Kenny

“I didn’t want to upset my wife, because she loved Francesca,” von Anhalt told...or, to be more precise, lied. Francesca was a mess, thanks in large part to her awful relationship with mom Zsa, her father’s virtual abandonment (Conrad Hilton essentially cut her out of his will), and lawsuits and other harassment from, yes, fake-prince Von Asshole. She oozed neediness. I felt sorry for her.

Since the production has nothing whatever to do with issues of political correctness, I’d say the answer to your question is “no.”

Zsa Zsa was a gay space, so it makes sense. In fact, she was the Queen of Outer Gay Space.

:(

Spoken like a truly privileged white guy. Sheesh.

Oh.

Jerry Herman: I am what I am And what I am needs no excuses I deal my own deck Sometimes the aces sometimes the deuces It's one life and there's no return and no deposit One life so it's time to open up your closet Life's not worth a damn till you can shout out I am what I am Jerry Herman-esque: I am brave, I am bruised I am who I'm meant to be, this is me Look out 'cause here I come And I'm marching on to the beat I drum I'm not scared to be seen I make no apologies, this is me

Plus, the song’s not that good. It’s pretty much just a pastiche of "I Am What I Am" from La Cage aux Folles.

DiFi is among the more reasonable Republicans in the Senate, which makes her a rarity, but I would love to see her replaced by an actual Democrat.

Earth to Shill: The Oscars is a TV show that is broadcast to promote an entertainment industry. TV rules apply to a TV show, not the rules of artistic merit.

I think “best song” is a legacy of Tin Pan Alley in the ‘30s, when radio was big and a popular tune could drive listeners to the movie theater ticket booth. Back then, it was common to have way more than five nominees. In 1945, there were 14!

La Liz had lost in ‘59 for “Suddenly, Last Summer,” and had lost in ‘60 for “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof.” The sentiment around the potential ‘61 strike three: Get that lady an Oscar before she dies!

The only science fiction film ever to win Best Picture. (Lord of the Rings was fantasy.)

The pity Oscar.

Let’s see. Who will I believe, Shill or Jane Mayer? Shill or James Risen? Shill-the-Greenwald-wannabe or...just about anyone?

In the new world of the Oscars, surprises are a thing of the past By Kenneth Turan | Los Angeles Times Film Critic | Mar 05, 2018 | 4:00 AM What if they awarded the Oscars and not one of the winners was a real surprise, not a single solitary one? What would the show be like, would people be glad they watched or wish they'd played pinochle instead? That question is not an academic one — it happened Sunday night at the 90th Academy Awards. Of all the 24 little gold statues handed out, none of them could qualify as a genuine upset. A night like this has been headed our way for quite some time as the world of Oscar prognostication has grown over the years from a genial hobby to a serious business practiced by crack teams of experts. Analyzed and scrutinized from a multitude of angles for days, weeks and months, it was inevitable that many of the award's secrets would be revealed, that the predilections of the academy members would be easier and easier to read. Yet even as favorite followed favorite to the Dolby Theatre podium, there were reasons to be glad you were metaphorically in the house, watching it all play out. The most obvious reason is if films you cared about came away victorious, validating your belief in them. Ten feature-length dramas, not counting foreign-language ones, went home with Oscars, including seven of the nine best picture nominees, and of films that had a realistic chance to take home something, only the wonderful "Lady Bird" fell winless by the wayside. The big winner of course was Guillermo del Toro's "The Shape of Water," achieving a 2018 high of four Oscars, including best picture and director. When the filmmaker took the stage those two times, once wonderfully quoting a classic line from James Cagney in "Yankee Doodle Dandy" about his mother, his father and he himself thanking you, I flashed back to running into Del Toro at an event at Cannes last year. When I asked what he was working on, the usual question for that time and place, Del Toro said nonchalantly that it was "just a little picture, nothing with a big budget." But I could tell it was something close to his heart, and so it proved to be for everyone else as well. But if these surprise-less Oscars proved anything, it was that rooting interest wasn't the key to the event's value. We are watching, as it turns out, for the unscripted, spontaneous human moments, the times when people speak from the heart and tell us what they are really feeling at this highly emotional moment. Sometimes it's ad libs, like presenter Jane Fonda cracking that the Dolby Theatre set reminded her "of the Orgasmatron in 'Barbarella.'" Even better was supporting actress Allison Janney — mocking the tedious laundry list of thank yous that nothing, not even Jimmy Kimmel's offer of a jet ski for the shortest speech, could stem — started out by saying "I did it all myself." The most memorable moment of the evening, hands down, was Frances McDormand's announcement, "I've got some things to say," followed by her plea to every one of the female nominees to stand and be recognized, singling out Meryl Streep in the first row with a personal "if you do it, everyone will." Other moments were quieter but not any less heartfelt for that, like supporting actor winner Sam Rockwell remembering his father sneaking him out of school to go to the movies and Gary Oldman telling his soon-to-be-99-year-old mother, "put the kettle on, I'm bringing Oscar home." And then there was the night's oldest winner, James Ivory, for adapted screenplay, taking a moment to mention his longtime partners, now departed, producer Ismail Merchant and screenwriter Ruth Jhabvala, responsible with him for films like "Howards End" and "Room With a View." "In voting for me," he said with simple feeling, "you are remembering them." While the academy seems to know that a touch of the genuine is a good thing, the show's attempts to manufacture naturalness, like a trip by some stars to bring snacks to "real people" at the Chinese Theater, fell woefully flat. Sometimes, even moments that were planned work beautifully, like the "In Memoriam" section, always a heart-tugger. And then there was 93-year-old Eva Marie Saint, puckishly saying "I'm older than the academy" and talking movingly about her late husband Jeffrey Hayden before she presented the costume design award. Like the best of movies, moments that touch our emotions are the ones we remember most of all.

Ding! Ding! Ding! Winning word for the Oscars. Pandering. And not once but twice there was a gush about thanking the movie-going audience for buying tickets. The Academy is freaking out about streaming platforms, just as it did in the ‘50s-‘60s when broadcast TV took off.

And the Barnes “Postman” is as great as Van Gogh gets.

I thought it was great that Timothée wore a white pantsuit. Political position duly noted!

I was thrilled and honored that Jimmy Kimmel described Armie Hammer as “a Ken doll.” Easily the high point of the broadcast. But, damn that set was ugly. Ug-lee.

What on earth are you talking about? AIDS? Huh? Which is nowhere mentioned, never mind discussed, in the excerpted column (or in fact in the un-excerpted column). Just because you are in love with every frame of the film (and with Armie) isn't a good reason to make up stuff to defend your viewpoint. Sheesh. You write that "Oliver protects his inner self by trying to appear older and much more confident than he actually is" -- which is in fact part of the problem with the film. Armie actually is older, so the conflicted personality of a young man trying to appear older is lost. Guadagnino hand-picked wrong. Oops. And Earth to TruHart: As I've written, I liked the movie. Which isn't the same as claiming perfection. And as for the "you are entitled to your own opinion" line, how condescending. As if you are conferring some fabulous privilege. At the very least, blurting such a sentiment explains why you are willing to so readily embrace the most conventional sentiment imaginable. Grow up.

Seriously? It was hard to make, even painstaking, so deserves an Oscar? This ain’t the Olympics, dude. Degree of difficulty is not an artistic standard.

Excellent piece in today’s LA Times (by the theater critic) on script-derived problems with CMBYN (and Three Billboards): “But the love story between Elio and Oliver, the visiting student, is hampered by the casting of Armie Hammer, who resembles not so much a budding archaeologist with a deep knowledge of philology but a junior associate at Goldman Sachs with a wad of traveler's checks in his preppy shorts. Hammer's Oliver seems too old, too confident and too blunt for the delicate affair whipped up for him. The erotic adventure of the young men is art-directed to be poetic (secret foot massages!) rather than convincingly candid. "Call Me by Your Name" wants to depict sexuality given a furlough from societal prohibitions, but the film would rather not delve into the psychology of the closet. Identity politics needn't be rigidly brought into the story, but sexuality and selfhood seem to have only a passing acquaintance here. It's a fantasy for those afraid of their fantasies. .... More problematic is the handling of Elio's father (played by Michael Stuhlbarg with his dependable dexterity), who lives vicariously through his son's sexual awakening. He has been supervising Elio's sentimental education like a paternal, voyeuristic Flaubert. Near the end of the film after Oliver has returned home, Professor Perlman passes along some sage words to his son about treasuring the quickly fading springtime of passion. "Call Me by Your Name" would rather generalize this romantic wisdom than explore its neurotic origins in the professor's walled off homoerotic desire. Perlman lives in a morgue of good living that the movie confuses with timeless philosophy. All the sexy cinematography is ultimately a subterfuge, a mythological screen to divert attention from a more shadowy story of cowardice and compromise. The endless scrutiny of Chalamet's face as it shades from innocence to experience through the pain of loss makes for a striking finale. But the profundity of "Call Me by Your Name" is shallow. The house is full of books and literary references are strewn about like confetti, but the overriding sensibility is more decorative than dramatic — Merchant-Ivory for the age of Instagram.” I think the review is exactly right (and bound to be a minority opinion!).

You forgot the Ringling.

Thank you for posting.