If Kenneth Branagh‘s black-and-white, semi-autobiographical Belfast (11.12) is Focus Features’ only serious Oscar contender, which is what they seem to regard it as, why would they decide to have the world premiere at the faint-pulse, seen-better-days Toronto Film Festival?
It’s nothing to be especially disturbed about — all films open in their own time and in their own way and pace. Before today I somehow hadn’t grasped that Belfast is in black-and-white.
Directed and written by Branagh and based on his Belfast childhood in the late’60s, the film has been described as “the humorous, tender and intensely personal story of one boy’s childhood during the turbulence [of this period]” — aka “the troubles.”
The costars are Jude Hill, Jamie Dornan, Judi Dench, Caitriona Balfe and Ciaran Hinds.
Branagh: “I hope that there is humor and I hope that it’s emotional. It’s a look at a people and a place in tumult through the eyes of a nine-year old movie-mad kid.
“My experience of Belfast when I was growing up was to be part of a larger extended family, one that lived nearby each other, in a world in terms of television that had three channels in black and white. We listened to radio extensively, listened to records extensively and we went to see films extensively and when we weren’t doing that, we visited each other.”
For decades Paul Schrader, director-writer of the forthcoming The Card Counter (Focus, 9.10.21), has held director Robert Bresson (1901-1999) in high regard, and the latter’s austere, unpretentious character studies in particular.
Amazon summary: “Unlike the style of psychological realism, which dominates film, the transcendental style expresses a spiritual state by means of austere camerawork, acting devoid of self-consciousness and editing that avoids editorial comment.”
(a) “I will never forget The Green Knight, and I will never, ever watch it again. It’s an exacting, carefully crafted, ‘first-rate”‘ creation by a director of serious merit, and I was moaning and writhing all through it. I can’t believe I watched the whole thing, but I toughed it out and that — in my eyes, at least — is worth serious man points.
(b) “The Green Knight is a sodden medieval dreamscape thing — a trippy, bizarre, hallucinatory quicksand movie that moves like a snail and will make you weep with frustration and perhaps even lead to pondering the idea of your own decapitation. What would I rather do, I was asking myself — watch the rest of The Green Knight or bend over and allow my head to be cut off? Both would be terrible things to endure, I reasoned, but at least decapitation would be quick and then I’d be at peace. Watching The Green Knight for 130 minutes, on the other hand…”
(c) “Film critics generally don’t acknowledge audience miserablism. For most of them visual style is 90% to 95% of the game. If a director shoots a film with a half-mad, child-like sense of indulgence with a persistent visual motif (i.e., everything in The Green Knight is either muted gray or dispiriting brown or intense green)…bathing the viewer in mood and mystery and moisture…filmmakers like Lowery adore mist, fog, rain, mud, sweat, rivers, streams)…that’s it and all is well.”
Tatiana Antropova officially became a U.S. citizen this morning at 10 am. Trust me, she knows more about how this country works and its history than 97% of the idiots out there who have no idea what the 13 stripes on the flag symbolize or how many justices are on the Supreme Court or who wrote the Declaration of Independence, etc. She got a little choked up just after the ceremony. The next step is to get a U.S. passport.
We’re trying to sell the car so we had to remove a dent, a scrape and a scuff. A guy I know and trust wanted $350 but his schedule was too jammed, so last weekend I went with a mobile auto-body team — a couple of 30something guys from back east. One of them, a stocky, fast-talking, type-A dude, called himself “Charlie” but his phone ID read “Nicholas Grant” — a red flag.
They charged $425 and were fast and efficient, except “Charlie Grant” and his partner left the passenger side door with a kind of soapy residue over the dented area. Don’t wash it off for 48 hours, I was told. When I finally washed it off it was clear that Charlie hadn’t used the right shade of black paint — it should’ve been glossy, not flat black.
I asked Charlie when could he return and do it right. He ducked me for hours, and then finally texted back. The most I could get out of him was “I’ll let you know” and “we’ll figure it out.” He didn’t do the job right so we (he and I, the technician and the client) would have to “figure it out”?
Earlier today World of Reel‘s Jordan Ruimyreported that Aaron Sorkin‘s Being the Ricardos was research-screened last night, and that Javier Bardem‘s performance as Desi Arnaz is the big stand-out.
Two who attended have told Ruimy that “the audience absolutely ate up his performance.” So that’s it — Bardem will be nominated for either Best Actor or Supporting Actor…whatever seems like the right strategy.
I haven’t read Sorkin’s script, but the big challenge of the marriage between Desi and Lucille Ball (Nicole Kidman) was Desi catting around.
Ruimy: “This is another glossy film from Sorkin, a very slick affair that is meant to be seen by as wide an audience as possible. The person I spoke to compared it to the straightforward style of Bombshell.
“Those who attended the screening last night were told not to post any thoughts on social media about the film until January 2022.”
The famous chocolate factory scene is another standout element, Ruimy reports.
Hollywood Elsewhere will be attending CinemaCon in Las Vegas for…well, probably all four days but let’s take it one day at a time. The plan is to drive up on early Monday morning, collect the pass, attend the evening show, ask questions, take notes, etc.
In his latest (7.19) column, What I’m Hearing‘s Matt Belloni has called CinemaCon “CovidCon” — a nasty remark. Yes, the general culture of Caesar’s Palace (Las Vegas being more of a Trumpian than a Bidenesque realm) is concerning, but I’m going with the idea that I’m double-vaxxed and strong of constitution** to begin with.
Speaking of Covid concerns I have to make sure to get a PCR test (which I’m naturally assuming will be be negative) conducted within 72 hours of arrival in Telluride.
Belloni: “Depressed yet? At least you’re not attending CovidCon — er, CinemaCon — the annual theater owners convention, which, amazingly, is still happening next week at Caesars Palace in Las Vegas—albeit without the stars and media stunts that usually generate headlines.
“I’ve always found CinemaCon amusing, and not just because I enjoy perusing the large ‘concessions’ ballroom displaying the latest bizarre flavors of Icee and nacho cheese.
“What’s funny is that while Hollywood is so often painted as the exclusive province of out-of-touch, bicoastal liberals, the people who actually sell movie tickets are Red State exhibition executives based in places like Kansas (AMC Theaters), Tennessee (Regal Cinemas), and Texas (Cinemark).
“In short, CinemaCon is a steakhouse owner’s dream. I once played blackjack next to a mid-level exec based in Knoxville who tried to get me to explain why the #OscarsSoWhite movement was, you know, ‘a thing.’ The loudest ovation I heard was in 2015, when Tom Cruise showed up to unveil that MissionImpossible stunt where he hangs off the side of a plane. You get the point.”
Bill Maher to Vox‘s Sean Illing: “The word problematic, to me, is problematic…I don’t like that word, those weasel words…problematic is such a cheap way to be enlightened. They’re scared, cowed…they’re afraid of being cancelled.
“It’s not ‘a lot of people on the left’ who don’t like me…it’s the loudest people on the left. The progressophobes. [Because] in their world there’s only one true opinion. Who’s on Twitter? The crybullies…a bunch of pussies. They only want to stay in their silos, and be reconfirmed. They think not being offended is much more important than free speech.
“The right is playing with a kind of fire that even they haven’t played with before. Woke, to me, is an offshoot of liberalism that bastardized liberalism. The way, sometimes, that happens with sects in religions. [Wokeness] inverts liberalism in so many ways. Liberalism, for example, was about achieving a color-blind society. Wokeness seems to be about always seeing race everywhere.
“Those kids, who grew up spoiled and entitled and coddled — they can’t stand one second of something being uncomfortable. This is where you get trigger warnings and stuff like that.
“Anything I would want to say on Twitter, I can’t say on Twitter. So what’s the point of it?”
“You wind up with this world where everyone is like the press spokesperson for the President — watching every word so carefully, walking on eggshells. No wonder why people turn against Democratic politicians who don’t stand up against that.”
Like a strange virus I had absorbed but hadn’t yet settled into my system, I could feel my latent loathing for David Lowery‘s The Green Knight early on. I didn’t watch it when it first came out because I “knew” (i.e., strongly sensed) I would hate it.
I finally streamed this fucker late last night, and I felt smothered in thick swamp-like boredom within seconds. Drugged, oxygen-starved, submerged in medieval muck, and facing a terrible two-hour slog.
I will never forget The Green Knight, and I will never, ever watch it again. It’s an exacting, carefully crafted, “first-rate” creation by a director of serious merit, and I was moaning and writhing all through it. I can’t believe I watched the whole thing, but I toughed it out and that — in my eyes, at least — is worth serious man points.
The Green Knight is a soddenmedievaldreamscapething — a trippy, bizarre, hallucinatory quicksand movie that moves like a snail and will make you weep with frustration and perhaps even lead to pondering the idea of your own decapitation. What would I rather do, I was asking myself — watch the rest of The Green Knight or bend over and allow my head to be cut off? Both would be terrible things to endure, I reasoned, but at least decapitation would be quick and then I’d be at peace. Watching The Green Knight for 130 minutes, on the other hand…
It’s a kind of Christmas movie or, if you will, about a game of strange beheadings. Dev Patel‘s Gawain is one of the Knights of King Arthur’s Round Table — a drinking, whoring fellow who sweats a lot and often smiles when spoken to and regards much of what he sees with his mouth half open.
It must be said that Gawain splashes water onto his face and hair a lot…he’s often dripping.
The film more or less begins with the Green Knight, a intimidating ghostly figure, appearing at King Arthur’s court on Christmas Day and declaring — bear with me here because this makes no sense — that anyone can cut his head off as long as the head-chopper will agree to let his own head be sliced off by the Green Knight a year later, at the Green Chapel.
Why kind of blithering moron would say “okay!” to a suggestion this ridiculous?
Why is Patel, the son of British-residing Indian Hindus, playing Gawain, a medieval Englishman with the usual Anglo-Saxon characteristics? You could just as well ask why Patel was cast in the lead role in Armando Iannucci’s David Copperfield (’20). Because in today’s realm it’s cooler to embrace “presentism” than to adhere to any sense of general historical reality, or at least the historical reality that filmmakers tended to prefer before anti-white wokesterStalinism became a thing. Call it subversive casting, if you want.
Everything that happens is dream-logical. None of it adds up or leads to anything else. You could claim that Lowery’s film is about character and morality and karma and facing the consequences of one’s own actions, and I would say “okay, sure…if that works for you, fine.”
There’s a talking fox. There are giant bald women seen in the misty distance. Patel’s head explodes in fire at one point…whoa.
Barry Koeghan, an Irish actor with tiny rodent eyes and a deeply annoying swollen nose, plays a scavenging asshole of some kind. Alicia Vikander plays two roles, a commoner with a Jean Seberg-in-Breathless haircut, and a married noblewoman who has sex with Gawain at one point. You’re thinking “gee, she’s bringing Patel to orgasm…am I supposed to give a shit one way or the other?”
TheWrap: “Directed by Mike Mills (Beginners, 20th Century Women), C’mon C’mon will have its New York premiere at NYFF59.
“Joaquin Phoenix plays a soulful, kindhearted radio journalist deep into a project in which he interviews children across the U.S. about the world’s uncertain future. The film finds him connecting to his 8-year-old nephew (Woody Norman), who’s suffering from mental health issues, and taking him on a cross-country journey. Costarring Gaby Hoffmann and Jaboukie Young-White, pic will be released by A24.
I’m hearing “black-and-white road trip movie…moody, very arty, very euro, tons of voiceover.” Mills allegedly interrupts the narrative from time to time with docu-style interviews, kids talking about life, etc.
The term “gritty ’70s crime film” and Ulu Grosbard and Dustin Hoffman‘s Straight Time (’78) are a pretty good match. Co-written by Alvin Sargent, Edward Bunker and Jeffrey Boam (with uncredited script assistance from Michael Mann), I think it may be the best acted, the most insightful and certainly the most realistic drama about a low-life criminal ever made.
Hoffman directed one day’s worth of shooting, and then Grosbard was hired to direct the remainder. Hoffman later claimed that only the first 20 minutes’ worth represents his vision of the material.
Hoffman plays a hard-core felon, Max Dembo, just released from a six-year stretch in the slam. The film is mainly about his difficulties with a goading, mind-fucking parole officer (M. Emmet Walsh) and his fraternizing with two ex-con pals (Harry M. Stanton, Gary Busey) who eventually nudge him back to a life of crime. Theresa Russell is first-rate as the average, solemn-faced girl whom Dembo hooks up with.
Alas, Straight Time opened under conflicted circumstances on 3.17.78. Hoffman made the low-budget drama with the understanding that he would have creative control provided the film did not go over budget and schedule. First Artists chairman Phil Feldman claimed that it did go over budget, and the film was taken away from Hoffman. Straight Time was well reviewed but didn’t do a lot of business.
Roughly 29 years later it was released on DVD (May 2007), and an HD version is streaming we speak. I just re-watched the HD streaming version last night, and for an average film shot in regular 35mm I can’t imagine it looking much better. I don’t know why Warner Archive waited all this time to release a Bluray disc version, but they’re finally doing so on 9.21.21.
Jenny Mercer (Theresa Russell): What happened. Where’ve you been? Max Dembo (Dustin Hoffman): Had to take care of some business. Mercer: What kind of business? Why are you all dirty? Dembo: I broke through a wall. Mercer: Why? Dembo: To get something. (looks around, walks around) Place looks nice. What made you finally decide to unpack? (pause) How far you wanna take this? Huh? Mercer: I don’t know. Thought we were workin’ on somethin’ here. Maybe I was wrong. Dembo: No, you’re not wrong but whadaya think I been doin’? You want me to lie, say I’m workin’ at a hot dog stand? You know I can’t work a regular job. I can’t sit here and take your money. You have an alternative for me? I’m doin’ what I do. If you’re tellin’ me you can’t take it, you’re tellin’ me it’s too heavy for you then I’ll just walk out the door. I’ll walk but I don’t want to. Mercer: Well, is this a one-time thing or what? Dembo: That depends on how lucky I get.
So Wes Anderson‘s The French Dispatch (Searchlight, 10.22) will have its big stateside debut at the 2021 New York Film Festival. Which means, of course, that it won’t be at the 2021 Telluride or Toronto gatherings. The latter festival, I’m told, really went the extra mile to try and persuade Anderson and Searchlight to have the big North American premiere in Toronto, but all for naught.
Why exactly? Because Toronto is generally regarded as a shit-show these days. They don’t know what they’re doing, and, like Sundance, they’ve safe-spaced and woked themselves into a corner.
Who opens a festival with a serving of musical snowflake pablum like Dear Evan Hansen with a 28 year-old “teenager” who looks like he’s 33? Some films still want to buddy up with Toronto for promotional purposes and that’s fine, but the Toronto Film Festival’s heyday (late ’90s to late teens) has come to an end. Toronto needs an official second-class seal attached to its logo. Let’s all get together and cut Toronto out of the action…seriously!
This is pure speculation but did TIFF reject Paul Schrader‘s The Card Counter because his Facebook posts have been too boomerish?
I adore the fact that Toronto is floundering, taking hits, missing out, experiencing behind-the-scenes chaos, etc.
The only biggies that Telluride missed out on are The French Dispatch and The Tragedy of Macbeth. I’m presuming they rejected Dune, and who wouldn’t?
Right now TIFF is basically suggesting that press people should stay home and watch everything digitally. A friend recently emailed them about covering the fest in-person and the press office was quite literally trying to convince him to cover it remotely and watch the films at home digitally.
Last month a Toronto veteran was shaking his head about TIFF opening with Dear Evan Hansen, which seems weak and inconsequential even by the standards of a weak and inconsequential festival. The days when TIFF was an essential stopover — a big, muscular, must-attend, launch-of-awards-season festival — are over, and that is an excellent thing, trust me. They seem so uncertain, so off-balance, so anxious an∂ even puzzled. The world belongs to Venice, Telluride, New York, Berlin and Cannes now. Toronto is strictly second-tier.
