You know that the sound mix on Chris Nolan‘s Oppenheimer (Universal. 7.21) is probably going to be hellish, certainly to some extent. It’s going to be a bear, you know this, and yet you’ve been avoiding the act of thinking about it, or more honestly dreading it. You know what’s coming.
There’s only one fulfilling way to watch a Nolan film these days, and that’s at home with subtitles. I truly wish this were otherwise.
…is to sit there and take it. Man up and take it because you need to face your guilt and complicity. Deep down you know who and what you are, and the sooner you accept this…
Kingsman: The Secret Service, Kingsman: The Golden Circle, Billionaire Boys Club, the absolutely vile Robin Hood and the slow-paced (except for the opening 40 minutes) Rocketman…I’ve never liked and have mostly hated films starring Taron Egerton. I’m therefore reluctant to see anything he’s starring in.
“Egerton stars as Henk Rogers, the founder of a company called Bullet-Proof Software, and a man who basically stumbled into the legacy of Tetris at a gaming convention in his new home country of Japan. He instantly realizes the potential of a game that had yet to make its way around the Iron Curtain to any part of the world other than Tokyo. And he wants a piece of it.
“Rogers narrates Tetris, a complicated film about a simple game. It’s just a rolling array of dropping blocks, but the details about market shares, legal rights, and Cold War politics drive this plot, not the game itself. Rogers is a low-level player in the gaming world, and getting the rights to something as Tetris will require navigating around power figures in both business and politics.
“It sounds like a lot, and yet it’s also not enough. All of this intrigue and negotiation gets Tetris to a remarkably repetitive and monotonous place that’s not helped by director Jon S. Baird’s glib tone, one that looks back on the ‘80s with a sort of goofy bemusement that feels disingenuous. The movie bounces back and forth between conference rooms and scary Russian alleys, but it never finds the right depth of character or deviation in either, choosing to enliven the dry material with an odd amount of condescension instead of actual tension. “Can you believe these crazy Russians?” is an odd tone to strike, especially with the current state of the world in 2023.
“The saddest thing about Tetris is that it’s easy to see why someone wanted to tell this story. The little guy never wins in Russia, and he usually goes to jail for even thinking he could play, but American business is built on narratives of Davids beating business Goliaths. Merging the two for a story in which an ambitious American had to use the tools of Capitalism to topple Communism sounds like an easy sell, and there’s probably a great documentary to be made on this subject. But breaking it out into a drama or thriller requires a different set of rules, and, despite Egerton’s best efforts, the team behind “Tetris” never figured out how to tell this story.”
I‘ve always hated guys who wear burgundy or maroon-colored suit jackets. Or burgundy–maroonanything, for that matter.
I’m assuming that the alleged StarWars: SkeletonCrew gig is a harmless paycheck thing…money to cover expenses while they assemble their next auteur-level annoyance.
Because of the always-urgent need for presentism by way of diverse casting, the forthcoming Tom Jones miniseries (PBS, 4.30) is going with a beautiful woman of color as Sophia, the main romantic interest of Solly McLeod‘s titular lead character. And that’s fine because Sophie Wilde is drop-dead dishy + well spoken.
In Tony Richardson’s same-titled 1963 farce, which closely followed Henry Fielding‘s 1749 novel, Wilde’s character was called Sophie Western and played by Susannah York. The blonde and beautiful Sophie was the daughter of Squire Western (Hugh Griffith) and the niece of the elderly Miss Western (Edith Evans).
Some folks appear to be having trouble with how things work. When Dilbert cartoonist Scott Adamssaid that white people “need to get the hell away from Black people,” it was entirely hateful and racist. (And it was, not to mention stupid of Adams to blurt this out.) But when White Fragility author Robin DiAngelo said “I think people of color need to get away from white people,” it was cool or, you know, not a problem.
And if you, the reader, don’t understand this system, you’ve got a problem. Not DiAngelo or Adams…you.
“I think people of color need to get away from white people.”
“We can’t help but marvel that it took Hollywood this long to see what kind of Hangover-styled mischief an all-Asian American crew might come up with.
“Like Girls Trip with an all-Asian-American cast (and one nonbinary lead), the Seth Rogen-produced, hard-R road movie follows small-town besties Audrey (Ashley Park) and Lolo (Sherry Cola) to Beijing, where they tackle everything from taboo tattoos to a devil’s threesome with all the gusto you’d hope or expect from Crazy Rich Asians co-writer Adele Lim’s directorial debut.
“The movie may not be Bridesmaids-level brilliant, [but] it’s showing that another underrepresented demographic can be just as extreme as your average Seth Rogen movie. With that goal in mind, JoyRide features more irreverent vagina monologues than Sausage Party did dick jokes, which is a surely an accomplishment of some kind.” — from Peter Debruge’s 3.18 SXSW Variety review.
“Joy Ride is a prime example of how important representation is on screen and proves that Asian American comedians can be just as funny, raunchy, and successful as their white male counterparts.” — from Marisa Mirabal’s 3.18 IndieWire review.
As someone who loathes and despises coarse humor, who was moderately amused by portions of Bridesmaids but that’s all, who was irritated by Girls Trip and found Sausage Party tedious, who was okay with the first Hangover but hated the rest of them, I can’t wait to not laugh at Joy Ride and to subsequently pour my heart into trashing it.
HE to Mark Caro: What “manned a grill” means is that some beefy or bearded or broad-shouldered dude (i.e., someone like me in the latter case) strapped on a clean white apron and commandingly assumed responsibility for grilling meats of one kind or another during am outdoor 4th of July party. Melted butter and sauce brushes. He “took over” the grill and, you know, handled the chore of grilling stuff with a certain confident panache…exerting a Dwayne Johnson– or Ben Affleck– or John Wayne-like sense of authority. Not a complex concept.
Teary-eyed wokester girlymen (i.e., Ben Whishaw in Women Talking) could never and will never be accused on “manning” a grill.
Friendo: “Mark Caro is a reasonable guy, not a wokester. He’s basically saying that the idea of ‘manning’ anything isn’t cool…that it’s a trigger term that’s only looking for trouble. It’s bizarre how there’s an ongoing effort to eliminate masculinity. On the left obviously. Good lord, a healthy society needs men to be men. Which means that our current society, at least as represented in many urban blue regions, is somewhere between moderately unhealthy and unhealthy as fuck.”
In order to convincingly portray Nike marketing guy Sonny Vaccaro in Air (Amazon, 4.5), Matt Damon had to either (a) fatten up or (b) wear a fat suit. (Not sure which.) Director, producer and costar Ben Affleck insisted upon this.
And I’ll tell you right now I wish Damon had played Vaccaro as a relatively slender guy. I don’t give a shit if the real Vaccaro was on the beefy side and neither does anyone else.
HE Rule #17: Never, ever fatten up for a movie role unless the intention is to look appalling or grotesque a la Robert De Niro in Raging Bull.
During yesterday’s CBS Sunday Morning interview Damon said that upon seeing the finished film his wife Luciana Bozán said, “The movie is great but you look like shit.” Why would anyone out there feel differently? Name one fattened-up performance that really worked…that really lent an extra dimension of realism or whatever. Charlie Sheen in Wall Street?…wrong.
In explaining why an actor wasn’t cast to play Michael Jordan, Affleck told CBS Sunday Morning that “the only actor who could play Jordan was a little old to play this part and we probably couldn’t afford him” — who’s he talking about? I’m guessing that Affleck was fibbing with flattery and actually meant that the unaffordable actor was Mahershala Ali, who, currently 48, is more than twice as old as Jordan during the time of the Nike deal. Who else could he be referring to? Somebody lithe and tall.
Affleck: “This is a movie about an icon, about somebody’s who so meaningful that the minute I show you somebody and say ‘that’s Michael Jordan’ you’re gonna say ‘no, it’s not’ and then the rest of the movie is fake.” Fair enough, but why have at least 18 actors played JFK in various dramas over the years? None of them got him right, not really…none of them really captured the voice or the hair or anything. But they did it anyway because the gig was there and the money was good.
Burying visual information in a shroud of unnecessary darkness is not only perverse but diseased. Willfully submitting to this kind of monochrome mud makes no sense, and yet there it is…the only possible rationale for a film-noir lover to buy the new Shout! FactoryBluray of AnatoleLitvak’sSorry, WrongNumber (‘48).
Decades of resentment, irritation, alienation and suppressed rancor fell away today when I paid a visit to my dad’s gravesite. HillsideCemetery, plot #1522. He’s not actually there but a veteran’s org planted the stone a few weeks after he passed.
I’ve been too critical of him over the years. He was no day at the beach but a decent human being as far as it went. A clever ad man, hard working, witty, thoughtful, well educated, responsible.
The axe-throwing wasn’t so bad. I didn’t want to do it due to fear of failure. But I managed a few decent throws, even a couple of bull’s-eyes.
There are two wood-handled axe sizes —I was happier with the smaller, less weighty one. I tended to lightly lob rather than throw hard.
The baked-in-Bloomfield atmosphere is emphatically lower-middle-class — the Montclair swells keep their distance and then some. But I shrugged it off. We’re all bumblefucks underneath our pretensions.