Joaquin Phoenix...losing it? Rehab on the way...

At the glittering red carpet premiere of Che at Mann's Chinese a few weeks ago, it was obvious to the paparazzi on hand that something was out-of-whack with Joaquin Phoenix!

As the well-heeled elite exited sleek limos that purred at the curb and sauntered up the press gauntlet into the much-anticipated screening, one wild and woolley-looking dude was inclined to go against the natural flow and stroll down the carpet to a perch near the street.

Once recognized, the actor caused quite a stir!

When a couple of celebrity interviewers tossed a handful of questions his way, Phoenix was mum for a second or two.

Then, the controversial actor did something strange.

He clenched his hands and thrust them forward into the crowd to reveal two words scribbled on his unkempt fingers.

"Good Bye"

A buzz rippled through the press corps.

Had the off-beat actor gone mad?

Then, I personally spied Joaquin whip a flask out of his jacket pocket and guzzle down a huge gulp of the mysterious liquid inside.

One for the road?

Next day, on the heels of this odd-ball behaviour, news zipped around the Globe.

Phoenix was calling it quits to become a rap star!

And, at the tail end of February, the retired thespian made good on his promise.

He actually turned up at a low-key Vegas joint to utter a few catchy rap beats.

In tow, was Casey Affleck, who was filming the entire fiasco for a documentary he'll release on the nutso actor-turned-rapper later in the year.

But, if a tumultuous appearance this past weekend at another watering hole was any indication, his stab at incoherent fast-mumbling may not pan out as expected.

Shortly after the poet in-his-own-mind stumbled on stage, a heckler got his goat - at which point - he scurried into the audience to confront the red-neck interloper.

Allegedly, security dragged Phoenix back towards the stage, then tossed him out of the spotlight into the street.

Was that a rap - um - wrap?

News at 11!

Gladiator role best acting assignment to date

http://www.julianayrs.com

Gone Baby Gone...a morality tale! Admirably directed by Ben Affleck...

Opening narratives normally turn me off, but in the case of the feature film - "Gone Baby Gone" - the device worked quite effectively.

While the dialogue was a bit preachy as the opening scenes unfolded, undoubtedly, it was Casey Affleck's insightful interpretation of the scripted material that touched a chord.

In sum, his voice evoked a ring of truth which resonated.

One critic noted that Ben Affeck's directing debut on "Baby" was a bit rough around the edges. True.

But, just maybe, he was going for that natural Independent film look without all the slick Hollywood touches.

With a delicate hand and a keen eye, Affleck ushers us into the heart of the story without much fuss or bother.

A young woman's daughter has gone missing.

Without a ransom note - and after a police investigation for three days on a cold trail leads to dead ends - an aunt approaches a young gumshoe (played capably by Casey Affleck) to poke around the neighborhood for clues.

Affleck's character was raised in the area and has inside associations with the locals - so when police leads turn cold - the distraught woman turns to the private dick for help.


With his pretty baby face - and naive demeanor - he appears to be an unlikely candidate for the task. But, when it comes to a crunch, he holds his own admirably.

As he swaggers into the underbelly of the hood, he mixes and mingles with a cast of colorful distasteful characters.

Some individuals would throw up their hands in disgust and retort "white trash".

For sure, casting could have been conducted on the Jerry Springer show.

Actually, Affleck pulled people from the streets to play a handful of small parts in the intense drama.

Hitchcock often cast minor roles with relative unknowns. The legendary directory felt that if an actor's face was less familiar to the audience, it may lend more realism to the film.

It works here!

A lot of the language is pretty foul (raw) with no holds barred.

And - as the story progresses - the bizarre twists and plot turns become a little convoluted!

It's a sordid tale about child abuse, dirty cops, and a slice of life that middle America would prefer to cast a blind eye to.

Some judicious editing would have tightened up the project somewhat.

But, this being Ben's first "baby", he goes all out (what the heck).

When it's determined that the child has not really been "kidnapped" at all, but taken to "save her" from her from a squalid existence, the piece becomes a morality tale.

A question arises.

Should the child be returned to the rightful parent - an immature drug-addicted selfish one - or stay with a family that will provide a loving home and the needs of life?

At this juncture, the floodgates opened for me.

I suppose, I have a confession to make.

When I was seven years old, a strange man came up to me on the street outside my elementary school - addressed me by name - and then asked me one question.

"Are you happy?"

For the life of me - to this day - I can't recall my response.

The next day, he reappeared on a mission.

After my clothes were packed into little bags, he bundled me up into a late model car parked out front.

As we drove off, I stared out the window and caught the distressing image of my mother standing on the stoop, wiping the tears from her eyes.

Although the details are still a little vague, I recall being taken into a small courtroom; then - with little more ado - I was made a ward of the State.

In moments, I was whisked away to a quaint little house in the suburbs, where I was placed in the care of a pleasant elderly couple.

A few days earlier - a couple of my mother's friends had been involved in a drunken brawl - which resulted in a serious injury to one man's head.

In what seemed like seconds, in a nightmarish turn of events, police and medics swirled all around the humble little dwelling, as the authorities tried to resolve the issues.

After an urgent plea from distant relatives and neighbours, child welfare was inclined to release me from my Mother's care, and place me in the custody of the State.

There's a line in the film:

"You are who you are because of where you haven't been."

Over the years, I have reflected on the past, and occasionally it haunts me.

Would I be the same person I am today, if I had not been transplanted from my "roots?"

Although I was nurtured and given the necessities of life - schooled, taken care of physically, mentally, and emotionally - sometimes I long for my youth.

There is no substitute for a Mother's love...

The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford...movie review!

When I first sauntered into the Landmark Theatre to take in "Assassination of Jesse James", I was unfamiliar with the events leading up to the demise of the notorious outlaw.

As the opening scenes unfolded, I was fascinated by the psychological facets of the intriguing tale.

A young gun idolizes Jesse James, slyly maneuvers to be within a hair's breath of his hero, angles for the role of sidekick, and then - when spurned like an unwanted lover - turns on him.

In adept hands, "Jesse James" would have been a taut, powerful, character-driven story.

Here, we're treated to a plodding, sloppy, throw-away vehicle for Brad Pitt which ultimately gets stolen out from under him by relative newcomer Casey Affleck.

In the role of Ford, Affleck - with one, suggestive glance - manages to convey what it takes Pitt a minute or two of serious over-acting to accomplish.

Obviously, the pop culture icon approached the role on the premise that "uneasy is the head that wears the crown".

His portrayal amounts to a rogue's gallery of oft-misunderstood glances, and the occasional searing one that hints at gears turning clickety-clack inside a shrewd, calculating head; but in the final analysis, each is devoid of insight or depth.

If there's a mysterious persona beneath the skin of Jesse James, it fails to register up on the screen.

One scene sums up the underlying theme of the film to a "t".

One lazy afternoon, Ford is bathing in a wide deep tub outdoors when he turns to encounter a gang member studying him.

At one point, during a brief conversation, the unshaven cowboy leans over and observes that for a guy who's small in the scheme of things he's pretty well-endowed.

Without batting an eye, Ford replies, "You here to look at dick?"

Ah, yes.

The film is about posturing, guys sizing each other up, and falling into line accordingly.

The big honcho that he is - Jesse need only bark "lick my boots" - and one of the boys would oblige, "Sir!"

Ford, at least.

In fact, there are so many curious meaningful glances between Ford and James, that one half expects the two to haplessly fall into each other's arms at one juncture and kiss. Yes, an underlying theme appears to be that the two were inclined towards latent homo-erotic tendencies.

Although the saga unfolds lamely enough on its own - to help things along - some genius at the studio concocted the idea to facilitate the use of a narrative; a clever (!) device to fill in the gaps (many!), head the audience in the right direction (did we care?), with the ultimate aim of dissipating the surreal fog that most assuredly clouds our sensibilities as the movie jogs along at a snail's pace.

Heck, even the gravely high-pitched tone of the narrator's voice grated on my nerves. Just awful!

When it came to casting voice-over talent the director couldn't even get that right!

Over the years, Westerns have transformed into a form of distinctive American entertainment.

Typically, a plot may fix on a gang of tight-lipped cowboys who shoot from the hip, ready to spring into action, nab the villain, save the homestead - whatever.

Heh, when the going gets tough, the tough get going.

The larger-than-life Western is usually played for keeps against a breathtaking expanse or captivating wild-west backdrop.

And, conflicts are often resolved spur-of-the moment in a drunken brawl or impromptu moment of trigger-happy deadly gun play.

In the final stretch - order is resolved - you betcha! Come hell or high water.

Film scholars point out the genre has portrayed much about America's past - exalted faded values - for instance; often taken a sacred bow to a mythical by-gone era in the process.

In a nutshell, a lot was accomplished by pure physical action - with a keen eye towards wild runaway stagecoaches, bold-faced on-the-run holdups, and determined lawmen in hot pursuit.

In Jesse James, the cowboys belly-ache a lot, gossip (oh, I forgot; women gossip, men discuss), and quite generally, chortle endlessly ad nauseam about this 'n that.

The whole Kit 'n Kaboodle slip-slides along about about as fast as molasses in January.

About the time the audience starts to flip out their cell-hones to check the time, yawn, or doze off like the guy seated next to me - the film embarks on a wide turn into an epilogue. By this time, the filmgoer is half asleep or too groggy from all the lethargic goings-on to snap out of the haze they've fallen into.

When the final days of Ford's life are revealed, at least it's a sign that the curtain may be falling down soon on the whole sorry scenario.

As one historian astutely observed,

"The Western film genre often portrays the conquest of the wilderness and the subordination of nature, in the name of civilization, or the confiscation of the territorial rights of the original inhabitants of the frontier."

"It is the major defining genre of the American film industry, a nostalgic eulogy to the early days of the expansive, untamed American frontier (the borderline between civilization and the wilderness)."

In sum, the Western may be the oldest most enduring and flexible of genres - one most characteristically American - rooted in mythical origins.

Over the past few decades, Westerns has been written off, resurrected, redefined, even reinvented.

Although the genres' popularity waned in recent years, it has returned with new vigor with the resounding success of the release of movies like, "3:10 to Yuma".

In the instance of "Jesse James", the filmmakers have managed to "Assassinate an American Art Form", the Western.