Walter Mondale, the moderately liberal Minnesota Senator (’64 to ’76) who served as Jimmy Carter‘s vp (’77 to ’81) and who was severely trounced by Ronald Reagan in the ’84 presidential election, has passed at age 93.
Soundbite-wise, Mondale is probably best known for undermining Gary Hart‘s 1984 presidential primary campaign with that famous “where’s the beef?” line.
Mondale also made history that year by selecting Representative Geraldine Ferraro of New York as his running mate — the first woman to run for the vice presidency.
The Bluray of Warner Archives’ 4K restoration of Michael Curtiz‘s Doctor X (’32), which will arrive on 4.20, has both the two-color and the black-and-white versions, which were filmed separately. It stars Lionel Atwill in the title role (actual name: Xavier), pre-King KongFay Wray and Lee Tracy as a snappy news reporter.
WhySoBlu review, 4.8.21: “The amount of work they have gone [through] to give this film new life is fairly astounding. Check out the featurette on restoring it for all the nifty details and examples. It has a painterly quality. Details are strong as can be given the age and type of film process.
“The monochrome version also features an impressive restoration with good details and crisp image.”
There are 26 Gold Derby Oscar “experts”…experts, I should add, who know absolutely nothing except for the intriguing bouquet of their own anal cavities and the wing-flapping sound of flying pigs when they try to divine which nominees might prevail.
Okay, they’re almost certainly correct in predicting that the late Chadwick Boseman will win the Best Actor Oscar…fine.
As you might expect, their Best Picture predictions are all over the map. (Which may reflect Academy sentiments also.) 14 are predicting the triumph of Nomadland, 8 are predicting victory for The Trial of the Chicago 7, 3 are predicting Minari (not a chance in hell!) and one (Chris Rosen) is predicting that Promising Young Woman will take the prize.
For what it’s worth, Carey Mulligan reigns supreme when it comes Gold Derby predictions about the Best Actress race. 12 experts are siding with the star of Promising Young Woman, 7 are standing behind Ma Rainey‘s Viola Davis, 5 are predicting victory for The United States vs, Billie Holiday‘s Andra Day, and 2 are predicting a Best Actress trophy for Nomadland‘s Frances McDormand (her third if she wins).
In the Best Supporting Actress category all but three are predicting victory for Minari‘s Yuh-Jung Youn. In the Best Supporting Actor realm it’s Judas and the Black Messiah‘s Daniel Kaluuya, Daniel Kaluuya, Daniel Kaluuya, Daniel Kaluuya, Daniel Kaluuya, etc.
When the anti-disco revolt began in the spring of ’79, advocates were derided as both homophobic and racist. If you wore a “Death to Disco” T-shirt…if you liked The Who‘s “Sister Disco” or Bob Seger‘s “Old Time Rock ‘n’ Roll,” you were behind the curve and maybe a chip off the old asshole block**.
I explicitly recall my friend Stuart Byron, an “out” Village Voice columnist who later worked for producer Ray Stark, telling me to my face that I’d be wise to keep my loathing of disco under wraps lest I sound like a homophobe.
40-plus years later the disco haters have been totally vindicated by history and the tradition of good musical taste, and nobody even alludes to homophobia as any kind of lingering undercurrent.
This hasn’t stopped today’s reverse-racist wokesters from using the same bullshit against anyone who doesn’t fall into line in the movie realm. If you dare to apply seasoned judgment in the assessing of this or that film that happens to be POC-focused…if, say, you’re a devout admirer of Lakeith Stanfield‘s performance in Judas and the Black Messiah or Steve McQueen‘s 12 Years A Slave, Widows and Mangrove (as I am) but you have reservations about the late Chadwick Boseman winning the Best Actor Oscar for his “okay but no great shakes” Ma Rainey performance or Viola Davis‘s blustery, obviously supporting lip-synch fatsuit performance (as I do), you might have an attitude problem.
I first met and chatted with Jim Caviezel 22 and 1/2 years ago, during the press junket for Terrence Malick‘s The Thin Red Line (’98). (He played Witt, the lead character.) I sensed he was a conservative traditionalist, but also a decent, polite fellow. I liked him.
The first time I heard of adrenochrome was when Hunter S. Thompson wrote about dropping some on his tongue during his Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas.
Actor Jim Caviezel appeared at a right-wing COVID conspiracy theorist conference yesterday and promoted the QAnon blood-harvesting conspiracy theory (https://t.co/9RgU0ORDVI) about "the adrenochroming of children." (clip 1/2) pic.twitter.com/JZWxpFbjFY
Women scream when King Kong breaks free on a New York City stage. Joan Davis screams a lot in Hold That Ghost! Doris Day screams just before the Albert Hall assassination attempt in The Man Who Knew Too Much. At the end of VertigoJames Stewart asks Kim Novak “why did you scream?” during that fateful moment at the top of the San Juan Batista bell tower. A nameless woman in Some Like It Hot screams when Tony Curtis and Jack Lemmon run across the lobby of the Seminole Ritz. Janet Leigh screams, of course, when the shower curtain is ripped aside in Psycho. One of the witches screams when a knife-wielding Mia Farrow enters the Castevet’s living room at the end of Rosemary’s Baby.
No doubt about it — there was a lot of female screaming going on in 20th Century movies. Which suggests there was some actual real-life, rip-roaring screaming going on from time to time. But you know what? For the most part female screaming was an invented dramatic device that had no abundant basis in fact, and perhaps not even an incidental basis.
In my entire life I heard a woman “scream” exactly once, and that was when I was two or three years old and my mother had opened the driver’s side door on a busy street and a passing car slammed into it and ripped the door off the hinges. And even that wasn’t really a scream — it was more like a frightened “oooggghhh!”
There was another moment on a LAX-to-JFK flight in ’02 or thereabouts that half-qualified. Our 757 jet hit a sizable air pocket and the plane plunged a couple of hundred feet in a twinkling, and a woman sitting next to me went “aawwwhhh!” — another gulpy moan.
When’s the last time a woman screamed in a movie? I can’t actually recall. 20 or 30 years ago? Longer?
Chris Walken, hands down. I’m presuming that the 78-year-old legend still has the necessary vim and vigor. That said, when I say “Walken for Jeopardy host” I mean the Walken I saw on Broadway in A Behanding in Spokane (2010) or, more exquisitely, his sociopath dad in At Close Range (’86).
It’s no longer a matter of censure and condemnation — over the weekend an impression began to take hold that the goal of the burgeoning theatre-community movement against producer Scott Rudin is nothing less than career termination. They don’t want him chastised and repentant — they want him lashed, defrocked and gone.
Fairly or unfairly, this sentiment will probably be exacerbated by a video posted yesterday by David Graham-Caso that claims Rudin’s abuse of his late twin brother, Kevin Blake Graham-Caso, in late 2008 and ’09 while working for the producer was a significant factor in Kevin’s suicide last fall.**
DG-C: “You berated and demeaned, bullied and intimidated and harassed [Kevin] for eight solid months. It was so intense that he developed anxiety and depression and post-traumatic stress, and like many survivors of traumatic abuse, he soon found himself in another abusive relationship later on in his life. It was so intense that last October, he took his own life.”
“Earlier this week Equity, along with SAG-AFTRA and American Federation of Musicians Local 802, issued a joint statement condemning harassment, bullying and toxic environments and pledging ‘to hold accountable those who violate human and legal norms of fair, respectful and dignified conduct in the workplace.’ The statement did not specifically name Rudin.
“Some members of Equity have been calling upon the union to place Rudin on the ‘Do Not Work’ list, and have spread word on Instagram of a March on Broadway this Wednesday to protest Rudin as well as social justice issues related to the Broadway industry.”
Excerpt: “If MM were to take the plunge and run for governor, the poll found, 45% of Texas registered voters would vote for McConaughey, 33% would vote for Abbott and 22% would vote for someone else.
“McConaughey’s double-digit lead over the two-term Republican incumbent is significant. The poll, conducted April 6-13, surveyed 1,126 registered voters and has a margin of sampling error of plus or minus 2.92 percentage points.
“56% of Republican voters said they’d vote for Abbott, compared with only 30% for McConaughey.
“While Democrats broke 66% to 8% for McConaughey, and independents 44% to 28%, more than twice as many Democratic primary voters — 51% — said they wanted a progressive candidate for governor than wanted a centrist — 25%.
“That could pose a problem. McConaughey, who has criticized both major parties, has suggested he’s more of a moderate.
“Some of the Trump supporters warm to celebrities, and that sentiment, along with the wishes of one-fifth of the primary electorate for a more moderate nominee, might open a lane in the GOP primary for McConaughey, said UT-Tyler political scientist Mark Owens, who directed the poll.
“McConaughey gets a huge boost from tremendous name recognition and recognition for what he does to help Texans and add to the celebration of the state’s successes,” Owens said. “Most of our survey respondents know his story, but many are waiting to see how he opens his next chapter.”
This six-and-one-third-year-old TMZ post purportedly contains audio snippets of phone chats between Scott Rudin and former Sony honcho Amy Pascal. I only just heard it yesterday for the first time.
The post announces that the clips were captured as part of the November 2014 Sony Hack, but until somebody proves otherwise I’m assuming it’s actors reading scripted dialogue. It’s too SNL to be real.
It’s also very funny. Because it’s mostly about food (“Godawful sushi”, tacos, “a triple caramel Macchiato”, Butterfingers) and perspiration, bawling out an Uber driver, hating Splenda, etc.
The 4.25 Union Station Oscar telecast will have the visual look and atmospheric intrigue of a movie. The nominees and award presenters will be captured in various corners of the 83 year-old train station while speaking lines and sharing observations and who-knows-what-else?
The usual approach — super-gala, stiff-necked, proscenium-arch behavior — is being jettisoned for something looser and jazzier and more thematically-driven. Perhaps an actual story might be told?
The camera operators will get a workout — I can tell you that.
“It’s not going to be like anything that’s been done before,” Soderbergh said during yesterday’s news conference. The pandemic and the Union Station venue has “opened up an opportunity to try something that hasn’t been tried.” The ceremony will be shot like an actual movie, with presenters “playing themselves, or at least a version of themselves
Plus longer acceptance speeches, Soderbergh promised. “We’re giving them space,” he said. “We’ve encouraged them to tell a story, and to say something personal.” I don’t want to be an alarmist but I fear what this kind of “personal” may unleash. I sense ariasofmyopichyperbole, otherwise known as wokester shit. Please.
Late yesterday afternoon Tatiana and I drove down to the Union Station complex to see what we could see. One, we saw nothing except barriers and fences and dead-faced security guards explaining the basics. Two, it was awful to hang around the rear regions and passages of a train station with no point or purpose…I felt small, lost, marginalized. For the time being I won’t see the grandiose art-deco showplace aspects of the station until everyone else does, eight days from now.
So we said “fine, fuck it,” drove up to Disney Hall to take some photos, and then pushed on to El Cholo for a light supper.
