Is there some reason other than virtue-signaling that the organizers of this Zoom chat have a sign-language person while they also have subtitles, which YouTube puts on automatically?

Why does this feel like a meeting of super-loyal Stalinist apparatchiks in the 1930s? The “safe” alpha woke-think vibes coming out of this thing are sorta kinda suffocating.

This Guillermo del Toro snap was taken in the hallowed aisles of Laser Blazer — the Pico Blvd. location, I mean — sometime in ’00, possibly in ’01. Guillermo had either just finished shooting The Devil’s Backbone or was preparing to do that or…oh, hell, I can’t specifically recall. I could be off by a couple of years. It could have been ’04 or ’05.

Laser Blazer was where my heart was…it was my home, my soul haven. It began in ’88 just as laser discs were starting to happen; it finally died in ’11.

I didn’t watch season #4 of The Crown (the one with Emma Corrin as Lady Diana Spencer) until last summer, but once I’d gotten through it I felt sated and satisfied. My basic attitude was “that was pretty good…actually very good, but I think that’ll do.”

But then I was obliged to sit through the big Spencer screening at Telluride and endure all the subsequent hype and hoopla (Kristen Stewart for Best Actress). And then came the Diana doc, “The Princess,” at Sundance ’22.

And it’s still not over. Sometime later this year we’ll have to sink into The Crown‘s fifth and sixth season with Elizabeth Debicki and Dominic west as Diana and Prince Charles.

Debicki is 6’3″, of course, and West is six feet even. That means he had to adopt an Alan Ladd approach — i.e., stand on boxes or wear lifts when sharing close-ups.

You’re richer than Croesus and famous, and have lived a large, swaggering life for 15, 20 years now…you’re a kind of lunatic eccentric and everyone sees that…you turned into a Trump homey in ’17 and then ran for President in ’20, all the time flirting with mental instability.

Now, post-Kim Kardashian, you’re hopping around with Julia Fox, and have announced that your new, legally-changed name is “Ye” (pronounced “yay“). You’re such a moody, impulsive shape-shifter that you can’t even settle into your own name upon hitting your mid 40s? You’re still flirting, wondering…still not sure?

This isn’t Cassius Clay becoming Muhammud Ali, which signified a religious conversion. At age 35 in 1993, the late Prince changed his name to a love symbol but that was part of a legal dispute with Warner Bros. No, this is your thing. If it had been my call? I would’ve become “Ye–Ye” — sounds cooler somehow.

The MPAA’s rating system is about protecting sensitive and/or under-age viewers from disturbing film content (violence, sexuality). But protection from ideological propaganda should also be a matter of concern.

Friendo: “We need some kind of a ‘woke’ database (along the lines of the Bechdel Test) that lets people know if a movie is pushing doctrine or whether it’s not. A ‘W’ rating label at the beginning of each appropriately-labeled film might also work.”

I’ve forked over $20 for a Sunday Sundance viewing of Oliver Hermanus’ Living, a British period remake of Akira Kurosawa’s Ikiru (‘52). Watching it as we speak. The great Bill Nighy inhabits the terminally ill public works bureaucrat, who was played 70 years ago by Takashi Shimura.

The descriptive terms so far are “low-key,” “no hurry,” “tonally and visually accurate” (it’s set in 1952 London) and “quietly affecting emotional undertow.”

One quibble: Whenever old-school British bureaucrats of yore sat down in their first-class train compartments and unfolded their newspapers, they took their bowler hats off. Not so in Hermanus’ film.

I’m pleased to report that Living is framed in a 1.37 aspect ratio.