Among the many things I love about Woody Allen — his staying power, his eye for talent, more masterpieces than I can count on two hands — is the fact that whenever anyone refers to “the untitled Woody Allen project,” one usually has to ask which one they mean. His unfailing film-a-year work ethic means there are generally at least two upcoming Allen films floating in the general conversation.
So, while we’re all aware that his next film after the Big Apple homecoming of “Whatever Works” will be a return to his recently beloved gray skies of London, with Naomi Watts, Josh Brolin, Anthony Hopkins and Freida Pinto in the mix, some details have already emerged of his next project after that one.
Screen International reports that Woody’s 2011 project will see him continuing his European sojourn, this time with a romantic drama set in Paris. Spanish production outfit Mediapro revealed the information, though a script has yet to be completed.
While “Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen” tears up the box office while simultaneously rubbing the critical fraternity wrong, some of us can’t help but wonder how the money will effect its performance in the technical categories (a concentrated focus of In Contention in Gerard Kennedy’s seasonal 
Yesterday was
Speaking of David Carr, he points us (via his must-follow
David Carr’s Media Equation
It’s not like we didn’t see a divided take coming on Michael Mann’s latest, but the reviews that are trickling in, updated frequently over at
Tomorrow’s installment of The Lists is going to be Michael Mann-centric, but I was all set to write up something brief in the way of qualifying Michael Jackson’s contributions to the movie world until I came across
The Academy dropped a bombshell announcement mid-week, leaving a mixture of cheers and jeers as well as a number of questions that will be answered slowly but surely as a new Oscar season approaches.
For the video game fans in the house…


Joe Queenan is one of my least favorite Guardian film contributors — too often perversely hard to please — but I did appreciate the boyish honesty of
F.X. Feeney, whose Taschen 