Seriously, what is wrong with these people? I understand paying tribute to two Russian spies who died here in the summer of 1959 — one from a fall after wrestling with a New York advertising man, another shot by U.S. marshalls as he attempted to cause the ad man’s death by stepping on his fingers. But where’s the sense in not wearing masks?
The other day I was driving and listening to “Not So Sweet Martha Lorraine” and marvelling at Country Joe McDonald‘s smooth twangy croon and Barry Melton‘s super-clean, sharp-as-a-blade guitar and that wonderful boppin’ organ, etc. “And finally blow out my brains…”
Bad relationship songs have cut both ways for a long time in the pop realm. Irritating or bad-vibe girlfriend songs by male blues singers and macho rock groups surged in the ’50s, ’60s and early ’70s, but have pretty much disappeared this century. (Or am I not paying attention?)
Toxic-male-relationship songs by prominent female singers happened from time to time in the ’60s (Linda Ronstadt‘s “You’re No Good”, Lesley Gore‘s “You Don’t Own Me”) but seem to be pretty much the only game in town today (Rhianna‘s “Love on the Brain“, JoJo‘s “Mad Love“, Lauryn Hill‘s “Ex-Factor“).
Are bad-girlfriend songs even allowed these days? I can’t think of any but what do I know?
Classic-era bad girlfriend (or irksome women) songs: “You Talk Too Much” (Joe Jones, ’60), “Black Hearted Woman”, “Every Hungry Woman (The Allman Brothers, ’70), “I Hear You Knockin’” (Smiley Lewis, ’55), “Stupid Girl,” “Under My Thumb” (Rolling Stones, ’65), “I’ll Feel a Whole Lot Better” (The Byrds, ’65), “96 Tears” (Question Mark & The Mysterians), “I Can See For Miles” (The Who, ’67), etc.
I don’t have the time or energy to explain what I’m on about. I’m not even sure if I know myself. This is basically a Chris Willman piece that I accidentally stepped into out of enthusiasm for Country Joe and “Martha Lorraine.”
This morning [Saturday, 6.20] Captain Chaos fired the United States Attorney in Manhattan, Geoffrey S. Berman, for being overly aggressive in pursuing Trump-related corruptions and cronies, and out of concern that Berman will be gunning for Trump personally after he leaves office on 1.20.21.
I was under the impression that Trump couldn’t fire Berman since his 2018 appointment was made official by judges of the United States District Court. I thought only said judges could dismiss him. Then again “a 1979 Justice Department memo holds…that the president [can] fire a prosecutor in Mr. Berman’s position,” according to a 1.20 N.Y. Times story about the matter.
Times story: “In a letter released by the Justice Department, Attorney General William P. Barr accused of Berman of choosing ‘public spectacle over public service’ because he would not voluntarily step down from the position.
“”Because you have declared that you have no intention of resigning, I have asked the President to remove you as of today, and he has done so,’ the letter read.
Barr said Berman’s top deputy, Audrey Strauss, would become the acting United States Attorney.
Times: “The dismissal of Berman came after his office brought a series of highly sensitive cases that worried and angered Mr. Trump and others in his inner circle,” blah blah. We all know what’s going on.
As a father and a human being, I feel great sadness about the tragedy that enveloped poor Zack Snyder and his family three years ago. But as a rule, Hollywood Elsewhere has hated Snyder’s films and especially his superhero bullshit for a long, long time. That’s just the way it is.
Snyder isn’t exactly Satan, but I’ve long regarded him as a high-style scourge of 21st Century cinema. I was half taken with Watchmen, okay, but otherwise you can shitcan and forget Dawn of the Dead, 300, Sucker Punch, Man of Steel, Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice, Justice League, etc.
But I’m currently intrigued as to why a just-released teaser of the Snyder Cut, his unreleased version of Justice League, which Snyder abandoned following said personal tragedy, is presented in a 1.37:1 aspect ratio.
The 34-second teaser focuses on Gal Gadot’s Wonder Woman as she comes across some kinds of bullshit artifact in a torch-illuminated cave, blah blah. Before the clip cuts to the formidably evil Darkseid, Jesse Eisenberg’s Lex Luthor says something like “the bell’s already been rung, and they’ve heard it…out in the dark among the stars…ding dong, the god is dead.”
Or whatever. Who cares? The Snyderverse is a hellish place to contemplate, much less visit.
In a 6.12 piece called “The American Press Is Destroying Itself“, Matt Taibbi has nailed the current p.c. zeitgeist, and his observations are downright frightening.
“The American left has lost its mind, [having] become a cowardly mob of upper-class social media addicts, Twitter Robespierres who move from discipline to discipline [while] torching reputations and jobs with breathtaking casualness.
“The leaders of this new movement” — the BLM absolutists, Millennial wokester “safeties” and their terrified chickenshit allies — “are replacing traditional liberal beliefs about tolerance, free inquiry, and even racial harmony with ideas so toxic and unattractive that they eschew debate, moving straight to shaming, threats, and intimidation. They are counting on the guilt-ridden, self-flagellating nature of traditional American progressives, who will not stand up for themselves, and will walk to the Razor voluntarily.
“They’ve conned organization after organization into empowering panels to search out thoughtcrime, and it’s established now that anything can be an offense, from a UCLA professor placed under investigation for reading Martin Luther King’s ‘Letter from a Birmingham Jail’ out loud to a data scientist fired from a research firm for — get this — retweeting an academic study suggesting nonviolent protests may be more politically effective than violent ones! And now this madness is coming for journalism.
“Beginning on Friday, June 5th, a series of controversies rocked the media. By my count, at least eight news organizations dealt with internal uprisings (it was likely more). Most involved groups of reporters and staffers demanding the firing or reprimand of colleagues who’d made politically ‘problematic’ editorial or social media decisions. The New York Times, the Intercept, Vox, the Philadelphia Inquirier, Variety, and others saw challenges to management.”
Please read the whole thing, but the bottom line (and just because Mark Harris might disagree with this notion doesn’t mean it’s not true) is that the progressive left HAS lost its mind, and you don’t have to be a conservative or (God forbid) a Republican to acknowledge this. I began as a good Democrat in my tweener and teen years, and I’ve regarded myself as left-leaning iconoclast since I was 20 or thereabouts. But over the last two or three years calling myself a staunch leftie has become untenable. Because the left has gone lunatic.
The wokester “safeties”, POC feminist blame-shriekers, cancel culture advocates, #MeToo tunnel-visionists (Taibbi doesn’t even mention the nonsensical conviction, in defiance of established facts, that Woody Allen is guilty of molesting Dylan Farrow in August 1992), progressive guilt-trippers and fanatical Khmer Rouge purists are running the journalist asylum.
These people are beyond scary, and yet the idea that come November voters will have to choose between allowing these progressive banshees free reign and giving another term to the salivating, sociopathic racism and curdled delusion of Donald Trump is a false scenario.
The thing to cling to in this surreal hurricane is sensible, skeptical, carefully measured liberalism — the kind that isn’t so terrified of being accused or white privilege and/or racism that a semblance of reality actually penetrates the cerebellum. I’m talking about the Bill Maher, Joe Rogan (except for his hateful dismissals of Doddering Joe), Matt Taibbi, Jordan Peterson, Sam Harris, Brett Stephens, Bari Weiss, Sasha Stone, Richard Rushfield, Jordan Ruimy and Katie Herzog cabal.
Boiling it down to eight words, I really can’t be a leftie any more. Because the 21st Century “woke” terror (named in honor of Maximilien Robespierre and the “French reign of terror” of the 1790s) has become too manic, too smothering, too horrifying.
I’ll never be a rightie (I took too many acid and mescaline trips in my 20s for that to ever happen) and the idea of being a comme ci comme ca centrist sounds boring as hell. I just know that the shrieking, accusatory, career-cancelling, sensitive-to-a-fault left has gone around the bend and over the waterfall. They’re just as unhinged and foam-at-the-mouth frightening as the bumblefuck Trump supporters who will attend the Tulsa rally on Juneteenth (i.e., Friday the 19th).
And while I still trust the N.Y. Times‘ reporting on foreign matters, COVID and climate as well as book, film and theatre criticism, I don’t trust them at all in terms of reporting about our domestic racial turbulence and certainly not on the opinion pages — they’ve totally gone over to the regimented BLM-filtered side and are now representing the activist journalism fraternity in this respect.
To bring it all back home, Taibbi has written that “people depend on [journalists] to tell them what we see, not what we think. What good are we if we’re afraid to do it?”
Until I read about this morning’s landmark Supreme Court decision, I didn’t realize it was legal in more than half the states to fire workers for being gay, bisexual or transgender. But no longer!
Workplace protections to millions of LGBTQs have now been extended, and what a surprise that Justice Neil Gorsuch, a shit-heel Trump appointee, joined Chief Justice John Roberts and Justices Ruth Bader Ginsburg, Stephen G. Breyer, Sonia Sotomayor and Elena Kagan in rendering this decision.
“An employer who fires an individual merely for being gay or transgender defies the law,” Gorsuch wrote for the majority.
Hollywood Elsewhere approves and applauds.
Now that the pandemic is “over” [sic] and we’re all BLM marching, hiking, attending outdoor street parties and planning to hit the multiplexes in July, it’s time to reconsider our outdoor summer wardrobes.
I’m kidding. Nobody except X-factors like myself would ever dare step outside the regimented norm.
“Bruh Uniform,” posted on 7.21.18: I have flaws and issues. I am far from perfect. But at the very least I will never be accused of wearing the universal “bruh uniform” that each and every male from the age of 5 to 85 wears during warm weather. No variations or enhancements of any kind. The U.S. Army salivates over this level of sartorial regimentation. A worldwide submission to a casual-dress style that any non-invested observer would describe as absolutely totalitarian and Orwellian.
The warm-weather bruh uniform consists of (a) a loose-fitting, low-thread-count T-shirt (or Lacoste polo shirt or short-sleeve shirt with crazy-sick patterns), (b) preppy, knee-length cargo shorts (Ralph Lauren, Urban Outfitters, Patagonia), (c) unstructured baseball cap, knit cap or lightweight pork-pie hat and (d) sockless sandals, slip-ons, huaraches, white athletic sneakers or Crocs.
Warm weather HE dress code (i.e., anti-bruh): NEVER shorts. European-style, high-thread count black T-shirt. High-thread-count white T-shirt. Slim-fit, long-sleeve unbuttoned shirt with a banded collar. NEVER knit caps. NEVER a baseball cap. (But cowboy hat in the winter months is allowable.) Italian lace-ups or suede slip-ons or black leather loafers. NEVER mandals or flip-flops. NEVER anything maroon or burgundy.
I’m not alone in this view. An eastern-seaboard film critic friend who recently moved to Los Angeles wrote the following last week: “I still cannot believe the way grown men dress in this town.” HE reply: “I guess I’m used to it. My initial thought was that you’re mostly talking about young GenXers, Millennials and GenZ, but now that I’ve thought it over, yeah…pretty much every male on the planet of whatever age wears this exact same outfit.” Critic friend: “They dress like they’re eight years old.”
Well, yeah, but to play devil’s advocate, I sorta get it. The bruh uniform is comfortable so why not? It’s not what you wear that counts, but who you are inside, etc. And who are you, by the way, to tell us what we should or shouldn’t wear, asshole?
Answer: I’m not saying you can’t or shouldn’t wear your bruh outfit, but does the fact that tens or even hundreds of millions are wearing the same identical threads and the exact same type of footwear and headgear…does that bother you in the slightest?
Does it ever occur to you to occasionally not dress like an obedient little factory drone? Does the fact that there used to be many different approaches to warm-weather dress before the brah uniform took hold…does that bother you in the slightest? The fact that individual style used to be an actual thing?
My recently ordered Jaws 4K Bluray was on the doorstep when we returned last evening (7:45ish) from Mexico. I popped it into my Samsung 4K Bluray player around 9:30 pm, and almost immediately I was going “wait…what? This is it?”
Because I wasn’t seeing my #1 basic requirement when it comes to 4K discs, which is a moderately exciting bump or an agreeable change for the better compared to the most recently released 1080p version. Official HE verdict: The 4K upgrade of Steven Spielberg‘s sea-change classic is approvable but underwhelming.
Here’s how I explained it last night to a tech-savvy industry friend: “I watched the 4K Jaws tonight, and while it certainly looks crisp and clean and handsome enough, there’s no detectable enhancement compared to the eight-year-old 1080p Bluray version. Not to these eyes, at least.
“And please don’t start with your old ‘have your 4K player and TV been properly calibrated?’ question, which you throw at me every time there’s an issue. My set-up is close to dead perfect. Everything always looks great on it. I’ve never been happier with a TV in my life.
“But the 4K Jaws disappoints. We tend to forget that Bill Butler‘s cinematography was never intended to be eye candy. It’s a utilitarian small-town drama mixed with a monster flick. Butler delivered pro-level work, but the idea was never to get people to drop to their knees. Obviously shot with efficiency, but never an attempt to show off. Butler was unpretentiously serving the story while delivering natural atmospheric elements.
“We tend to forget that color-wise Jaws is just this side of slightly desaturated, and many of the exterior shots have a kind of hazy seaside humidity appearance. It’s almost a little soft-focusy, and it certainly looks misty in some daytime scenes. Which is fine in itself. I’m just saying that it looks and feels like the 2012 Bluray. Not a bad looking presentation, but it hardly ever jumps out at you. It never makes you say ‘wow, I’ve never seen it look this good.’
“The bottom line is that I feel burned. My feeling is that Universal Home Video hustled me. They sold me a bill of goods. They tied a tin can to my tail. They led me down a garden path. They flim-flammed me.”
Tech guy has also seen the 4K Jaws, and his assessment was more generous. “It’s very different from the 2012 Bluray,” he said. “A far more cohesive image. Solid colors. Nice HDR that actually works. Dolby Atmos, which you can play with a sound bar. And perfect grain levels.”
HE reply: “What about the forthcoming Spartacus 4K disc (7.21)? Have you heard if it delivers any kind of bump? I’m not sure I want to shell out for this. I’m feeling a bit swindled here.
“Remember that I’m a Bluray peon — I look and see and judge in peon terms. Your technical perspective and insight are reflected in what you wrote and are much appreciated, but it doesn’t look substantially different than the 2012 Bluray. Not really.
“No bump, no buy. That’s how peons see things when it comes to a potential 4K purchase.”
However, the 4K Jaws also contains that legendary two-hour “Making of Jaws” doc that stretches back to the laser-disc days. If you’ve never watched it, please do.
How about spending two hours and 16 minutes with a smart-assed, perpetually stoned flatliner from arguably the most low-rent culture on the Eastern seaboard and certainly the scuzziest borough of New York City, a place so low on the cultural totem pole than even New Jerseyans look down upon it? And at the same time a well-crafted film with heart and honesty and a relatable personality? And which ends…well, hopefully?
You can give the side-eye to Judd Apatow and Pete Davidson‘s The King of Staten Island all you want. You can say it’s too oddball fringe-y, too lower-depths, too submerged on its own weed planet and too caught up in nihilism and arrested development to connect with Joe and Jane Popcorn.
Which I strongly disagree with. Because it’s funny and plain-spoken (if a bit dismaying at times) and it doesn’t back off from an unusual milieu and mentality, and certainly from Pete Davidson‘s “Scott”, a layabout for the ages.
KOSI made me smile and guffaw and even laugh out loud several times (highly unusual for an LQTM-er). And I believed every word of it…every line, emotion, situation, character. It’s peddling sardonic humor that doesn’t feel schticky, although I guess it is. The tone is low-key raw, kinda nervy, certainly unpretentious and 90% bullshit-free.
Okay, it softens up during the final passage, but I welcomed this with open arms. Because a film about wall-to-wall, start-to-finish nihilism would be too much. And the length (136 minutes) doesn’t feel longish but completely necessary and natural.
And it fills out Davidson’s comic persona to the extent that he’s suddenly a completely compelling big-screen presence and (am I allowed to say this?) a movie star. And I loved the supporting turns by Bel Powley (whom I’d never really warmed to before), Bill Burr (whom I admire but have never found screamingly funny as a stand-op), Marisa Tomei and the always authentic Steve Buscemi.
It’s a shame this Universal release is going straight-to-streaming this Friday (6.12), as I’d love to watch it a third time at the Arclight with a couple of hundred know-it-alls and generally, you know, groove with the room.
The script (co-penned by Apatow, Davidson and Dave Sirus) is….what, 75% inspired by Davidson’s own life? Same Staten Island upbringing, same deceased fireman dad (killed in a local apartment fire rather than inside the World Trade Center on 9/11, which actually happened when Pete was 7), same living-with-mom (Marisa Tomei) and getting-ripped-with-loser-friends lifestyle. Quippy and weird and oddly endearing.
The difference is that it imagines how things might have turned out if Davidson hadn’t begun to try stand-up comedy in his mid teens and had stayed in an aimless funk into his mid 20s.
Aside from an unlikely dream of becoming a tattoo artist and an idiotic plan to open a combination tattoo parlor and restaurant, Scott is living a kind of “whatever” lifestyle, smoking weed and poking at this or that pretention, generally hanging back as time flies by and even flirting with stupid suicide, as dramatized in the opening scene.
KOSI reminded me at times of the Last Exit to Brooklyn milieu and the boozy despairing blokes in the British “kitchen sink” dramas of the late ’50s and early ’60s.
Scott is in a friends-with-benefits relationship with longtime friend Kelsey (Powley). His disapproving sister Claire (Maude Apatow) is about to leave for college. And his three bonged-out friends are on the verge of becoming petty felons.
And then mom begins dating a divorced, bald-headed fireman with a rangy moustache (Burr) and Scott is like “what?” And the film becomes a story about an emotionally stalled quipster-stoner trying to break up their relationship. But eventually (and thank God) there’s a way out of that.
I’m still of the view that ex-N.Y. Times op-ed editor James Bennet‘s statement about not having read the Tom Cotton “send in the troops” piece is suspicious, at the very least.
I was kicked around last night for saying this, but it just doesn’t smell right. The mob can pretend that Bennet is gone because he was simply a careless editor in this instance, but my gut says no. And I certainly don’t believe the piece wasn’t checked and assessed by deputy editor James Dao and probably others.
Here’s how Bennet explained things on June 4th. And here’s that 6.2 Morning Consult poll saying that 58% of the American public supported Cotton’s view about stopping looters. The Khmer Rouge didn’t want to acknowledge this viewpoint, much less see it supported in a Times op-ed.
The bottom line, I suspect, is Times wokester outrage over the Cotton piece was such that someone had to lose their job, someone had to take the hit.
From The Guardian‘s Kenan Malik, posted on 6.7 (yesterday), in a piece titled “Publish and Debate, NYT, But Don’t Be In Denial“: “The claims that op-ed editor James Bennet had not read the piece before publication, or that there was insufficient fact-checking, have the smell of excuses for a climbdown after the fact.
“Like many liberal newspapers, the NYT has responded to the rise of a more polarized politics by hiring conservative columnists, such as Bret Stephens. The problem, though, is not a lack of conservative voices. It’s the failure to create a wider culture of debate and engagement and an entrenchment of the ‘you can’t say that’ ethos. That’s an issue not just in liberal circles. And not just at the New York Times.”
Journo pally: “There is no way Cotton’s piece wasn’t read. Carefully. They knew what they had.
“And if Bennet didn’t read it before publication then who did? There is no way Cotton’s piece wasn’t read. Carefully. The Times calls everyone. They fact-check everything as a rule. I’ve been in stories in the Times [and] I get calls from fact checkers.
“The revised explanation is an excuse to quell the angry mob. Some are happy with this excuse but it isn’t why Bennet resigned.
“The Times-Bennet-Cotton thing is also part of a recent [wokester] pattern — Hachette/Woody Allen, Chris Matthews, Philadelphia Inquirer fallout (“Buildings Matter”), etc.
“Bennet’s statement that he didn’t read the piece suggests that if he had he would have made a different decision. But no matter how you slice this episode it comes back bullshit. From the official, recently revised Times perspective. Either they are not publishing it because they think it puts black lives at risk or they are being pressured because others think same.
“The fact is, no one told the story of those 58% of Americans who were scared and wanted to be protected by the military if need be. No one on the left wanted that to be true. But it was true.”
The woman upstairs is very loud. We’ve asked politely and complained two or three times before to no avail. She doesn’t listen and doesn’t seem to care. So this time I added a little bite.
For the last two mornings she’s begun with loud phone calls a little after 6 am and then she clomp-clomp-clomps around her apartment with street shoes. Her steps sound like some steed clopping on a London pavement, which is partly why we call her “Horse Woman.”
Tatiana, a very light sleeper who needs a good eight or nine each night, has been awoken by Ms. Filly twice over the last 48 hours. Plus when Horse Woman has sex with her younger boyfriend she goes “eeek! eeek! eek!” like a squeaky mouse, and we have to deal with that also.
Note delivered this morning to Horse Woman’s apartment at 7 am:
“In an apartment complex with thin walls, it is not only unneighborly but uncivilized to speak loudly in a phone conversation as you tromp around your apartment in noisy shoes at 6:05 am. You are waking my wife, who is trying to sleep. And this is the second morning in a row that you’ve done this.
“Are you capable of showing just a little bit of courtesy? Is there some kind of basic blockage you’re trying to cope with?
“Before 9 am, please use headphones for phone calls and keep your voice down. Try to speak in a conversational tone, and don’t bellow like you’re speaking to hundreds in a bullfight arena without a microphone. And please don’t walk around your apartment in clompy shoes — try barefoot or socks or sandals.
“I feel as if I’m speaking to someone at a dinner table who (a) was never told to eat her food with modest-sized bites, (b) was never told to not speak with her mouth full and (c) was never told to put a napkin on her lap.
“You know…civilized behavior? Manners? You’ve heard of this stuff, right?
HE: Some Nervous Nellies were asking this morning if the Oscar season will happen later this year, along with the show itself in early ’21. I took a deep breath.
Jordan Ruimy: Maybe, but the big titles are probably going to be streamed.
HE: Maybe so. Maybe it’ll have to be an all-streaming year this one time. Or maybe theatres will start to creep back in July and more in the fall. Maybe we’ll actually get to watch Mank and the other biggies on the big screen under certain conditions.
Here’s the answer either way: The Oscars are happening in early ’21, period. Because this is a DO OR DIE, “RALLY ROUND THE FLAG, BOYS” MOMENT….not just for exhibition but for all aspects of the industry…production, distribution, marketing, SAG, the below-the-line guilds, blogaroos. This is not a time to lay down and curl into a fetal position and die. Pearl Harbor has happened. Are we going to put Rosie the Riveter into those factories or not?
The Academy might have to extend the 2020 deadline to 1.31.21 or the end of February (2.28) or even March 31st, but THEY’RE GOING TO HAPPEN. The Oscars used to happen in April back in the ’60s. It would simply be a matter of going back to an April air date this one year. BIG DEAL. If there’s a problem out there and among us, it isn’t excitable behavior. It’s covid lethargy or, worse, covid depression. Maybe what we all need is a little fire and brimstone…a little Elmer Gantry.
Ruimy: Yeah, but again — will movies be released theatrically? If not, which studios are willing to send their Oscar titles straight to VOD?
HE: And don’t forget that 5.22 Carolyn Kormann New Yorker story about a fast-tracked virus vaccine, and particularly this passage: “Stephane Bancel, the C.E.O. of Moderna, said last week that, pending the results of the Phase III efficacy trial this summer, the vaccine could be ready for approval and licensing as soon as the fall.”
Ruimy: Vaccinating 330 million Americans is going to take months. The weakest and most vulnerable will get it first.
HE: Theatrical may not ignite until early next year….who knows? Or maybe in the fall. Remember that the first theatrical openings are happening in July.
Ruimy: We need L.A. and NYC to reopen their theatres. A theatre in Iowa or Tennessee screening UNHINGED doesn’t really count as a legitimate reopening of theatres. I can’t see Newsom and Cuomo fast-tracking the opening of movie theatres by July. They are taking their sweet-ass time, in no rush whatsoever.
HE: What’s wrong with Oscar contenders streaming, just this one year? What’s wrong with just sucking it up and DOING THAT as a one-time-only thing?
Ruimy: Nothing at all, but in the meantime we should all embrace the fact that streaming will be the go-to spot for this year’s best movies.
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