Michael Moorcock’s Letters from Hollywood reports a painful collaboration with a director who appears to be an unnamed Kershner. Moorcock find him nice, cheerful, but dreadful to work with because his ideas are so mediocre. Which may have been true: he was a good journeyman director, not an originator of great projects. Latterly he specialized in sequels to other directors’ hits, but I’m curious to check out his early stuff.

But he should also be lauded for Loving, which in light of the success of Mad Men is badly deserving revival.