How many underwhelming or dud-level Paul Mescal performances will it take to convince the HE cognoscenti that I’ve been right about this mook all along? The coup de grace, I’m presuming, will be delivered by Mescal’s Paul McCartney performance in Sam Mendes‘ Beatles quartet.
“New York City today is optimized for two [kinds of] people. It’s optimized for really rich guys in their 40s and 50s, and for really hot women in their 20s and 30s. And for nearly everyone else, it’a a soul-crushing experience. If you are not in one of those two demographics, do not move to New York City. For it is capitalism meets Darwin meets Three’s Company and I Dream of Jeannie meets reality TV.” — Scott Galloway.
Manhattan-residing friendo: “Pretty damn accurate! Except NYC is also welcoming to hot finance guys in their 20s and 30s.”
I lived in Manhattan for six years, between the spring of ’78 and the early summer of ’83. I lived in five (5) small but livable apartments on Sullivan Street, West 4th Street, Bank Street (right across from HB Studios), West 76th Street near Amsterdam, and West 99th west of Broadway. I was never flush, but I was able live a spunky, flavorful, often exciting life supplanted by elite screenings, paid-for parties and occasional bar sippings, comped tickets to B’way plays, clubs and downtown club visits. I wasn’t deliriously ecstatic about everything, but I was certainly what most of us would call moderately happy. And oh, the women back then…
Life was actually pretty great at times, looking back, but a youngish journalist earning a moderate 2025 salary couldn’t possibly have fun today in NYC the way I did 40-plus years ago.
…does NOT mean you’re not, in all the ways that really and truly count, a sentient, spiritual being with a soul.
I’m totally with this woman. It’s insulting to call a dog “a dog”…really insulting. Same deal with cats.
All hail the great Helen Joyce, author of “Trans: When Ideology Meets Reality“…. thank you from the bottom of my heart.
That would’ve never worked. Too ivory tower, too playwright-ish…a name that pines for dignity. The combination of “Billy” and that Polish-German accent was perfect. Billy sounds playful, mischievous, maybe a bit wicked.
…about poor Ozzy Osbourne. Never plugged into the utter, low-rent shallowness of Black Sabbath. Biting off the head of a bat…get outta my life. Never watched The Osbournes during the Dubya years. I tried to find that whimsical “Ozzy contemplates life as an older guy” song, but it wouldn’t come up.
Friendo: “First democracy and now Ozzy. I can’t take any more.”
At long last, a reasonably decent trailer for Paul Thomas Anderson‘s One Battle After Another (Warner Bros., 9.26) has finally surfaced.
The first reaction to Leonardo DiCaprio‘s Bob Ferguson character — a grizzled, anti-government leftie blowhard — is that he’s overly verbal about everything, and that Leo seems to be half-improvising his dialogue.
Obviously a must-see for people like myself, but what will Joe and Jane Popcorn say and do? I smell trouble in this regard.
Having suffered grievously from the watching of Inherent Vice, HE stands foursquare against any further Thomas Pynchon adaptations.
It’s apparently not playing Venice and perhaps not even Telluride, but James Vanderbilt’s Nuremberg (Sony Classics, 11.7) will have a gala premiere at the Toronto Film Festival, and it’s a hot ticket, I’m told.
Me to Friendo: “If Nuremberg is so good why isn’t it premiering in Venice or Telluride? Why launch it at TIFF, which is but a shadow of its former self?
Vanderbilt did an excellent job with Truth (‘15), which he wrote, directed and produced.
If the buzz is correct, Nuremberg could be a great comeback vehicle for Russell Crowe, who plays overweight Nazi luftwaffer commander Hermann Goring. A good get for costar Rami Malek also.
…a “sexually candid, open relationship comedy” starring these two mooks? The guy especially. I wouldn’t even want to imagine this bear-like beardo in any vague state of intimacy or arousal or even, God forbid, with his shoes off….ugh!
