To me, Al Pacino sounded less-than-forthcoming during a recent press conference to promote HBO’s Phil Spector, a David Mamet-directed and written drama about the murder trial of Phil Spector (Pacino) and his relationship with attorney Linda Kenney Baden (Helen Mirren), who represented the ’60s pop music maestro in his first trial for the murder of actress Lana Clarkson.
Helen Mirren and Al Pacino in David Mamet‘s Phil Spector, airing next month on HBO.
He said he “didn’t feel the necessity to meet” Spector because the jailbird Spector “would have been…a different person. The person I’m playing is the guy who was there before he was convicted.” Fine, but then he said “I played him as what I believe David Mamet wrote and how I believed to interpret him.” And that was it?
I’m going to ask a three-month-old question again, and this time it’s addressed to Pacino and well as Mamet. Are you guys telling me that neither Pacino nor Mamet has watched Vikram Jayanti‘s The Agony and Ecstasy of Phil Spector? Are you telling me that the idea to make a Spector film wasn’t at least partly inspired by Jayanti’s doc, which aired on British TV in 2008 and opened at the Film Forum in June 2010?
Your film came together in (I believe) either late 2010 or early 2011 and was shot sometime between the middle and final-third of that year, and you’re telling me the idea just occured to Mamet or producer Barry Levinson all on its own & out of the friggin’ blue?
No offense but I don’t think so, guys. You should do the decent thing and give credit to Jayanti, if not contractually then at least in interviews.
A day or so ago a New York Post photographer capturedAl Pacino in one of his Phil Spector guises in the currently-rolling HBO biopic of the now-imprisoned music producer, which David Mamet is directing. Spector wore a big moustache and long, side-combed frizzy hair in the ’70s or early ’80s, so that seems to be the inspiration. Except Al’s hair isn’t frizzy. Get it right, fellas. It’s not hard.
(l.) Pacino as Spector; (center) Spector with moustache and frizzy hair in the ’70s; (r.) courtroom Spector.
Well, it turns out that David Mamet, rightwing author of the Spector biopic screenplay, is going to direct, and not Levinson. Mamet confirmed this to Financial Times writer Jon Gapper in a piece that went up yesterday.
Mamet “is in New York with his producer to scout locations for a film he has written and will direct for HBO about Phil Spector, the legendary music producer,” Gapper writes.
“Spector, to be played by Al Pacino with Bette Midler as his lawyer, Linda Kenney Baden, was jailed for murder in 2008 after being convicted of the killing of Lana Clarkson, an actress, at his California mansion.
“I don’t think he’s guilty,” says Mamet. “I definitely think there is reasonable doubt. They should never have sent him away. Whether he did it or not, we’ll never know but if he’d just been a regular citizen, they never would have indicted him.”
I’m as appalled as the next lefty at Mamet’s conversion to arch-conservatism, but I agree with him on this last point. Spector was vigorously and relentlessly prosecuted because he was the arrogant Phil Spector of legend with the mansion and the bodyguards, etc.
In a 3.19 Newsweek/Daily Beast article, Jayanti revealed/reminded that Spector’s case is being reviewed by a judge under the terms of federal habeas corpus. Spector’s two attorneys have argued that the judge in Spector’s second trial was biased in favor of the prosecution and that Spector’s rights as a defendant were trampled upon. A decision is expected within hours/days/weeks.
A few pithy reactions to David Mamet‘s Phil Spector, which premiered last night on HBO, would be welcome. Almost everyone saw it, I presume. Team Metacritic is 2/3 positive, 1/3 negative. My impressions, condensed from my 3.15 review (“Guilty of ‘We Don’t Like You’“), are as follows:
(a) Phil Spector is “not so much about story-telling as the wielding of a blade that cuts in and around like a sushi chef…it’s all ‘factual’ in a sense, but it’s also a fantasia of sorts…it’s a visit to Mamet-world, and is therefore far from a typical big-murder-trial, guilty-or-innocent movie…great skill and theatrical pizazz have been brought to bear…at a mere 91 minutes, it’s very tight and taut“; (b) “It contains a pair of compelling, at times amusing, charismatic performances from Al Pacino as Spector-the-nutbag (brilliant, flamboyant, fickle, rambling of speech, bewigged, gnome-like) and Helen Mirren as his flinty defense attorney, Linda Kenney Baden” and (c) The film suggests “that in a certain foolish or theatrical way Lana Clarkson may have been holding the gun and that it may have gone off accidentally…it does seem likely that what happened was accidental, and that there would have been more blood found on Spector’s white jacket if Spector had been holding the gun…the evidence is the evidence.”
And yet one important piece of evidence isn’t mentioned in Mamet’s film. Four days ago L.A. Times reporter Harriet Ryan, who covered both Spector trials, noted the following:
“What [the film] doesn’t mention is that Clarkson died with her purse strap on her shoulder. If that seems inconsequential to you, perhaps you are a man. Ladies, I ask you: Is shouldering a purse the gesture of a woman who intends to a) commit suicide; b) play a sex game; or c) leave?”
Last night I looked at an assemblage of clips of Pacino yelling or shouting his way through a scene. My hands-down favorite is the legendary “because she has a great ass!” moment from Heat. But each and every clip has the embed code blocked. That’s Warner Bros. legal, I presume, but why? How can it possibly be a negative thing for people who haven’t seen Heat to watch this and other key scenes from it? They’re just tasters.
Last night I attended a special LACMA screening of David Mamet‘s Phil Spector (HBO, 3.24). It’s far from a typical big-murder-trial, guilty-or-innocent movie. It’s very tight and taut in the classic Mamet style, and it contains a pair of compelling, at times amusing, charismatic performances from Al Pacino as Spector-the-nutbag (brilliant, flamboyant, fickle, rambling of speech, bewigged, gnome-like) and Helen Mirren as his flinty defense attorney, Linda Kenney Baden.
Obviously Pacino and Mirren are destined for Emmy award nominations. Ditto Mamet for direction and screenplay.
Phil Spector runs a mere 91 minutes. That obviously indicates considerable discipline given the reams of material on Spector and his first Lana Clarkson murder trial, which resulted in a hung jury in September 2007. (The state re-tried Spector and got a conviction in May 2009 for second-degree murder. He’ll be eligible for parole when he’s 88 years old.) Mamet could have made an epic-sized thing, or at least one lasting two or three hours.
And yet it’s not so much about story-telling as the wielding of a blade that cuts in and around like a sushi chef. Great skill and flair and theatrical pizazz have been brought to bear.
The script may remind you in certain ways of Mamet’s script for The Verdict (’82) in that it’s much more about psychology than courtroom strategy, and also because it offers an ethically precise point of view. As The Verdict was about redemption, Phil Spector is about damnation.
It’s all “factual” in a sense, but it’s also a fantasia of sorts. It’s a visit to Mamet-world. His strategy is to focus on the relationship between Spector and Baden, but in so doing explore all the key arguments that suggested Spector was guilty of deliberately shooting Clarkson in the mouth and also that he may not be. The idea is that in a certain foolish or theatrical way Clarkson may have been holding the gun and that it may have gone off accidentally. It does seem likely that what happened was accidental. It does seem likely that there would have been more blood found on Spector’s white jacket if he had been holding the gun. The evidence is the evidence.
Mamet has said over and over that Phil Spector is about the “mythological possibilities” in Spector’s life and personality and in the murder trial itself. In line with this he tries a little mumbo-jumbo tap-dancing right out of the gate. “This is a work of fiction,” a statement reads before the film begins. “It’s not ‘based on a true story.’ It is a drama inspired by actual persons in a trial, but it is neither an attempt to depict the actual persons, nor comment upon the trial or its outcome.” I don’t know what the hell that really means.
And yet Mamet’s film states quite clearly that (a) the facts indicate that Spector didn’t deliberately kill Clarkson, and (b) she may well have been holding the gun when it went off.
I think that’s pretty close to taking a side, don’t you? Mamet looks at the facts of the case and conveys a conclusion. I was persuaded by his presentation.
Mamet’s bottom-line view is that Spector basically screwed himself by being himself. He was convicted of “we don’t like you.” He was convicted for not opening himself up to People magazine and admitting he’d been a snarly, selfish fuck and asking for forgiveness. He was convicted for having owned several guns and having threatened other women with them. He was convicted for having acquired a reputation of being a reclusive shit. He was convicted for wearing a series of appalling wigs.
Pacino has a lot of fun with Spector. It’s a beautiful virtuoso performance. He rolls around like a pig in shit. But honestly? Pacino makes Spector seem a little bit goofier and wiggier than he seems in Vikram Jayanti‘s The Agony and Ecstasy of Phil Spector. Here’s an excerpt from my 6.26.10 piece about the doc, which I first saw three or four years ago:
“[Spector is] a fascinating man — there’s no getting around that. A brilliant, oddball X-factor ‘character’ of the first order. I’ve known a few guys like Spector. They’re egotists and half-crazy and it’s always about them, but they’re a trip to talk to and share stories with. If you love show business, you can’t help but love how these guys are always sharp as a tack and don’t miss a trick and are always blah-blahing about their genius and their importance.
“Except Spector’s blah is backed up by truth. He’s a serious maestro who really did shape and inspire rock ‘n’ roll in its infancy, and who touched heaven a few times in the process.
“Okay, so he probably shot Lana Clarkson, a 40 year-old, financially struggling actress, on 2.3.03 when she was visiting his home. Or maybe he threatened to shoot her and the gun accidentally went off. Or whatever. And maybe Spector telling a Daily Telegraph reporter two months before the shooting that ‘he had bipolar disorder and that he considered himself relatively insane’ was a factor. And maybe he deserves to be in jail for 19 years. The guy is obviously immodest and intemperate with demons galore.
“But you can tell from listening to Spector that he’s some kind of bent genius — that he’s brilliant, exceptional, perceptive — and that it’s a monumental tragedy that these qualities co-exist alongside so much weirdness inside the man — all kinds of strutting-egoist behavior and his having threatened women with guns and all of that ‘leave me alone because I’m very special’ hiding-behind-bodyguards crap. Because life is short and the kind of vision and talent that Spector has (or at least had) is incredibly rare and world-class.
“That’s why Jayanti’s film is so absorbing, and why the title is exactly right. Why do so many gifted people always seem to be susceptible to baser impulses? Why do they allow bizarre psychological currents to influence their lives? What kind of a malignant asshole waves guns around in the first place? I’ll tell you what kind of guy does that. A guy who never got over hurtful traumatic stuff that happened in his childhood (like his father committing suicide), and who decided early on that he wouldn’t deal with it.”
Thanks to LACMA’s Elvis Mitchell for being a nice guy.
Jeffrey Wells of Hollywood Elsewhere to HBO publicists (sent today): I’m looking to jump in on any press events, junket interviews, DVD screeners or screenings that will allow me to full savor David Mamet‘s Phil Spector (HB), 3.24). I’ve been all over Phil Spector since ’09 and am a huge fan of Vikram Jayanti‘s The Agony and the Ecstasy of Phil Spector, which Mamet has said was an inspiration for his script. So please send me a screener or invite me to whatever press gatherings or you-name-it. Thanks.
I wrote a nice friendly letter this morning to David Mamet, director-writer of a Phil Spector movie that completed filming in the summer of 2011 but has been MIA ever since. I wanted to know when it’ll be seen, but the email address I used is no longer valid. I called HBO to ask when Mamet’s Untitled Phil Spector Biopic (as it’s called on the IMDB) will air, and they just said “2013” with no hint about what month or season. So I’m writing a public letter to Mamet as follows:
(l.) Al Pacino as Phil Spector in David Mamet’s HBO biopic; (r.) Real McCoy during first Lane Clarkson murder trial .
“David — So what’s up with your Phil Spector movie with Al Pacino and Helen Mirren? You finished shooting it…what, 18 months ago and it occured to me this morning that no one’s heard diddly squat about it since then, and I think most people expected it would be on HBO sometime in 2012. HBO movies don’t hang around in limbo for months on end — they shoot, they go into post, and they air a few months later. They never, ever take a year and half to appear (presuming your film will debut sometime early next year) after principal photography.
An HBO spokesperson just told me it’s due to air ‘in 2013’ with no indication of when. What is it, some legal issue? Something to do with Lana Clarkson?
“You’re impossible to reach so I thought I’d try the ‘open letter’ approach. We spoke once at Sundance years ago. It might have been for The Spanish Prisoner. I’m a radical liberal but I don’t hate you for becoming a conservative. I actually like righties on a personal level. They seem straighter and more plain-spoken about things than liberals. I actually admire them when it comes to personal loyalty and doing favors and “speaking from the heart.”
“Could we do a phoner in which we’d discuss the film and your work on it, the genesis of the project and how it’s all been going? Two, when in 2013 do you expect it might be seen — spring, summer, late summer? Three, what’s been the hold-up? And four, why haven’t you and yours ever acknowledged that Vikram Jayanti‘s documentary about Spector, The Agony and Ecstasy of Phil Spector, which opened at the Film Forum in June 2010, at least partly inspired the making of your film?
I’m into Spector more than most people in my realm. Jayanti’s doc is what got me there. wrote the following article, titled “Dark Star,” on 6.26.10:
I’ve known Phil Spector’s musical signature all my life — that “wall of sound” thing that gave such ecstatic echo-phonic oomph to all those early to mid ’60s hits (“Be My Baby”, “Walkin In The Rain“, “River Deep, Mountain High”) and Beatle songs he produced a few years later. But I’d never heard Spector speak or gotten to “know” him until I saw Vikram Jayanti’s The Agony and the Ecstasy of Phil Spector, which will play the Film Forum from 6.30 to 7.13.
And he’s a fascinating man — there’s no getting around that. A brilliant, oddball X-factor “character” of the first order. I’ve known a few guys like Spector. They’re egotists and half-crazy and it’s always about them, but they’re a trip to talk to and share stories with. If you love show business, you can’t help but love how these guys are always sharp as a tack and don’t miss a trick and are always blah-blahing about their genius and their importance. Except Spector’s blah is backed up by truth. He’s a serious maestro who really did shape and inspire rock ‘n’ roll in its infancy, and who touched heaven a few times in the process.
Okay, so he probably shot Lana Clarkson, a 40 year-old, financially struggling actress, on 2.3.03 when she was visiting his home. Or maybe he threatened to shoot her and the gun accidentally went off. Or whatever. And maybe Spector telling a Daily Telegraph reporter two months before the shooting that “he had bipolar disorder and that he considered himself ‘relatively insane'” was a factor. And maybe he deserves to be in jail for 19 years. The guy is obviously immodest and intemperate with demons galore.
But you can tell from listening to Spector that he’s some kind of bent genius — that he’s brilliant, exceptional, perceptive — and that it’s a monumental tragedy that these qualities co-exist alongside so much weirdness inside the man — all kinds of strutting-egoist behavior and his having threatened women with guns and all of that “leave me alone because I’m very special” hiding-behind-bodyguards crap. Because life is short and the kind of vision and talent that Spector has (or at least had) is incredibly rare and world-class.
That’s why Jayanti’s film is so absorbing, and why the title is exactly right. Why do so many gifted people always seem to be susceptible to baser impulses? Why do they allow bizarre psychological currents to influence their lives? What kind of a malignant asshole waves guns around in the first place? I’ll tell you what kind of guy does that. A guy who never got over hurtful traumatic stuff that happened in his childhood (like his father committing suicide), and who decided early on that he wouldn’t deal with it.
It’s another tragedy that this BBC doc, originally aired in England in 2008, is viewable on YouTube. Perhaps this will affect ticket sales at the Film Forum, or maybe it’s generally understood that you can’t absorb a doc about a music legend unless you see it as a unified big-screen thing with decent sound pumping out of the speakers.
It mainly just needs to be seen, period. Spector’s story encompasses so much and connects to so many musical echos and currents that people (okay, older people) carry around inside, and the way this history keeps colliding with what Spector probably did (despite his earnest claims to Jayanti that he’s innocent) and the Court TV footage and the evidence against him and the thought of a woman’s life being snuffed out…it’s just shattering.
Phil Spector and the Ronettes during a 1963 Gold Star recording session in Los Angeles.
I’m adding Jayanti’s film to my list of the year’s best docs. I’ve seen it twice now and I could probably see it another couple of times. Anyone who cares about ’60s pop music and understands Spector’s importance in the scheme of that decade needs to see this thing. It’s a touchstone trip and an extreme lesson about how good and evil things can exist in people at the same time.
90% of the doc alternates between interviews with the hermetic Spector, taped between his first and second murder trials, and the Court TV footage. But the arguments and testimony are often pushed aside on the soundtrack by the hits that Spector produced with the Ronettes, the Righteous Brothers, Ike and Tina Turner, the Crystals, Darlene Love, John Lennon, George Harrison, Bob B. Soxx and the Blue Jeans (that rendition they and Spector recorded of “Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah” in ’63). It’s the constant back and forth of beauty and darkness, beauty and rage, beauty and warped emotion — repeated over and over and over.
I never knew that the title of Spector’s “To Know Him Is To Love Him” (which he wrote and performed with the Teddy Bears in ’58) was taken from his father’s gravestone. I’d forgottten that he wrote “Spanish Harlem” — an exceptionally soulful ballad for the 1960 pop market. I never gave much thought to what “Da Doo Ron Ron” meant — I never thought it meant anything in particular — but Spector says it’s a metaphor for slurpy kisses and handjobs and fingerings at the end of a teenage date. Spector also had a good deal to do, he says, with the writing of Lennon’s “Woman Is Nigger of the World.”
There are two curious wrongos. Spector mentions that his father committed suicide when he was “five or six” — he was actually nine when that happened. (How could he not be clear on that?) Spector mentions that line about John Lennon having thanked him for “keeping rock ‘n’ roll alive for the two years when Elvis went into the Army” when in fact Spector’s big period began just after Elvis got out of the Army, starting around ’60 or thereabouts.
Spector mentions that if people like you they don’t say bad things about you, but it’s clear that if he hadn’t been such a hermit and hadn’t acted like a dick for so many years, and if he hadn’t been photographed with that ridiculous finger-in-the-wall-socket electric hairdo, and if he’d just gotten out and charmed people the way he does in the interview footage with Jayanti then…well, who knows? Maybe things might have turned out differently.
I realize that David Mamet‘s script for that Phil Spector HBO flick that Barry Levinson and Al Pacino have reportedly agreed to do is in a “very early” stage of development (or at least that N.Y. Times Brooks Barnesreported this eight months ago). But shouldn’t Deadline‘s Michael Fleming have at least mentioned the Spector project in passing while reporting about two other Levinson-Pacino collaborations, Gotti: Three Generations and an adaptation of Phillip Roth‘s The Humbling?
Golden Globe summary: After all the heavy campaigning and two awards ceremonies over the last couple of nights, it would feel more correct and fitting if the Oscars were to happen earlier than February 27th. Wouldn’t it? Isn’t it all pretty much over? Is there a sentiment shift yet to come? Doubt it. And yet we’re looking at another six weeks. I don’t want to screw up the Santa Barbara Film Festival timetable, but…well, the Academy needs a re-think. Really.
10:55 pm: The clapping, cheering and love for Michael Douglas is obviously the warmest moment of the evening. “There’s gotta be an easier way to get a standing ovation,” he quips. And the Golden Globe for Best Motion Picture, Drama goes to The Social Network. Dave Karger, Anne Thompson, Peter Howell, David Poland and other errant Gurus…you need to take a long walk or a long drive or a long hot bath and, like, re-assess. Okay, don’t. It’s still an open contest!
10:47 pm: Colin Firth wins again for Best Actor for his performace in The King’s Speech. Locked down and Oscar-secured, as it has been for weeks.
10:46 pm: “Poor people are gross and they smell bad.” — quote attibuted to Sandra Bullock by Ricky Gervais.
10:38 pm: Tom Hanks and Tim Allen presenting the Best Motion Picture, Comedy or Musical award, and the winner — good one — is The Kids Are All Right. Even if it’s not “comedic.” Throwing in natural sprinklings of humor into a relationship-family piece doesn’t make it so. Congrats nonethless to director-cowriter Lisa Cholodenko. Oh, and to producer Celine Rattray, who looks dazzling in her white gown and her Turks and Caicos tan.
10:34 pm: Natalie Portman wins, naturally, the Best Actress award for Black Swan. The HFPA really isn’t kidding around with this Critics Choice Awards 2 thing. Portman is so happy and beautiful, and is starting to look pleasantly and quite radiantly plump — obviously quite a contrast from her appearance in the film.
10:25 pm: Barney’s Version‘s Paul Giamatti wins for Best Comedy/Musical Actor. “People busted their asses to get [this movie] made…I had three wives, a trifecta of hotties, and I got to smoke and drink and got paid for it.”
10:20 pm: How many people are on stage to accept the Glee award for Best Comedy /Musical TV Series award? 18? 19?
10:14 pm: Time for David…I mean, the Best Director, Motion Picture award. And the Golden Globe goes to David Fincher for The Social Network. “Popping for pizza like chiclets?” Oh, sorry…”popping propecia like chiclets.” My idea of a gracious, relaxed and settled-down speech. “I’m personally loathe to respond to the praise this film has received for fear of becoming addicted to it,” he says. I hear that.
10:02 pm: A Robert De Niro tribute. Forget all the crap he’s done over the last decade because he was really great in the ’70s and…okay, part of the ’80s and definitely in 1990 in Goodfellas. And he was! Which is why everyone’s standing and whoo-whooing him right now. Thoroughly deserved. At the mike De Niro acknowledges that Little Fockers is shit. An amusing line about posing for pictures with the Hollywood Foreign Press, etc. He’s reading the whole thing off a teleprompter.
9:50 pm: The Golden Globe for Best Supporting Actress award goes to The Fighter‘s Melissa Leo. This is the Critics Choice Awards…admit it! Congrats to Melissa. On her way to a perfect strike. She’s breathless, ecstatic…cool.
9:36 pm: The winner of the Golden Globe Best Foreign Language Film — “a category nobody in America cares about!,” says Gervais — is Susanne Bier‘s A Better World. Excellent call. Bier is genius-level — certainly one of the finest female directors working today.
9:27 pm: The Best Screenplay award naturally goes to The Social Network‘s Aaron Sorkin. “The people who watch movies are at least as smart as the people who make movies,” he says. (Really?) Kudos to Mark Zuckerberg, you turned out well, etc. Sure, fine.
9:13 pm: Al Pacino (soon to portray Phil Spector!) wins the Best Actor, TV Dramatic Film-or-whatever-it’s-called award for Barry Levinson and HBO’s You Don’t Know Jack. Good call. Wise. Pacino’s quietest performance since Michael Corleone in The Godfather, Part II. Geoffrey Rush‘s head is shaved because…?
9:00 pm: Gervais: “Some of you know Robert Downey, Jr. from the Betty Ford Clinic and the Los Angeles County Jail.” Wait…what’s Downey doing? He’s pushing it. We’re all pushing it. This show is pushing it. (It has to. What else can it do?) Best Actress, Musical or Comedy and…yes! Annette Bening has her win…her moment. Intensely right-on. This is the end of the Bening awards parade but we’re okay with that. We love her, a great mom…cool.
8:55 pm: Justin Beiber is…what, three inches shorter than Hailee Steinfled? What is he, eight years old? Toy Story 3 wins for Best Animated Feature or whatever they’re calling it. Fine, richly deserved, thumbs up.
8:50 pm: Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross winning the Best Original Score award for their work on The Social Network means that The King’s Speech is finished as far as winning the Best Motion Picture, Drama award. Right? An indicator, I mean. Dispute?
8:46 pm: Nobody cares about the Golden Globes choice of Best Original Song. Eff Best Original Song. Eff it up the bunghole! And the winner? “You Haven’t Seen The Last Of Me” from Burlesque! The trip to Vegas worked! The whores dropped to their knees and delivered!
8:37 pm: Boardwalk Empire wins the Golden Globe for Best TV Dramatic Series-or-whatever. 8:35 pm: Steve Buscemi wins the Best Supporting Actor in a TV Drama-or-Miniseries-or-whatever award for his tough-darts gangster guy in Boardwalk Empire. Down with that. Good show but honestly? I’ve only watched it twice. Is it okay if I promise to buy/rent/watch the DVD box set?
8:30 pm: “Eva Longoria has the daunting task of having to introduce the president of the Hollywood Foreign Press,” says Gervais. “Oooh!” says the audience. “That’s nothing!,” says Gervais. “I just had to haul him off the toilet and pop his teeth in!” Corrupt red-haired scumbag!
8:18: Julianne Moore and Kevin Spacey hand a Golden Globe for Best TV Movie or Miniseries or Whatever to Olivier Assayas‘ Carlos. Good call@ Taste buds! Shut up with the prompt music…show respect! These are Carlos guys!
8:06 pm: Scarlett Johnasson hands out the Best Supporting Actor award to Christian Bale for The Fighter. Naturally, sure, no surprise. Are the Globes going to be exactly like the Critics Choice Awards? We may as well face that possibility.
8:01 pm: Ricky Gervais starts off with a few Charlie Sheen jokes…thud. And then a Tourist joke – “It must be good because it’s nominated so shut up. The HFPA also accepted bribes.” And a Tom Cruise/John Travolta gay joke — “”Also not nominated was I Love You Philip Morris with Jim Carrey and Ewan McGregor. Two heterosexual characters pretending to be gay. So the complete opposite of some famous Scientologists, then. My lawyers helped me with the wording of that joke.” And a Hugh Hefner fellatio joke. And a Lost joke — “the fat one ‘et them all.” And: “Here is beautiful, talented and Jewish…Mel Gibson told me that, he’s obsessed! — Scarlett Johansson!”
Why would Brooks Barnes run a recent N.Y. Times story about HBO’s forthcoming Phil Spector biopic with Al Pacino without mentioning the obvious inspiration? I’m speaking, of course, about Vikram Jayanti‘s The Agony and the Ecstasy of Phil Spector, which opened at Manhattan’s Film Forum last June and received lots of publicity and praise during a brief run.
Pacino and screenwriter David Mamet and producer Barry Levinson can say they just decided to make a movie about Spector out of the blue because they know all about his murder case and love his music and so on, but how many people are going to believe them? Spector has been in the slammer for over a year (since May 2009) and had been more or less forgotten until Jayanti’s doc put him back into the conversation three months ago.
The decent thing would have been for Pacino/Mamet/Levinson to give a nod to Jayanti in the article and also toss him a fee for providing the inspiration. Barnes, at least, should have asked the questions or mentioned the doc or something.
