James Bond 2049

You know what, good for Amazon. Everyone rightfully shit on them for wrestling away the James Bond franchise from the Broccolis and they immediately turned the narrative around by landing the hottest director on the market right now. All that Denis Villeneuve does is hit balls out of the park, from Prisoners to Sicario to Blade Runner 2049 to Dune. If you want to shut your critics right the fuck up then you get this guy on your team.

With this announcement, the countdown is on. We’re only months, possibly weeks, away from the casting of a new James Bond actor and with Villeneuve on board and an infinite amount of money at his disposal, James Bond has entered A-list territory. Not that James Bond wasn’t A-list before. Academy Award winning director Sam Mendes already helmed two 007 pictures. But this time something feels different and I’m not sure what to think about it.

Villeneuve has a distinct style; a certain way his pictures move: visually rich, slow paced, big ideas, etc. In some ways, he’s not all that different from Christopher Nolan. But unlike Nolan, there’s nothing about Villeneuve’s filmography that screams James Bond 007. And given how big studios have fucked up big named properties in the last decade, I still think Amazon has to prove itself. Villeneuve doesn’t change that.

No one bats 1.000.

Maybe a part of me doesn’t want Bond to be “elevated” material. Mind you, even before Amazon, the Broccolis began this elevated process during the Daniel Craig era. But I think old school fans like myself are screaming for simpler times. Bond doesn’t need an emotional arc. Just make the movies episodic, ya know?

But the Villeneuve announcement has received an overwhelmingly positive reception on the internet and the only one who’s not excited is me. And I think I know why: for the first time, the next James Bond that will be cast will be younger than me. That’s not a big deal, it’s just an unusual experience. I’m beginning to feel my age. And that’s when you realize that they are no longer making movies with YOU in mind.

So this is very much a ME problem. I’ve told y’all time and time again: if I ever become one of those old guys who can’t roll with the changes then you have my expressed permission to find me in a dark alleyway and shoot me dead. But that doesn’t make things any easier so bear with me.

With all this said, the silver lining is that at least the James Bond franchise is in better hands than Star Trek 🤷‍♂️

Once Upon a Time in Montana (Part II)

“Christopher Nolan is a hack,” Mr. Ree said, “Oppenheimer looks nothing like Cillian Murphy.”

“Goddamnit Mr. Ree, I fucking hate the old west,” I replied as I spit out some chewing tobacco, “it’s nothing like the movies. Everyone is drunk all the time and reeks of cow shit!”

“How’s that any different from 21st Century LA?”

“I know we’ve been here awhile,” I said as I drank directly from the whiskey bottle, “but I just can’t get used to it. I miss Miriam. I miss Izzy. I miss my unborn son. Hell, I even miss Angelika!”

“Who?”

I took a few cocaine drops to help with a toothache. “Nevermind,” I replied, “I forgot what we were talking about. I could use some grub though. Where the hell is Maybelline?”

Maybelline, Oppenheimer’s wife, brought out a fully roasted turkey with all the fixins. Mr. Ree and I were joining her and her son Malachi for supper around the fireplace. “Sure looks delicious, Mrs. Oppenheimer,” I said, “will Mr. Oppenheimer be joining us this evening?”

“He’s in town tonight. There’s a public hanging,” she explained, “he probably won’t be back until the wee hours of the night.”

“This turkey is delightful, Mrs. Oppenheimer,” Mr. Ree said, “too bad Bob couldn’t join us.”

“Thank you, Mr. Ree. I didn’t catch your first name, by the way.”

Ree looked up from his plate, mouth stuffed with turkey, and cocked his head. “What do you mean?” he asked.

I changed the subject. “I suppose you’re used to not having Bob around. Being a sheriff’s wife must be lonely,” I said.

“Yes,” Mrs. Oppenheimer lamented, “but I have my dear son Malachi to keep me company.” She smiled and looked over to her son. “Malachi Oppenheimer, how the lord has blessed us,” she continued. Then Maybelline looked at me with a wink and a suspicious, crooked smile. “I also have you two gentlemen to watch after me,” she said, “care for some pie?”

I thought for a moment.

“Well, I appreciate you offering,” I replied, “but because of poor diet and access to copious amounts of narcotics associated with the Old West, I haven’t experienced an erection since I’ve arrived and…”

“I think she means apple pie,” Mr. Ree interrupted.

“Oh yes, of course. I’d love some pie,” I said.

Maybelline got up from the table and departed for the kitchen. I quietly nudged Mr. Ree. “Hey, do you still have that opium pipe?” I asked him.

“What the hell is wrong with you? You are stoned as fuck!”

“I know! I think I have a problem!”

“If we ever make it back to the future,” Mr. Ree whispered, “you’re getting some help!”

Maybelline returned to the table all smiles carrying a piping hot trey of apple pie. Malachi was licking his chops with anticipation. “I want the biggest piece, Mom!” he declared. Mr. Ree and I chuckled.

“It sure is nice having a full house for a change,” Maybelline said, “it keeps my mind from worrying about Mr. Oppenheimer.”

“Why do you say that?” I asked.

“Elkhorn used to be a quiet town,” she explained, “but with Mr. Dickleburg from Helena coming down and bullying us townsfolk, Bob has become more worried. He’s just one man, you see. Mr. Dickleburg has a whole army.”

“I assure you ma’am, Mr. Ree and I will do everything we can to help Bob protect this town.”

“It’s not only that,” Maybelline paused, “but he’s also taken to the bottle a lot lately.” She began to weep as she grabbed ahold of my hand. “Oh, he’s just not the same man anymore!” she cried.

“There there,” I said.

Suddenly, J Robert Oppenheimer busted through the door and tossed Mr. Ree and me two Winchesters. “Grab a horse,” he ordered, “we gotta ride into town.”

“But Bob,” I said, “I told you: I’m a terrible shot without my .357!”

“Just point and shoot,” Oppenheimer replied, “I don’t have time to explain. Hurry! Elkhorn is about to have company!”

TO BE CONTINUED…

poop (and crap)

I’m glad that the films of Quentin Tarantino and Christopher Nolan are still considered events. Auteurism is dying in Hollywood but there are still remnants.

I’m not a fan of their films, but it’s still nice.

I know it’s heresy for film buffs to dislike Tarantino, but like Alabama in college football, his movies get evaluated by a different standard for better or worse. Even when it’s obvious that he didn’t put his best foot forward, like every movie he’s made in the last 15 years, Tarantino’s films get praised as if the film industry is about to go under. If you remove his name from most of his movies, you’d probably be wondering what the fuck you just watched.

Mind you, Pulp Fiction will stand the test of time. Jackie Brown should be better appreciated. Kill Bill Vol. I and II are what they are. But go back and watch Reservoir Dogs. It didn’t age well. Could this be the fate for all his retrospective reviews once when Tarantino retires from the biz (after he allegedly makes his “10th film”)?

Probably not, but I can hope.

I admit, Tarantino just isn’t my flavor. A perfect film, for me, transcends the medium. It’s gotta stick with me…reveal something about myself, about the universe, that I never realized. Tarantino the man, as reflected in his films, lacks that insight. He’s a film geek. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but that’s all that he’s capable of being.

I expect more out of films, not constantly getting nudged throughout a viewing, being reminded of some shitty Italian film from 40 years ago. Now I love schlock as much as the next guy, but art and schlock do not…cannot…mix.

Tarantino however wants to have it both ways. And that is a pipe dream.

He made a cool film once 30 years ago, most directors will never achieve that. But that doesn’t mean everything he’s made since has been a home run.

Really the same thing is true for Nolan. I personally think his success rate is greater than Tarantino’s. But Nolan probably thinks of himself as the Stanley Kubrick of mainstream blockbusters. That also screams trying to have it both ways.

But whatever dude, at least Insomnia, The Prestige, and The Dark Knight…the only superhero film I’ve ever liked…were damn good.