Is it okay to fat-snicker at an ISIS psychopath, or is it verboten no matter what, who or whatever? I suspect it’s the latter option. I’m nonetheless going to confess something that may provoke punitive measures from the wokester Khmer Rouge, or at least some form of pushback.

My confession is that I had my first good laugh today from today’s [1.17.20] New York Post story, written by the eloquent Yaron Steinbuch.

“He put the fat in fatwa.

“A morbidly obese ISIS fanatic dubbed ‘Jabba the Jihadi‘ has been captured by Iraqi forces, who loaded him onto a flatbed truck because he couldn’t fit in a police car.

The 560-pound mufti Abu Abdul Bari, also known as Shifa al-Nima, was nabbed Thursday by an elite SWAT team of the Nineveh regiment in the city of Mosul, according to Stars and Stripes.

“The jumbo jihadist was known for ‘provocative speeches against the security forces” and is considered one of the top leaders of ‘ISIS gangs,’ Iraqi security officials said in a statement.”

Part 2 of America’s Great Divide (PBS Frontline) is instant history, the last three-plus years, spelled out plain and with all appropriate glumness. Nothing new but I submitted to the depression for 75 minutes, and I’ll probably return to it later tonight or tomorrow.

In a promotional event for Hulu’s Hillary, Hillary Clinton to Television Critics Association: “It’s going to be up to every voter, not only people who vote in Democratic primaries, to recognize this is no ordinary time. This is an election that will have such profound impact. So take your vote seriously, and for the Democratic voters, try to vote for the person you think is most likely to win because at the end of the day, that is what will matter. And not just the popular vote, but the Electoral College, as we’ve learned.”

In other words, everyone should shake off their favorites and join the tens of millions of African Americans who are irrevocably glued to Typewriter Joe.

I hate the way this is going. It’s so dispiriting. Long slow downswirl.

Yesterday the Trumpies announced federal measures “aimed at protecting religious freedom and reducing discrimination against people and groups of faith”…bullshit. Trump just wants to stem any possible thinning of support among evangelicals in the wake of Christianity Today‘s Mark Galli recently calling for Trump’s removal from office and urging rightwing religious nutters not to support him.

In line with the protection con, Trump has claimed that “there’s a growing totalitarian impulse on the far left that seeks to punish, restrict and even prohibit religious expression.” Wrong — there’s a growing conviction among mainstream lefties that evangelicals’ support of The Beast is beyond despicable. In light of this and in honor of Woody Allen, HE reiterates that if Jesus were to return to earth and see what is going on in his name, he would never stop throwing up.

The Santa Barbara Inn is a very elegant and beautiful establishment, but their TVs have an agenda. Since arriving two days ago I’ve been watching MSNBC and TCM (mostly as white-noise while writing). But every time I turn the set on it defaults to Fox News. Five or six times so far. Obviously by design. If I was running the place I would instruct the sets to default to C-SPAN or something in that neutral vein. It’s heinous to gently suggest to guests that they might want to start their tube-watching day with Trump state television.

Posted four years ago from Santa Barbara Film Festival: I don’t like mingling with hotel guests or staff. If I run into one I’ll turn on the pleasant smile and say “good morning!” but if I can avoid them I will.

Partly because I prefer morning solitude, and partly because the folks who stay at the Fess Parker Doubletree (I had to leave the Santa Barbara Holiday Inn two days ago) tend to be the same kind of people who go on Caribbean cruises and vacation in Cancun and Las Vegas. Middle-aged marrieds, overweight types, elderly folk, tourists with kids…later.

[Click through to full story on HE-plus]

I was going to buy a $15 ticket to watch this piece of shit at a local Santa Barbara theatre — a 5:30 pm show prior to this evening’s Renee Zelwegger tribute at the Arlington. But I’d much rather catch a 5:40 pm screening of Andrew Patterson‘s The Vast of Night, a ’50s-era sci-fi flick that premiered at Slamdance 2019.

In the swearing of a solemn oath this morning, all but a few U.S. Senate Republicans were undoubtedly lying in their hearts, lying to their constituents. lying to their children and lying to God: “Do you solemnly swear that in all things pertaining to the trial and impeachment of Donald John Trump, President of the United States and now pending, you will do justice according to the Constitution and laws, so help you God?” They all muttered “I will” or “yeah” or “yo, whatevs.”

In a piece called “The 2020 Oscar Nominees for Best Picture Reveal White Men in a State of Rebellion“, Indiewire‘s Anne Thompson notes that “we’ve all read the commentaries on the Academy’s shortcomings when it comes to diversity.” But the main problem, she feels, is the presence of too many over-60 white guys.

“What’s revealing is the movies the 8,500 voters actually nominated for Best Picture,” she says. “It reminds us of who these industry insiders are: Mostly white males over 60, many of whom vote with their own taste rather than consider what they might be missing.

“The Academy has raised the percentage of people of color to 16, international members to 20, and women to 32. However, the white men who dominate the voting body are clearly responding in kind. Last year, they defiantly resisted criticisms of Green Book and voted for it anyway.”

You know what that sounds like? Mitch McConnell‘s remark about Elizabeth Warren‘s strong objection to Jeff Sessions‘ nomination as Attorney General. McConnell: “Senator Warren appeared to violate the rule. She was warned. She was given an explanation. Nevertheless, she persisted.”

For the 57th time, Green Book‘s Best Picture Oscar was partly about the supplying of humanity, heart, discipline, believable characters and craft. But a significant and possibly decisive factor was the decision by Green Book admirers to tell twitter scolds to go fuck themselves. And that they did. And for a few minutes on the night of 2.24.19 the world knew a certain kind of joy. Not because Green Book is a masterpiece, but because Khmer Rouge wokesters were handed their walking papers.

Complex behaviors, hubris, machismo, tribalism, hair-trigger temperaments, mutual animal dislike, self-destructive personality traits — a whole lot going on here. Which is one reason why everyone agrees that this Irishman scene is (a) among the finest in this 209-minute film, and (b) one of the best of the year in any film. The only other Best Picture nominee that comes close to delivering on this level is Marriage Story. The other seven — 1917, Ford v Ferrari, Jojo Rabbit, Joker, Little Women, Once Upon a Time in Hollywood, Parasite — don’t. They don’t have anything that even approaches it. Certainly not in terms of character complexity and surging undercurrents. I’m sorry but that’s the truth.

Sasha Stone‘s “Oscar Primer — Why No Women Were Nominated for Best Director“, posted on 1.16, is essential reading. It does an excellent job of analyzing the whole notion of “Greta Gerwig and Little Women were screwed over by industry sexism, as evidenced by a lack of a Best Director Oscar nom.” And it points a finger at Gerwig’s water-carriers — i.e., wokester critics.

The piece is brilliant and definitive from start to finish, but here’s my favorite portion:

“Many critics did everyone a disservice by not being completely honest about Little Women. By and large, they went overboard for it, giving it a 95% score on Rotten Tomatoes with only a few brave voices of dissent endeavoring to describe what the film is and isn’t.

“Yes, it’s beautiful, lush, alive, and funny in places. But for many [Little Women] is also a structural disaster. Unless a viewer is familiar with the story, the rearranged timeline often causes confusion, and many will have trouble keeping their bearings. Even for those of us who accepted the task of putting the puzzle together, we had to wonder what purpose it served.

“You heard no qualms about this from major film critics because they were swept up in the idea that ‘Gerwig was back’ and no one wanted to dampen that enthusiasm. When critics addressed it at all, they would explain away the approach with a variety of rationales that fail to convince a lot of us, That said, congratulations to all the fans of Little Women who had fun solving the Rubik’s Cube. Now solve the mystery of why you’re so furious at anyone who wishes the plotline had been more straightforward.

“Those who love the film aren’t bothered by the ornate structural affectation. They love it anyway. Obviously, at least 350 Oscar voters loved it too. But the very real issue is clearly not something that a large number of voters were willing to overlook when they weighed a convoluted film on the one hand against 10 or 12 other other films that flowed seamlessly across the screen with such propulsive narrative thrust.

“In fact, it’s hard not to suspect that the reason a lot of voters named Little Women on their ballots was because they felt it was their duty, because Gerwig is a woman. Would a Best Director nomination bestowed on those terms even be fair to Gerwig? Nope.

2020 marks the 40th anniversary of John Landis’ The Blues Brothers (‘80), allegedly one of the biggest and most unmitigated cocaine movies ever made. HE is trying to recall other significant cocaine flicks of that era. Martin Scorsese’s New York, New York, for sure. Let’s try and come up with a fairly comprehensive list. The HE community can do this!

It’s also worth recalling, I think, the elephant-fart aroma that this film spread across the land. It was a comedy, of course, and so a certain raucousness was unavoidable. But it was also about a couple of Paul Butterfield-like devotees of Chess records, Muddy Waters and Howlin’ Wolf. Poseurs, certainly, but sincere about it. Guys who’d responded to the heart, ache and grit of the Chicago blues and were looking to spread the gospel, so to speak. On SNL and in live shows John Belushi and Dan Aykroyd‘s Blues Brothers act was funny and cool, but when Landis stepped in it all turned brazen and soul-less — over-produced, over-scaled, over-emphasized.

From Janet Maslin’s 5.20.80 N.Y. Times review: “There isn’t a moment of The Blues Brothers that wouldn’t have been more enjoyable if it had been mounted on a simpler scale. This essentially modest movie is reported to have cost about $30 million, and what did all that money buy? Scores of car crashes. Too many extras. Overstaged dance numbers. And a hollowness that certainly didn’t come cheap.

“A film that moved faster and called less attention to its indulgences might never convey, as The Blues Brothers does in all but its jolliest moments, such unqualified despair.”