— From David Remnick‘s “Bob Woodward on a Nightmare Presidency,” posted on 9.10.20.

I haven’t yet watched the new Psycho 4K UHD Bluray. I’ll actually be picking it up today at a nearby Best Buy. And I don’t know who “litemakr2” is. Nor have I spoken to anyone about any alleged differences between the Psycho 4K soundtrack mixes (on both 4K and Bluray discs) and the previous Universal Home Video Bluray, which is one of my all-time favorites.

I’ve posted this YouTube comparison video just to throw it out there and ask for reactions.

Litemakr2 copy: “[This is a ] comparison between (a) the original 1960 mix and (b) the stereo remix created for recent Bluray and 4k releases. The remix has changed, added or removed certain sound effects and changed the mix levels of the music. There are many more changes, but this highlights alterations to two of the most famous scenes.

“The new 4k and Bluray discs do not have the original soundtrack at all (despite being labeled as such). Universal should issue replacement discs so viewers have the option of viewing Psycho with the original mix as Hitchcock intended.”

Ammonite star Kate Winslet to Vanity Fair‘s Julie Miller: “It’s like, what the fuck was I doing working with Woody Allen and Roman Polanski? It’s unbelievable to me now how those men were held in such high regard, so widely in the film industry and for as long as they were. It’s fucking disgraceful.

“And I have to take responsibility for the fact that I worked with them both. I can’t turn back the clock. I’m grappling with those regrets but what do we have if we aren’t able to just be fucking truthful about all of it?”

In other words, having worked with Polanski in 201l’s Carnage, which was shot a year after Polanski’s controversial 2009 arrest in Switzerland in concert with a U.S. extradition attempt (or roughly a decade ago), Winslet has suddenly decided that this wasn’t cool, apparently because making Ammonite has strengthened her #MeToo convictions.

Obviously a little Johnny-come-lately but okay, that’s how she feels.

But to equate Polanski and Woody Allen in terms of alleged crimes and offenses is just forehead-slapping ignorant. Moreover, it was derelict of Miller not to ask Winslet about the mountains of evidence, indications and public statements that indicate Allen is completely innocent.

I’m so tired of having to refute kneejerk anti-Woody slander by obstinate or under-informed persons, but here, for what feels like the 28th or 29th time, is what any reasonable person would regard as the irrefutable truth of things:

(1) There is no evidence to support Dylan Farrow’s claim. But there’s a fair amount of evidence and ample indication that Mia Farrow, enraged by Woody’s romance with Soon-Yi Previn, made it all up to “get” Woody during an early ’90s custody battle, and as part of this determination coached Dylan to make the claims that she did. I happen to personally believe this scenario. There’s simply no rational, even-handed way to side with the “I believe Dylan Farrow” camp.

(2) If after reading Moses Farrow’s 5.23.18 essay (“A Son Speaks Out“) as well as Robert Weide’s “Q & A with Dylan Farrow” (12.13.17) and Daphne Merkin’s 9.16.18 Soon-Yi Previn interview…if after reading these personal testimonies along with the Wikipedia summary of the case you’re still an unmitigated Dylan ally…if you haven’t at least concluded there’s a highly significant amount of ambiguity and uncertainty in this whole mishegoss, then I don’t know what to say to you. There’s probably nothing that can be said to you.

(3) Excerpt from Yale–New Haven Hospital Child Sexual Abuse Clinic report (issued in 1993): “It is our expert opinion that Dylan was not sexually abused by Mr. Allen. Further, we believe that Dylan’s statements on videotape and her statements to us during our evaluation do not refer to actual events that occurred to her on August 4th, 1992.

(4) “In developing our opinion we considered three hypotheses to explain Dylan’s statements. First, that Dylan’s statements were true and that Mr. Allen had sexually abused her; second, that Dylan’s statements were not true but were made up by an emotionally vulnerable child who was caught up in a disturbed family and who was responding to the stresses in the family; and third, that Dylan was coached or influenced by her mother, Ms. Farrow. While we can conclude that Dylan was not sexually abused, we can not be definite about whether the second formulation by itself or the third formulation by itself is true. We believe that it is more likely that a combination of these two formulations best explains Dylan’s allegations of sexual abuse.”

The great Diana Rigg has passed from cancer at age 82. She lived a radiantly full life and enjoyed a long, vibrant career (her first professional gig happened in 1957 at age 19, performing in the RADA production of Bertolt Brecht‘s The Caucasian Chalk Circle), and I felt a genuinely poignant pang when I learned of her death this morning.

I understand that I’m obliged to celebrate (a) her Emma Peel role in The Avengers, (b) her wife-of-James-Bond turn in In Her Majesty’s Secret Service (’69) and (c) her ongoing performance as Olenna Tyrell in Game of Thrones. But for me Rigg’s sincere but sardonic performance as Barbara Drummond in Arthur Hiller and Paddy Chayefsky‘s The Hospital (’71) was her absolute finest moment.

The fact that Rigg was a pack-a-day smoker for 53 years straight (1956 until 2009) probably had something to do with her passing, but then again that was her choice. Quality over quantity, she probably felt. How anyone could believe that inhaling foul cigarette smoke for decades on end constitutes quality is beyond me.

I’m sorry but my interest in Woody Allen‘s Rifkin’s Festival has just…well, kind of plummeted.

Due respect but casting Wallace Shawn as a dismayed romantic protagonist (a cuckold) is not what anyone would call audience-friendly. Shawn has always been a brilliant wit and an amusingly thinky performer, but he’s 77 years old, for heaven’s sake. By any semi-realistic biological standard he’s “out of the game.”

And in the film he’s married to an attractive looker (played by Gina Gershon, whose real age is discoverable but who appears to be somewhere in her late 40s). It would be one thing if, say, Allen had cast the 75-year-old Steve Martin in the role. But not a bald Bilbo Baggins.

Yes, Shawn’s character would naturally feel wounded and disoriented by Gershon’s temporary infidelity, but it’s all but impossible to relate to Shawn in this context. My first reaction was “this is almost like John Huston casting Lionel Barrymore in the Humphrey Bogart role in Key Largo.”

41 years ago Allen used Shawn’s appearance as a sexual joke. In a fleeting Manhattan cameo, Shawn played Jeremiah, a sexually dynamic ex-boyfriend of Diane Keaton‘s “Mary” character. Allen: “Well, you certainly fooled me. This is not what I expected.” Keaton: “What did you expect?” Allen: “Well, you said that he was a great ladies’ man and that he opened you up sexually, and then this little homunculus…” Keaton: “He’s quite devastating.”

But now we’re supposed to take Shawn seriously as a husband with a saucy wife and certain amorous capabilities?

Republican Louisiana Senator John Kennedy sounds like a Woody Harrelson-level actor trying to emphasize the down-home, Tobacco Road, Okie from Muskogee accent in order to repel viewers. Kennedy’s pretzel-contortion responses to CNN’s Pamela Brown about Trump’s Covid-19 comments to Bob Woodward are surreal. When he tries to call Woodward’s “Rage” a “gotcha book”, she reminds him that Trump’s recorded comments are the subject at hand and not the book as a whole. What term applies when lying serpent scumbag is insufficient?

For clarification’s sake: Yesterday I mentioned the term “choppers” and a reader asked “don’t you mean chompers”? No, I replied. When Lauren Bacall and the boys sing “And Her Tears Flowed Like Wine” in The Big Sleep, she croons “he socked her in the choppers” around the 34-second mark. And if that’s not good enough, here are the original Joe Greene lyrics.

A tale of a risky affair between a high-school teacher (Lindsay Burdge) and a teenaged student (Will Brittain), Hannah Fidell‘s A Teacher was a buzzy title at Sundance ’13. (Here’s my review.) The following year HBO announced a plan to turn the film into a limited series with Fidell again directing. Now it’s an FX project with Kate Mara in the Burdge role, and Nick Robinson as her 16-year-old lover. (Okay, maybe 17.)

May I ask something? When it comes to affairs between scampy teachers and male students (in real life as well as dramas), why do things always have to end in shame and prosecution? Why can’t they fall in love like French president Emmanuel Macron and Brigitte Macron did when he was a 15 year-old student and she was a 39-year-old teacher? Or what about a story about an inappropriate relationship that just comes to a gradual, no-big-deal end without the cops and the school principal getting involved?

My mother warned me once or twice about predatory women when I turned…oh, 15 or 16. I used to pray I’d get hit on. If I’d been lucky enough to connect with one of my attractive teachers when I was that age…well, my God! I would have dropped to my knees and given thanks to God the Father Almighty.

Florian Zeller‘s The Father (Sony Classics, 12./18) is “the best film about the wages of aging since Amour eight years ago,” according to critic Todd McCarthy.

Pic “takes a bracingly insightful, subtle and nuanced look at encroaching dementia and the toll it takes on those in close proximity to the afflicted.

“Fronted by a stupendous performance from Anthony Hopkins as a proud Englishman in denial of his condition, this penetrating work marks an outstanding directorial debut by Zeller [and] looks to be a significant title for Sony Classics domestically later in the year.”

Variety‘s Owen Gleiberman: “Which scenario is real, and which one has [Hopkins’ character] hallucinated? We can’t quite tell, but in each case what we’re seeing feels real, and that’s the film’s ingenious gambit.

“In The Father, Zeller plants us inside a convincing homespun reality only to reveal that it was a mirage; before our eyes, the solidity turns to quicksand. Or was the reality before it the mirage? The film gives us small sharp clues to get our bearings, and each time we do it pulls the rug out again, seducing us into thinking that this time we’re on firm ground.”

This isn’t a color-filtered video — it’s San Francisco an hour or two ago, straight from the shoulder. From ABC7news: “Why is the sky orange in the Bay Area? There is smoke in the air from the Bear Fire near Chico, but the marine layer is protecting us, so the sky is red, yellow or orange even where air quality is good. On Tuesday, we had the wind to blame for those smoky skies — and lack of a smoky smell. The smoke was coming in from the August Complex Fire near Mendocino National Forest, but high winds were keeping the smoke at a high altitude, instead of settling near the surface.”

People really don’t know what to do right now. Everyone on the Embarcadero is stopping to record the sky and chit chatting in a way I haven’t seen since pre-pandemic @sfchronicle pic.twitter.com/ueKQ4g7WTD

— Jessica Christian (@jachristian) September 9, 2020

Transcripts and audio clips of chats between Donald Trump and Bob Woodward in Woodward’s “Rage” (Simon & Schuster, 9.15), reported in a 9.9.20 Washington Post story by Robert Costa and Philip Rucker:

Excerpt #1: “On 2.7.20, Trump called Woodward and revealed that he thought the Covid-19 situation was far more dire than what he had been saying publicly. ‘You just breathe the air and that’s how it’s passed. And so that’s a very tricky one. That’s a very delicate one. It’s also more deadly than even your strenuous flu. This is deadly stuff.'”

Excerpt #2: On 3.19.20, Trump told Woodward that “I wanted to always play [the virus] down…I still like playing it down because I don’t want to create a panic.”

What he meant, of course, is that he didn’t want to panic the stock market and the business community. So rather than deal with it as a leader from a straight, take-charge, here’s-what-needs-to-be-done perspective, Trump tried to bullshit his way through the situation.

In a CNN interview earlier today, Woodward’s former Washington Post colleague Carl Bernstein called this a case of “homicidal negligence.”

Q: “Did you mislead the public?”

President Trump: “Well, I think if you said in order to reduce panic, perhaps that’s so. The fact is, I’m a cheerleader for this country. I love our country and I don’t want people to be frightened. I don’t want to create panic.” pic.twitter.com/NNbnkPz346

— CSPAN (@cspan) September 9, 2020

Like every teenager who ever walked the earth outside of the usual suck-ups, brown-nosers and goody-goodies, I saw myself in almost every sneering, anti-authoritarian character who came along. I began to grow past that in my early 20s, but I’ve always felt a certain kinship with outlaws, contrarians, rebels, malcontents.

And yet, paradoxically, the first movie character that I felt I truly understood was Gary Cooper‘s small-town marshall in High Noon, which I first saw on my parents’ TV. Because he embodied a kernel of an idea that had begun to chill my soul at an early age — that life is a solo journey**, and that when push comes to shove fair-weather friends aren’t worth a damn, and that you can’t count on anyone but yourself. Of course, I didn’t fully understand this until I hit my 30s.

What's the first film where you felt like you saw yourself on screen? pic.twitter.com/BQq2B1dpGf

— Film4 (@Film4) September 4, 2020

** Ida Sessions (over the phone): Are you alone, Mr. Gittes?” Jake Gittes: “Aren’t we all?”