We all know how Woody Allen will recount what happened (or actually didn’t happen) on August 4, 1992. As well as the beginnings of his affair with Soon-Yi Previn and the enormous blowback, etc. He’s talked about these events here and there, and I’d be surprised if he elaborates to any great degree in “Apropos of Nothing” (Grand Central Publishing, 4.7) The portions of the book I’m most looking forward to, actually, are those describing his Brooklyn childhood and young manhood era (’40s and ’50s) and then the first blush of big success years (mid ’60s to mid ’70s) as well as the glorious artistic expansion era of the late ’70s. It’ll be a good read. I hope he digs in and explores these chapters with appropriate relish.
An accusation of sexual assault these days is tantamount to a guilty verdict, certainly in the court of industry opinion. Even, in the case of Timothy Hutton, when it concerns an allegation of an assault said to have happened 36 years ago, when Hutton was 23 and and the alleged victim, Sera Johnston, was 14.
Johnston is now 50, and out for some form of justice or payback. Her story is recounted in a Buzzfeed piece by Kate Aurthur and Adam B. Vary that was last updated on 3.2.20. Hutton spokespersons have said that the 59 year-old actor “completely and unequivocally denies” Johnston’s allegations, calling them “patently false and designed only to extort money from him.”
Whatever the truth and however this shakes out, Hutton will almost certainly suffer some kind of career interruptus. He could even become the new Kevin Spacey, or more precisely a blend of Spacey and Roman Polanski, given Johnston’s age at the time of the alleged assault.
But right now Hutton’s troubled reputation amounts to a serious problem regarding Julie Taymor‘s The Glorias (Roadside/LD Entertainment, fall release). It’s a decades-spanning biopic about feminist icon Gloria Steinem in which Hutton plays Leo Steinem, her antique-dealer father.
The problem is somewhat similar to that faced by director Ridley Scott when Spacey’s predatory behavior became an issue during post-production of All The Money In The World. Spacey’s performance as J. Paul Getty was scrapped and Christopher Plummer re-performed the part before Scott’s cameras.
I’m presuming that The Glorias can’t be released with Hutton costarring, given that an accused rapist costarring in a biopic about a major feminist author and figurehead would seem incongruent.
What, then, can the producers do except re-cast his part and re-shoot the Leo portions of the film? That or somehow re-cut the film so that Leo is no longer a necessary character. But that sounds tricky, given that the young-Steinem portions are largely about Leo taking his family on antique-peddling travels around the country in an Airstream. The original title of the film was The Glorias: A Life on The Road.
What would you do if you were a producer of Taymor’s film? I’m presuming it would cost an arm and a leg to pay for a CG face-plant. They either re-shoot Hutton’s scene or cut Hutton out.
Yeah, I really want to see an indie drama about two young British bros (Stephen Odubola, Micheal Ward) who find themselves on opposite sides of a brutal gang war. Set in the vicinity of Peckham (southeast London, east of Brixton) and directed, written and narrated by British hip-hop artist Rapman (Andrew Onwubolu)…I’m hearing the ring of familiarity and fatigue.
Then again it’s always the singer, not the song. Optimism!
“A well-told story with a worthwhile if not especially revolutionary message — gang wars are not worth dying for, and you don’t have to follow the cycle — that hits home, with attention being paid to making sure the small details such as the unapologetically British language in both sets of gangs feel just as authentic as the larger themes.
“It’s all anchored by two impressive performances from relative newcomers Odubola and Ward, whose chemistry is just as strong in conflict as it is in friendship. Similarly, the likeable romance between Odubola’s Timmy and Karla-Simone Spence’s Leah is frequently able to strike sweet and tender notes amidst all the male posturing. If it doesn’t completely grip, Blue Story announces several emerging talents who have bright futures ahead of them.” — from 11.18.19 review by Empire‘s Amon Warmann.
IntlCinephileSociety president, European critic and film programmer Cédric Succivalli has been a fairly reliable source on matters related to the Cannes Film Festival. This morning he posted the following on Awards Worthy, to wit: “And every other hour an important cultural French event is being cancelled. If you ask me, [the cancelling of] Cannes is just a matter of time, sadly. The Italian scenario is just a matter of a fortnight end, probably even less.”
He’s basically referring to the fact that Cannes is fairly close to the Italian border, and more particularly the northern Italian region, which is where the Coronavirus (COV-19) is strongest in Europe right now, right up there with South Korea, Japan and China.
Thanks to World of Reel’s Jordan Ruimyforpassingthisalong.
I agree with everything Bernie Sanders says about wealth inequity and corporate concentration of power in this country, and yet, somewhat bitterly and with profound despair, I can’t vote for him in today’s California primary.
For he is electoral death and ruination — a blend of Barry Goldwater in ’64 and George McGovern in ’72, and he will get absolutely creamed on 11.3. The avalanche of outright Trumpian lies and distortions that would fall upon him once (and if) he secures the Democratic nomination would see to that.
My far-from-enthusiastic vote for doddering Joe Biden is strictly strategic. I will shudder repeatedly at his old-guy misrememberings and stammerings on the debate stage if and when Joe goes up against Trump, but he is a decent and compassionate man with a better-than-decent chance of winning. Bernie would get killed — Biden would make it through.
If we were living in a week-old time machine realm I would vote for my bruh, Pete Buttigieg. If we were living in a perfect, consequence-free vacuum I would vote for Elizabeth Warren, but she wasn’t won anything or even come in a strong second since the primaries began.
Everything that happens reaffirms this awful sense that we’re living through dark and doomed times. Stuck in an irreversible downswirl. Unless Typewriter Joe wins the nomination. Then there might be a chance.
Another boomer dog has been deep-sixed for dicey or questionable behavior with a younger woman in a professional context. Chris Matthews has announced that he’s leaving MSNBC for having conveyed icky sentiments at work. (He didn’t make any moves — just said the wrong thing.)
Needless to say older guys getting #MeToo torpedoed by a complaint (or two) from a younger woman has become a familiar thing — way of the world. Matthews has no one to blame but himself.
I’m trying to recall if Disney’s The Parent Trap (’61) was the first film in which an actor played identical twins who sometimes appeared in the same frame. I’d like to find an article that explains the mid 20th Century technology that allowed for this, and how it differed from the prevailing method[s] used today.
Twin flicks seemed to accelerate (emphasis on the “s” word) after David Cronenberg‘s Dead Ringers (’88). Since then we’ve seen a shitload. My 21st Century favorites, hands down, are Armie Hammer‘s Winklevoss twins in The Social Network.
Bernie’s Democratic victory next summer will be on him, as will the second ruinous term of Donald J. Trump. I say this knowing that Bernie already has California in the bag. Bernie is Goldwater in ’64 or McGovern in ’72…take your pick. Either way the Beast is good for a second term. What a horrible, horrible situation.
.@BarackObama PLEASE WAKE UP! Today is the day you need to endorse Biden, or else we get Bernie, and whatever is left of the Obama/Biden legacy will go straight down the toilet. This is not a tough call. Step up to the plate! pic.twitter.com/YQLHJLttqy
When I think of the late James Lipton, I think of a knowledgable film maven and a seasoned old-school academic who was very proficient at sophisticated flattery. Dapper and genteel and a Serious Movie Catholic, Lipton reliably secreted that unctuous sauce that brand-name actors live for when they go before the public without a role to play or makeup to wear. His Inside The Actors Studio interviews (’94 to ’18, when Lipton stepped down due to illness) were always subdued love fests, and “talent” loved him for that.
Q: “If heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the pearly gates?”
A: “After a lifetime of uncertainty and scratching your head, you finally understand that I am everything and nothing and everything within that nothingness, and that we’re just transitioning from one form of matter to another, and great art — music and movies especially — is the only thing that really lasts, and you knew that when you were mortal and hopefully allowed as much great, lip-smacking art into your soul as possible. Now you’ve passed that stage, of course. In a twinkling of an eye you’ll be a baby again, but unless you’re an ESP type you won’t remember a damn thing.”
The withdrawal of Minnesota Senator Amy Klobuchar from the Democratic primary race is a good thing as far as it goes. But “taking one for the team in order to stop Bernie the Destroyer” was Pete Buttigieg‘s idea first — Amy is just following his lead. Except she’s been small potatoes all along, and her forthcoming official endorsement of Joe Biden in Dallas, while approvable and appreciated, won’t mean all that much.
If we really want to stop Bernie Elizabeth Warren and Michael Bloomberg have to bail also, and they probably won’t. Between Biden and Bloomberg who seems more mentally alert with the snapping of electric synapses? Or between Biden and Warren? We all know the answers, and yet it has to be Biden because we can’t fuck around any more. Bernie isn’t just George McGovern in ’72 but also Barry Goldwater in ’64. If he lassos the Democratic nomination we’re all GOING TO HELL with The Beast.
I don’t know how costly the CG work was but we can assume it accounted for a sizable chunk of that $125M. (Probably a similar percentage for the CG work on The Irishman.) Not to mention the $15M or $20M plus points that Harrison “paycheck” Ford scooped up.
Are you telling me that The Call of the Wild would’ve stiffed if the producers had cast, say, Kurt Russell or Tommy Lee Jones or even Clint Eastwood instead of Ford? The family audience would have only required some grizzled old gus with a certain name-brand value. How much would one of those guys cost? Probably under $10 million…right?
And the common consensus is that The Call of the Wild would have been a more emotionally engaging film if it had been shot organically a la Randall Kleiser‘s White Fang (’91), which cost $14 million to shoot (or $27 million in 2020 dollars). Or in the vein of Jean Jacques Annaud‘s The Bear (’88). Or even Disney’s Perri, a real-life squirrel movie produced by Disney in ’57.
Hollywood Elsewhere regrets failing to credit@ManiLazic‘s excellent Man on Fire revisionist poster art. I fell for the blending of Céline Sciamma and Tony Scott, the motivational non-similarities between Adele Haenel and Denzel Washington‘s characters, the geographical rapport between northwestern France and Mexico City.
I saw it on Twitter three or four days ago but without any noticable credit. I forgot about it, and then saw it again. So I posted it. Because I really liked it.
Again, I humbly apologize to a fellow film writer (not to mention a Meisner-trained actress). I was thinking and moving too fast, as is my wont. Haste makes waste. Then again examples of unsigned and uncredited revisionist movie poster art appear on Twitter all the time and nobody says boo. They come and go, surface and subside…all part of a relentless daily cycle. Cheers & salutations.
