Bill Murray doesn’t suffer fools, and I love that about him. When he’s not being funny he can be rather brusque and dismissive. Especially with clueless or insipid journalists. Which is why, in a certain light, he’s long been one of my personal heroes.

Friendo: “God only knows what that’s about. The alleged ‘Bill Murray did or said something inappropriate on the Aziz Ansari film’ thing.”

HE: “He doesn’t crap around or play the game. I’ve seen him in action. The inference is that he acted inappropriately in a sexual way. But I’ll bet money that whatever he did or said, it wasn’t that bad. And that the complainer is a Millennial woman. And that her beef was about Murray being insensitive on some level.”

Friendo: “I’ll bet it isn’t sexual but, as you imply, some kind of sarcastic or angry response by him. Somebody was offended by something he said, and so they complained.”

HE: “Murray’s been in this racket for 40-plus years without significant incident, and suddenly he’s going to… what, inappropriately hit on someone? I can’t wrap my head around that. Why do you think it’s non-sexual? Just curious.”

Friendo: “He’s not that guy…not the lunging horndog. He’s just annoyed and irritated with everyone.”

HE: “Who suspends a movie in mid-production over something that might seem offensive in a certain context, but which isn’t all that serious?”

Minutes after hearing of the sad passing of 90 year-old Robert Morse, I was watching his Tony Award–winning, one-man-band performance as Truman Capote in Tru (‘89).

Written by Jay Presson Allen, the whole show is on YouTube, broken up into nine segments. I’ve only watched two, but it’s obvious Morse’s Tony was well deserved.

Quick — what was Gore Vidal’s alleged response when asked about Capote’s slow, haphazard, Montgomery Clift-styled suicide of ‘84?

…in WeHo Gelson’s parking lot — Tuesday, 4.20, 7:25 pm. The driver was irritated when I asked for the model year. At first he tried stonewalling. Calmly and matter-of-factly, I said “just tell me the year…please.” Snooty-cakes fumed behind his rolled-up window…his expression said “my God, will you leave me the fuck alone?”

“Please.”

“Nine-nuh-mee-mee-mee.” (muffled)

“What?”

“Nineteen sixty–three!”

Hugs and condolences for fans and friends of the late Catherine Spaak, the actress-singer who passed on 4.17 at age 77. You’ll forgive me for very briefly confusing Spaak with Camilla Sparv, the 78 year-old, still-with-us Swedish actress who was briefly married to Robert Evans and costarred with Robert Redford in Michael Ritchie’s Downhill Racer (‘71).

Classy European ladies, three-syllable first names starting with C, one-syllable last names starting with S….sorry.

Today the N.Y. Times admitted to a serious pronoun error. Ezra Miller is miffed but willing to forgive.

“We’re all accustomed to Piers Morgan being a tart, adversarial figure,” I wrote two days ago (4.18). And of course, several voices came out of the HE woodwork to slime the guy. (Not that he doesn’t have stuff to answer for.) The Morgan–Trump interview in question won’t air until 4.25, but his tarty, adversarial questioning has led to an angry walk–out.

I know this is an old-fashioned thing to say, but I like to watch movies that have moderately good-looking people in the lead roles. True, audiences are more accepting these days of average-looking types, and this, I think, is a sign of social maturity. The general assumption is that if your main characters are too drop-dead beautiful or ax-blade handsome, then the film is probably mediocre on some level. I subscribe to that formula also. And I have no problems with Seth Rogen in a lead role…he’s obviously not Cary Grant or Brad Pitt, but I like him. On the other hand there’s a reason why guys like Danny McBride, Nick Offerman and John Carroll Lynch aren’t regarded as leading-man types. It’s the same reason why Johnny Depp lost his marquee mojo when he…uhm, bulked up.

Continuing a chat covered in yesterday’s “Maher Complaints & Retorts.” As noted yesterday, Darryl Ponicsan is the creator of Badass Badusky, Mule and Larry Meadows — the Jack Nicholson, Otis Young and Randy Quaid characters from Hal Ashby‘s The Last Detail. (DP wrote the book — Robert Towne wrote the screenplay.) His solo and shared screenwriting credits include Cinderella Liberty, Nuts, Random Hearts and Last Flag Flying.

The Johnny Depp-Amber Heard defamation trial is basically an appeal to the entertainment industry by way of a televized performance. Depp knows that Heard’s side of this sad story isn’t going to be outright dismissed…he knows that everyone is going to continue to see him as a flawed guy who behaved angrily at times…who went through some bad times with alcohol and other drugs. But at the end of the day Depp hopes to be seen as a less-bad person. A good portion of the public views him sympathetically right now, but Depp wants the industry to ease up on the harsh judgment. He knows that’s a tough one given the general intimidation factor, but he hopes that things might ease up. Maybe.

Does anyone even remember I Love You, Phillip Morris, the somewhat weird, no-laugh-funny but certainly respectable Jim Carrey-Ewan MacGregor gay farce from 12 or 13 years ago?

Directed and written by John Requa and Glenn Ficarra and based on the real-life story of con artist, impostor and multiple prison escapee Steven Jay Russell, it was a bizarre but well-made effort for the most part — a ludicrous, laughless comedy tinged with psychodrama.

It debuted at the 2009 Sundance Film Festival, and didn’t open theatrically for almost another two years (12.3.10). It cost $13 million to make but only earned $20.7 million — a flop but not a wipeout.

What other films of the last, say, 20 or 25 years have (a) featured a big-name star or stars, (b) were about a controversial subject or an otherwise extreme story, (c) made a lot of noise when they opened but (d) are barely recalled today?

Critics weren’t allowed to say it then and they’re certainly not allowed to say it now, but the reason I Love You, Phillip Morris fizzled, I suspect, is that Joe and Jane Popcorn weren’t especially interested in watching Jim Carrey have obsessive, Olympic-style intercourse with young Obi Wan Kenobi. Plus Carrey wore a bad hairstyle.

Carrey was slowly on the way down at the time (his peak period was between Ace Ventura, Pet Detective (’94) and Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (’04) but he was still “that guy.”

From HE’s original review:

“The tone of Glenn Ficarra and John Requa‘s I Love You Phillip Morris is hard to describe. It’s a kind of dark comedy (i.e., there are bits that are intended to draw laughter), but since it’s a tale of obsessive gay loony love there’s really not that much to ‘laugh’ at.

“But there’s conviction in it — the emotions are as real as it gets — and the performances by Jim Carrey and Ewan McGregor as the lovers are intense and out-there and fully grounded. Nobody’s putting anyone on, I mean.

“The tone is somewhere between high-toned soap opera and hyper-real absurdism, but it’s more or less fact-based. And the things that make it respectable and worthy and bold (which I feel it definitely is) are the sad moments, the irrational I-love-you acts, the bad behavior, the hurt. It’s nuts, this movie, and that’s what I liked about it.

“Love is strange, silly, demeaning, glorious, heartbreaking. A drug and a tidal wave that can destroy as easily as restore. And I Love You Phillip Morris is not laughing at this. At all. It’s a movie with balls and dicks and loads of heart and soul.

“I like this line from the Sundance notes: ‘As a primer on the irresistible power of a man who is either insane or in love (is there a difference?), I Love You Phillip Morris surely serves to remind us of the resilience of the human spirit.'”

Update: Here’s another film no one ever wants to re-watch, much less talk about, ever again: Zack Snyder‘s Sucker Punch (’11). Pure torture.