No Trusting Dairy

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Today is Wednesday, 2.18. Roughly two weeks ago (okay, possibly in very late January) I bought a half-gallon of milk. The expiration date was for 3.12 or thereabouts, so I figured I had at least three weeks of use without concern.

By late last week (2.11) it had turned slightly putrid, which is what milk does before changing into cottage cheese. Even if I had discounted the 3.12 sell-by date and went instead with a March 1st “drink it or lose it” deadline, I was still getting screwed.

AI sez that “properly refrigerated pasteurized milk typically lasts 5 to 7 days past its ‘sell-by’ date”…nope.

Whatever the sell-by date is, subtract 30 days…that’s the lesson.

While visiting a friend’s upstate New York farm in the ’90s, I was given a tall glass of chilled, farm-fresh, right-out-of-the-cow milk. I’ve never forgotten that wonderful taste, that wholesome feeling of slurping the real thing. I also ate some freshly-slaughtered pig sausage that weekend. I can’t even think about killing an animal for any reason, but it was beyond delicious.

Somehow Humanizing Jeffrey Epstein

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Each and every day AI slop is relentless…a 24/7 feature on everyone’s phone, passive brain mush. But here’s an exception — a parody trailer for a droll, light-hearted Jeffrey Epstein satire, written in the voice of Woody Allen and shot by Vittorio Storaro with nice ’90s lighting.

But I can’t find an embed code to save my life, and it’s driving me nuts. Can anyone figure it?

If this was a trailer for an actual movie, I’d pay to see it.

I’d Forgotten About This Entirely

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Woody Allen‘s Deconstructing Harry opened on 12.12.97, or nearly 30 years ago. I happened upon this clip early this morning, loving it but without the slightest recollection of having seen it way back when. Harry isn’t a stinker, of course, but it never wound me up. The reason it’s not spoken about much, I gather, is because of the abrasive and sourpuss tone throughout much of the running time…right? Rediscovering something good is such a pleasure. Even in a minor or second-gear mode, Woody was always inventive.

Criterion’s Latest Teal Mischief?

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Three months ago I posted an “uh-oh” riff about Criterion’s 4K UHD Network Bluray. The thought was “dear god, what if the same Criterion vandals who teal-tinted Stanley Kubrick‘s Eyes Wide Shut…what if they inject a similar greenish-teal flavoring into Network?” Pure speculation, of course, as the release date was three months off.

But now, with the new Network streeting six days hence (Tuesday, 2.24), a 2.13.26 review from Slant‘s Derek Smith rings an alarm bell.

Smith: “The color balancing leans toward teal, though that’s primarily limited to exteriors seen through the office building windows.” HE: So the amber-ish office interiors are okay, but don’t look too hard through the UBS windows with midtown Manhattan looking a bit…uhm, greenish.

On the same day (2.13) Criterionforum.org’s Chris Galloway notes the folowing: “The studio set sequences lean more neutral, daylight exteriors feel similar but warmer, and nighttime scenes carry a faint greenish tint consistent with other films of the era. Overall, the colors look superb…the best I’ve ever seen this film appear.”

I’ve asked four knowledgable and trustworthy veterans of the Bluray trenches (including DVD Beaver’s Gary W. Tooze and Digital Bits’ Bill Hunt) if they’ve seen the Criterion Network…nope. So let’s hold our horses for now. Nonetheless Smith and Galloway have me sitting up straight.

Callahan Meditations

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I’ve been nursing a passing, passive interest in Ryan Murphy‘s Love Story (FX and FX on Hulu), a nine-episode saga of the mostly turbulent relationship between the late John F. Kennedy, Jr. and the tragically deranged Carolyn Bessette.

It popped on 2.12 (last Thursday) and, God help us all, is nine episodes long. I’ve been reluctant to watch this perversely-mistitled miniseries (John and Carolyn were off and on at best, and they half-despised each other) but my interest is…uhm, simmering.

Spurred on by this, last night I bought Maureen Callahan‘s “Ask Not: The Kennedys and the Women They Destroyed” (Litte, Brown & Co., 7.2.24) and tore though several chapters.

Callahan, a truly excellent prose stylist and a blunt-minded, well-sourced reporter, strikes me as a feminist disciple of James Ellroy (“American Tabloid”). She seems possessed by an anti-rich-and-entitled-male agenda the size of a house. Not that the Kennedy-male tradition isn’t soaked with chauvinism, cold manipulation, blase indifference and a lack of sensitivity toward women, but Callahan really hates these guys. She certainly trashes all the significant Kennedy bros (principally Joe, Jack, Ted, Senator Bobby and today’s HHS Bobby Jr., John Jr., Michael Skakel).

I was searching, naturally, for the rage, the spilled milk, the dirt, the jizz, the “oh, my God!” raw stuff. Two excerpts stand out…excerpts that have been burned into my brain and will remain there for all eternity, even beyond my death.

“Jackie Bouvier Kennedy“, page 41:

“Carolyn Bessette Kennedy“, page 283:

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Drinking Again

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TMZ has posted a post-fight video of Shia LaBeouf outside a French Quarter bar…it’s Mardi Gras time…Shia got into a scrap over something-or-other… paramedics, cops, cuffs, jail. The fight happened two nights ago (technically Tuesday AM).

When John Ford included a fist fight between John Wayne and Lee Marvin in Donovan’s Reef (’63), he was pitching a certain affectionate vibe…drunken combat between charismatic movie stars was a “dudes will be dudes”-type deal. That’s how we all process it…good rowdy roughhouse. But when boozy fisticuffs happen in real life, it’s ugly or at least pathetic.

LeBeouf, 39, is probably going to pass from this realm at a relatively early stage. Between the ages of 55 and 60, I’m guessing. Richard Burton was only 59 when he passed on in ’84, and John Barrymore was 60, which, given his relentless carousing, he wasn’t expected to reach. This isn’t to say that all the big showbiz drinkers have left early. Richard Harris died at age 72 in ’02…not bad. And let it never be forgotten that Peter O’Toole, a legendary boozer on both sides of the Atlantic, lived to the ripe old age of 81.

It seems curious that LaBeouf, who was playing young buck roles 10 or 15 years ago, is now almost completely gray-haired. He’s not even 40.

@crazzzyaz #shialabeouf #mardigras #neworleans ♬ Cycle Syncing Frequency – Still Haven

“I Choose It Because I Abuse It”

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I’m persuaded that a Los Angeles-residing friend came up with the above goof line — a riff on Robert Duvall‘s actual Mastercard slogan, “I choose it because I use it.” I could be wrong, of course, but for the last four decades I’ve associated that “abuse it” line with Duvall, and it’s always made me chuckle a bit. Yesterday I called the guy who may have come up with the joke line during the Reagan administration, and he said he didn’t recall doing so. WHAT?

“Oohohh, I’m On Fire’

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All hail the life, deeds, eloquent rhetoric and cherished memories of Jesse Jackson, the once-incandescent black spokesperson and social-justice firebrand who made his name as an activist (Rainbow PUSH Coalition), politician and ordained Baptist minister.

Jackson was as much of a superstar-of-color during the mid-to-late 20th Century as Barack Obama was in the 21st Century.

He peaked from the mid ’60s until his extra-powerful 1984 and slightly less riveting 1988 presidential campaigns. He continued to symbolically matter into the ’90s and aughts.

Jackson was there at the Lorraine Motel in Memphis when Dr. Martin Luther King was murdered. He was a super-influential earth-mover and power broker during the 1972 Democratic Convention in ’72. He famously wept in Chicago when Barack Obama was elected 11.4.08. The 1984 “hymietown” remark probably killed his presidential aspirations, but he never stopped being a leading civil rights torch-bearer of the late 20th and early 21st centuries. Not to mention his Saturday Night Live visits.

Jackson disappointed me personally by not standing up against woke fanaticism during the terror (2017 to 2024), but since “woke” began as a BlackLivesMatter thing he probably felt that he couldn’t divest himself.

Jackson, Robert Duvall, Frederick Wiseman…legends are suddenly dropping like flies.

The Impostors

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Will ya look at the McCartney-eluding or anti-McCartney argument in those Mescal eyes? That jaw? That hawknose? A 30something failing to align with a 20something spirit.

Duvall Run-Ins Over The Years

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My first encounter with Robert Duvall was in the lobby of Manhattan’s Mayflower Hotel (15 Central Park West, demolished in ‘04). Early ‘80s. Nothing verbal; more of an observance. Duvall was hugely pissed about something as he exited the elevators in the main lobby….”God-dammit!” Everyone froze. We all lose it from time to time. I felt a certain empathy.

The second time was in a backstage press area during a Gotham Awards ceremony in 2010 or thereabouts. I forget what award he’d received or was nominated for; maybe he was presenting. Duvall was posing for the paparazzi and people like me. The usual razzmatazz ensued. I barked out a “yo, Bob!” and said I’d recently re-watched John Flynn’s The Outfit (‘73) and that it was still top-tier. Duvall perked up, turned in my direction and said “yeah, good one!” plus something or other about Flynn or costar Joe Don Baker.

The third time was during the January 2015 Palm Springs Film Festival, at a Variety Creative Impact Awards brunch at the Parker Palm Springs. Duvall was there to promote David Dobkin’s The Judge , which had opened the previous October. I was shooting the shit with Duvall, Variety’s Stephen Gaydos, Leviathan director Andrej Zvyaginstsev, two or three others. At one point I asked if I could snap a group shot. “Yeah, let’s do it,” said Duvall.

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Duvall Had A Big Fat, Big Tittied Career…Peaked For 41 Years

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The late, great Robert Duvall soft-peaked for 41 years, from his Boo Radley in Kill A Mockingbird (’62) to Boss Spearman in Kevin Costner‘s Open Range (’03). He hard-peaked for roughly a dozen years, between George Lucas‘s THX-1138 (’71) and Bruce Beresford‘s Tender Mercies (’83). But he was always first-rate in everything…absolutely everything he did.