Thursday, January 22, 2009

CODSWALLOP!

I stopped my workout this morning to sit in the ladies locker room and watch the Oscar noms be read out this morning and, after it was all over, I was distracted from my quest for Michelle Obama arms (Yes, I know she went to Princeton and Harvard!) by my confusion about the love for Slumdog Millionaire and Ben Button while my rage at Dark Knight's egregious snub fueled my treadmill run. It is like The Academy has forgot every thing it learned last year with the Coen's brutal No Country... and proven itself to be truly short-sighted , with a weak stomach for dismay, angst and uncertainty. Slumdog's pat, insipid good-for-nothing seven-11 slurpee gets tossed down our gullets (with me the only person suffering from brain freeze, aparently) while The Dark Knight's complex, ambitious good-for-you veggie platter gets left to rot on the kitchen counter. Well, you know what? I like my veggies, damn it! I like my veggies with a dip of anarchy, hopelessness and painful humiliation! I am revealing far too much about my own dark recesses of the sould with this metaphor and not enough about my taste in movies, which I prefer to be dreary and morose, thankyouverymuch. Moving on...

I dutifully printed out my ballot and ticked off all the movies I have seen and taped it to my
fridge, where it will stay until the Best Picture winner is read. It is a work in progress, with many movies in the major catagories left to see (Doubt, Frost/Nixon) and more nominees to tick of as having viewed. Even though I am nonplussed about the noms, I cannot and will not
shake the hype surrounding them. My palms get sweaty carrying home my Vanity Fair 'Hollywood' issue, I skip to the mailbox to collect Entertainment Weekly's Oscar issue, I lovingly highlight the nominees I will be cheering for on the big night. I never enter any Oscar pools because I always choose with my heart rather than my head and, therefore, always loose. I say that sincerely. I'm excited. I'm excited for winners to get emotional, for Hugh Jackman to dance, dance, dance! I'm excited to be in the bosom of kith and kin, shouting at the TV, eating greasy food. I'm excited to appear in a state of dress and grooming that is in direct purportion to the ladies I am saying catty things about. I'm excited...
Anyways, my other stray thoughts:
*The technical awards always tickle me in that movies like Wanted are magically transformed into (Cinderella-like) The Academy-Award nominated Wanted. I wish the producers would let the winners from these categories thank their wives for a change.
*No screenplay, direction or supporting actress for Rachel Getting Married. It deserved more than just Hathaway. Incidentally, the pjs I will be wearing on Oscar night are labeled 'Lady Hathaways'. Foreshadowing? Will they be trumped by someone's 'Dame Winslet' bedroom attire?
*Micheal Shannon? Who the hell is Micheal Shannon? Somewhere, Michael Sheen went from the highest mountain top to the deepest valley when Micheal Shannon's name was read.
*I only need to see Frost/Nixon and I have seen all five nominees. I was resigned to Slumdog and Ben Button making it to the final five, but I would have rather seen Rachel Getting Married, The Wrestler, or The Dark Knight (especially) as the fifth cylon, oops, I mean nomination rather than The Reader. Reader was good, but not outstanding. Same goes for the directing category and the lame cylon joke works a little better there. ('I'd rather see Jonathan Demme as the fith cylon?' Get it?)
*The Globe for Kate for Supporting for The Reader was asinine. SHE HAS TOP BILLING IN THE DAMN MOVIE! This nom is more appropriate.
*Finally, what I loved: Melissa Leo: Yay! Frozen River is excellent - ulcer inducing, but excellent. (Caught it at the Fest in the fall) Some love for her costar, Misty Upham, would have been nice. Leo has had a varied and busy career since Homicide: Life on the Streets and it is nice when a working character actor gets love. Same goes for Richard Jenkins! These two don't have to win at this point. I am just thrilled they made it this far.
*There are only three Best Original Song nominees this year and TWO are from Slumdog! The indignity of snubbing the boss! It is shit like this that makes me HATE Slumdog, not just be irritated by it. Again, Slumdog (CRUMdog PILLionaire?) is the slurpee that is being shoved down my gullett and I have brain freeze.

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