Wolfs in Sheep’s Clothing

This week I watched attempts by both J.D. Vance and George Clooney to charm their way through inferior material and ultimately both failed miserably. 

The Chair comin’ in hot!

Which only goes to show that whether it’s faux Republican schtick or tired Democratic schtick some of us viewers can still spot a con a mile away.

In his new-ish Apple movie, Wolfs, Mr. Clooney – with support from his buddy Brad Pitt – plays a handsome, slick, near infallible fixer. The type of guy you turn to when you have to dispose of a dead body, clean up a crime scene or drive backwards to safety in the middle of the night.

Is it bothering anyone else that it should be Wolves?? #justme

But it’s really a variation of the handsome, slick, near infallible, criminal mastermind Mr. Clooney first brought us almost a quarter century ago in the theatrical blockbuster Ocean’s Eleven (2001), which he then repeated in Ocean’s Twelve (2004), and then repeated again in Ocean’s Thirteen (2007).

Which are all a reboot, remake , rip-off or contemporary, cultural reappropriation (Note: You choose) of the original Ocean’s 11 (1960) starring Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin and Sammy Davis, Jr. aka The Rat Pack, aka the George Clooney and Brad Pitt of their times.

Okay, perhaps the above sarcasm is a bit much. Or is it?

I’ll let you decide

See, the original Ocean’s was merely a goof of a film that packaged the kind of slick, easy, tongue-in-cheek late 50s style boys club humor the Rat Pack stars were known for by employing their larger-than-life celebrity personas on the big screen.

Almost two and a half decades ago it was sort of fun to have Clooney lead a gold star class of turn-of-the-21st-century movie stars of the time (Note: Pitt, Julia Roberts, Matt Damon) mug their way through fantasy, high stakes mischief.  But after milking the buddy-buddy, wink-wink style and tone in so many various ways over so many years and in so many other films in addition to the Oceans franchise, its repackaging on steroids into Wolfs feels a bit cheap and threadbare, despite its rumored $200 million budget. 

Yeah, it’s a little like this

Both Clooney and the movie ultimately come across like a well-wrapped last-minute re-regifting on Christmas morning.  Once you unwrap the pretty paper what you get inside ultimately makes little sense and shows a profound lack of imagination on the part of the person who gave it to you.  Something that, with a modicum of effort, they figured they could get away with.

The Chair again with the hot tea

One could ultimately say the same of JD Vance’s performance in the Vice Presidential debate as he tried to deftly repackage Donald Trump (Note: AKA his running mate and now forever #1) policies on steroids by way of Project 2025, all the while denying their intent and lying about his past and their existence.  His was an upside-down Alice in Wonderland world view, where he denied he did not want to ban abortion nationwide (Note: He is literally on audio and video saying the opposite multiple times), proclaims Mr. Trump tried to save Obamacare (Note: We literally saw John McCain vote that thumbs down years ago and have actual tweets of Trump whining about it) and simply lied about things like illegal immigrants stealing away jobs from American workers.  Fact check here.

Here, demonstrating his distance from the truth

This was all fueled by his delivery – a faux sincere Christ-like quality of benevolence and respect for everyone, most especially Democratic VP nominee Tim Walz, when he’s in the past and near present referred to unmarried American women as “unhappy, childless cat ladies,” his own running mate as “America’s Hitler” and called Mr. Walz’s 24 years in the National Guard, where he trained soldiers to use weapons of war, “stolen valor garbage.”

On the surface, which is where he lived in those 90 minutes, Mr. Vance proved himself to be a slick, silver-tongued debater, much in the same way Mr. Clooney’s characters were slick fixers and silver-tongued uber-thieves.  But once you get below the glossy surfaces the shiny masks give way to the real truth underneath.

Ahhhhhh!

For Vance it was when at the end of the debate, Mr. Walz point blank asked him whether Trump (Note: Indeed a former president, despite how much I loathe writing and admitting that) had actually lost his re-election bid to Joe Biden in 2020.  Clearly fearing the Wrath of Trump, or Sauron or Kahn, or even Gollum, Vance refused to say yes and tried to change the subject.  At which point Coach Walz, the everyman of us all, proclaimed directly to the camera (nee US), that was:

A damning non-answer.

Reality did not happen. 

an evergreen gif

Yet even after almost four years of a Biden presidency and dozens of victorious court cases, many decided by Republican judges who unanimously ruled against Trump and confirmed Mr. Biden’s win, Vance nevertheless continued to claim, there were “problems” with the election.

 The principal one being Mr. Trump could not get his controversial little hands on the Oval Office for a second term. – The Chair

Kaboom

You would think Mr. Clooney – who seems to take humble brag satisfaction at helping to successfully oust Mr. Biden from his bid for re-election in early July in a scathing NY Times editorial that went viral – would have not reveled in inertia but instead chosen a newer, more substantial and far less shiny piece of work to put before the American public than the unsatisfying shaggy dog story of Wolves Wolfs.

A mere three months ago, citing Mr. Biden’s age, he definitively and absolutely proclaimed, perhaps due to what he saw through his magical crystal ball, that “we (Democrats) are not going to win with this president” if we allowed Mr. Biden to try to play the same role in our body politic once again.

Profound as that may seem in hindsight, it’s essential to also know his forecast didn’t end there.  Instead he advised we figure it all out at a messy Democratic convention, where a GROUP of…strong Democrats stand and tell us why they’re best qualified to lead this country.

Because that would have totally worked right?

Never mind the first female, first woman of color Vice President going from the #2 to the #1 role.

Nothing new about that.  We need to shake things up.  Even more.

So easy to say when it’s not you who is being forced to step aside, tell the truth or reinvent.

Barbra Streisand – “Who’s Afraid of the Big Bad Wolf”

My Favorite Movies… This Week

We were having a small, fun family dinner last week and one of our nieces wanted to know the answer to a very simple question:

What’s your #1  film?

Well… fasten your seatbelts

Being who I am I had to answer a question with a question before I could answer the question.

Ummm, well, do you mean the film that I think is the best film ever made or the film that I personally like the best? 

It didn’t help at all when she answered: 

How about both?

Oh it’s about to go down

Of course at this point I began explaining that either way I couldn’t narrow it down to one.  There are so many different types of movies I love and watch again and again but couldn’t claim were the best for anyone but me.  There were also others that I would place in the top five or ten that wouldn’t be my personal favorite but….

At which point someone else said, The Wizard of Oz and my husband interjected  Day for Night..

As I then began sputtering out in no particular order All About Eve, The Way We Were, Who’s Afraid Of Virginia Woolf?, Postcards from the Edge and Annie Hall (Note: The latter with the disclaimer that it used to be but now, well, it’s hard to watch, which led to a discussion of why, which I don’t want to get into for various reasons and is the subject of another blog).

Very, very this

I then quickly explained Hitchcock was one of my favorite filmmakers and that despite it not being his most artsy I just love Psycho. 

As well as most every Almodóvar movie, and many of the films of Paul Thomas Anderson.  But that I couldn’t leave out….Billy Wilder or Scorsese and that even though Gone With The Wind is so problematic from a contemporary lens I loved the book and the film as a teenager, which is ironic because of how pissed I was that BlacKkKlansman didn’t win the best picture Oscar that year over what I judged to be the far more retro Green Book and…

Well, you get it.

…and I’m spent

I’m a parlor game buzzkill because nothing is simple in my brain.  But as a lifelong movie fan, there is especially nothing is simple for me about the movies.

So much to love for so many reasons. 

And damn, what kind of gay man would I be if I didn’t include the restored Judy Garland version of A Star Is Born and Jacque Demy’s Umbrellas of Cherbourg?

See, I can’t stop.

It’s agony!

Which is sort of the point.

There is something about the movies. 

Plays are great, books are wonderful when they are and nothing is better these days than a great season of a streaming show. (Note: Yes, Baby Reindeer and Hacks were fantastic but this year I was riveted to Carmy’s existential crisis all through season three of The Bear and couldn’t care less how many stars his fakakta restaurant got – that wasn’t the point!).

Don’t even get me started on the Tina episode!

Not to mention music, museums and one of a kind events like Luna, Luna.

But if you’re a pop culture freak of nature of a certain age like I am, films are… well… forever.

Something immersive that’s eternally branded in your mind. 

Perhaps it’s because the second golden age of 1970s cinema was where I came of age. 

And what an age!

Maybe it’s that movies run such a gamut, or require brain power from totally passive to you better f’n pay attention or you’ll miss something. 

It could also be the special kind of escape they provide for a prolonged period of time without anyone else around – at home or in a darkened theatre – the latter being a place you can easily pretend no one else is around as long as no one’s brought their crying kid.  #ChildlessCatPeoplePower. 

Or thinks it’s their living room. #ShutTheFUp

#WhatWouldNicoleKidmanDo

In the more than a week since my niece asked her question I only today realized none of this matters because left to my own devices (Note: A dangerous place to be) films are my unwinding mechanism.

And there are not just one type nor do they have to be on my aforementioned “favorites”:

  • I happened to turn on TCM a few days ago and there were the beginning credits of Silkwood. A bunch of friends worked on it and I hadn’t seen it in years.  But I doubted I’d re-watch a story of radiation, friendship and corporate corruption even with the help of Mike Nichols, Meryl Streep and Cher because it’d been a trying week.  But it had me.  And kept me.  Not only did it hold up all these years but I found the sheer unabashed chauvinistic anger at the power of a strong woman like the late Karen Silkwood to be strangely energizing because of how absolutely infuriating and relevant it remains.
This movie did not get the hose!
  • But that doesn’t mean I wasn’t equally into the new feature-length documentary on MAX entitled, Elizabeth Taylor: The Lost Tapes, a few days before.  It’s an actual movie about THE biggest movie star of the 20th century which she narrates via numerous reels of “lost “tapes she recorded in the mid-late sixties for a planned biography that never came to be. 

She’s bawdy, funny, smart and clever but what she is more than anything else is honest.  It’s a treat to hear the dish on the movies, the life, the triumphs and the tragedies from the source but it’s even better to see it unfold in the filmic images and real-life footage put together in motion picture form by a director as creative as Nanette Burstein.

Spill girl spill!
  • I was busy this week but in the last couple of days the air sucked and my sinuses swelled so I chose to stay inside and read once I caught up on some politics (Note: Idiot).  At which point, I changed channels and there was another really great contemporary film that should have won the Oscar for best picture – The Social Network. (The King’s Speech? Seriously????).

I know, who wants to see the Mark Zuckerberg story at this point, right?  But I’d forgotten how much of an even-handed anti-hero Aaron Sorkin’s script made him and how well David Fincher’s frenetic filmmaking captured what, from our current rear view mirror, seems like a very strangely naïve era we couldn’t quite appreciate at the time. #MoviesCanDoThat.

One of THE best opening scenes
  • Not knowing I’d be writing about movies but still staying hermetically sealed at home I continued, checking out the much maligned recent film The Bikeriders starring Austin Butler and Jodie Comer.  Dismissed by many top critics and a few friends, it was bizarre, fascinating, funny and sort of touching.  I’m not into 1960’s motorcycle culture and I never imagined an English actress like Comer could so convincingly pull off working class Chicago (Note: Though why not after what she did on “Killing Eve?”) yet it was fascinating.  And Mr. Butler is just so much more enjoyable on a motorcycle than slithering his way through sand in Dune 2.
Should he be allowed to look this good?
  • I guess now is the time where I admit that before I gave in and went outside on a walk/run this afternoon I spent two hours rewatching the critical and audience drubbed film version of Jersey Boys, directed by Clint Eastwood.  Yeah, it’s sort of schmaltzy, a little cartoony and was definitely shot on the Warner Bros. backlot.

But jeez, it’s a movie fantasy musical melodrama.  And the soooonnnggggs.

I mean… just give in!

Sherry, Walk Like A Man, Big Girls Don’t Cry, Let’s Hang On, Working My Way Back to You…  And the Italian guys from the neighborhood I grew up with that I seldom hung out with but loved from afar.  Fuggedaboudit….

It was a time capsule back to an imagined version of the life of a real-life singer (Frankie Valli, of The Four Seasons) with movie mobsters, movie people and melodramatic movie heartbreak played against a purposely and infectiously nostalgic movie soundtrack.

It’s not Elizabeth Taylor, nor does it address corporate malfeasance, social media or the evolution of pop culture movements.  We have those, as well as many other films, for that.

And for a lot more.

Jersey Boys – “Sherry” (at the White House)