Define “Dumbass”

Randy Newman didn’t mean that LSU grads “went in dumb, come out dumb too”…he meant they began college as relatively ignorant freshmen and by the time they’d graduated four years later hadn’t much broadened their knowledge base or enriched their minds or immersed themselves in the output of great philosophers, historians, poets, politicians, playwrights, filmmakers, musicians, biographers or cultural trailblazers of whatever stripe…so in love with thinking, feeling and behaving like good ole yokels that they were kinda proud of it.

But songwriters are generally obliged to boil it all down to basics, of course, and so that lyric from “Rednecks” reads like it reads, and I chuckle every time I hear or read it.

And yet putdown-wise, I regard “dumb” in the same light as “ugly” — fundamentally cruel terms because they allude to fixed afflictions, like blindness or dwarfism or some other deformity, that a person can’t do much about. I’ve never once described anyone as being physically ugly and I never will, although I’ve alluded many times to certain persons coming from a spiritually or emotionally ugly place (certain HE comment-threaders come to mind in this regard…repeat offenders like Glenn Kenny and several others I’ve deep-sixed over the years…ditto a few toxic film critics and columnists I’ve run into over the years).

And yet what most of us mean when we say “dumb” or “dumbass” or “dumbshit” is “ignorant”, which is to say a person who’s not only under-educated but hasn’t the slightest interest in trying to remedy this situation. I’ve been accused of ignorance many times in my life, and quite often accurately. But more often than not or at least a fair amount of times I’ve not only taken this criticism to heart but have, ahem, tried to do something about it.

It’s easier today to eliminate ignorance than at any previous time in human history…the joy of encountering new information or discovering fresh knowledge is one of the most sublime and simple pleasures within reach, and it’s all on your phone.

But the more I read and learn and contemplate the sprawling toxic wilderness out there, the more I’m reminded that honorary enrollment at Louisiana State University is something we’re all kinda sorta stuck with.

A24’s Big “Materialists” Lie Comes Home To Roost

According to Rotten Tomato comments thus far, Joe and Jane Popcorn are reacting negatively to Celine Song‘s Materialists.

Instead of respecting it or giving it a stamp of moderate approval (as I did) for digging down into the odd vagaries and downish moods of the 2025 dating scene, they’re angry that it’s not a romcom — they’re angry that they were deliberately lied to, and now A24 is paying the price for that deception.

The Prophet

Justine Bateman is the Scott Galloway of the film industry…as important of an industry seer as Scott Feinberg, Richard Rushfield, Sasha Stone, etc. Her impressions matter. So much is generated by Apple, Amazon and Netflix these days, and how many people out there really enjoy streaming their bullshit? Remember when movies (even the shitty ones) were really movies as opposed to soul-stifling “content”? It’s hard to completely divest ourselves from the simple romantic equation of theatregoing as it existed as little as 25, 30 or 35 years ago. Forget ’70s nostalgia — I miss the glorious ’90s! Hell, the early to mid aughts even!

“Spaceballs 2” Opening Crawl Is Pretty Good

Friendo: “Who asked for this? A half-century ago Mel Brooks has made some hilarious comedies — The Producers, Blazing Saddles, Young Frankenstein. Spaceballs wasn’t in that league. Then again Brooks acknowledges this in the teaser.”

HE: “Spaceballs was a genre parody that arrived too late — Mad magazine mixed with Carol Burnett-level spoofery, but with an emphasis on silly meh. And yet I still chuckle at Brooks’ “Yogurt”.

Friendo: “Spaceballs has one good joke. Brooks gets teleported, Star Trek-style, and comes out the other side with his head on backwards. He looks down and says, ‘How come nobody told me my ass was so big?!’

Late to Newsom’s “Go To Hell” Speech

Abraham Lincoln on Gen. Ulysses S. Grant following the victorious but costly Battle of Shiloh: “I can’t spare this man — he fights.”

Gavin Newsom‘s anti-Trump rant following the Los Angeles street conflicts was grandstanding…of course it was. Of course he’ll be running for president in ’28…so? Of course the anti-ICE violence was flaming and anarchic and ignoble to a great extent, but then Trump’s federalizing 4000 California National Guard troops, followed by the Pentagon sending in an additional 700 Marines, was pure authoritarian brutalist theatre….needless, unrequired, inflammatory. But who else is standing up to Donald Trump and giving him what for? The HE Newsom haters can’t deny the fact that earlier this week Newsom stood up for state sovereignty and pushed the hell back.

“In five days Gavin Newsom did more practical damage to Trump, and more importantly gave more practical encouragement to Democrats….he did more good than the rest of the zombie Democratic party has done since Joe Biden was elected [in 2020].” — Keith Olbermann on “Newsom’s ‘Eff It’ Moment” (6.12.25). (And yes — Olbermann supplied the Lincoln-Grant anecdote.)

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Insufficient Attention Paid

HE to Joe Dante: Thanks for sending this Bette Davis article along, bruh. I had never read this.

William Wyler’s assessment of Davis’s intense personality and what their marriage might have been like was very…uhm, illuminating.

Howard Hughes told her he’d never achieved orgasm before being with her? What shameless bullshit!

Honest confession: I’ve never seen any of Davis’s William Wyler films. Not even Jezebel! I’ve had this idea all my life that she was some kind of Ultimate Super-Bitch, and I never wanted that vibe in my head. Even with Bob Dylan‘s endorsement and all.

The only old Davis films I’ve seen are 20,000 Years in Sing Sing, Elizabeth and Essex with Errol Flynn and The Bride Came C.O.D. with Jimmy Cagney. Plus All About Eve, of course.

I’ve never even seen the one with Paul Henreid when he lights two cigarettes and gives her one of them. What is that, Now, Voyager?

Why did she have an affair with George Brent, of all people? He always struck me as a dullard.

The Girl Who Walked Home Alone” is a fascinating biography title.

“F1” Roars, Rumbles On-Screen in Playa Vista

Elite industry-ites were treated yesterday to a pair of F1 looksees (mid-afternoon and early evening) — Joseph Kosinski, Brad Pitt, Jerry Bruckheimer and Han Zimmer’s high-throttle gutslammer played at IMAX corporate headquarters in Playa Vista, and apparently in whoa-mama full IMAX (1.43:1) from start to finish.

Not even a capsule review, just notes: As you might expect and will be glad to hear confirmed, F1 delivers vise-like dramatic engagement with fully deployed, grade-A acting chops from consummate superstar Brad Pitt, Damson Idris (33 year-old Brit, excellent in the late John Singleton’s Snowfall series), the great Kerry Condon and the always on-target Javier Bardem

All hail the great, still-youngish Kosinski, who has certainly matched and arguably topped his work on Top Gun: Maverick (‘22).

A 156-minute, 21st Century big-boy compadre to John Frankenheimer’s Grand Prix (‘66) and Steve McQueen’s Le Mans (‘71), F1 revs and rouses and vibrates your rib/soul cage, leaving you buzzed, breathless and all the rest of that classic race-car-movie stuff….you know the drill.

Does anyone wipe out a la crash-boom-bang? You don’t want me to answer this so let’s drop it. Okay, someone does but I’m sworn to secrecy, etc.

We all think of howling, high-speed track racing as an individual sport, but the high-torque F1 game can involve a one-team, two-car strategy with one driver running interference for another, depending on the situation. Plus it’s important to know the difference between hot and cold tires, and of course the drivers and pit crew are constantly jabbering while the loudspeaker guy narrates what’s happening…whew.

Pitt’s 50something Sonny Hayes is great company, a great hang. His dominance blends his cocksure Once Upon a Time in Hollywood stunt guy Cliff with, shall we say, a note of approaching-the-big-upward-slope anxiety…fear of not cutting it like he used to.

As hotshot British driver Joshua Pearce, Idris holds his lane and then some, becoming a no-fucking-around foil for Pitt’s old-school Sonny.

And Condon, a deliciously charismatic IRA psychopath in 2023’s In The Land of Saints and Sinners, is the sexy, brainy love interest for Braddy-waddy…a heart-of-gold gal who’s run a few laps around the track herself.

The Hans Zimmer score is said to be double-triple exceptional, especially during the final race when it all happens within a completely visceral, all-alone, immersive, this-is-it, you-are-there fashion without the element of loudspeaker narration or cheering crowds or anything peripheral.…

That’s enough for now. There’s a big all-media IMAX screening on Tuesday, 6.24, as well as a smattering of early-bird AMC fan screenings on Monday, 6.23, not to mention more nationwide advance showings on Wednesday, 6.25

Serious Respect for Harris Yulin

In a manner similar to the passing of Aldous Huxley on 11.22.63, the death of formidable character actor Harris Yulin was announced on the same day as the greatly-mourned departure of Brian Wilson.

Yulin is best known for his performance as Miami detective Mel Bernstein in Brian DePalma‘s Scarface (;83)…”fucking punk…can’t shoot a cop!…fuck you!”.

His second and third best film performances were as White House advisor James Cutter in Phillip Noyce‘s Clear and Present Danger (’94) and Marty Heller, the droll, cat-petting boyfriend of Susan Clark‘s cheating wife in Arthur Penn‘s Night Moves (’75). Gene Hackman‘s Harry Moseby to Heller: “Harry thinks if you call him Harry again he’s gonna make you eat that cat.”

When Maggie and I were married (’87 to ’91) we bought a Spanish-styled home at 705 Superba Ave. in Venice. Yulin lived about 150 yards away on a nearby walk street. I’d see him every so often when we’d walk down to Abbot Kinney Blvd.

A fascinating and accomplished actor, Yulin passed yesterday (6.10). He was 88 years old.

Harry Nillson Delivers Best Emotional Surge In “Materialists”

Before last night I hadn’t listened to Harry Nillson‘s “I Guess The Lord Must Live in New York City” in a long, long time. Not on its own terms, I mean.

I’ve long associated the tune with the Midnight Cowboy soundtrack, but the Wiki page for John Schlesinger’s 1969 classic says that Nillson’s song “was written for the film, but not included in it.” Really? Is this a mistake?

Midnight Cowboy opened on 5.29.69. “I Guess The Lord Must Live in New York City” first surfaced on Nillson’s fourth album, “Harry”, which was released in October ’69.

In any event I felt immediately turned on when Nillson’s song punched through about halfway into The Materialists. It felt like a perfect complement to this saga of struggling under-40s dealing with life in an unaffordable city. I bought the tune online and listened to it over and over on the train home. Song’s film doesn’t really try to warm the cockles of your romantic heart, but Nillson’s song does.

“Materialists” Has HE’s Respect, But Schmoes May Not Warm To It

Last night I saw and generally approved of Celine Song‘s Materialists (A24, 6.13), a cleverly written, agreeably performed, better-than-decent romantic drama about a Manhattan matchmaker (Dakota Johnson‘s 35-year-old Lucy) that has been shamefully misdescribed by A24 and certain critics as a romantic comedy.

Materialists is a good, mostly honest, mid-range relationship film about the misery of urban singlehood while struggling under the ghetto terms of a lower-than-six-figure lifestyle.

It’s a respectable attempt to convey how delusional and child-like people are about how attractive they believe themselves to be and what kind of romantic partner they can land. It’s about how love, money and common sense are fairly incompatible these days, and what learning to settle can feel like, and as such is an admirably non-delusional movie for adults.

This in itself makes Materialists much, much better than Song’s Past Lives (’23), which I found mostly tolerable and at the same time infuriating because I believed almost none of it.

The overall tone of Materialists is not really romantic as much as resigned if not verging on semi-bleak, and while a few moments are briefly amusing it’s certainly not played for laughs — it’s a frank look at the business and terms of urban dating these days, and man, I really felt sorry for the principal characters in this film — the relentlessly analytical Lucy; Chris Evans‘ impoverished John, a 37 year-old barely working actor who is not looking at any kind of career turnaround or financial breakthrough but who absolutely loves Lucy without qualification; and Pedro Pascal‘s rich, mature and smoothly mannered Harry Castillo.

Mostly I was saying to myself, “For all the honesty and reality-assessing this film is putting out, I’m really glad to have lived and revelled in a bygone era in which innocently or instinctually falling in love or even lust was something people occasionally succumbed to and just went with…I really lucked out because the joy of getting lost in the delusional joy of primal attraction…that deep-down, seat-of-the-pants feeling seems to have evaporated or fallen by the wayside as dating among the six-figure set in 2025 seems like a fairly miserable ordeal, and at the end of the day nobody seems all that happy, much less satisfied.

Honestly? Because Materialists doesn’t deliver much in the way of spiritual lift or bounce at the end, I don’t think it’s going to be especially popular with the schmoes.

Like A Streetcar named Desire‘s Blanche Dubois, Joe and Jane Popcorn generally don’t want realism but magic. Illusions and escapism will trump harsh realities each and every time.

And yet I respect Song for making the kind of no-bullshit “romantic” film that she has — for playing it fairly straight and not adhering to the usual romcom tropes. In so doing she earns integrity points and then some.

And yet Song does try to romanticize and bliss things out toward the very end, and I didn’t believe this turn in the story at all. But to explain my thinking, I’ll need to spoil things a bit. So from here on SPOILERS will occasionally surface, although I’ll try to stick to generalities.

Situation #1: If a youngish career woman has broken off a relationship with an all-but-penniless actor because she can’t stand the oppression of poverty, how the hell does she manage to change her mind at the end of the film by saying in effect “Okay, poverty is a drag but I guess I can roll with it in the long run”? What ambitious, well-educated woman has ever come to this conclusion?

Situation #2: If an actor hasn’t experienced a semblance of career combustion by age 37, the odds of him suddenly catching on and enjoying a surge of even limited success are astronomically negative.

Situation #3: How many women over the centuries have married wealthy, nice-looking guys that they’re not head-over-heels in love with, but whom they “like” (i.e., are willing to submit to sexually), admire and get along with? I personally love romantic tales in which people get married for love and love alone, but how realistic is that? There has to be some kind of practical hope that things will get better financially.

And what is so terrible about marrying a rich, Pedro Pascal type of guy even if you don’t love him? He’s handsome, kind, considerate, polite and a well-mannered gentleman. A lot of people get married to this or that romantic partner because they “check a lot of boxes”.

Situation #4: Who the hell chooses Iceland as an ideal romantic getaway destination? Fucking Iceland?

Situation #5: Song casts negative aspersions upon one of Lucy’s female clients, a paleface, because she’s mostly interested in finding a white boyfriend or husband. When this is revealed it’s clear that Lucy (i.e., Song) is vaguely appalled or even disgusted. Which is bullshit wokeism.

What’s so awful about a bird of a particular feather wanting to mate with someone from his or her own flock? Song is presumably aware that some POCs prefer the romantic company of men or women from their own tribe. She’s presumably aware that some years ago Denzel Washington stated that he’s uncomfortable kissing white women in his films, and that he prefers hooking up with women of color. And yet whites aren’t allowed to voice similar feelings.

Situation #6: There are two or three interview segments in which Lucy is asking her clients what they’re ideally looking for and the kind of man or woman they don’t want to end up with, and some of their demands and standards are flat-out hilarious.

An attractive 48 year-old guy with nice hair says he only wants women in their late 20s because they’re too immature in their early 20s and they tend to get too desperate in their 30s. Good God!

My favorite is a blonde, twerpy-looking woman who looks mid-40ish and is frankly close to homely…this woman says to Lucy in all sincerity that she’s “a catch”. Is it better for a woman in her appearance class to say “I’m homely and probably too old for most men and therefore no catch”? No — it’s better to have a positive self-image, but my God, this woman is dreaming! If I was in the market and ran into this woman in a bar or at a party, I’d smile and chuckle and politely duck away at the first opportunity.

Situation #7: Lucy has learned that women on the hunt really don’t like shortish guys. They want tall and then some. I’ver been six-foot-plus since I was 13 or 14 so no problems on this end, and I’ve always had broad shoulders which, from a female perspective, is a plus in the same sense of guys preferring women with large breasts.

But guys making themselves taller through surgical measures (like Ronan Farrow reportedly did) is an actual thing in Song’s film, and a certain character admitting toward the end of the film that he added inches to his height through surgery is…well, it’s weird. As in very.

Situation #8: How does a single professional woman afford a nice, reasonably sized Manhattan or Brooklyn apartment on a lousy $80K-per-year salary?

Situation #9: Cave men who hunted with spears and brought home animal meat for the family did not, as a rule, gaze at their wives with tenderness in their eyes, and they sure as shit didn’t slip rings adorned with flower petals upon their wife’s marriage finger. Materialists begins with such a scene, and it really doesn’t work….it immediately throws the film off its tracks and makes you wonder if Song has gone ga-ga.

Friendo: “I think it plays like a good indie film rather than a romcom. It will therefore most likely do indie-film numbers rather than romcom numbers.”