Roger Friedman, doing the best he can with what he has

Today's Fox411 really must be read to be believed, with gossip vegetable Roger Friedman weighing in on his top ten films of 2005. While we always knew the guy fancied himself a highbrow moviegoer, I cannot say I have ever been more impressed with his critical taste and lobotomized senility than I am this morning.

But do not take my word for it:

3. Capote -- The perfect movie of 2005 ... Hard to believe [director Bennett Miller] was an actor on Judging Amy, but there you go. Who knows what's next? An orderly from E.R. could get a Pulitzer at this rate!

4. Walk the Line -- Reese Witherspoon, who I ordinarily find grating, does her best work here, wiping away the frivolity of Legally Blonde. ... Johnny and June Carter Cash must be smiling down from heaven. And their children, because the story is told so well, should be proud.

6. Good Night and Good Luck -- With reservations, I have to say GN, GL is an admirable piece. ... Hesitation comes from the fact that the film turns on well-known newsreel footage of Sen. Joseph McCarthy being dressed down at last by colleague. But you can never see that too many times.

8. Broken Flowers -- Focus Features has done a good job ignoring this brilliant Jim Jarmusch film so they could give us gay cowboys mumbling and tumbling together in Brokeback Mountain. I do think that Bill Murray's sublime performance in Broken Flowers is going to outlast Bill and Ted's Excellent Romance[.]

9. Murderball -- Paraplegics [sic] and amputees don't make for romantic movie-going. Murderball in concept sounds scary and off-putting. But it's so uplifting that after a few minutes you just don't see the infirmities of these amazing athletes as they head toward the Paralympics. They are simply transcendent. This is one is a winner, as are all the people who made it including directors Henry Rubin and David Shapiro [sic].

10. The Sundance movies -- My favorite films from Sundance this year were Craig Brewer's Hustle & Flow, Mike Mills' Thumbsucker, and Miranda Joy's [sic} Me and You and Everyone We Know. ... The other two Sundance movies were far different from Hustle & Flow. Thumbsucker was based on Walter Kirn's novel about a teenager who wouldn't grow up. ... Miranda Joy [sic again] (nee Grossinger) made the lightest soufflé of the year, even though Me and You and Everyone We Know contained some disturbingly offbeat moments. Just when you though she might veer into a saccharine area, Miranda Joy [last sic] figuratively poisoned our drinks. Me and You is at the same time ingratiating and worrying. I loved it, and can't wait to have it on DVD.

Friedman is obviously hitting his Oscar-season stride, and I am sure folks like "David Shapiro" and "Miranda Joy" will be sending him a heartfelt note of thanks for giving their forgotten films the year-ending Fox411 boost they need. "A poisonous soufflé" will indeed look fabulous as a blurb on the much-anticipated Me and You DVD, which should arrive any day in Friedman's office signed, "See you on IMDB, XOXOXO, Miranda."

Sad Tale: Lillo Brancato Jr.

The tabloids last weekend spotlighted the ghastly Bronx tragedy that left off-duty police officer David Enchautegui shot to death after attempting to foil a burglary. As if Enchautegui's murder is not brutal enough, one of the shooting suspects, Lillo Brancato Jr., was a New York-bred actor perhaps best known for his role on The Sopranos and as the conflicted teenager Calogero Anello in Robert De Niro's directorial debut, A Bronx Tale.

I will just leave it to The Times's Manny Fernandez to help explain exactly what this means:

A Bronx Tale ... became a favorite of many in the Bronx, a coming-of-age story that they felt captured the working-class decency of the place. People adopted a kind of hometown pride for it, nurtured by repeated viewings and by the real-life links between the film, its actors and local residents. ...

Along the strip of Italian cafes, restaurants and delis on nearby Arthur Avenue, the borough's Little Italy, the movie is revered.

David Greco, 40, the owner of Mike's Deli, a popular sausage-draped corner of the indoor Arthur Avenue Retail Market, had trouble putting a number on how many times he has watched A Bronx Tale. He said two dozen was a safe bet.

Mr. Greco and others in the Bronx spoke yesterday of the sad irony of the movie and the shooting. One of the themes of the film - that the saddest thing in life is wasted talent, a line used frequently in the movie - took on new meaning.

"It all comes down to wasted talent," Mr. Greco said of Mr. Brancato.

It has been about a decade since I saw A Bronx Tale, but it is still not that hard to recall the film's overarching emphases on choices and community. So beyond Enchautegui's tragic death, to what end will the seismic shift of a cultural touchstone influence Belmont? What is the appropriate proportion of mourning a neighbor to an idea, and to what degree does that individual become a symbol for the lost idea itself?

It all probably sounds kind of insensitive, but come on--I am not out to aestheticize tragedy. Nevertheless, Fernandez's piece raises an intersting question: What if a movie died as well Saturday morning in the Bronx? It seems like the type of thing that could happen in New York.

Stephen Gaghan, just before a ten-minute tangent

Far be it from me to call for a backlash, but somebody has got to let Syriana filmmaker Stephen Gaghan know he is overexposed. Maybe George Clooney can lead an intervention, or perhaps Steven Soderbergh knows a good doctor who can prescribe a dose of "shut the fuck up." Not that I do not love his movies, but waking up to Gaghan's chat with Lloyd Grove this morning provoked an eye-roll that I am still not done with:

Syriana writer-director Stephen Gaghan had an off-the-record lunch yesterday in Washington with White House officials who, he says, acknowledged that the U.S. occupation has gone from bad to worse.

"They think we're in a disastrous state of affairs in Iraq and that there was no plan for the aftermath," the 40-year-old Oscar-winner revealed to Lowdown. "They're the people who provide the talking points, and they said they were guilty of hubris at the highest level, that kind of stuff." ...

While the response to the movie from politicians has been mostly positive, Gaghan said: "Oddly, the people who have had trouble with it are journalists. They ask me, 'Isn't this going to go over the heads of America? Isn't this film too confusing? Don't you feel you had an agenda?' The criticism seems to come from people who have no knowledge of the world. I found myself starting to say to journalists, 'Tell me, do you know how Saudi Arabia became a country? No? How about Jordan? Who drew those boundaries?'"

I admit it: All the knowledge I have of the world is what I read in the film press, and of late, it seems as though Gaghan and Ang Lee are the only guys in it. The poor folks at Cinematical are still cleaning Gaghan's spleen off their office walls, and Movie City Indie has alerted us to Gaghan's new blog on The Huffington Post. Actual quote: "Corruption is the inducement of a government official to allocate state assets at a price below market value. ... You think you’re immune? Well, I suspect you just haven’t been induced yet, you haven’t met your devil with just the right, previously unimaginable, dollar figure."

No, we have not been introduced, and I do not know who drew those Middle Eastern national boundaries. But at what point will Gaghan quit with the didactics and just let Syriana speak for itself? He only spent four years working on it, and if he could make it clear enough for Roger Friedman to understand, then it should have no problem finding a conscientious audience. I mean, seriously--save some vitriol for your Oscar speech.

Tell you what, Gaghan. I will make you a deal: If Syriana does not overcome idiot journalists to do as well in wide release as it did in limited release, then I will take eight hours of dictation and transcribe it word for word on The Reeler. If it does do as well, then you have to direct the big-screen adaptation of CHiPs and give us all a break. Wilmer Valderrama already said he would gain 20 pounds for you.

As noted here Tuesday, The New York Times's David Carr writes a branny-new blog called The Carpetbagger. It is all about surveying film culture as it swirls into inaccessible award-season solipsism. It is fair-tempered and even occasionally funny. And best of all, its author evidently reads The Reeler. So far, so good, right?

Well, sort of. I guess that the guy is technically my competition if he is in it for the long haul. And an internal memo posted yesterday on Gawker implies that the genie has indeed fled the dusty old lamp over on 43rd Street:

(O)ur new blogs are more than running commentary. Look at Carr’s. It’s full of links to film publications and blogs and web sites. It encourages responses from readers and hopes to start a lively conversation. Nothing is more important to the future of our web ambitions than to engage our sophisticated readers. Blogs are one way to do it.

It’s worth spending a little time thinking about blogs, and about ourselves. Blogs make some newspaper people nuts; they’re partisan, the thinking goes, and unfair and mean-spirited and sloppy about facts. Newspapers make some bloggers nuts; they think we’re dull and slow and pompous and jealous guardians of unearned “authority.”

It’s a pretty dopey argument. Indeed, some blogs are lousy. So are some newspapers. Some blogs reject journalism. Some practice it.

Goddamned right. And as The Reeler yesterday celebrated six months of being a "practicing journalism" blog, I think I should take a few moments to pass along some advice for my upstart colleague. It is the least I can do for a rookie--even if he is on the opposing team:

You can never get up too early. A mentor beat it into my skull a while back that you are clearer-headed and just a better writer straght outta the rack, like at 5 a.m. Not only was he right, but it also helps to get some work done before all those tacky Times "editors" start calling, e-mailing and circling your cubicle like vultures.

That silence you hear? That is a publicist getting back to you. I know what you are thinking: "But Stu, I work for The Times!" Well, sort of--you write a blog for The Times, which you will soon learn is not the same thing. In fairness, I have had some excellent recent luck with publicists, and I appreciate all of them (they know who they are). But Saturn will be out of Leo soon enough, and it will be back to the end of the end of the red carpet for me. I will see you there, Young Blogger!

Know your clusterfucks. IFC is "TV, Uncut" and IFC Center is "Movies, Unattended." Where there is smoke, there is Sony. Army Archerd is not and never was "Hollywood's First Blogger." Ruth Vitale will get it in writing next time. Lions Gate Films "anti-inflates" its earnings. Etc., etc., etc..

The sun rises and sets on The Weinstein Company. Whatever Harvey says, goes. Whatever Bob says, Harvey said first. So that goes, too.

Give up 90 percent of your paycheck. You cannot be a blogger and live above the poverty line--at least not for the 180-day probationary period following your site's launch. You must pay your dues. This also affects your work uniform: Sorry, but you will have to trade in your NYT-grade silk pajamas for whatever's on sale at Macy's this week.

There is a whole city out there. Talk about engaging your readers. We know The Times can take the 35,000-foot view far too often while purporting to cover its own backyard. Your piece six months ago about small New York production companies made me realize that readers probably want an antidote to that. Now that you have a blog of your own and the capacity for a more nimble style of journalism, do not blow it. Get out of the office and bring back a story every now and then-- even if it is about Oscar season (I have heard that people eat that shit up). This morning's King Kong dispatch is an excellent start.

That is probably enough for now. It is an uphill battle, but I like your chances.

Strawberry Saroyan gives Adam Rich (above) prior billing over Dakota Fanning for probably the first--and last--time ever

Who would have thought it? My favorite freelance writer boasting the name of both a fruit and an Oscar-winning literary icon had a great showing in Sunday's New York Times. Strawberry Saroyan took a closer look at the evolution of child stardom in Hollywood, from careful cultivation to agents to requisite then-and-now photos of Lindsay Lohan and Hilary Duff.

And although I am still wondering how Saroyan got through an entire story headlined "Is Child Stardom No Longer a Life Sentence?" without a single mention of Macaulay Culkin or his famously meddlesome father Kit, I have to say I was amused to read that Shia LaBeouf's manager looks like the "white Don King" and is eager to make his own myopic, late-November Oscar predictions:

"Would I want to win an Oscar before I'm 40?" asked Mr. LaBeouf, at the moment perhaps best known for starring on the Disney Channel series Even Stevens. "Maybe. Would I want to win one before I'm 25? No."

"He wants me to," he said and gestured toward (manager John) Crosby ...

"I don't want you to, Shia," Mr. Crosby replied. "I think you are."

"I just don't want to win it before I'm 25," Mr. LaBeouf, who has been in the business since he was 11, continued, "because then I have nothing to follow it up with for the next 50 years of my career."

OK, well, one thing at a time there, tough guy.

Anyway, Saroyan scores bonus points for invoking ex-con Adam Rich and the late Dana Plato before getting to Dakota Fanning, who really does have her shit together, no matter what the Post's mean-spirited old Lou Lumenick wrote last week about her being 2005's "gap-toothed" "Most Annoying Child Star." Lou! She is 11! I know you were pre-pubescent Tiger Beat fodder while growing up in Astoria, but still.

For about 15 seconds last week after I heard film critic Ken Tucker was fleeing New York Magazine for his ex over at Time Warner, I fantasized about sending a resume over to NYM's Madison Avenue offices. I mean, Jesus--Ken Tucker's shoes could not be so hard to fill, could they? Even a blogger could do it, right?

Well, no and no. NYM unceremoniously snuffed out my dream Tuesday with a fairly amazing hire:

New York magazine editor-in-chief Adam Moss announced today that David Edelstein will be New York magazine's new film critic. Edelstein will join New York magazine's staff and begin writing reviews in January 2006. ...

"I am wild about David's film criticism and couldn't he happier that he's agreed to join our magazine," said Moss. "And I'm equally excited about David's ability to put his talents to work on our website, nymag.com. As we re-launch and grow this important piece of the company, David will be a critical player in the expansion of our online cultural authority."

Whoa. "Online cultural authority." Formidable shit. Does this mean I should avoid applying for Edelstein's vacancy at Slate? I would hate to be on the receiving end of whatever Moss has up his finely tailored sleeve.

Which reminds me: This week's NYM has a catty revelation about Noah Baumbach's alleged, um, recycling talents. No matter! Baumbach remains The Reeler's front-runner for 2005 NYC Cinema MVP, even if he was as "arrogant, obnoxious, smug, successful, and self-aggrandizing" 20 years ago as his high school chums recall.

Robert Greenwald: Leading the distribution revolution?

So filmmaker Robert Greenwald is moving on from his lobby contretemps with a Wal-Mart spy/consultant and getting into the promotional push behind his latest documentary, Wal-Mart: The High Cost of Low Price. And while you just know the guy thrives on high-profile drama at his premiere and assaults from loose stool like Bill O'Reilly, I have to say that Greenwald's ambition and influence is popping up in some truly mind-boggling places.

To wit:

This interview with Robert Greenwald, director of the new documentary Wal-Mart: The High Cost of Low Price, is part of an unprecedented collaboration by The Nation, The American Prospect, In These Times and AlterNet to focus attention on issues raised by the film.

And to The Nation interviewer's inquiry about the director's curious self-distribution strategy, Greenwald responded:

I like going to the movies. I like having popcorn. But if your goal is to create social change, it's not even a question that this is the way to go. Let's think about it for a minute. You go to the movies, you have to spend $10. What are the chances you're going to get someone to go to a movie on a subject they don't care about, or they disagree with you on? Very, very slim. However, if it's on at your church, or your neighbor invites you over for a drink and shows the DVD, or if it's at your student union hall or your bowling alley, it's an entirely different thing. Everyone has a friend who disagrees with them politically, everyone has relatives they fight with all the time, people they argue with at work...these are the kinds of people we are reaching with this kind of campaign.

Yes, indeed--let's think about it for a minute. If "your neighbor invites you over for a drink and shows the DVD"? Is this actually happening anywhere in the United States? "Yeah, hey, Bob. Happy hour at my place--and I got this killer Wal-Mart documentary." And churches? Your bowling alley?

Anyway, the money has nothing to do with it--CNN and Fox News Channel are both old basic cable stand-bys, and they each possess polarized ideologies that their respective viewerships count on. Even Greenwald's own film Outfoxed sought to expose Fox's bias and to prove that conservatives are so intractable that someone could make a mint giving them their own news network. Now he has The Nation accepting at face value that right-wingers are going to consider watching his film because they do not have to pay to sit in a theater? This is a joke, right?

I guess I could have it all wrong, but the only alternative reading suggests that Greenwald is admitting that his film has no audience. The left (outside The Nation offices) does not need to see it, the right does not want to see it. Yep--that, too, would definitely stifle your box office.

We know Woody Allen is good, but how good? Peter Biskind is on the case

My mailman only relinquished my copy of December's Vanity Fair about five days ago, at least a week after it hit newsstands. I just yesterday had a chance to read Peter Biskind's fascinating (if not periodically repellent) profile of the soon-to-be-septuagenarian Woody Allen. Above and beyond the filmmaker's skin-crawling candor, however, Biskind's piece invokes a fun new pastime you can try at home to impress and eventually alienate your film-snob buddies:

If you play the parlor game How Few Outstanding Films Are Necessary to Create the Reputation for Being a Great Director, you arrive at a surprisingly low number. Look at some of Allen's contemporaries: Bob Rafelson, one (Five Easy Pieces); Peter Bogdanovich, two (The Last Picture Show, Paper Moon); William Friedkin, two (The French Connection, The Exorcist); Robert Altman, four (M*A*S*H, McCabe & Mrs. Miller, Nashville, The Player); and so on. Even Allen's beloved Francois Truffaut directed only three masterpieces, all early in his career: The 400 Blows, Jules and Jim and Shoot the Piano Player. By this standard alone, Allen is an auteur among auteurs. Among his 35 films, there are a good 10 that can hold their own against any of those just mentioned: Annie Hall, Manhattan, The Purple Rose of Cairo, Broadway Danny Rose, Zelig, Hannah and Her Sisters, Crimes and Misdemeanors, Husbands and Wives, Bullets Over Broadway, Deconstructing Harry, and now Match Point, not to mention a slew of very good second-tier films and one-offs, such as "Oedipus Wrecks," the only true gem in the anthology film New York Stories.

It would be easy to blast back with some omissions; for example, Francis Ford Coppola's one outstanding film (of four consecutive outstanding films) is only a few thousand times better than Rafelson's. However, Biskind's game does not come with instructions, so I am a little confused about the general rules. I guess the "Reputation" part confuses me, because if I am to take the whole thing literally, that would mean these are not necessarily great directors--they just have that reputation on the basis of at least one outstanding film.

In fact, I thought for a moment he left out Coppola because none of the directors he names are great directors. Until he gets to Truffaut, that is, who is a great director despite Biskind's instant-classic caveat that he directed "only three masterpieces." So perhaps instead of playing How Few Outstanding Films..., we should try a new game called What the Fuck Is Peter Biskind Saying?

a) Look at all these hacks compared to Woody Allen.
b) There are no great directors, only "auteurs" and outstanding films.
c) It takes "only three masterpieces, all early in (your) career" to make you overrated.
d) Woody Allen's 10 outstanding films legitimize his greatness in a way that the other directors' few outstanding films cannot.
e) All of the above.

Or maybe none of the above, although I cannot tilt my head that far or squint enough to see another alternative. However, that is why I have my readers, who I am hoping will be able to help me either see the forest for the trees or just clear-cut the forest so it makes more sense. I need you!