June 2nd, 2013
Tilda Swinton cannot be the next Doctor. I think there's a rule against casting an actual citizen of Gallifrey.
posted by Cool Papa Bell at 12:38 AM on June 2
Tilda Swinton cannot be the next Doctor. I think there's a rule against casting an actual citizen of Gallifrey.
posted by Cool Papa Bell at 12:38 AM on June 2
I'm never going to be able to unhear this:
[From a MetaFilter discussion of the use of different regional accents used by actors in Game of Thrones]
For everyone complaining about Dinklage's accent, and its terribleness/variability, I think it might be worth watching a couple of clips of Scottish actor Richard Wilson in One Foot In The Grave, because Dinklage's accent is – consciously or not – an almost exact replica. It has that clipped, haughty tone; it's different enough from a standard English RP accent to sound odd to someone not used to the accent; when he raises his voice, it takes on a kind of exaggerated, exasperated character that can sound oddly Transatlantic. And it's completely genuine: it's the accent of a working class, west coast Scot who has had the more guttural elements of his voice trained out of him by RADA, but who still retains strong vestiges of his background. And it's been put to use for the past four decades playing upper (or at least soi-disant upper) class Scots. That's the accent I hear when I watch Dinklage in Game Of Thrones. It may be capital A Acting, but it's not, in and of itself, a dodgy accent. [...]
From last night's Oscars, Jennifer Lawrence meeting Jack Nicholson for the first time:
[Amended video link as original video was removed from YouTube. Just in case that one disappears too, here's a screenshot of her reaction. JR 26 Feb 2013]
[Via feeling listless]
[In her early 20s...] she gave us a 21st-century riff on the French gamine: at once innocent and perverse, beautiful and bent out of shape. The press promptly touted her as "the new Bardot", although that barely scratches at the surface of her wonky appeal. On screen, Sagnier manages to be at once coolly carnal and haplessly gauche. For me, she's like Stan Laurel as played by Marilyn Monroe, though I'll concede that this description may well not catch on.
Not a parallel that occurred to me when I first watched Swimming Pool.
There really is no getting round it. Epic is the only word for it.
[Via The Morning News]
Things I learned online today:
The main thing I took away from this Q&A with Jeff Goldblum isn't anything in the interview itself. It's this bit at the end:
Born: Pittsburgh, 1952
Jeff Goldblum will turn 60 later this year. 60! How the hell did that happen?1
Anne Helen Petersen's post describing the making of Marilyn Monroe includes a nice anecdote illustrating how Monroe defused a potential scandal, capping her explanation with a nice line in self-deprecating wit:
Monroe had posed for art photographer Tom Kelley all the way back in 1948, and the photos had been reprinted in numerous calendars, of which "Golden Dreams" was the most famous. [...]
When Monroe's star rose in the early '50s, she was identified as the model in the photos. But her response to the revelation became as fundamental to her image as the photos themselves. Instead of attempting to avoid or deny the rumors, Monroe answered them head-on: She had been "hungry," was "three weeks behind with rent," and had insisted that Kelley's wife be present. "I'm not ashamed of it," she averred. "I've done nothing wrong."
Once the potential for scandal had dissipated, she promised "I'm saving a copy of that calendar for my grandchildren," admitting "I've only autographed a few copies of it, mostly for sick people. On one I wrote 'This may not be my best angle.'"
Jim Meskimen performs Clarence's speech from Shakespeare's Richard III as a number of different celebrities, from Woody Allen to Simon Cowell, via William Shatner.
It was at the old MGM studios, which is now the Sony lot. I was playing a bastard son in medical school who wasn't going to come home to see his dad because he had a test or something like that. So I was on the phone, this very emotional scene where I'm telling my father that I'm not coming home. Karl is on the other end of the phone, and he's actually on the set talking to me on the other end of the phone [...] the camera's on me, it's a little makeshift set inside a huge former Busby Berkeley soundstage, and the camera's got the lights, everything going on, and I'm just acting up a storm. [...]
So I'm acting up a storm, and all of a sudden I hear this "ratatatat." This must be a like two-page monologue. I'm thinking, "I can't believe they're fixing the roof in the middle of my monologue!" But I keep going, you know, because I'm feeling the fear, so I just barrel on anyway. And all of a sudden the set starts to shake a little, and I think, "I can't believe the fucking subway. I'm right in the middle of my monologue, and the subway…" Of course there's no subway in Los Angeles, but I'm still busy doing my thing. And I'm looking, and the lights are in my eyes, and I'm going on, and I'm thinking, "The guy's fixing the roof, the subway underneath… boy, this isn't going very well." And I look just a little bit past the bright light, pretending to be looking out the mirror of my room or whatever, and… I see that Malden is gone. He's no longer on the phone. Then I realize the camera operator is gone. And I look around, and there's no one on the set except me… and I'm still just acting up a storm! I mean, I'm thinking, "Holy fuck," but I'm still going on with the scene, like, "Dad, don't you understand? This is important to me, it's my future," while thinking, "Holy fuck, what's going on? Is this how they do things out here?" 'Cause, you know, this was one of the first things I'd ever done. And then I realized, "Oh my God, it's an earthquake! This is an earthquake!" And it's started to rumble now. So immediately I leap up, and I go into the doorframe behind my desk where I was on the phone all this time, and I'm pressing so hard against the doorframe that the thing is bowing out a little bit. And that's when I realize, "Oh, my God, this is a set! This is not going to protect me from anything!" There's, like, eight miles of ceiling above me, and I'm under this balsawood doorframe.
So I'm running around trying to find the exit, and I finally get out, and of course, everyone smoked back then, so they're all sitting in cars smoking. And someone goes, "Hey, first earthquake, huh?" [Laughs.] I'm just, like, "There's nobody here. That can't be good. But I'm almost done with the monologue, so I'll finish just in case." The show must go on, right?
Some people are just naturals at holding court. Alec Baldwin definitely qualifies there, which is why he was always such a great Saturday Night Live host and why his monologue in Glengarry Glen Ross remains the gold standard for holding public attention. The thing about people who are good at holding court is that once they start holding court it can be impossible to make them stop. And not always, but sometimes they say something that makes their audience facepalm.
Here are a few of the things Alec Baldwin enjoys: party games, Pilates, what Alec Baldwin is eating, cryptic jokes with the Baldwin siblings in a private brother language, the Rolling Stones, getting stranded on boats, tweeting like he's somewhere deep in thought and is providing you a small opening through which to see into his brain – Being John Malkovich-style, politics, asking rhetorical questions, faux-slang, and Fort Lauderdale.
I found the film pretty uninspired – Sean Connery was in the middle of a run of distinctly sub-par films1, and nobody ever said to themselves 'I've just got to see that new Peter Hyams film' – but Steranko's comic adaptation looks like all sorts of fun.
When the show went to No. 1 in December 1988, ABC sent a chocolate "1" to congratulate me. Guess they figured that would keep the fat lady happy – or maybe they thought I hadn't heard (along with the world) that male stars with No. 1 shows were given Bentleys and Porsches. So me and George Clooney [who played Roseanne Conner's boss for the first season] took my chocolate prize outside, where I snapped a picture of him hitting it with a baseball bat. I sent that to ABC.
… and …
I finally found the right lawyer to tell me what scares TV producers worse than anything – too late for me. What scares these guys – who think that the perks of success include humiliating and destroying the star they work for (read Lorre's personal attacks on Charlie Sheen in his vanity cards at the end of Two and a Half Men) – isn't getting caught stealing or being made to pay for that; it's being charged with fostering a "hostile work environment." If I could do it all over, I'd sue ABC and Carsey-Werner under those provisions. Hollywood hates labor, and hates shows about labor worse than any other thing. And that's why you won't be seeing another Roseanne anytime soon. Instead, all over the tube, you will find enterprising, overmedicated, painted-up, capitalist whores claiming to be housewives. But I'm not bitter.
I was dimly aware that a remake of Fright Night was in the works but I hadn't paid it much attention: I enjoyed the original but I haven't seen it in years and it wouldn't make it onto my all-time top 10 horror films. Imagine my surprise at the sight of a teaser poster for the new film featuring David Tennant in the part played in the original by Roddy McDowall.
Clearly they've rewritten the role a bit, but I can still see Tennant being quite fun as the host of a low-budget horror anthology TV show who has to face up to the fact that there really are vampires out there.
Having been prompted to look up the remake, the one real doubt I have is over Colin Farrell taking on the role originally played by Chris Sarandon. I can see why Farrell is physically right for the part1 but I don't know if Farrell can pull off the mix of charm and menace that made Sarandon such a memorable villain, but I might be inclined to find out.
Homicide: Life On The Street (1996) – "Colonel Alexander Rausch"
AVC: This kicks off your first role as a white supremacist -
JKS: A hugely pivotal moment. It was a nice meaty part, and then it started relationships with Tom Fontana and Ed Sherin that turned into Oz and Law & Order. Within a year or so after [Homicide], they were casting Oz. They didn't even have scripts yet. I'm just a theater actor who's barely making my rent and I'm auditioning for Tom Fontana for, we didn't know at the time, it wasn't supposed to be a regular on the show, but it was going to be a good part. And I was excited about it, but I was also nervous about it, because I had gotten so much attention playing that Nazi white-supremacist murdering bastard on Homicide. I thought, "I really don't want to be stuck playing this character for the rest of my life, and be like the Nazi of the week on every TV show."
I went into that meeting with Tom when I should have just been lying down at his feet saying "Please hire me!", and instead I was like, "I'm a little apprehensive… I'm afraid it could hurt my ability to have the career that I would like to have, being a versatile actor playing different parts, like I've been doing in theater for 20 years." Tom really put me at ease and said "The character is going to start out to be a guy we think is a good guy, and then there's going to be changes. Trust me, you'll love it." And I said "Great!" Of course the character went from being a potential nice guy to a rapist bastard in the first half-hour of the first episode, but it was a fun six years.
It wasn't six fun years for poor Tobias Beecher, but I know what Simmons means. Oz could be distinctly melodramatic at times, but it was also compelling viewing from beginning to end.
The Nicolas Cage Matrix mostly gets his career right. A few observations:
Natasha Vargas-Cooper waves the white flag on behalf of Hollywood, in the face of an implacable and ruthless foe:
Actors are the UK's greatest export. They are also the most destabilising factor in the "serious American actor" economy. The Brits are taking advantage of a crisis within our film industry. Come Oscars night, we Americans will once again be forced to bear witness to their power. While we prepare for our annual celebration of America's favourite art form, the British are plotting their ruthless attack.
There is little doubt the outcome will be anything short of a bloodbath. Colin Firth – shy and composed, an Englishman to the core – will cinch the Best Actor statuette for his role in The King's Speech; Christian Bale will be victorious in the Best Supporting Actor category (for The Fighter) [...]
Why are the British waging such a savage assault on one of the last remaining, albeit wobbly, American industries? Hasn't the American movie business been good to you? The benevolent hand of the Hollywood Industrial Complex has reached down to pluck many a Brit from the dreary BBC salt mines and propel them into a life of international fame.
Jeremy Irons was merely skulking around Brideshead until we swooped him up into Reversal of Fortune and then made him a bona-fide movie star with the Die Hard franchise. [...]
GQ's Tom Carson on the long, strange career of Nicolas Cage:
[On Cage's career since his Best Actor Oscar for Leaving Las Vegas...] Instead, over the past decade or so, he's become a somehow appropriately weird combination of ubiquitous – he averages two or three movies a year – and marginal. Not only does his undiminished talent get no respect, but a whole category of plum parts is denied the benefit of his imagination as a result. Speaking of fusions of fable and pathology, what I'd give for eccentric, manic-depressive Cage and not classy Daniel Day-Lewis to be playing the lead in Steven Spielberg's upcoming Lincoln should make my wife relieved we don't have a firstborn to surrender. But Unka Steven is hardly the kind of filmmaker to appreciate the profundity in incongruity.
[Via The Browser]
Molly Lambert on learning to appreciate Jack Nicholson:
I encountered Jack Nicholson onscreen for the first time in 1997, when I saw James L. Brooks' As Good As It Gets. In that film Jack Nicholson plays a character whose entire existence requires the context of "Jack Nicholson" to make any sense. Here is how I saw it: a sad neurotic old man totally undeserving of love gets his wish fulfillment fantasy via a much younger waitress who doesn't really make any sense as a character and Greg Kinnear is gay. I had never been so mystified to see a movie win so many awards. "Man, Hollywood…" I said, shaking my head perplexedly and being fourteen.
I enjoy an intellectual romantic comedy as much as the next English major but I could not get behind that movie. We're all trying for Annie Hall but there's nothing worse than characters that assume your sympathy without really earning it. Woody's heroes are often horrible people but they manage to be sympathetic. Woody's worst movies have many of the same problems as As Good As It Gets. "You make me want to be a better man." What made you so sure you're such a bad man to begin with Jack?
My freshman year of college I saw Carnal Knowledge, a movie which opens (semi-hilariously) with Jack Nicholson as a freshman in college. Suddenly I got Jack Nicholson. I got what As Good As It Gets had assumed I would already know. And I understood that the current Jack Nicholson, the grandfatherly type in sunglasses in the front row of the Oscars, still felt exactly the same inside as this guy I really wanted to fuck. And that was really weird, vaguely creepy, confusing, hot, and the very end of puberty. [...]
(As a bonus feature, the full post includes the most unnerving animated GIF I've seen in a long time. Don't scroll down looking for it, as it's a subtle sort of creepiness and loses impact if you just stare at it. Just read the full post and wait … suddenly, you'll notice something moving out of the corner of your eye.)
Friend of House,
As an attractive and exquisitely dressed shaper of public opinion, you are no doubt showered daily with novels, movies, gadgets, tropical vacations, government policies – all whimpering for your approval: five stars, three check marks, two thumbs up, six garter belts, whatever your coin of gradation may be. [...]