We love Air Canada!…delays, weather phantoms, seemingly chickenshit excuses. How are things in Queens as we speak? WeatherBug says cloudy.
Elite Gourmet Chef Hates Diners
Beware of anyone who claps his or her hands as a way of getting your attention in a crowded room. One clap = you get up and leave.
Destined To Endure in Pop-Culture Annals…
…for decades if not centuries, right up there with Andy Warhol‘s “in the future everyone will be famous for 15 minutes.”
Not A “Vanity Project,” But A Masterpiece
In a 6.122 THR article by Borys Kit, Martin Scorsese‘s The Irishman is described as “an expensive vanity project.” The statement is Kit’s own, and I’m sorry but it’s bullshit.
The Irishman is easily one of the greatest films of the 21st Century, and the last 30 or 40 minutes delivers perhaps the most devastating passage about grief, regret and facing the end of one’s life in the history of movies.
For the 47th time, “Wild Strawberries with handguns.”
Parasite is a toy movie…a toy movie about class conflict, made by a serious, super-crafty cineaste and blah blah. Don’t crank me up again about the drunken con-artist family letting the fired maid into the house, etc. History will not be kind.
Morning-After Thoughts About Verdict?
If there’s a general consensus about the Depp-Heard verdict, it’s probably something like “it’s finally over…let it go…whatever the truth of it, Depp seemed more honest than Heard plus he’s certainly more likable…it’s gone on long enough…let it go.”
From “Why We Love to Watch a Woman Brought Low,” a 5.20 N.Y. Times essay by Jessica Bennett:
“One might have thought — or, at least, I might have thought — that we’d be in a more enlightened place by now. And yet despite the public reckonings of #MeToo and the recent reexaminations of pop culture figures — Britney Spears, Pamela Anderson, Janet Jackson and others — there is precious little introspection over the widespread hatred of Ms. Heard.
“This trial seems to have exposed some of the rhetorical weaknesses of #MeToo. ‘Believe women’ for example — a phrase that was meant to underscore how rare it is for a woman to lie about her own abuse — had somehow morphed into ‘believe all women,’ which left no room for the outlier. That has apparently become, as the comedian Chris Rock put it this week, ‘Believe all women…except Amber Heard.’
“The intent of that early slogan was, in part, to encourage the public to treat women who speak up with basic dignity and respect, however messy and imperfect they or their stories may be. Yet none of that seems to have trickled down here.”
@gamethinkingtips Initially, I believed #amberheard. Then I watched the trial, saw the evidence… & realized that I’d been CONNED 😡 @gamethinkingtips #justiceforjohnnydepp #deppvsheard #johnnydepp ♬ original sound – Amy Jo Kim
Air Canada Smothers My Soul
Still in Toronto due to a pair of Air Canada flight cancellations yesterday (one due to a sick pilot, the other due to New York weather)…you don’t want to know. Not to mention Justin Trudeau‘s infuriating insistence upon masking. I left Paris yesterday morning at 8 am. By the time I arrive tonight I’ll have been travelling for roughly 42 hours.
Dishonest Variety Headline Suggests Depp Victory A Draw
Here’s what Gene Maddaus’ 6.1 Variety story partly reported about today’s Johnny Depp-Amber Heard defamation trial verdict:
Here’s how Maddaus summed it all up:
And here’s the Variety headline above Maddaus ’ story — technically correct but obviously a spin job — an attempt to portray Depp’s victory as a bit muddled, a half-and-halfer.
Depp Wins!
I’m truly astonished that Johnny Depp has won his defamation case against Amber Heard.
I thought the system had irrevocably decided the following: (a) “believe all women or at the very least give them the benefit of the doubt” and (b) “older white guys are generally bad news, especially the rich ones who’ve struggled with drugs.”
Is it fair to interpret this shocking verdict as some kind of seminal #MeToo setback? As in “the carte blanche era has come to an end”? Or is it just a matter of “Amber couldn’t sell it but Johnny could”? You tell me.
Trapped On A Plane
Something about sitting in seat 18C, high above the Atlantic and coping with vague screaming boredom makes me want to listen to lightweight mid ‘60s pop songs, especially those that lean on catchy harmonies.
But after doing this for five or ten I tell myself “no, stop this, enough.”
And that turn in the road leads to one of my all-time favorite mid ‘60s ditties — Tony Powers and George Fischoff’s “98.6”, an unpretentious shuffle tune with arguably one of the catchiest melodies ever crafted. Lead vocal by Keith (still with us) and backing harmonies by The Tokens (“The Lion Sleeps Tonight”).
You need to try and imagine listening to “98.6” in a car driven by a friend, and you’re both ripped.
Just Around The Corner
Two days hence Watcher (IFC Midnight), which I’ve been hyping since last January, finally opens. It’s an expert, quietly creepy, Polanski-level thriller, and well worth the price.
Set in present-day Bucharest and costarring Maika Monroe (It Follows), Karl Glusman and Burn Gorman, Chloe Okuno and Zack Ford‘s film is unquestionably scary and unnerving.
In my view it stops short of elevated horror — it’s more of a low-key, Roman Polanski-level thriller in the vein of Repulsion and The Tenant. First-rate chills and anxieties ensue. And not the “midnight movie” kind either.
Scream-level morons may respond in their usual way, but Watcher is as good as it gets with this kind of palette and approach.
Forgotten “Fury”
I smirked when Brad Pitt hocked a kind of loogie at Zach Galafianakis back in ‘14. I watched it again this morning and laughed my ass off. I hated Zach then and I still sorta hate him now. That’s not true actually. I don’t know why I just said that.
Where’s Zach been lately?
Pitt’s appearance was part of a promotional effort for David Ayres’ Fury, which I found vaguely annoying. Here’s an excerpt from my review, titled “Olly Olly In Come Fury.”
“The climactic situation, as you know, comes when the weary Brad Pitt and his four bone-tired men (Logan Lerman, Shia LaBeouf, Michael Pena and a revolting redneck animal played by Jon Bernthal) are stuck next to a country farmhouse with their tank temporarily disabled by a land mine. And then they discover that 300 well-armed German troops are marching in their direction.
“Pitt has been ordered by his superior, Jason Isaacs, to protect a supply train, but five guys in a broken-down tank vs. 300 German solders is just suicide, plain and simple. They’ve no chance so why does Pitt decide to fight it out? To what end? They aren’t trapped. They could run for the trees and meet up with U.S. forces later and live to fight again. But no.
“You can call it bravery but I call it nihilism.
“I understand crazy courage and uncommon valor and all that. I choke up every time I think of Sam Jaffe climbing to the top of the temple so he can blow the bugle and warn the British troops of an ambush at the end of Gunga Din.
“And I understood the situation during the finale of Pork Chop Hill when 30 or 40 trapped U.S. troops have nothing to do but fight back against hordes of Chinese troops.
“And the ending of Platoon when U.S. troops were being overrun by North Vietnamese but they fight on regardless and even call in an air strike against their own position.
“And I certainly understand the Wild Bunch finale when William Holden, Ernest Borgnine, Warren Oates and Ben Johnson decide that they’re getting old and their lives are over so why not go out in a blaze of gunfire against the corrupt Mapache troops?
“But the Fury finale is nothing like any of these scenarios.
“My friend responded that ‘that’s not how it went down.’
“I said, ‘What do you mean that’s not how it went down’? That’s exactly how it went down. Pitt said ‘Nope, I’m gonna fight it out….you guys run for the trees if you want.’ Think about that decision for four or five seconds. It was utter suicide and for what?”
“The friend said, ‘If they made a movie about guys who ran for the hills I don’t think it would be quite the same, would it?’
“Not ‘run for the hills’,” I said. “Hide in the trees until the company passes by, and then regroup with the nearby American troops and fight on. What’s wrong with that? They weren’t fighting the enemy in order to give other Allied troops time to achieve some other objective — this wasn’t the Alamo. They weren’t ordered to protect a bridge at all costs, like the guys in Saving Private Ryan. This was April 1945 — the end of the war. Hitler would be dead in a couple of weeks. It didn’t matter.
“If Pitt and his homies had abandoned the tank and run like thieves I would have jumped out of my seat and said ‘Yes! Run for it! All right!'”
“The friend said the finale was analogous to ‘those two cops in the mean streets of Los Angeles in Ayer’s End of Watch.’
“Not the same thing at all,” I replied. “Sorry but you’re throwing out bad analogies. And that finale in End of Watch was ridiculous also. L.A. cop Jake Gyllenhaal is shot by gangbangers, what, 12 or 15 times and he’s attending the funeral of his partner in the next scene?
“’I will stand to the end of this thread defending my analogies just like Brad ‘Wardaddy’ Pitt did against the Nazis!,’ my friend replied.
“During the big court-martial scene in Paths of Glory a French infantryman, Private Maurice Ferol (Timothy Carey), is asked by the prosecution why he retreated after his comrades had all been killed in an attack on the Ant Hill (i.e., a German fortification). The question is satirically re-phrased by Colonel Dax (Kirk Douglas), the defense counsel. “Why didn’t you attack the Ant Hill single-handed?” Dax asks. “Single-handed? Are you kidding, sir?,” Ferol replies. “Yes, I’m kidding,” Dax says.
“If it’s a choice between self-destruction and running for cover in order to live and fight another day, just call me Jeff ‘run for the treeline’ Wells.”
Last Snaps Before Air Canada Agony Flight
4:30 pm Paris time, 10:30 am New York time. We’ve been airborne since 1:30 pm with nearly five hours to go. I chose Air Canada to save $$… big mistake.
All the sublime Parisian soothings of the last four days were erased this morning in one fell swoop. Everything has been hell. 5:30 am wake-up, idiotic Uber driver, wallet explosion on Roissy bus to CDG, interminable air terminal lines, etc.
Air Canada made me get a $35 Covid test, and we’re all wearing fucking masks on the flight. News flash: The pandemic is more or less over, guys, and fuck Monkey Pox. I hate hate HATE this crap so much.
Slight consolation: I’m wearing a very cool-looking Cannes Film Festival mask.
