THE OSCARS ARE COMING THE OSCARS ARE COMING

My Oscar load is finally about to blow and though this season the majority of the awards seem blatantly predictable, I will never falter in my viewing and will always watch for tears and gowns. AND PENELOPE CRUZ!

Here’s my predictions as well as who I feel most warrants the award for several of the major categories, i.e. the only ones anyone outside of the film industry, and many insiders as well, care about in the first place.

Best Supporting Actress
Will Win: Mo’nique for Precious
Should Win: Mo’nique for Precious
There’s really nothing to be said for this that hasn’t already been said. She shocked and terrorized audiences with her fervor and emotional depth. Plus the Academy owes her from snubbing her for her brilliance in Beerfest.

Best Supporting Actor
Will Win: Christoph Waltz for Inglourious Basterds
Should Win: Christoph Waltz for Inglourious Basterds
Though I admit I still haven’t seen The Messengers and probably never will see The Lovely Bones, this one is Waltz’s to lose. Plus is it weird that I find him really attractive in an older and would take care of you but control you kind of way? Maybe I’d best keep those sentiments to myself. Although I did feel that they could have cut on the Matt Damon nomination and given one to Brian Geraghty for his playing a violently conflicted military man in The Hurt Locker whose existential crisis frames arguably the most horrific turn of events for any of the characters in the movie.

Best Actor in a Leading Role
Will Win: Jeff Bridges for Crazy Heart
Should Win: Morgan Freeman for Invictus
I am very conflicted about this one. And I do feel as though on many levels it is an advantageous position in terms of winning Oscars to be playing a specific character that really exists, as Freeman did, mastering the mannerisms and delivery of Nelson Mandela. Whereas Bridges was working more with an archetype, with less of a solid example against which to measure the value of his work. Eh fuck it give them both Oscars.

Best Actress in a Leading Role
Will Win: ::mumbled through gritting teeth:: Sandra “Miss New Jersey” Bullock for the remake of Mighty Joe Young
Should Win: Gabourey Sidibe for Precious
It’s Erin Brockovich all over again. Who knows? Maybe the Academy is smarter than I’m giving them credit for and is realizing that there is potential for danger when marketers will be able to sell movies like, All About Steve by saying, “featuring Academy Award Winning Actress, Sandra Bullock,” and that maybe we shouldn’t reward performers who continuously put out product as low-quality as Hope Floats. There’s a strong possibility this could go to Meryl, who really should be as inundated with awards as she has historically been with nominations. Who knows. There will be hell to pay and a strongly-worded letter though if by the end of the night Sunday, Practical Magic stars two Academy-Award winners.

Best Animated Feature Film
Will Win: Up
Should Win: Fantastic Mr. Fox
I don’t care if you call me a pretentious hipster! The story and the style through which it was told was innovative and artful. LOVE YOU WES. RIP ROALD.

Best Director
Will Win: Kathryn Bigelow for The Hurt Locker
Should Win: Kathryn Bigelow for The Hurt Locker
Blah blah blah first woman to win this award. ZOMG James Cameron's ex! Who cares? She made an artful and emotional but apolitical and contemporary war film that was packed with adrenaline but was not neither gratuitous nor tacky.

Best Writing, Adapted Screenplay
Will Win: Jason Reitman and Sheldon Turner for Up in the Air
Should Win: Jason Reitman and Sheldon Turner for Up in the Air
If you haven’t seen it yet see it. Yes it is excessively clever to the point that it may sacrifice verisimilitude, but I like wit in my dialogue and I value dialogue in my film. Jason Reitman knows how to do it. Fuck you Juno-haters!

Best Writing, Original Screenplay
Will Win: Mark Boal for The Hurt Locker
Should Win: Quentin Tarantino for Inglourious Basterds I don’t have much to say about this one as much as this is the award I’m most likely to be wrong about and it’s likely to go to Tarantino. I just have a hunch.

Best Picture
Will Win: Avatar
Should Win: The Hurt Locker
What I think I am doing here is expecting nothing as to avoid disappointment kind of thing. Though I have a strong suspicion that the Academy will award accessibility, heavy-handed metaphor, technological innovation, and James Cameron’s relentless arrogance and lack of appreciation for mankind aside from himself and give it to the blue-people. It would not be the first time that they split the Best Director/Best Picture honors, Ang Lee won for Brokeback Mountain but Best Picture went to Crash (which is just absurd and the fag in me wants to scream homophobia though who knows really) and Steven Spielberg won for Saving Private Ryan but Best Picture was Shakespeare in Love (Judi Dench What WHAAAAAAT). I do very much hope that the little war-film that could triumphs through and I am surprised, as I honestly feel that The Hurt Locker, and several of the other nominees, were superior films, but for now I’ll put my money on Avatar taking home the big one, and viewers will be forced to sit through the king of the world give himself a blow-job up at the podium.

Way to Make Me Feel a Fool For Hating on Sandy HFPA

For those of you who would criticize, I would like to make it perfectly clear that I know the Golden Globes were on Sunday, and that the three days that have lapsed between then and now are constituted as an eternity in internet time. Regardless, I have a couple of things to say about the ceremony, and apologize for any potential redundancy.

I was actually on a plane for the majority of the festivities so I missed most of it all happening in real time and was informed of a lot of the awards via text message from loyal friends and fellow cinematic enthusiasts. Believe me when I say I am eternally grateful to them for this service and believe me when I say I was visibly stressed about missing it on television to the point that I drew several concerned glances as I tapped nervously on my suitcase, annoyed that every bar in the airport was broadcasting the goddamn Jets game (congrats to THEIR fans though).

Because of the fact that I found out about the awards either like that or from reading the blogs when I got home late Sunday night, this won’t necessarily be in the order that the awards were given out. I’m also only going to talk about the movies, because much of the TV I don’t watch. I will just say Michael C. Hall made me cry like a baby. But let’s get into the meat of it all shall we?
Ricky Gervais’s humor can be an acquired one, but I found him to be well-received in a setting unfamiliar to a host role and I loved his jab at Angie and Mel Gibson in particular. Basically I think nobody should be allowed to host award shows anymore that isn’t him or NPH. In conclusion for that vein, love the host, keep it coming HFP, two thumbs up indeed.

Without a doubt the Hollywood Foreign Press and The Academy make a wise choice in its placement of Best Actress in a Supporting Role as the first award of the night. It’s one that most viewers care about, rather than something like screenplay or technical awards, but it isn’t positioning things to peak too soon. It also tends to be awarded to an actress who is disproportionately grateful for it compared to other recipients of the awards because she and her career, at some point, weren’t necessarily regarded with such prestige.

Mo’nique is a classic example. If you had told me this time last year that Mo’nique would become a Golden Globe winner in the next year and would be a strong Oscar frontrunner, I would have guffawed in your face. I don’t know what that would have looked like but I would have done it. Mo’nique in her speech just killed me. Really. Thank God I didn’t watch the thing live. I would have just died. My friend texts me saying, “Mo’nique for Best Supporting Actress. You would be weeping right now.” Yeah. No shit!

Plus the girl looked great in her strapless beige dress, better than the rest of the army of actresses who rocked this year’s excessively represented flesh-toned look (Nicole Kidman looked like she ripped off her bed sheets and turned them into some Grecian disaster). Her speech was earnest and moving and emotionally packed, setting a great precedent for the evening.

Christoph Waltz was a shoe-in and will win an Oscar. The man was brilliant in Inglorious Basterds. RDJ for Sherlock Holmes I’m okay with, though I was rooting for Joseph Gordon Levitt, who is incomprehensibly adorable. I haven’t seen Holmes yet though. When I do I’m certain that between RDJ and Jude Law I’ll need to bring an extra pair of pants for the inevitable load I’ll blow everywhere. Tasteless, I know. Moving on.

I have yet to see Crazy Heart, though I heard that Jeff Bridges was exceptional in it, and when it does play here I will without a doubt see it cause it’s got my girl Maggie Gyllenhal. Plus having seen all the other performances I’ll say his only serious competition would have been Morgan Freeman as Nelson Mandela or maybe Colin Firth, if you didn’t fall asleep in the excessively lugubrious A Single Man.

Now the part that I’ve been dreading. Sandra Goddamn Bullock for The Blind Side. When I got this text letting me know of this appalling news I called my friend as to verify that this was not sort of sick and offensive joke she was playing on me. But alas, Sandra Bullock is a Golden Globe-winning actress. Initially I was irrationally annoyed at this, but then I had to stop and think, “Okay, well, so is Madonna.” And my perspective was regained.

But so help me god if I live to see the day that Sandra Bullock is an Academy Award winning actress. I mean, she’s funny, she’s cute, and she’s a powerful woman in Hollywood. But I regard her as possessing the acting chops of Jennifer Aniston without the tabloid drama. And I very sincerely hope I never see the day where critics are speculating Oscar potential for Jennifer Aniston.

Her speech though was humble and did give her points in my book, certainly not enough points though for me to forget she won over the allegedly exceptional Carey Mulligan in An Education, Emily Blunt in The Young Victoria (who didn’t seem to hide her disdain at her loss), and the promising novice Gabby Sidibe for Precious (LOVE her!). I’m hoping that Meryl’s able to sweep up the lead actress statuette for Julie and Julia, which was another non-surprise of the evening.

I have nothing to say on The Hangover winning Best Picture Comedy/Musical as I, embarrassingly, still haven’t seen it. I do know that Nora Ephron made a move as contrived as her scripts in ostensibly ripping up her acceptance speech as its victory was announced. Sorry Nora. Maybe make something with less irritatingly blatant messages and cheesy scores.

Last but not least, the astronomically worth-accruing beast of a film, Avatar. Again, I am one of the last people in America who still hasn’t seen it. Recently I was called out by a coworker for being a movie snob who doesn’t go into a movie without a preconceived opinion and confirmation bias to prove.

Therefore, I will say this: It is difficult for me to imagine a movie made as artfully and skillfully as Kathryn Bigelow’s The Hurt Locker that is pertinent to the present, but inclusive of universalist themes, while showing a nuanced representation of a population that does not fall back on clichés of demonization or glorification. Though, I will see Avatar, probably within the next week, and will inform the masses if my mind is changed by the viewing, though I will admit, that at this point, I am dubious at the potential for an attitude adjustment.

Final thought: I'm with Brooks Barnes in thinking that Fantastic Mr. Fox should have been more seriously considered as I found it to be superior to Up.

Ask and You Shall Receive

My prayers were answered last night at Radio City Music Hall. Any event that brings two of the most power American cultural figures together, Buzz Aldrin and Kermit the Frog, is an event well executed and certainly worth watching all three and a half hours of (gotta do the preshow).

My immediate reaction as the show began was, “Oh shit. Madonna’s here” and I knew right then, that MTV realized that if they were gonna make up for the snoozer of an award show they put on last year, they needed to pull out the big guns. Madonna proceeded to introduce an inexpressibly moving tribute to Michael Jackson, admittedly intertwined with the typical Madonna narcissism, but I’d say she was a most appropriate choice. Every time I watch any tribute to Michael Jackson I constantly find myself overwhelmed by the longevity and incomparable range of his career. It’s just something I’ll never get over.

Janet’s joining of the stage dancers when “Scream” came on and there was that great shot where him dancing was on the big screen behind her as she mimicked his moves in the lower right side of the shot, really touching stuff, Janet really did it, setting a precedent for the night that was met over and over again.

Then kill the lights, cue standing ovation, cue Katy Perry slaughtering another American classic as we introduce Russell Brand, our host for the evening, still sexy, still getting little to nothing from the crowd. What are you gonna do though? (Side note: The only host I really ever remember loving from the VMAs was Jimmy Fallon, who Brand later referred to as this generation’s David Letterman, I sure as hell hope not for the sake of our generation, love the guy, but his talk show sucks.) Whatever, he made some joke promoting public health care, wore unflattering pants and talked about his erections and being British all night, pretty much sums it up.

After that was the evening’s big shocker and, what I would say, the opening of the fairy tale narrative the VMA’s adopted. I’m gonna quit talking in a linear sequence now because, if I keep going I’ll never shut up, and this story really must be told as it would be told outside of a debriefing.

The first award given out of the evening was for Best Female Video, the presenters, if my notes serve me correctly, were Shakira and Taylor Lautner (werewolf dude from Twilight—SheWolf with a Werewolf, I don’t know, I loved it!). A dark horse in the race, Taylor Swift, took the moon man for “You Belong With Me” despite her stiff competition including Lady GaGa’s “Poker face” and Beyonce’s “Put a Ring on It.”

T. Swift, in her infinite adorable sincerity and humble nature, looks genuinely shocked as she covers her mouth in her long, silver, princess-y gown (she showed up in a pink horse-drawn carriage—Thanks MTV!) and goes up and gets all of like, fifteen words out about how happy she is to receive this “VMA award” because she’s a country singer and these things don’t usually happen to them…when Kanye, in his infinite and boundless arrogance, takes the mic from her and proclaims how he’ll let her finish, but that this was a sham because Beyonce made one of the best videos of all time.

All right, Kanye, duh. Everybody knows that. But do you really use MTV Video Music Awards as your pop cultural relevance barometer? Do you really think that Beyonce, who is a Grammy Award, Golden Globe nominated performer and superstar was really banking on putting that stainless steel astronaut above her fireplace in her palace with Jay-Z (I like to think of them as living in a palace but also hosting really fun barbacues—I actually often say that of any celebrity couple theirs is the barbecue I’d most want to be invited to…anyway).

The night goes on and not only did the event make little Taylor look like she was going to burst into tears, but it interrupted the opening of what I thought was a hilarious skit of Tracy Morgan and Eminem, Em training Tracy to become Best New Artist, “I could be Tracy GaGa,” hysterical. Thanks a lot Kanye for overshadowing that line. Come to think of it they would have been pretty adequate and hysterical hosts. Whatever. (Side note: My favorite part of that bit was the Cyndi Lauper cameo—now that’s a perfect reference MTV).

Taylor went on to perform her hit via a subway car, an admittedly nauseating performance where her vocals were proven to be way weak live, but I was so in camp T. Swift that even I cheered from here in Cackalack. Every mention of Kanye is met with wild boos and chants of “Taylor! Taylor!” from the audience, loves it. And Beyonce goes on, to KILL, KIIIIIIIIILLLLLLL in her performance of Single Ladies, starting with the bridge, which was smart, cause that part of the song is HOT, looking great, despite what some have said, and, whatever, I can’t even, I was in tears. If you didn’t see it YouTube it now. Loves it beyond expression. I can’t even.

Anyway the really good part of this story comes as Andy Samberg and Jimmy Fallon present the award for Video of the Year, which went to, what do you know, Beyonce. Girl goes up there, looking fucking fabulous in that short, pocketed low cut red dress, presumably from House of Dereon, and says about how she remembers her first VMA and how it was when she was 17 and it was with Destiny’s Child and what a special moment, and how she wants Taylor to come out here and have that moment.

I, died. Couldn’t even handle it. All right cynics, I know that it was very ostensibly a premeditated move and probably mandated by the producers of the show. But the way that she did it with such grace and humility and understanding, and then Taylor Swift comes out and is just, again, adorable, thanking her brother’s high school which Beyonce got a cute chuckle out of.

You know what it reminded me of so much? Dream Girls enthusiasts will get this. It was like that moment in the end of Dream Girls when Deena Jones (Beyonce) says at their farewell concert, “But you know there aren’t three Dreamettes, there are four…” and introduces, “Effie!” and Jennifer Hudson comes out in that ridiculously sparkly gown and the crowd goes wild and she proceeds to kill that song with Deena doing back up, pleased with her good deed and justice having been served. I like to think that Beyonce took a page out of Deena Jones’s book there After all, it was the film of her life.

Then Jay-Z came out and performed with Alicia Keys and it settled it for me. I need to go to a Jay-Z and Beyonce barbecue. They’re my America’s Sweethearts. (Side note again: what the fuck was with Lil Mama jumping on the stage at the end of that shit? Please, you’re the Paula Abdul of America's Best Dance Crew, you carry no social capital, knock it off.)

Other highlights included Lady GaGa looking like a lunatic in the periphery of every shot of Beyonce as she was sitting right behind her and wore outfits including a feathered neck corset, red lace jumpsuit that covered her face, and an Eskimo/sea anemone beard. My friend Lindsay made the best comment about GaGa: “The only thing I like about Lady GaGa is that she makes Katy Perry look like a total amateur.” Amen. The only two things I can say about her performance, because this is long already, is that number one, I completely forgot how musically capable she really is, and number two, I completely underestimated her limits (she basically mock hung herself on stage as the finale of her performance of “Paparazzi”—now MJ didn’t off himself, but I still found it tasteless in light of recent events.) I also have to say I did love that in her acceptance speech she yelled in between obscenities, “This is for God! And for the gays!”

Love a good shout out, especially when delivered next to a visibly uncomfortable Eminem.

Love that there was still love for Brit Brit, winning best pop video for that absurdly sexy masterpiece “Womanizer.” As she’s on tour now she accepted via somewhere with her band of dancers and also, did anyone else notice that Max, as in the magician-waiter from The Max in Saved By the Bell, was on tour with Britney? Apparently his name’s Ed Alonzo. Who knew?

Final thoughts:

Why did Eminem win Best Rap Video for that dreadful song proclaiming insults and slurs about pop cultural happenings that we had long stopped caring about, what, do only twelve-year-old white kids vote for that category?

Love that Serena Williams, a. was there and b. made a joke about crossing the line.

And lastly, Who the fuck is Muse?

In closing, Kanye, way to leave yourself open to shameless parody: