The Bidens, I mean. Lady MacBiden, Hunter Biden (what is this derelict doing in White House meetings? shoring up the old man?) and great-grandpa…deranged, egoistic, sickening.

Over the last six days I’ve gone from “Joe is obviously too old and is almost certainly going to ensure Trump’s victory” (i.e., last Thursday afternoon) to “I wouldn’t be all that upset if he suffers a stroke or better yet dies…he’s a drooling, croaking, reality-denying fiend who cares only for himself” (i.e., right now).

To my great surprise and delight, Christy Hall‘s Daddio, which I was remiss in not seeing during last year’s Telluride Film Festival, is a truly first-rate two-hander — a pure-dialogue, character-revealing, heart-to-heart talkfest that knows what it’s doing and ends sublimely.

Yes, it all happens inside a Yellow Cab on a long nocturnal trek from JFK airport to midtown Manhattan. It may not sound like much, I realize, because it’s just talk, but it holds you with ease and humanity and really effing pays off…sticks the landing with assurance.

I wasn’t exactly astonished by the quality of the lead performances from Sean Penn (driver) and Dakota Johnson (passenger), as they have the whole film to themselves and are both formidable, ace-level talents (Penn especially), but I was definitely taken aback by the quality of Hall’s dialogue and how she magically maintains a sense of story tension start to finish, even though there’s no “story” and it’s all about dodging, contemplating, confessing and looking within.

In my mind Daddio is right up there with Steven Knight‘s Locke (’13) — this century’s other great dialogue-driven, “guy driving on a nighttime highway while discussing fundamental issues” movie.

This may sound like excessive hyperbole, but I honestly feel that Daddio is in the same two-hander ballpark as Joseph L. Manchiewicz‘s Sleuth , Louise Malle‘s My Dinner with Andre, and Richard Linklater‘s Before Sunrise. I’m not saying it’s “better” than any of these three, but it delivers the same kind of step-by-step character cards.

Intially and quite naturally, Johnson’s unnamed protagonist (“Girlie”) holds her cards close to her chest, at least as far as Penn’s cabbie is concerned. But Hall shows us several text messages Girlie hae been getting from her highly hormonal boyfriend. To me he sounds like a real jerk — adolescent, eager-beaver (he actually sends her a dick pic), insensitive.

Penn’s “Clark” is an occasionally blunt (i.e., flirting with coarse) borough guy, and yet also sly, gentle and highly perceptive. Straight-up, decent, not an asshole. And a bit of an amateur shrink, or at least imbued with the observational powers of a seasoned Manhattan detective.

I’m not going to divulge what’s revealed or admitted to, but I can affirm that Daddio unfolds and hangs on in just the right way.

The conversation starts off casually and amusingly, but then a bad traffic accident happens, the traffic slows to a stop and we gradually understand that Johnson’s “Girlie” was up to while visiting her lesbo half-sister in the Oklahoma panhandle. The sister’s girlfriend sounds, by the way, like a Lily Gladstone type.

We get to absorb some melancholy situational truths about Clark and his two past wives and the (presumably modest) Queens house he lives in, etc. And yet the film primarily turns on Girlie’s relationship with the dick-pic sender, and this, trust me, takes on a greater weight as the film moves along.

On top of which Daddio is only 101 minutes long…congratulations for the discipline! And hats off to Hall, a very sharp, 40-year-old rookie.

My gut impression is that Ariel Vromen and Sascha Penn‘s 1992, a dual father-son action drama occuring at the beginning of the Rodney King riots, is a smart, gripping, tautly-plotted film.

I can’t find any reviews and we obviously can’t trust trailers, but this feels like a goodie.

Plus it has a 96-minute running time — an astonishing fact given the general current tendency of many films running over two hours, if not closer to 150 minutes.

I would be remiss not to at least consider the racial-ethnic angle here. Correct me if I’m wrong, but it’s my understanding that 1992 is primarily focused upon Tyrese Gibson and Christopher A’mmanuel‘s characters (good guys), and secondarily upon Ray Liotta and Scott Eastwood‘s characters (thieves)…right? The trailer certainly suggests this.

Question #1: Aren’t white filmmakers presumed by wokester critics to lack authority in stories about Black characters? Question #2: I’m therefore wondering if 1992 having been directed by a white Israeli guy (Vromen), and written by a white guy (Penn) might result in problematic reviews. Question #3: Am I wrong in believing there have long been currents of anti-Semitic attitudes in the Black community, and especially since Israel invaded Gaza hard and heavy following the 10.7 atrocities? Question #4: It’s also my impression that wokesters are generally anti-Israel (i.e., ”Queers for Palestine”).

So this film, which looks pretty damn good, will probably be ignored or perhaps even dismissed by significant sectors of the progressive critic community. If a black dude had directed it…different story.

Boilerplate: In 1992, Mercer (Tyrese Gibson) is desperately trying to rebuild his life and his relationship with his son (Christopher A’mmanuel) amidst the turbulent 1992 LA uprising following the Rodney King verdict. Across town, another father and son (Ray Liotta and Scott Eastwood) put their own strained relationship to the test as they plot a dangerous heist to steal catalytic converters, which contain valuable platinum, from the factory where Mercer works.

“As tensions rise in Los Angeles and chaos erupts, both families reach their boiling points when they collide in this tense crime-thriller.”

…but he’s obviously WAY too fat to be a Presidential contender. I’m sorry but I’d never really looked at the man before this morning. He looks like a fat Alfred E. Neuman. Okay, a combination of lardbucket Neuman plus an extra-bulky Bruce McGill.

“But that we loved our country and especially protecting our democracy from the whims of an authoritarian sociopath more.” — James Mason‘s Brutus in Joseph L. Mankiewicz‘s Julius Caesar (’53).

Olbermann: “I am suggesting that the events of the last 24 hours” — particularly Puck’s Peter Hamby reporting that a confidential OpenLabs “polling memo” spells a electoral disaster for Biden — “may have made Joe Biden’s withdrawal from the ticket inevitable.

“This in turns makes tangible the second half of what might happen next, [which is the very real possibility] that this seemingly dire outcome [might in fact be] far better than it seems.

“If the President were to [accept] the idea that he has to retire from the ticket, it is not a great leap from that point to realizing the extraordinary value of attaching the title of incumbent to Kamala Harris‘s name….of [Joe] retiring from the Presidency, and letting Kamala become, as Lincoln said, clothed in immense power well before the election.

“It is inarguable that if you [believe] Joe will not be up to the responsibilities of the Oval Office days or weeks or months from now…if that’s true he’s probably also not up to the duties of the office right now.

“His retirement from the Presidency would not, I think, be seen as a defeat nor the result oF unseemly desperate pressure. It would be an ennobling act that would resonate in this country.

“To be a President who leaves the office that he has spent his [whole] life trying to reach, solely to ensure that Trump is [kept from taking beastly power]…would enshrine Joe Biden, I believe, among the immortal presidents. Selfless, historic, admirable.”

From The independent‘s Gustaf Kilander: “President Joe Biden’s polling numbers have begun to fall in key swing states following his dismal debate performance last week.

“That’s according to a confidential polling memo obtained by Puck News. It reveals that states where Biden was clearly ahead, such as New Mexico, Virginia, and New Hampshire, may now be winnable for former President Donald Trump.

“The data from OpenLabs indicates that if the election were held today, the 81-year-old Biden would not only lose all seven of the swing states thought to hold the key to the White House in 2024 — Arizona, Georgia, Michigan, Nevada, North Carolina, Pennsylvania and Wisconsin — but also states he won convincingly four years ago.

“Those include New Hampshire, which last voted Republican in 2000; Virginia, which Biden won by 10 points in 2020; and New Mexico, which has gone Democrat in seven of the last eight presidential elections.

“Biden is now behind other possible candidates in the polls looking at possible matchups with Trump, including Vice President Kamala Harris and Michigan Governor Gretchen Whitmer, the memo from OpenLabs shows.”

Take this data and shove it, Lady MacBiden.

I knew and loved Robert Towne for many decades, but especially during the early to mid ’90s, when we were close and in semi-frequent contact. I really did love him. I loved his voice, his eyes and that wonderful sounding name. I must have visited his Pacific Palisades home six or seven times during our relationship heyday. And I loved the smell of his expensive cigars.

Bob was a kind, wise, witty, friendly, congenial fellow…always candid and quietly caustic at times, and a real human being. I loved his slightly sad eyes, and the flickering of odd feelings that you could read or sense and his sardonic, vaguely bitter view of this and that Hollywood player…the games, the letdowns, the vague betrayals. And now, after 89 years of hunger and struggle, he’s gone. I’m not the tearful type, but I’m in tears about this.

Towne will always be best known as the Chinatown guy, but let no one forget that he was a highly commendable director-writer (Personal Best, Tequila Sunrise, Without Limits, Ask the Dust), a great singular screenwriter with a voice (The Last Detail, Chinatown, The Yakuza, Shampoo, Marathon Man, Greystoke: The Legend of Tarzan, Lord of the Apes, The Two Jakes, Days of Thunder, The Firm, Love Affair) and a brilliant uncredited pinch-hitter (Bonnie and Clyde, Drive, He Said, The New Centurions, The Godfather, The Parallax View, The Missouri Breaks, Marathon Man, Heaven Can Wait, Reds, Deal of the Century, Swing Shift, 8 Million Ways to Die, Tough Guys Don’t Dance, Frantic, Crimson Tide).

Towne understood the shrewd power of refrain — planting a thought or a line or an idea in the first act, and then returning to this thought, line or idea in Act Three. The way they mean something at the first hearing, and something more at the end of the film. I once attended a lecture he gave at the old Academy, and he explained the refrain thing at length.

All my life I’ve loved the way Walsh, one of Jake Gittes‘ assistants, claims to have overheard an angry Noah Cross mentioning the words “apple core”, and then we learn an hour or so later that the term is actually “albacore,” as in the Albacore Club. That’s Towne in a nutshell.

Posted on 2.16.20: From the early to mid ’60s, director-screenwriter Robert Towne had a passionate, occasionally troubled relationship with dancer-actress Barrie Chase, who was the daughter of Red River screenwriter Borden Chase. In 1966, things came to an end when Chase decided to wed Swedish actor Jan Malmsjo.

According to Sam Wasson‘s “The Big Goodbye: Chinatown and the Last Years of Hollywood“, Towne and Chase’s big breakup scene happened high in the Hollywood hills. Here’s page 89:

Although Warren Beatty obtained a co-writing credit on Shampoo (’75), Towne is the primary author. He worked on it for years. Here’s the final scene between Beatty and Julie Christie (i.e., “George Roundy” and “Jackie Shawn”). It happens on a hilltop somewhere in Beverly Hills.

Christie: “You’re going to kill me…”
Beatty: “Honey?”
Chrstie: “What are you trying to do?”
Beatty: “I want you to marry me. I wanna take care of you. I want you to have a baby with me. Hey, I know I’m a fuck-up but I’ll take care of you. I’ll make you happy — I swear to God I will. (Two or three beats.) What do you think?”
Christie: “It’s too late.”
Beatty: “Whaddaya mean ‘it’s too late’? We’re not dead yet. That’s the only thing that’s too late.”
Christie: “Lester’s left Felicia. I’m going [with him] to Acapulco on a 4 o’clock flight. He’s asked me to marry him.”
Beatty: “Oh…honey. (Gently weeping.) Honey, please. Please, honey. I…I don’t trust anybody but you.”

“Towne Tangle,” posted on 2.12.20:

Speaking as an old-time journalist acquaintance of Robert Towne, whom I occasionally visited and spoke to during the early to late ’90s, I felt a bit jarred by a 2.12 N.Y. Times review of Sam Wasson‘s “The Big Goodbye.” Specifically by a statement written by Mark Horowitz, to wit: “No Polanski, no Chinatown.”

The thought is that Towne’s screenplay of Chinatown (of which there were many, many drafts) would have stayed a screenplay without Polanski’s input. He and Towne collaborated for several weeks, during which time Polanski insisted on cutting away much of the sprawl and specificity of Towne’s 1937 detective yarn, as well as using as a dark, downbeat ending.

As Chinatown production designer Richard Sylbert once remarked, “The point is the girl dies…that’s [Roman’s] whole life.” Horowitz writes that Sylbert might have added, “And the monsters win.” In Towne’s original Chinatown drafts Evelyn Mulwray doesn’t die and in fact kills her father, the evil tycoon Noah Cross.

I called Towne a short while ago to ask if he has anything to add or qualify or dispute. He said a few things but under the cloak of privacy. It’s obviously Towne’s call to speak out or be silent, but I were in his shoes I would send a response to the N.Y. Times. I can at least state that from his perspective the “no Polanski, no Chinatown” equation is a less than fully comprehensive summary, but I hope Towne chooses to post his recollections in some specific, chapter-and-verse fashion before too long.

HE’s Bob Hightower: “It was reported recently Towne was writing a CHINATOWN prequel series for cable or streaming… the obits don’t mention that.

“The third film in his CHINATOWN trilogy, SMOG, didn’t get made because THE TWO JAKES tanked. The three were to be about water, oil, and smog — how LA was ruined. SMOG would have been about the deliberate destruction of the efficient southern California trolley system (like others around the country) so that after factories converted back to civilian products after World War II, GM could sell more cars and buses and Firestone more tires. Those two companies bought the trolley systems and deliberately caused them to fail.

“WHO FRAMED ROGER RABBIT deals with ther same saga, in a comedic way.”

…when it comes to predicting Best Picture Oscar contenders for ’24 and ’25. Why? Because Davis believes Steve McQueen‘s Blitz, which is obviously an underwhelmer due to Appple’s decision to premiere this WWII drama at the London Film Festival, is the most likely winner. This is insane…totally insane.

Keep in mind that Davis has often favored award-season contenders made or written by or starring POCs, hence his top-ten support of Blitz, Nickel Boys, The Piano Lesson. (If there’s one accomplished filmmaker of color who doesn’t churn ou6 black-identity films, it’s Steve McQueen.) Significantly Davis has the soon-to-open Sing Sing, a mixed-race prison drama directed and written by white guys, in 22nd place on his Best Picture chart. Not much of a fan!

It’s also significant that Clayton has totally blown off Robert Zemeckis‘s Here…an interesting concept…the events of a single room and its inhabitants spanning from the past to well into the future, reverse-aging CG “makeup”, etc. Costars Tom Hanks and Robin Wright are apparently too white to make the cut. Do I have that right, Clayton?

Here are Davis’s Best Picture predictions with cryptic HE comments accompanying each title:

1. “Blitz” (Apple Original Films)…won’t be as major contender…NO WAY…the London Film Festival selection is a death rattle.
2. “Gladiator II” (Paramount Pictures)…sweating homoerotic leather jockstrap sword & sandal drama…I seriously doubt it but who knows? Is Scott losing his mojo?
3. “Nickel Boys” (Amazon MGM/Orion)…sufFering black kids in Florida reform school…don’t bet the farm.
4. “Conclave” (Focus Features)…HE agrees, a major contender.
5. “The Room Next Door” (Sony Pictures Classics — Pedro Almodovar)…yes!
6. “Anora” (Neon)…yes! Possible winner!
7. “Dune: Part Two” (Warner Bros.)…tech awards…it may be Best Picture nominated but feels like a weak sister.
8. “The Piano Lesson” (Netflix)…MAYBE, NO CLUE.
9. “Emilia Pérez” (Netflix…likely Best Picture contender, albeit unbelievable and underwhelming. Trans theology, trans identity, trans exclamation.
10 “The Wild Robot” (DreamWorks Animation)

11. “A Complete Unknown” (Searchlight Pictures Is James Mangold’s Bob Dylan flick coming out this year? If so, YES!!
12 “Joker: Folie à Deux” (Warner Bros….YES!!!
13 “Sing Sing” (A24)…qweak sister, but good for Colman Domingo
14 “Beetlejuice Beetlejuice” (Warner Bros.)
15 “Queer” (No U.S. Distribution….maybe, who knows?)
16 “Maria” (No U.S. Distribution…not a chance…everyone hates Angelina Jolie these daye)
17 “His Three Daughters” (Netflix)….who?
18 “SNL: 1975” (Sony Pictures….not a chance.
19 “We Live in Time” (A24)
20 “Inside Out 2” (Pixar)

21 “Challengers” (Amazon MGM…maybe, who knows?).
22 “A Real Pain” (Searchlight Pictures…YES!!!
23 “The Seed of the Sacred Fig” (Neon…nope)
24 “Memoirs of a Snail” (IFC Films)…
25 “Wicked” (Universal Pictures…people are hating on this film sight unseen)
26 “Hit Man” (Netflix)…Clayton is fooling around now.
27 “Deadpool & Wolverine” (Marvel Studios)
28 “Piece by Piece” (Focus Features)
29 “In the Summers” (Music Box Films)
30 “The Substance” (Mubi)

HE-posted on 3.16.24:

Steve McQueen‘s Blitz (Apple Original Films)…London blitzed by German bombs in early 1940s…nope…dead letter in Oscar’s award-season post office.

Edward Berger‘s Conclave (Focus Features)…based on 2016 Robert Harris novel, British-American thriller about finding a successor to a suddenly deceased Pope. Written by Peter Straughan. Costarring Ralph Fiennes, Stanley Tucci, John Lithgow and Isabella Rossellini. Good reviews, probably not happening.

Ridley Scott‘s Gladiator 2 (Paramount, 11.22) gets an automatic demerit (if not a disqualification) because the dreaded Paul Mescal has the principal lead role, and secondly because Pedro Pascal is costarring, These two guys can kill any film of any kind. Sweat-soaked scrotums. A supporting Denzel Washington (playing a former slave-turned-wealthy arms and commodity dealer with a grudge against the emperors”) is the only reason to feel aroused.

Denis Villeneuve‘s Dune: Part Two (Warner Bros.)…likely Best Picture nomination but won’t win.

George Miller‘s Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga (Warner Bros., 5.24)

Robert Zemeckis‘s Here…interesting concept…”the events of a single room and its inhabitants spanning from the past to well into the future”, etc.

Joshua Oppenheimer‘s The End (Neon)…post-apocalyptic, bad whitey guilt-trip film….”a wealthy family lives in an underground bunker two decades after the end of the world, which they directly contributed to”….forget it. Tilda Swinton, George MacKay, Moses Ingram, Michael Shannon.

Chris Sanders‘ The Wild Robot (DreamWorks animated)….forget it…a robot Cast Away…not a chance, get outta town.

Andrea Arnold‘s Bird…an automatic problem due to HE anathema Barry Keoghan (weirdo, bee-stung nose) being the star.

Yorgos Lanthimos‘s Kinds of Kindness (Searchlight)….three-part antholoogy…not this time.

Francis Coppola‘s Megalopolis…ambitious, self-funded, out there…do you honestly believe Coppola will slamdunk this? Caveat emptor.

RaMell Ross‘s The Nickel Boys (Amazon MGM Studios/Orion)…abusive Florida reform school drama…white baddies, moral condemnation, constant audience punishment.

Malcolm Washington‘s The Piano Lesson (Netflix)…reasonable expectation of good reviews, probably not happening as a Best Picture contender.

Mike Leigh‘s Hard Truths…maybe but doubtful. You know Leigh.

Pablo Larrain‘s Maria…I don’t want to watch another Larrain film about a mythic, tragic or headstrong female character ever again.

Jason Reitman‘s SNL: 1975 (Sony Pictures).

Jon Chu‘s Wicked (Universal)….forget it.

Nine days before the 9.6 U.S. opening of Tim Burton’s Beetlejuice Bee=tlejuice, the 36-years-later sequel to the original Beetlejuice will have its world premiere at the Venice Film Festival. The horror comedy will open internationally on Wednesday, 9.4, and on Friday, 9.6 in the States.

CNN’s new post-debate nationwide poll has Trump beating Biden, 49% vs. 43% — numbers that haven’t changed since April. But Biden’s job-approval rating is down to 36% — only seven points higher than Fredric March‘s Jordan Lyman rating (29%) in Seven Days in May. And Joe is down 10 points with independent voters.

Biden is obviously finished, but just to underline the situation, where are the post-debate polls from the battleground states (Wisconsin, Michigan, Pennsyvania, Georgia, Arizona)?

If Biden looks as bad in these individual state polls (and we all know the almost certain answer to this question), he’s absolutely DEAD.

Significantly, a theoretical Kamala Harris candidacy is polling only two points behind Donald Trump. As weak and whiny and disliked as she is, and as poor a public speaker as she is, Harris might just eke out a win. Women and particularly women of color would be overjoyed and totally fired up.

If Joe and Jill Biden were really smart, here’s a really smart move they could make. Biden resigns the presidency right now — this week, this month — and Harris becomes President. Then she wouldn’t be running against Trump as a candidate who may or may not do this or that. She’d be running as a serving President, and would have an enormous tactical advantage against The Beast. Plus she could debate him like a champ.

I don’t like Harris — never have, probably never will — but candidate-wise she’d be ten times better than Biden. Biden would be a genius if he were to resign the Presidency and hand the sceptre to Harris. An absolute effing genius.

If the Bidens continue to dig in their heels (Lady Macbeth in particular) and refuse to deal wi6h reality, the best thing for the country would be….I can’t believe I’m writing this, but the best thing for the country would be if Biden becomes irrefutably incapacitated or even (yes, I’m saying it) succumbs to the natural biological process that all 80something and 90something people commonly face.

A non-epic battle between the worldviews of legendary Swiss physicist Albert Einstein and a rural Christian named Tricia La Perch happened on Facebook a day or two ago.

The latter posted a false story from the mid to late 1890s, focusing on young Einstein, presumably in his teens, questioning a Swiss university professor about the nature and existence of evil.

La Perch’s Einstein story ends as follows:

My commentary, posted a half-hour ago:

First of all, Tricia La Perch looks, no offense, like some kind of rural, primitive, Bible-belt Christian. She claims to have once worked for Sony Music Entertainment, but look at her photo — a generic image of a Trump supporter who lives in some kind of suburban wasteland or trailer park and eats fried food.

Look at her Facebook-page photo of early morning sunlight streaming across the sky — a pious, glory-of-God image straight out of Sunday school.

But to bend over backwards, I will examine her Albert Einstein story, which seems to have been written by an under-educated 12 year old. And I should know — I used to be one.

Did a stenographer transcribe Einstein’s comments? A court stenographer who just happened to be in this class and just happened to have a stenographic recorder handy?

Never trust an allegedly true story that ignores the situational particulars — date, place (if true I presume this took place in a Swiss university, probably in Bern or Zurich), Einstein’s alleged age when it happened, etc.

Right off the top I was muttering “I don’t trust this…smells like bullshit…aimed at none-too-brights.”

A brilliant, well-educated student in a Zurich university in the 1890s (Einstein was born in 1879) would have never phrased a question to a professor with the words “can I ask a question?” He or she would say “may I ask,” etc.

And this student would never ask if cold was “a thing”. That’s a 21st Century social-media term.

Did Einstein write about this discussion in some published memoir or discovered diary? If so, was it allegedly written the next day? Or a month or two later? Or decades later? Did Einstein ever write about his life in any kind of personal vein?

Like all geniuses, Albert Einstein was a mystic. He was as imbued and enlightened as Steppenwolf, Siddartha, Krishna.

No one who has truly swum in the waters of mysticism has ever sincerely associated “God” with matters of earthly, fallible human morality — notions of good or bad, righteousness or evil, etc.

No mystic has ever denied or argued against the obvious fact of cosmic unity and intelligent design. But at the same time no serious mystic would ever associate “God” with boilerplate concepts of “good” and “evil.”

In short no mystic worth his or her salt would ever wade into the above-described hokum. Good and evil are simplistic children’s terms. Due respect, but there’s no reason to even begin to trust this story.