda Swinton and Willem Dafoe are X-factor; conspicuously wealthy types like Lizzo, Reese Witherspoon, Kanye, Jennifer Aniston, Will Smith and Kim Kardashian are almost certainly not.
We’re otherwise talking folks who prefer Hotel Paisano in Marfa over Houston’s DoubleTree. Or, if you will, Point Pleasant over Atlantic City, Villas Altas Mismaloya or the Thompson Zihuatanejo over Puerto Vallarta or Acapulco, Prague over Geneva, Caye Caulker over Ambergris Caye. Or a narrow, old-school hotel in Old Town Hanoi over a tourist-friendly Sofitel. And Lauterbrunnen any time of the year.
People who usually prefer to drive classic mid-century Mustangs rather than big fat SUVs with built-in wifi. Or who prefer to wear Italian suede lace-ups or even saddle shoes rather than Gucci loafers or white Converse or Nike footwear. Or who wear cowboy hats instead of Kangol berets and head warmers in the winter. Those who generally march to the beat of a subdued and slightly different drummer. Or (one more travel analogy!) those who tend to avoid the San Marco district when visiting Venice, and tend to stick to Dorsoduro.
Second to last paragraph in Sasha Stone’s AwardsDailypiece (9.20.22) about Hollywood’s devotion to to radiant Academy values (virtue, goodness, inclusion, equity, Millennialism): “It isn’t just that people are no longer watching the Oscars; it’s that people are tuningoutthewholecommunity.”
All ten episodes of Ryan Murphy and Ian Brennan‘s Netflix series about Jeffrey Dahmer, the infamous serial killer of 17 men and boys during the ’80s, begin streaming on Wednesday, 9.21. Evan Peters plays Dahmer; the costars include Richard Jenkins and Penelope Ann Miller (as his parents) and Molly Ringwald (as his sister).
The question for me (and, I suspect, for millions of others) is why isn’t the title simply Monster: The Jeffrey Dahmer Story? Why did the producers decide they had to include his last name twice in the same title? Why, in other words, are they calling it Dahmer – Monster: The Jeffrey Dahmer Story? That’s what’s known as a committee title.
The limited series began filming in late winter of 2021, or a year and a half ago. Tatiana landed a non-speaking part as a Dahmer attorney. Sporting conservative attorney hair and straight-laced business attire, she spent two or three days shooting a courtroom scene, sitting the whole time next to Peters. I’ve seen sitting on this casting news for a long time, and can now finally reveal it.
"Jerry! Sandra showed me some your fiction and your awards, and I have to say 'powerful stuff.' Almost too powerful. I'm wondering if your mind can function down on our level. I grew up in Pacific Grove, and I started reading...what's his name?...I started reading Steinbeck when I was nine. [Tossing a script on the table.] Here's a piece of shit, Jerry. I wrote and re-wrote it, but it ain't workin'. If you can make it work, you're on...okay?"
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