There were two slightly awkward things about Jonathan Larson‘s romantic life in the years before his untimely death in January 1996.

One was that he was straight, and nobody likes the sound of that. The second was the apparent fact that Larson’s two most conspicuous girlfriends, cinematographer Victoria Leacock and a woman named Susan (nobody seems to know her last name), were descended from …uhm, European tribes. This doesn’t square with 2021 sensibilities, of course. But Tick, Tick…Boom director Lin Manuel Miranda remedied the situation by casting Alexandra Ship as “woke” Susan, and now everything’s cool.

In sum, it wasn’t Larson’s “fault” for failing to become emotionally entwined with a woman of color back in the ’80s and early ’90s. He simply didn’t know any better at the time. No need to beat a dead horse, water under the bridge, etc.

I gradually came to respect Lin Manuel Miranda‘s Tick Tick…Boom (Netflix, now streaming). I was even emotionally affected by it in the second half, but man, what a struggle. Mine, I mean.

Based on Larson’s 1990 stage musical of the same name, it’s about Larson himself (Andrew Garfield) struggling and feeling desperate and anxious and needing so hard to get his material produced and seen…to get up and over…he constantly sweats and strains and feels awful about not being a success at age 30, and the movie puts you right into the misery pit with the poor guy, and it’s no picnic, let me tell you.

Tick, Tick…Boom is a “musical based on a musical about writing a musical”, and I’m telling you that the first 20 or 25 minutes of this film, directed by Lin Manuel Miranda, will make you go “oh, no…please, no.” I was in agony. Garfield is pushing so hard, turning on the “charm” and emphatic personality, singing with a not-great singing voice, so much “sell” in his performance…buh-bo-buh-bo-bo!

Art isn’t easy, but watching a poor, exhausted, stressed-out guy trying to make good art isn’t easy either.

But after 30 or 40 minutes of torture I began to settle into the story and I began to feel and even identify with Larson’s pain. I’ve been there. In ’78 and ’79 I was poor as a churchmouse and living in a Soho cockroach flat and trying to get rolling as a movie critic and interviewer, and my theme song was Gerry Rafferty‘s “Baker Street.” (“And you’re cryin’, you’re cryin’ now”) I know all about that agony and fear and desperation so don’t tell me.

Incidentally “Baker Street” is a much catchier and more arresting tune than anything in Larson’s Tick Tick score. Sorry.

Friendo to HE: “I hate all of the people in this thing. People don’t talk like this in real life. It’s very 2021. They’re all talking in woke-speak. It’s the modern left’s idea of the perfect sensitive person movie, Except nobody will give a single shit about it.”

HE to Friendo: “I groaned when Susan, his LatinX-woman of color girlfriend (Alexandra Shipp), left him because he’s too consumed in his work. Earth to Susan: All creatively-driven types are consumed by their work. It goes with the territory. The real loves of Larson’s life were, of course, his music and Stephen Sondheim.

Friendo to HE: “I felt badly for his plight but this script is just terrible.”

HE to Friendo: “And for all of it, we don’t get the grand payoff that is Larson’s Rent….Rent is years away when the film ends. I took Jett with me to see Rent at the Nederlander when he was eight or thereabouts, and he wasn’t a fan.”

…for director Sean Baker, especially with too-hip-for-the-room critics like Bob Strauss, Tomris Laffly and Tim Grierson singing praise for the morally revolting Red Rocket…everything was coming up roses for the guy when all of a sudden and out of the fucking blue, Baker “liked” a Tulsi Gabbard tweet about how the Rittenhouse Jury “got it right” by finding the 18-year-old shooter not guilty on all counts.

In the blink of an eye Baker had put himself into social jeopardy, or so it seemed. By implying he was something of a rightie or was certainly no “seig heil” Democrat, he was theoretically on the outs with your devotional film industry wokesters….”Eeeeeeee!!! Sean’s on the side of a gun-toting, demonstrator-killing, Proud Boy-fraternizing racist!!” The squealing could be heard all over town.

Houston, we have a problem with Criterion’s new Citizen Kane package, which includes a 4K UHD version as well as an alternate Bluray version.

The problem is not with the 4K disc, which reportedly looks quite fine and delightful. The problem is with the Bluray version, which looks fine until the 30-minute mark, at which point the image turns all gray and milky with the black levels and sharpness totally out the window.

This bizarre Criterion screw-up was first reported two or three days ago by DVD Beaver‘s Gary W. Tooze. Tooze’s screen captures were pointed out this morning by HE friendo Mark Smith. The problem was subsequently confirmed an hour or two later by a totally trusted technical authority on Bluray and 4K discs.

So this is real — not a rumor. Criterion has totally dropped the pitcher of milk and now it’s all over the floor. The 4K is cool, as noted, but the Bluray is a cock-up of epic proportions — perhaps the worst in Criterion’s history. And so Criterion will have to recall the package and fix the problem and send the corrected version out sometime in December or whenever.

Okay, I’m being presumptuous. It’s theoretically possible that Criterion might not recall the Kane package. They might just say to their customers “you guys don’t really care about the Bluray disc…right? This package is all about the lustrous 4K version so let’s just push the Bluray problem aside and forget about it. You don’t care, we don’t care…right? We fuck up every now and then and you’ve been cool with that. The DePalma thing…remember that one? You let us slide on those ridiculous teal-tinted Blurays of Midnight Cowboy and Bull Durham and Teorema. So why not just turn the other cheek on this thing as well?”

Tooze: “The 1080p looks quite strong, superior to Warner’s 2011 Blu-ray in varying degrees, often darker, showing more grain and richer contrast layering. It’s a dual-layered rendering with a max’ed out bitrate with nothing else sharing that first Blu-ray disc.

“Until we get almost exactly 30 minutes into the film — just prior to the scene in Bernstein’s office (with the contentious visibility of the rain on the windows) — [when] the Criterion Bluray alters and shows a very softer, paler, contrast [and] the brightness is diminished.

“I don’t have any explanation for this [grayish milky transition] on the Bluray…[but it is certainly] different from the first 1/2 hour of the film.”

The problem is made obvious in many of Tooze’s screen captures — here’s a sampling provided by Smith:

Yesterday a Facebook friend chose to process the Kyle Rittenhouse “not guilty” verdict through a racial lens, using the whole tragic episode as an opportunity to lament racially-stacked decks and dump on the general venality of white people. I replied as follows…

“Agreed — if Rittenhouse had been black, the cops probably would have shot him. Then again why would a black dude want to use a loaded weapon against rampaging white leftists? Speaking as a small business owner, my heart went out to retail storefront owners whose businesses were trashed in May and June 2020 because of George Floyd’s murder.

“The Tulsa race riots — a deplorable, shameful chapter in this country’s history — happened almost a century ago. Most of us understand that our culture has progressed since then. This is a significantly different country than it was even in the ‘60s and ‘70s.

“If you want to be completely condemning and dismissive of white people, you can say ‘nothing has changed…they were largely racist and evil then, and they’re pretty much driven by the same white supremacist attitudes today.’ If you want to insist on that viewpoint today, have at it.

“Trump voters are obviously or largely still living in the past (say, the 1950s) but, the racist Charlottesville marchers of 2017 aside, even they wouldn’t be part of a homicidal race riot today. Either you accept that society has the capacity to adapt and evolve, or you don’t.

“The fact is that wokesters have overplayed their hand over the last four or five years, and the recent defeat of Terry McAuliffe in Virginia is probably a good forecast of what will happen a year from now. Outside of Trump loyalists and QAnon loonies, most people, I believe, are basically sensible and decent and will support sensible liberal policies. But they largely hate the radical wokester left, and I for one understand why.

“Wokesters are the new McCarthy-ites — scolders, social-media blacklisters and reverse racists. Thanks to the militant left and proponents of CRT in grade schools, the term ‘older white American male’ is now an epithet. And now the chickens, trust me, are coming home to roost. Congrats.”

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Clark Gable drank and smoked himself to death. Three packs a day, according to some accounts. Plus cigars and pipes. Reportedly a binge drinker. His age (59) had relatively little to do with anything. He bought it.

Anthony Lane’s New Yorker review of Jane Campion’s The Power of the Dog explains why Campion may win the Best Director Oscar (for crafting an intense backwater realm and going whole-hog on the perversity), but why it has almost no chance as a Best Picture contender. Nobody will want to celebrate how this grim and odorous parlor drama makes them feel — they just won’t.