Entries tagged with “Ron Howard”.


Just imagine this shaped like an Oscar statuette. Wouldn't that be something?!

Imagine this shaped like an Oscar statuette. Wouldn’t that be something?!

Tonight’s the big show in L.A. where Hollywood honors its own, and while The Lint Screen doesn’t have a clue how the statues will be dealt, this is a quick round up of what we (I) liked.

Best picture: Philomena. A movie that’s got a great, true story with wonderful performances. Judi Dench can rip your heart out with one eye tied behind her back. It’s got heart, big heart. Close runner up: Wolf of Wall Street. Yeah, it shows greed, drugs, sex, overindulgent narcissistic pricks on parade. We’re talking Wall Street, dammit! The script by Terrence Winters is the best. Three action-packed hours with nary a wasted scene. Oh, and this Marty Scorsese fellow, well, let’s just say the guy’s got a future in film.

Also in the top tier: Nebraska. Bruce Dern and Will Forte bring a colorful strained family relationship to life in this black and white beauty. A damn fine film.

Dallas Buyers Club. McConaughey and Leto are probably locks for Oscars, and they deserve it. This is a moving movie made sadder by the fact that it’s mostly true.

Inside Llewyn Davis. Hollywood and the public didn’t give this flick much love, but it’s a rich story of the struggles of the artistic journey. Think art sells itself? Think again. The Coen brothers once again deliver the goods, and T. Bone will have your toes a-tapping.

American Hustle. Yes, the performance are a feast. A fun film that’s confusing at times, and a satisfying ride. But when it’s all over, well, there you are. A must see, but not one for the ages.

Here is a drive by of other major films.

Captain Phillips is gripping and Hanks and Barkhad Abdi own their slabs of silver screen. But the Cappy’s backstory feels forced. And we all know the ending. Good film, but not great.

Gravity is an incredible film for technical whizbangery, and the acting’s fine, but the dialogue and the story are pretty thin. (Probably also not a good idea to see this film with a N.A.S.A. engineer, like I did, who explained all the logic and physics flaws.)

Her is a film that I liked quite a bit. Actually, I like the idea of the film better than the film itself. It makes some very good points, societal commentary while you wait, but it’s somewhat labored and repetitive after awhile. It is frightening to see our future with Sans-a-belt slacks up to our bellybuttons. Still, this is a movie worth watching for the ideas and performances.

Oh, how I wanted to love 12 Years a Slave. If ever there was a subject more ripe for moving one emotionally, this was it. But, the movie missed. Again, it’s a very good film, but not a great one. A pity. Something was off.

Saving Mr. Banks was surprisingly good. Emma Thompson is terrific, and the story is engaging, entertaining and compelling. Hanks as Disney is fun, too. Give it a go.

Ron Howard’s Rush is also a film to seek out. A very interesting true story about Formula 1 racing in the 1970’s is a wild ride. It’s well-told, well-acted, well-shot. Well, see it already!

And then there’s Woody Allen’s Blue Jasmine, a film that’s fun with a character who is hard to take. A good flick.

I also liked Lee Daniels’ The Butler, well worth renting for Forest Whitaker’s performance and lots of fine cameos. Interesting tale and true. Plus Oprah, who never once asks us to look beneath our seats.

That’s it. A pretty great year for film. Now, let’s see what the industry recognizes.

Ron Howard delivers the goods in Rush

Ron Howard delivers the goods in Rush

Rush is one of the best movies of the year with one of the worst titles.

No, it doesn’t have Tom Hanks-type big stars in the leading roles (Daniel Brühl and Chris Hemsworth aren’t exactly box office draws), but damn if this isn’t one fine film.

Directed by Ron Howard (you may know him better as Opie Taylor or Richie Cunningham), Rush is the true story of the 1970’s Formula 1 rivalry between James Hunt and Niki Lauda. Hunt (Hemsworth) is the dashing playboy British driver and Lauda (Brühl) is the austere Austrian obsessed with engineering and winning. The story, acting and filmmaking are superb.

Get in your car and drive like hell to the theatre and see this movie. It’s not getting its due at the box office and will be slipping off big screens soon.

Go fast, go big, go now.

    Pacific Coast Highway, somewhere in Malibu. I wake up, hydraulic pistons inside my head doing a number on my skull– like Keith Moon on an angry expresso bender. My eyes are crusted. Two vultures in a tree look down on me with beady hungry eyes. Seeing me move, they slowly flap their wings and take flight, disgusted.

    It’s a couple days after the Academy Awards after-parties, and this intrepid reporter will do his best to hunt and peck the stories I have seen. The ones I remember, at least. 

After the after-parties, all you have are the memories you can remember.

After the after-parties, all you have are the memories you can remember.

    After the Awards Ceremony, I get a ride with Hugh Jackman and Beyonce and we hit Elton John’s party and I’m doing the Mashed Potato with Jennifer Aniston when who walks in but Angelina with Brad, and I’m like, Jen– ohmygod, I cannot even believe they came here” and she was like “I don’t care, I am so totally over him” and I’m like “well, yeah, but I mean can you even believe she brought him here– maybe he’s still into you after all” and Jen flips her hair and says whatever” and then Angelina comes by and drops a B-bomb under her breath and Jen just goes ballistic and she’s all over Angie gouging her face and yanking her hair and I see Brad and he’s up at the bar checking out Reese Witherspoon and making moose-shaped hand shadows on the wall for Uma Thurman’s amusement and so I try and break-up the fight and I get clocked by Mickey Rourke who climbs up on the stair railing like’s he’s going to rain a ‘Ram’ down on me and I quickly get to my feet, grab Ron Howard and shove him into Mickey who topples down the stairs and knocks Halle Berry off her feet and then I see Kate Winslet and she’s using her Oscar as a martini stir stick so I grab it and begin brandishing it at Rourke saying “You want some of this, come ‘n get it, loser!” and then out of nowhere Sean Penn steps up with his Oscar in hand and says “Hey, man, Mickey’s my bro, you can’t dis him like that!” and Meryl Streep take a champagne bottle, smashes it on a table, turns the newfound weapon with sharp shards of green glass to Sean and says “Leave Scooter alone, or I will cut you but good!” and Daniel Craig confidently steps in to calm her down and he gets a face full of Meryl’s glassy rage and he’s gushing blood and yelling that she “can’t do that to James Bond!” and she’s dancing around like Ali in his prime, ready to attack any other takers when John Mayer comes by innocently with his guitar and Meryl jabs him hard in the shoulder and down he goes and Danny Boyle decides he’s seen enough of Meryl’s rampage and he begins tossing Oscar after Oscar at the great actress as she dodges them expertly (Rourke’s picking up the Oscars like a greedy fool, giggling) and finally some bouncers come in and break it up and Hugh Jackman picks up Meryl’s broken champagne bottle and duct tapes it to the back of his hand and says “Lookit, everyone, I’m Wolverine, baby!” and he starts doing some crazy soft shoe dance and I’ve had enough and as I’m leaving the party I see Marty Scorsese talking with Steve Spielberg and I tell them, I say,”You know, if there’s one thing I hate it’s a name dropper,” and I leave and the next thing I know I wake up with some vultures are eyeing me for breakfast and up on the hill there’s the ashes of a luxurious estate.

     This here Hollywood’s one rough place.