Recently by Glenn Lovell

San Francisco author Frank Robinson ("Waiting," "The Power") sends along this dispatch from the just-wrapped "Milk," the Harvey Milk biopic directed by Gus Van Sant and starring Sean Penn as the SF supervisor and Josh Brolin as his assassin, Dan White. Robinson worked (sort of) as Milk's speech writer and was asked to play himself.

"I was living on Red Rock Way, on a hill above Castro, working on 'The Glass Inferno' (which became 'The Towering Inferno' as a film). Used to walk down to the Castro for breakfast. Harvey had his camera shop and 'Kid,' his black mutt who would be outside humping anything that was warm and wiggled. I'd stop to pet the dog and fell into conversation with Harvey. I found out he was running for supervisor (a major political office in a major city! The guy was charming but obviously nuts). He found out I was a writer and invited me to join in some speech writing for him. 'It'll be a hoot, we'll stir a lot of shit.' We managed to 'stir a lot of shit' but it didn't become a hoot until they started filming the movie. Now, THAT was a 'hoot'!

"I read the script by (Dustin) Lance Black twice -- great script, story-teller's script.  Should be out in late October. They consider it a political film.  My last day, Van Sant gave a little thank-you speech and it was hugs and kisses all around.  Penn a love to work with, ditto Franco.  I'll really miss it. 

"Summary: Van Sant's biggest film and you'll have seen nothing like it. Penn looks EXACTLY like Harvey, slightly shorter and voice somewhat lower.  All of us who knew Harvey did a double take.  Ditto actor playing Mayor Moscone and actor playing Senator Briggs.  Doppelgangers ... ."

Speaking of Portland's own Van Sant: Check out his latest,"Paranoid Park." It's his best work since the Columbine-inspired "Elephant." Mesmerizing, disturbing, deeply felt.

Contact Lovell at glovell@aol.com

Heard 'round the water cooler: An intern at the L.A. Times says the paper is looking to hire budget Woodsteins straight from J-school. This, after they offered -- and accepted -- buyouts from several of their most seasoned employees. Anyone care to advance?

Contact Lovell at glovell@aol.com

Last week amid the third round of layoffs at the Mercury News, the new owners of my old paper decreed that local TV and film coverage was something they could do without. Henceforth, MediaNews would rely on its L.A. experts. The Mercury's TV critic and film critic were summarily shipped to the features gulag, where they will handle general housekeeping chores. The rock writer fared better: He only gave up two shifts to his old gig on the copy desk.

Man, what a difference a couple of decades make.

In the late '80s and the '90s, Knight-Ridder was riding a wave of unprecedented profits tied to millions in MN classifieds. The Miami Herald was the jewel in the crowd, the saying went, but the Mercury was KR's workhorse (or, as it would turn out, golden goose). The managing editor told us that the paper -- then listed among TIME's 10 best -- would not only be the "best in the west," it would be the best paper west of the Rockies. The SRO crowd in the conference room was duly impressed. It was as if a convoy of Brink's trucks had backed up to the loading dock.

Indeed, from the time I arrived at the MN things were flush. I had an expense account, covered the Oscars at the Oscars, was dispatched to the film festivals in Toronto, Sundance and Telluride. The supply cabinet, always stocked and unlocked, was bulging with shiny blue and red pens, spiral notebooks, AA and AAA batteries. Entertainment Editor Lee Grant, a wiry little guy with big plans, reminded us frequently that we were a "national paper" and should go after stories that resonated at home and abroad. To prove he meant business, he dispatched me to Cannes for two weeks and our rock writer to a music festival in Russia.

At its most robust, Silicon Valley's newspaper had bureaus in Vietnam, Tokyo and Mexico City. By the late '90s, the arts staff had grown to two film critics, two dance critics, a book critic, one and half theater critics, a rock critic, a hip hop critic, a classical music critic, two food critics, local and national TV critics, and a freelance architecture critic. Even those of us who weren't concerned with the bottom line considered this a tad extravagant. But, hey, when you've got it, spend it, right?

But then things went "Boom!" and job hunters turned to Craigslist, and the Mercury News, the first newspaper online, failed to heed its own advice about the importance of the Internet ... and the supply cabinet doors swung open to reveal a few mismatched ballpoints and the odd paperclip. To get into the cupboard that held the reporter's notebooks, you had to see the head clerk. She hid the key in her bottom drawer.

Contact Lovell at glovell@aol.com

While investigating Gov. Spitzer's possible financial improprieties, federal authorities decided to have a look at his Netflix queue.

Wedged between "Live Free or Die Hard" and "The Good Shepherd," according to one source, were numerous "Pretty Woman" rentals, plus:

"Hustle," with Burt Reynold's cop and Catherine Deneuve's high-priced hooker speaking the langweege of love.

"Blaze," with Paul Newman as Louisiana Gov. Earl K. Long and Lolita Davidovich as his ballsy consort.

"Jefferson in Paris," about a pre-email politician who avoided scandal.

"Klute," with Jane Fonda as Bree Daniels, a pricey but conflicted New York hooker.

"Elmer Gantry," with the Oscar'd Shirley Jones as the evangelist's cat-house contributor.

"Primary Colors," with John Travolta making a reckless run up to the White House.

Fellini's "La Dolce Vita" -- a.k.a. the art-film defense.

And -- tagged "research??" -- "The Fortune," a Prohibition farce with Jack Nicholson and Warren Beatty transporting Stockard Channing across states lines for immoral purposes.

Contact Lovell at glovell@aol.com

How's this for niche marketing?

Obviously aware that consumers with a twisted sense of humor are gathering for the hit series "Dexter," advertisers are anchoring some of their less savory clients to the prime-time Sunday show.

During this week's episode - about the increasingly messy double life of a Miami forensic scientist-serial killer -- there wasn't a single commercial block that didn't showcase something of a sanguinary nature.

The evening began with a spot for the "30 Days of Night" zombie DVD and wound up with a preview for the upcoming creepfest "Shutter."

Wedged in between was DirecTV's takeoff on "Misery," with Kathy Bates reprising her Oscar-winning role as Annie Wilkes. This time, however, Annie shows author Paul Sheldon (James Caan) some mercy: She hobbles him ... but lets him keep high-def sports.

 Hey, when you've got a captive audience, you might as well get out the sledgehammer.

 Contact Lovell at glovell@aol.com

We in the media tend to think the world revolves around our every studied sigh.

Not so we're reminded again by Alexander Payne, the talented director of "Citizen Ruth," "Election," "About Schmidt" and "Sideways."

I can't think of many indie filmmakers who have benefited more from favorable press to help launch that next quirky, low-concept vehicle.

And yet, when asked about his take on film critics being downsized out of existence at many dailies, the L.A.-based Payne stifled a yawn and replied, "Sorry, but I have no comment on that; it's never occurred to me. I still read the New York Times and the New Yorker."

Contact Lovell at glovell@aol.com

As fun and immediate as blogs are for covering awards shows, there's nothing like being at the Oscars -- seated  backstage in VIP steerage, following Hollywood's Night of Nights on closed-circuit monitors, filing duplicates of a story that's old news by 9:30.

I datelined from the Oscars 14 times and it lived up to its reputation as a grubby, humiliating affair. (The way up to the old press room at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion was a service elevator -- the perfect metaphor.)

And why shouldn't it be unpleasant? It's the movie world's chance to get even with us groveling pundits of the media, and it doesn't take the opportunity lightly.

Though the boots-on-the-ground reporters -- I'm not counting Richard Roeper -- aren't on TV, there's a strict dress code. Tux for men; formal gowns and appropriate accessories for women. Everyone looks their best as they shove and elbow their way through security ... to the edge of the red carpet ... into their designated cubby in the press room.

At one show Roger Ebert was forced back to the refreshment room because he had dared take a paper plate of finger food to his laptop. "Now, now, Roger -- you know the rules," chastised an Academy flack, savoring the moment.

At another show a harried journalist from Frankfurt arrived straight from LAX only to be shown the door. She was told her formal wear -- a long black evening dress -- "wasn't formal enough." (Love to have heard her explanation to accounting back home.)

"Shit -- this is the worst," shouted a veteran South Florida journalist new to the ritual. "How do you work under these conditions? I'd rather have my eyes gouged out ... Never again."

Not that she would be invited back. It's damn-near impossible to crack the press list. Hollywood saves such exquisite torture for its very favorite people.

We've been reading a lot lately about the diminishing pool of film critics at such dailies as the San Diego Union-Tribune, Dallas Morning News, Detroit Free Press, Fort Lauderdale Sun-Sentinel and Tampa Tribune. Most everyone in the entertainment media thinks it's a bad thing.

But what of the studios? Are fewer critical voices a boon or a bother? I'm going to be checking in with various producers I know in the coming weeks to gauge their feelings.

Meanwhile, film critic Jack Mathews, who just announced his retirement at the New York Daily News, weighs in.

"I think the studios must be delighted," he e-mailed. "There's more publicity for their movies now -- puff interviews mostly -- and less credible criticism.

"Consider the increase in the number of movies being opened without critic screenings. Makes perfect sense: they rely on advertising and publicity and get an undisturbed opening.

"I think newspapers should begin running movie reviews as soon as they can -- to be competitive with the Internet outlets -- and force the studios to either drop their embargo demands or stop holding early screenings that Internet critics attend. I've raised this issue with my editors and they won't even allow me to comment critically on movies I've seen until my review is published. It's nuts."

That was my experience as well. My editors usually played nice with studio reps, instead of using their power to push for earlier screenings and hard-to-snag exclusive interviews. It was almost as if the newspapers and the studios were in business together. Maybe this has had something to do with print's lack of competitiveness in the time of the unfettered cyber-critic.

Contact Lovell at glovell@aol.com

Another example of why film critics pack less punch these days:

I saw the grim Romanian import "4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days" on IFC's pay-per-view channel five days before it "opened" in the Bay Area to rave reviews. Admission: less than $7.

Local exhibitors must be quaking in their boots over this home-delivery system. As the middle man rendered redundant, they're dangerously close to being written out of the equation ... like critics commenting on a film that's been available a week before they're allowed to weigh in.  

I can remember George Lucas holding forth 10 years ago on a L.A.-based satellite delivery system that would ensure "quality control." At the time, I thought it sounded so exciting.

Contact Lovell at glovell@aol.com

Glenn Lovell is a San Jose-based arts writer. He has been published in most major dailies, including L.A. Times, Chicago Tribune and San Jose Mercury News. While a NAJP fellow he penned "Caught in the Machinery: How Hollywood Subverts the Media," a much-referenced national survey of film critics. His first book -- "Escape Artist: The Life & Films of John Sturges" -- will be published by University of Wisconsin Press this year. He teaches film at De Anza College and other schools throughout the Bay Area.