Simon Boccanegra

He does mention a friend at school whom he doesn't want to bring with him to the ranch, with the Phil of it all ("I don't want him to meet a certain person"). I was thinking a boyfriend, although it doesn't have to be. It's a tribute to Cumberbatch as well as the material that Phil seems a tragic villain. He's brilliant and even gifted, but he uses his gifts to hurt people rather than to bring pleasure or to build connections. The banjo/piano scene makes that point without words.

We see him constantly with Larry and, to a lesser extent, Richard, so it might seem they're his only clients, but besides what Ms. Blue Jay mentions, occasionally he's mentioned other people he represents, and sometimes they're well-known real people. Kathy Griffin was one, in the episode in which she appeared. Jeff told Larry he writes Griffin a letter of apology every week. "We did nothing to each other...but just every week, I end up writing her an apology letter." (That aged interestingly, didn't it? Both Griffin and Garlin have had scandals and contrition in recent years.)

This is just something the actors have to make work in "A Boy Like That/I Have A Love." I thought Ariana DeBose and Rachel Zegler did sell it in the new film (with a little help from Tony Kushner). The soundtrack album, which includes the spoken dialogue at the end, reinforces that impression. Anita loved Bernardo, but she understood not only him but the world in which he and Tony existed, and so she knows it easily could have happened the other way around. Once she has softened (the duet with Maria shifting from confrontation to close harmony), she says Tony will never be safe there; "they'll" never forgive him. Maria asks if Anita herself will; Anita replies, "You can't ever ask me that." Then Maria asks if Anita will forgive her (for playing a role in these events and for still loving Bernardo's killer), and Anita's response in Spanish is more than forgiveness, it's love ("Te quiero mi niña"). She says Tony and Maria will have to go away together. I buy it because of the sisterly relationship between these two, their shared experience of loving leaders of violent gangs, and DeBose's magnificent acting.

So many people have been on Curb for just one episode on their way to being better known. Right from the first season: the lawyer who read Larry's script and gave notes on it and charged him was played by Nia Vardalos, who a couple years later would have her pop-culture moment in My Big Fat Greek Wedding. I mention that because I went to see Paul Thomas Anderson's new one, Licorice Pizza, and the actor who plays the young hero's romantic rival (a fellow child/teen actor who's a little older and more suave) looked familiar to me, and I specifically thought I remembered him doing a scene with Larry David. He turned out to have played the son of one of Larry's many doctors. He gets a job at Latte Larry's, and he's diagnosing people's skin problems, and Larry's all, "Yeah, thanks, but I think I'll go see your father instead of taking your word." Skyler Gisondo. He's been in a lot of other stuff I haven't seen, though. She once said that if they ever do divorce, she's going to go scorched-earth, take him for every cent, and make him rue the day he met her. She actually said that in a later episode than the underwear-in-the-car incident, but I guess the in-universe explanation for his wanting to hold on to her is that he's afraid of the alternative. Come to think of it, in 2020s-era Hollywood, a divorced Susie could probably do a lot of damage to Jeff with a tell-all about her life married to a gaslighting, womanizing agent who preys on aspiring actresses. He'd probably lose a lot of his A-list non-Larry clients, and Larry wouldn't come out of it too well either, as Jeff's frequent accomplice. Now there's a season-long plot. I don't know if Larry would want to disrupt the show's status quo that much, though, if CYE continues.

Yes, I agree. About every five years now, we get one of his bittersweet "family films for adults," and I look forward to them now. He's done father/son (Beginners), then mother/son (20th Century Women), and now brother/sister and uncle/nephew in a single stroke. I didn't like this one quite as much as I had 20th Century Women, but I was very fond of it. It was good to see Joaquin Phoenix in his non-eccentric regular-guy mode again (and at his best). Gaby Hoffman was outstanding as the harried sister, and young Woody Norman more than held his own. I also thought the contributions of the kids being interviewed for the radio program were insightful and at times poignant without sounding like written “lines.” There was a theme here of still caring for people and being connected to them even when relationships have suffered (Phoenix and Hoffman, Hoffman and her estranged husband), even when life events have put figurative or literal distance in the way. I liked the mercurial quality of the boy, who was like actual bright children I've known. At times they seem older than their years (as when he expressed the realistic worry that he would inherit his father's condition), and then they can be moody little pains who act exactly their age. I felt the Phoenix character's terror when the kid would disappear in public, leprechaun-like, in the blink of an eye or the duration of a short phone call. Also, it's another recent movie that reminds us how rich and beautiful black-and-white images can be (cf. Belfast, Passing, Tragedy of Macbeth).

Chalamet has kind of worn thin with me in the years since Call Me By Your Name, as I've seen him do very similar things in other contexts ("Timothée with a drug problem," "Timothée as a Woody Allen protagonist," "Timothée in 19th-century dress," "Timothée in space"), but here I thought McKay wrote him a nice part that he was right for. Yule and his friends reminded Kate at her lowest point that some people had been listening to her, and his spirituality (on the rooftop and at the "last supper") was something not duplicated by the others.

It was nice to see Keith Carradine as the governor. It occurred to me that as a young actor, he made his film debut in a small part in another haunting, atmospheric Western, McCabe & Mrs. Miller. Fifty years later, he closes the loop.

I found this riveting from beginning to end, all four of the central performances outstanding. I suppose I should see the other Jane Campion movies I haven't seen. It's quite a return for her. It's interesting that the point at which Phil starts regarding Peter differently is that scene in which he walks past all the mocking cowboys and he seems to be able to tune them out, although he obviously hears them. He walks back the way he came, unruffled. There's a self-possession Phil finds admirable. Later, he's surprised at the clinical detachment with which Peter breaks the rabbit's neck. But whatever fond feeling there might ultimately be on Phil's part, there's always an element of continuing to twist the knife in his despised sister-in-law by "taking away" her son, and Peter is aware of this. Phil fatally underestimates Peter's main loyalty. It's a good movie year when this and the West Side Story remake (high-level artistry put to very different ends) are front-runners, and there are other awards-season releases in the very-good-to-great range as well.

I saw this movie a while back, on initial release, but I think their relationship just wasn't as strong as they thought it was. Or it was very strong at one time, but that time has passed. By their Paris reunion, she's someone else, healthier and happier. The father's kind remarks to Ruben (essentially "I used not to like you, but now I can see you were good for her," past tense) suggest she's been more honest and direct with the father about Ruben than she can bring herself to be with Ruben. She still cares about him, but it's probably been a while since she was thinking about him every day. The final scene has Ruben alone, beginning to accept that he's someone else too, and Lou won't be part of this chapter of his life. And that's the movie, really: a character who was desperately (if understandably) trying to reclaim things he'd lost, rather than accepting new things. It's a very good movie, although its timeline feels rushed, and some scenes are effective without being convincing. The biggest example is the one in which the implant is activated, and he's disappointed in the buzzy, distorted quality of the sound, no matter the adjustment the tech makes. I didn't buy that he'd be that unprepared. It's a major procedure, and he appears to have had less preop counseling than people get before they have a skin tag removed or a colonoscopy. It was interesting to me that Derek Cianfrance, the talented writer/director of Blue Valentine and The Place Beyond the Pines (and the upcoming Ryan Gosling Wolfman, another "serious" reboot à la the recent Invisible Man), based this story on his own life. Cianfrance was a heavy-metal drummer and he damaged his hearing, although he got out before it reached Ruben's level. He was originally going to make the film himself as Metalhead, but his co-writer Darius Marder (who also co-wrote Place Beyond the Pines) ended up directing. Very well, especially considering it was a first feature. There's a strong thread running through Cianfrance's projects (which also include the HBO miniseries adaptation of I Know This Much Is True). He tells stories about characters living close to the ground, typically with modest financial means, intense emotions, and strained or fragile ties to loved ones. They're tough movies, probably too grim for a lot of people, but I've admired them.

I didn't exactly forget it, but I know what you mean. It's engrossing, beautifully designed, well acted, but there's a pulpy hollowness at the center that keeps it from being a great film. It's a very deluxe B-movie. I've seen the 1947 version, and I don't think either is better or worse. 1947 moves at a brisker clip and is a bit warmer (in that the era's production code kept a few characters from going as dark as they go in 2021, and an optimistic ending was imposed). 2021 is more lavish and more faithful to the source.

Joel Coen's first movie without brother Ethan (who, at least for now, has taken a leave from filmmaking). It's one I almost don't want the responsibility of starting the thread for, because I wanted to like it more than I did. In the past, when the Coens adapted existing properties, even when they took a very faithful approach (True Grit), they put a strongly personal sensibility into their movies. This is a stately, reverent recitation, every development as inevitable as the stations of the cross. We know exactly what’s coming next, and the actors perform as if they know what’s coming next. Only fleetingly (as in the murders of Macduff’s wife and son, played with real terror by Moses Ingram and Ethan Hutchinson, respectively) is there a feeling that these events are happening for the first time to the people we’re watching. More often, these are actors delivering ancient greatness, on best behavior and in awe of the occasion. The MVP is cinematographer Bruno Delbonnel (who shot Inside Llewyn Davis and The Ballad of Buster Scruggs), working in misty black and white that pays homage to German Expressionism. The film is shot in the boxy Academy ratio, mostly on soundstages. Were it not for recognizable present-day faces, we might be persuaded this is an early sound film. It looks great. I had expected the performances to count for more, but except for those named above and Alex Hassell as a complex, not entirely clarified Ross, only Kathryn Hunter comes through. Her single contorting witch, whose reflection on water makes her appear a trio, is a searing, grotesque turn. As Macbeth, Denzel Washington does not entirely subdue his tendency to preen, and his Shakespearean recitation is soft-edged and monotonous. Frances McDormand's Lady is disappointing—I'm a fan, and this is the closest I’ve seen her come to blandness. It’s a film made with unmistakable care and craft, but I cannot lie about my experience of seeing it: I was eager for it to reach its conclusion. It reminded me of the feeling I have when I'm in the theater seeing a repertory work competently done: the familiar words and gestures, not much inspiration. I will be giving this a second look, with hope that it lands better, when its streaming date arrives imminently. Reviews are overwhelmingly positive, so perhaps it's just me.

Bardem's iconic performance (for which he won an Oscar) was as a merciless assassin in the Coens' No Country for Old Men. I doubt anyone considered him sexy in that, but perhaps in Vicky Cristina Barcelona (as a Spanish lothario romancing Rebecca Hall, Scarlett Johansson, and Penélope Cruz) and some other movies he's done. I do think he's a great actor. I also saw some of his pre-stardom work in his native language for Pedro Almodóvar. Being the Ricardos is decent. It has the hallmarks of other "fact-based" movies Aaron Sorkin has written or written/directed, and I'd know who the auteur was within two scenes if I didn't go in knowing, but it isn't one of the best of them. Well below The Social Network, Moneyball, and Trial of the Chicago 7, slightly below Molly's Game, about even with Steve Jobs. I actually thought the work of the actors was one of the better things about it.

The way I see it is that the film is mostly about a close friendship that develops following a crush, and it's taking place in early '70s SoCal, a time and place when people were questioning the norms and behaving in a way that -- for that time -- was considered free and progressive. We know now that much of what was considered progressive led to unequal situations and exploitation, but in that cultural moment, people were living their lives and following fashionable social doctrines just like people today. I can't count the number of times the most "woke," cancellation-bandwagon people on my social media have paid tribute to early-'70s rock icons (on the occasion of deaths or the anniversaries of deaths), when those people have been credibly alleged to have had intercourse with girls even younger than 15. Alana and Gary never get past a flash and a kiss. Their connection is remarkably chaste, really. (I'm not sure how old the other young actor, the one who comes to dinner with Alana's family and confesses his atheism, is. He seemingly has a couple years on Gary, and Alana sees him as a more realistic serious partner.) It's a long way from a perfect movie, but I had some affection for it, and the central relationship didn't make me uncomfortable. I just thought the story portrayed these two as people who were challenging (in good ways) and helpful to each other as they went through transitional periods in their lives.

It's a bonus if characters are likable, but I've never needed it, and not every story lends itself to that. I just want them to be fascinating and compelling. I feel that the woman in The Lost Daughter has those qualities, as (for example) Charles Foster Kane did, and the even less wholesome protagonists of films such as Taxi Driver and Goodfellas.

Agreeing with @Spartan Girl, Valentina > Doc. I found him stagy and didactic in the '61 film. There was, to me, something not only very touching but inspired in that recontextualization of "Somewhere." This iconic song delivered (delicately but effectively) by the oldest voice, the oldest character, the one who's seen the most, probably seen all the worst. That she still holds out hope for a better tomorrow makes it mean more, and the lyrics have never sounded more like a prayer. (And yeah, I've heard Aretha's version.) Ms. Moreno, of course, brings her own associations to it. No doubt she spent a lot of years choosing the least bad among roles it was hard to get excited about, blazing a trail for the younger performers around her in this cast. "Touching" and "inspired" sum up a lot of Kushner and Spielberg's work here. I keep thinking back on the handling of the balcony scene, with that locked fire-escape grate, When Tony's gone as far as he can go, he and Maria are still on different levels and speaking through bars, their faces only inches apart but still separated. He has to hoist himself up and over from the outside, risking a fall for something that is worth it. It's lovely symbolism for the world being in their way.

Leda behaves in such illogical ways, though, not only in the example you give, that I think there's something more going on. With respect to the doll, she's downright reckless, leaving it out in plain view twice when it would be easy to conceal it before admitting other people to her apartment. There are also scenes in which she behaves as though everyone suspects her. All of the Greece scenes had, to me, a dream-like quality, whereas the flashbacks with Jessie Buckley et al. seemed trustworthy. The final scene makes little sense in a realistic way, with the orange being produced out of nowhere, and the two twentysomething daughters being together and greeting her on the phone more as their small-child selves would have. So I questioned the way we're supposed to read the whole film, and questioned the reliability of the central character, and I suspect I'd feel that way about what Elena Farrante wrote too. It's just peculiar, ambiguous material. Part of the discomfort factor is that things don't quite add up, yet there's a real-world menace on a moment-to-moment level: Dakota Johnson's spooky stares, Dagmara Dominczyk's hints of malice even when she's being nice and offering cake, the snake-like threat of the family's young and older men alike, the falling objects, the cicada on the pillow, the disruptions of the lighthouse (muted but insistent), Even the dinner scene with the Paul Mescal character, which starts pleasantly, goes subtly "off" as Leda babbles on too much information about her breast size, her daughters' breast sizes, etc. His fond stare seemed to me to turn into something else. People keep telling Leda she's so beautiful and she can't possibly be in her late forties. Olivia Colman is attractive, but not in a way that makes that flattery plausible. At first I was thinking this was just book dialogue and the author had visualized a very different-looking heroine. (The novel is about people from different regions of Italy.) But now I wonder if all of the Greece material is some dying fantasy. Two characters therein are versions of Leda on either side of her present midlife. The straying, imperfect young mother is her past; the old man distant from his family and in denial about it is her likely future. And her young self deals her a wound from which she may not recover. No idea whether I was on the right track, or if there's even intended to be one way to take this one. But I found it an intriguing way to spend a couple hours, and I've thought about it since.

The thought that came into my mind when I finished watching this movie (and by the way, "Hi, Milburn!") is that it may not be a perfect movie, it may not even be a great movie in some important ways, but it's exactly the movie we deserve in 2021-22. I had liked The Big Short less than most of the smart people had, and Vice not at all, so I was surprised by how well this one (with its mixed reviews) landed for me. I was even moved during the "last supper."

"You can't make an empty gesture to a Funkhouser!"

Jeff's a sleaze (well covered), but has he ever done anything darker than that? I know Bam-Bam was really into the idea of having sex with him and even suggested it, but she was seriously mentally ill. Then he lied about having sex with her and stood by as she was re-committed because her family assumed her truthful account of something proved she wasn't better after all. Catherine O'Hara is hilarious, though. It's a show with a lot of fantastic one-episode performances, and hers is near the top.

I love that Boyhood is so Harry Potter-heavy. The mother is reading one of the books to the kids near the beginning, and then in a later year the kids are at the store at midnight (with little Mason in his Harry Potter costume) to get their hands on the newest one. It's a movie where I think, "The period detail is so perfect," and then I have to remind myself that when they were shooting a little at a time every year, it wasn't period detail, it was just...detail! Heh.

I watched the 20th-anniversary special. It's enjoyable. They all seem like really nice people. If I took one thing away from it, it's that Helena Bonham Carter is even cooler than I imagined, and I already imagined that that was pretty cool. She's delightful in her segments with Radcliffe and Felton. It's not surprising to hear that she was so supportive of the younger actors on the set, because she started her own movie career so young. She was herself a teenager (if an older one than they were at the time) acting opposite veterans in her Room with a View/Lady Jane period in the '80s. Tom Felton came off especially well too. And I liked that they were able to get all four of the directors to talk about what they tried to bring to the installments they oversaw. I'll admit that as the last ten minutes went on with gratitude, wonder, testimonials to how much the franchise has meant in the lives of all the actors and how much they care about each other, tears, tears, and more tears, I was thinking, "This could have been tightened up a little." It's like a really comprehensive DVD/Blu-ray extra. But it's sincere and well meant. The "In Loving Memory" segment (re: Harris, Rickman, McCrory, et al.) is nicely done. The actors who are still with us but didn't participate for whatever reason -- Emma Thompson, Robert Pattinson, Timothy Spall -- don't get a lot of attention (Pattinson doesn't even get a name-drop when his character is discussed), but I guess most of the people who watch this will be big fans of the series, so they'll be able to fill in their own blanks. Tangential: I just saw Tragedy of Macbeth on NYE, so Bruno Delbonnel's cinematography was fresh in mind. The clips of Half-Blood Prince reminded me again of how stunning he made the later scenes of that one look.

A nice "as told to" piece from Susie Essman on the fashion choices of Susie Greene, differences between Real Susie and Show Susie, and the odds for a season 12. Sample: "In the first season, the Greene’s house was very stark and modern with black leather furniture. Susie was screaming and yelling and cursing in her first scene. I remember thinking, This woman takes chances. She thinks she has the greatest taste in the entire world and listens to no one—no decorator, no stylist, no one. She doesn’t see any demarcations—it’s all part of her personality: big, take-no-prisoners, no second thoughts. She’s completely secure about every opinion and every choice, especially when it comes to fashion." https://www.elle.com/fashion/a38594852/susie-essman-curb-your-enthusiasm-style-interview/ I think the scene she's remembering as Susie's first was in "The Wire," when she lets Jeff have it because the underprivileged kid he took in stole from them. That was the first taste of the Susie we all know. In her real first scene (episode 1, "The Pants Tent"), she was downright sweet.

There were paparazzi photos of him a few years ago cavorting in the ocean with Mary Steenburgen (who, by the way, jolted me in my seat in Nightmare Alley last week; anyone who's seen it knows the scene). He still has a decent amount of hair that appears to be real. It's just scarcer at the crown, which, as you note, has been the case since the Cheers days. So I think he's in the Richard Lewis range. Larry acknowledged once having a camera placed to emphasize Richard's bald spot, because he was always jealous of prime Richard Lewis's luxurious mane. My gut feeling is that there will be one more season. Garlin has said (prior to Garlin's recent bad press) he thinks Larry has one more in him, but not two. But something I like about the show is that every season finale would work well as a series finale. If this is where it stops, I'll remember it as one of the great sitcoms for most of its run, and still watchable at the end. (Season ranking: 3, 2, 1, 7, 8, 6, 5, 4, 10, 9, 11.)

So Leon is a Pisces. And a Leap Year baby. Yeah, that all tracks. Good finale to a scattershot season. I liked the flashy shooting and editing of the search for the Vindman transcript, and of Larry's Young Larry fantasy. I doubt real-life Ted would ever take an ongoing series role that would have him in a bald cap. In the version in my head, in-show Larry sprung that detail on him after he'd signed on, for pure spite. Larry's Trump impression in the call with the Mormon councilwoman was a highlight. "I want a repeal. A big, beautiful repeal." It was surreal to hear Trumpian language and cadences from "Bernie Sanders." Colonel Vindman stepped up pretty well for a non-performer! It's something I've noted on this show before. On a lot of series, famous non-actor guest stars stick out like big blocks of wood. Not so much on Curb. Barbara Boxer was really good too in the one about Larry's Yankees jersey disappearing at the dry cleaners. Salman Rushdie was hilarious. There have been others. The next time I hug someone, I'm going to see what I do. I loved Cheryl's mystification at the season plot. "Why do they have him by the balls?" Susie's "Oh, Cheryl, it's such a long story, you don't even..." I like Cheryl, but is there anything more Cheryl than being the gentile at the Holocaust museum telling two Jews that they need to watch their language and show some respect? All the talk this season about dating with large age discrepancies has an upbeat conclusion. Mary Ferguson #4 was played by a 39-year-old, and in moving from Leon/JB Smoove to Alexander Vindman, she more than halved the age gap. Music note: Curb uses arrangements of popular numbers from Carmen often. It's been going on ever since the first-season episode with a character named Carmen (the interior decorator who wouldn't give Diane Keaton's phone number to Larry).

Yep. 26 or 27. For a show that isn't always great with the continuity, Sammi/Sammy's age was something they did pretty well with. She was said to be seven in 2002, when Larry inadvertently got her drunk and took her dog away. She was said to be "like, eleven years old" in 2005, when Larry was appalled that Jeff and Susie were still doing the "tooth fairy" routine with her. So I'm considering 1994 her birth-year canon. Ashly Holloway, who has always played her, is just slightly older (29).