Okay, so let me just get this out of the way right here and now. All my friends, both in the real world and on Facebook, are insisting that I absolutely must see Steven Spielberg's remake of West Side Story. And the critics seem to like it, too, with some calling it "masterful" and "charismatic". 

Well, then. I get it, I do. You guys all love the movie, and you want others to share in the love. It's the same way I feel about most of Quentin Tarantino's movies, Fellini, all the incarnations of Twin Peaks, and Attack of the 50 Ft. Woman.  A lot of my friends and fellow moviegoers don't care for the movies (and TV shows) that I love, and probably haven't even seen most of them. These films simply don't appeal to them. See what I'm saying? I just really don't have any interest in seeing West Side Story. I didn't love the first version when I saw it at age 12 (or whenever it was reissued for the big screen) and I didn't love it any better after I saw it again when an ex insisted that we watch it together on a VHS tape at his house (if it was to be a movie night, I much preferred Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf or, at least, The Other Side of Aspen, both of which I'd noticed tucked away on a shelf).

I'll tell you a little secret: I don't particularly like musicals all that much. Does this mean you're going to take away my gay card? Okay, yes, I worked in the public events/theater business for most of my adult life, spending 6 years, in fact, hocking tickets for Broadway Across America, which is nothing but musicals. But, musical theater is not something I grew up with. Neither of my parents were interested in watching musicals, although they did attend the theater in New York whenever they were in town (including seeing Chita Rivera and Gwen Verdon in the original production of Chicago, that rare musical that I do happen to love). There was no musical theater in any of the schools I attended during my childhood, although I once did a stellar turn as one of the evil, singing blue jays in Mr. McGregor's garden in a grade school music class production of Peter Rabbit. But, I'm not sure that counts. In college, there were lavish, once-a-year extravaganzas like My Fair Lady and The Sound of Music (or the S of M, as I like to call it) but, by that time I had discovered the drama department, which seemed a lot looser and more fun.  

All that aside, there are a few movies I am looking forward to seeing in the near future. Guillermo del Toro's Nightmare Alley looks fantastic, and will likely stay truer to the novel than the excellent 1947 film starring Tyrone Power; the censorship issues that limited what director Edmund Goulding could translate from book to big screen in the 1940's will surely be inconsequential to del Toro's version. And besides, there's the delicious, always-riveting Cate Blanchett playing a femme fatale. I can't wait! 

I'm also salivating over The Tragedy of Macbeth, directed by Joel Coen, and starring Denzel Washington and Frances McDormand. It's already getting amazing reviews, and Macbeth is my favorite of Shakespeare's plays. Joel Coen, along with his brother, Ethan, has directed and produced some brilliant movies over careers that span decades; they did Blood Simple and No Country For Old Men, both of which are among my all-time favorites. And, of course, there's Denzel and Frances.

Being the Ricardos looks like a good movie to me but C doesn't want to see it so maybe I'll wait and catch it on Netflix or Amazon Prime. I can't be bothered with Don't Look Up, which just looks lame if the trailers are anything to go by. And speaking of trailers, the one for Paul Thomas Anderson's new movie is not encouraging, either. 

We did see House of Gucci last week at that old, tatty-ass discount theater that's practically out in the Everglades. Actually, the theater has been restored and is much nicer than it used to be and, best of all, they haven't installed the same god-awfully uncomfortable recliners that the Regal Cinemas Chain has inflicted upon us. There's also an entire food menu offering everything from the standard hot dogs and popcorn to chicken parm, spaghetti and meatballs, and pot stickers. The movie itself was pretty good. Gaga is excellent as the controlling, obsessed diva of the piece, and Jared Leto gives her a good run for her money as one of her husband's talentless Gucci cousins. But the movie is nearly 3 hours long, for god's sake, and why is it that filmmakers nowadays seem to feel that a movie's length must be an endurance test for the audience? At least House of Gucci was entertaining and the recliners were comfy.

We also saw Dune at the Regal Cinema in Boca, and that was an entirely different story. Mainly because the recliners there are fucking awful, the theater is way too small for such a huge screen, and 3 hours of Timothy Chalamet turned out be nigh-on unbearable. Who knew? Anyway, this is why I gave The French Dispatch a miss. 

On the other hand, The Bond farewell (No Time to Die) was a thrill-ride of a movie and a fitting end to Daniel Craig's tenure as 007. Although, once again, we saw it at a Regal Cinema and those goddamn recliners...well....you know. No Time to Die was playing to an empty theater except for us and one other person who, even with all those empty seats around, proceeded to sit directly behind us. Which felt a little creepy but after 30 minutes passed and he/she/they hadn't shoved a Boye 14-inch aluminum single point knitting needle through the back of my neck, I settled down and enjoyed the movie. 

By far, my favorite movie of 2021, thus far, is Jane Campion's The Power of the Dog, a beautifully filmed drama revolving around two brothers, the toxic, overcompensating masculinity of one of them, and the intrusion upon their sequestered world by the new bride of the gentler brother, and her sheltered, introverted son, who the cowhands nickname "Miss Nancy". It's also about rapid change and the death knell of a way of life (in this case, the Old West and the cowboy mythos that continues to pervade the imagination). Benedict Cumberbatch is stunning as the arrogant, domineering older brother, Phil, and he should win an Oscar for his performance; he's magnificent. As his quietly dignified, uncommunicative younger brother, Jesse Clemons is also very good in a considerably less showy role, while Kirsten Dunst is equally solid as his much put-upon wife, Rose. Rounding out the quartet of leading actors is Kodi Smit-McPhee as Rose's son, the enigmatic Peter, a medical student who inadvertently stumbles across a big secret that leads to the film's heartbreaking finale. Smit-McPhee is so good that he deserves a Supporting Actor nomination for his performance although I doubt he'll get one. 

The Power of the Dog is a subtle film and I've heard more than one person complaining that there are scenes that they really didn't get, especially the ending. Which is why the movie requires you to take your time when viewing it, and to pay attention to moments that may seem irrelevant but turn out to play much bigger roles in the events that unfold later on. Be aware that at no time does any character burst into song, although there is banjo-playing and someone banging on a piano. You needn't possess  an advanced degree to understand this movie but it's not a film for those with short attention spans, or for anyone who requires non-stop action and tidy endings: it demands focus, concentration and a certain degree of patience. I love it! Full disclosure: I watched this on Netflix in the comfort of my own living room so bypassed the Regal experience on this one. 

And, finally, I see that Sherlock Holmes 3, with Robert Downey Jr. and Jude Law (reprising their Holmes and Watson roles from two previous woeful outings) is coming to a movie theater near you on December 22. Why, god? Why?