When faced with reckoning and crisis, do we obey, rebel or redeem? deadline.com/2026/04/roger-a…

The vitriol against "Disclosure Day" on X is matched by the shockingly low Cinemascore rating and the Rotten Tomatoes audience score, which is running below the critics assessments. It's not that the critics were overly kind, but it's the way the Rotten Tomatoes looks past important incisive quite damning critiques inside their reviews in a corporate slop rush to slap their stupid "Fresh" label on everything. The binary proposition promulgated by RT is truly useless, but here we are.

One thing it's missing still is the old Anchor Bay DVD/blu-ray Roger Avery commentary track.

Disclosure Day isn't a Spielberg movie, it's a Weirdberg movie. Weirdberg made Terminal, Hook, 1941, Always, Crystal Skull, War Horse. Weirdberg has all the skills of Spielberg, but is more sentimental and slapstick. I dig Weirdberg and love when he emerges to rile the natives.

If, when you say regulation, you mean the dead and clammy hand of the commissar—the gentleman who has never in his life built a single thing, drafting rules to govern a thing he cannot define, to be enforced by men who cannot read them; if you mean the form in triplicate, the impact assessment upon the impact assessment, the compliance officer who breeds, in the warm dark of the org chart, further compliance officers unto the third and fourth generation; if you mean the moat—the deep cold moat that the giant digs around his own castle and christens, with a perfectly straight face, public safety—the drawbridge he hauls up behind himself the very instant he is across, lest any hungrier and hungrier man should follow; if you mean the precautionary principle, which, had it governed our grandfathers, would have banned the wheel pending further study of the hill, and left us yet shivering and raw in the mouth of the cave, blessing its excellent ventilation; if you mean the European disease—that magnificent open-air museum of a continent, which produces in our time precisely two things in great abundance, and they are regulation, and the eloquent and well-footnoted regret of cultivated men explaining at length why they have produced nothing else; if you mean the license required to think, the permission slip for honest arithmetic, the king’s wax stamp pressed upon the forehead of every new idea before it may draw its first breath; if you mean the agency dispatched, with trumpets, to slay a single dragon, which arrives at the cave, surveys the accommodations, and moves in—and spends the ensuing century laying eggs and devouring the very villagers it was sworn to defend; if you mean the startup that perishes not of the market’s honest verdict but of the filing fee, the genius decamping by the next tide to a freer and warmer shore; if you mean the law that arrives, faithful as the swallows, exactly one whole epoch too late—helmeted, plumed, and magnificently armed—to regulate the stagecoach—then certainly, my friends, I am against it. But—but, my friends—if, when you say regulation, you mean instead the humble steel guardrail upon the mountain road at midnight, the very thing you curse on the easy days and bless on your knees the one night the fog comes down; if you mean the brakes—for it is the brakes, and not the engine alone, that permit a sane man to drive fast and yet arrive alive—and the buttress, without which no cathedral was ever flung so high, but only in spite of which, but because of which; if you mean the meat inspector, who is the single homely reason a man may eat a sausage in this republic without first composing his last will and testament; if you mean the firebreak cut clean through the forest before the dry season of the burning, the smallpox cordon, the buoy that marks the channel, the rule of the road that lets ten thousand strangers hurtle past one another in the dark at fearful speed and arrive, by its quiet grace, every one of them home; if you mean the honest scale and the true weight, the reason a pound is a pound and a dollar a dollar from Natchez to Nome; if you mean the firm and decent wall between the counterfeit voice and the widow’s bank account, between the deepfaked candidate and the ballot box on the eve of the vote, between the loosed and loveless machine and the schoolyard it neither knows nor pities; if you mean the simple plank of law that says the strong shall not, in the gray dawn, feed the weak quietly into the furnace and sell the rising smoke as progress; if you mean, in the end, the one slender thread of trust without which no citizen will ever dare to use the marvelous thing at all—for where there is no rule there is no trust, and where there is no trust there is no commerce, and a miracle that no man dares to touch is no miracle, but only a handsome and expensive ghost—then certainly I am for it. This is my stand. I will not retreat from it. I will not compromise one inch of it.

Confirmed: Tom Cruise is a patriot.

“Six figure development deal” is a nice sounding scam that involves contracts that say “we will pay you a few thousand bucks to own your IP, drag it out, “develop it” then siphon your best work and then pay you a pittance (six figures is likely around WGA min, which is in the 100k ballpark.) and then cash in while you wonder what happened to your control over the IP you no longer own. At that point you can be let go. This is Hollywood’s only game.

Matt Damon says Taxi Driver would’ve been clicked off on Netflix before it became a classic "The bar for walking out of a movie theater is a lot higher than from just changing the channel" "my friend Terry Kenny told me about the experience of seeing Taxi Driver in New York for the first time, he got up out of his seat... but he couldn't bring himself to leave because he was so invested" "he was standing at the back by the door watching the movie... and there were two other people standing next to him who were doing the same thing" "because the movie was disturbing them so much... which is not a bad thing" "had that been on Netflix or Amazon... somebody's like, oh I'm disturbed, and they turn and change the channel"

Gore Verbinski Says We Need a ‘Rating System’ for AI Use in Films: ‘If You Use AI to Write a Script, You Get an F’ variety.com/2026/film/global…

I used to work at Casa Bonita. I bussed tables, washed dishes, and made taco meat. We were given pink pins that read “Pleasing You Pleases Me.”

“We found 146,000 kids so far. Some of these kids claimed that they were raped over 600 times. I don't care who you are. If you can't stand for law enforcement to go find these kids, who are you?” @SecMullinDHS

Creepy analysis of Disclosure Day by Jonathan Pageau has me now wanting to see the movie more than ever.

I miss Tony. He was so exciting to work with -- always inventive and thrilled to be making a movie. The energy around him was electric. He was generous and collaborative. There's no other filmmaker like him.

The one other guy in the theater chose that top corner seat. 🤔

Kubrick’s final chess move.

I loved The Social Network -- it's my favorite Fincher film -- and I'm looking forward to seeing Sorkin's sequel, but I don't have high hopes for it surpassing the first film. These images look like Zuck-mime, which is something I appreciated that Fincher wisely steered clear of.

A 1998 clip of JFK Jr. on The Jay Leno Show, where he reads a poem written by a nine-year-old Monica Lewinsky about being eaten like a slice of pizza.

This is actually very reassuring to hear, because he makes it look so easy. Spielberg is one of those rare few filmmakers who is able to juggle two films at once, and I've always marveled at his ability. It helps to own the studio, but to tackle two difficult to produce and divergent films like Schindler's List and Jurassic Park (or even Warhorse and Tintin) at the same time, and for them both to be excellent, is such an impressive hat trick, and he does it again and again, while also producing television. This heroic multitasking ability may be the most impressive quality of Spielberg.

No computer case has ever topped this. The Mac Pro is a design masterpiece.

Centralia, PA was my inspiration for the screenplay adaptation of Silent Hill. There is something incredibly sinister about The Commonwealth of Pennsylvania, anthracite coal deposits, and the Molly Maguires, all of which obliquely found their way into the film.

I think I need to just get off of all social media. I can't unsee this headline.