In my never ending quest to see all of the major Oscar nominees prior to the Academy Awards telecast on February 22, I am woefully behind, I fear. Christopher Nolan wasn't the only person the Academy shafted on Thursday morning. I thought I had tied up at least two of the likely Best Picture nominees when I saw "The Dark Knight" and "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button", and possibly even three with my viewing of "Wall-E." But no. It was not meant to be. Currently I'm 1 for 5 in that category. After all of the nominations were made available, J and I determined the order of the rest of the BP nominees we'll head to see at the theater, as they are all still in wide release, and not yet available on DVD (thanks for THAT, Hollywood). Fortunately, we live in a town that still subscribes to the idea of movies as little pieces of celluloid magic, so all of the films are available to us at a theater nearby. We have about 27 movie houses in our close vicinity, most of which are independently owned, and we do not take that treasured state of affairs for granted, believe me. As sick as it might sound, I chose this apartment based on not only how close it was to my dear Polish friends, but also its proximity to the greatest indy video store in the nation, Movie Madness, where my favorite video tech looks exactly like a hot version of Mama Firefly and is endlessly helpful.
We commemorated Oscar Nomination Eve (ONE) on Wednesday with a 7:00 showing of "The Wrestler." As unpredictable as the Best Picture and Best Actress categories have a tendency to be, the Best Actor nominations are historically closely linked to the Golden Globe nominees for male in a dramatic leading role, so I was pretty confident we could count on a Mickey Rourke nod, if not win. I still haven't seen "The Visitor", "Milk", or "Frost/Nixon", so my apologies to Richard Jenkins, Sean Penn, and Frank Langella for such presumption. And Brad, well, Brad. As much as I love you in the deep loving bits of my heart, the movie wasn't about you, but more about the people around you reacting to your steadfast portrayal of an odd character, so I'm pretty sure this isn't your year just yet.
Heath Ledger's performance as The Joker (if you have not seen it yet, stop reading this and do so) has earned him the last nomination he will ever have. Alive or dead, his performance is striking and he's going to win--sentimentality aside, the guy's talent is hard to overlook (though the Academy managed to do so in 2005, much to their lame chagrin these days). Philip Seymour Hoffman is yet again pitted against Heath, and while I've not yet seen "Doubt", I would swear a blood oath that his performance is Oscar-worthy. I mean, let's face it. He's Philip Seymour Hoffman and he rules. He just does. But because he had the misfortune of being the guy who beat Heath in 2005, he will not win. Nor will Robert Downey, Jr.'s freakishly comedic turn in "Tropic Thunder," though I wouldn't cry in my bowl of Total if he did. Josh Brolin, whose bodily proportions never fail to remind me of an overgrown midget and give me pause every time I see him in a movie, has the only genuine shot at slicing through Heath's juggernaut of glory because he plays a psychotically homophobic killer and that makes the Academy ooooohhhh and aaaahhhh with squishy-panted delight.
Every year it seems the nominees serve up at least a dollop of misery in one or two overwrought dramas, and this year is no exception. "The Reader" is set with the backdrop of a WWII tragedy and a love story, because apparently nothing says "get it on" in Hollywood more than the tragedy of the Holocaust. Ralph Fiennes has dug out quite the niche for himself with this type of film by starring in not one, not two, not even three, but FOUR Holocaust pictures. Check my math: "The English Patient", "The End of the Affair", "The Reader" and of course his horrifying turn as Nazi Amon Goeth in "Schindler's List." While I abhor sitting through this kind of movie, I'll do it for Kate Winslet because she is the female answer to Philip Seymour Hoffman. She rules because she does. Circular or not, the logic sticks. She is a brilliant actress and can make even the most repulsive movie (suck it, "Little Children") watchable. Oh you'll feel it in the morning, but at the time you're watching it all you can focus on is how she spins disgusting story arcs straw into mesmerizing gold. For too long, six nominations to be exact, she has been snubbed, overlooked, and forsaken for the likes of Helen Hunt. That's right. I said it. Fucking Helen Hunt, who graduated summa cum laude from the Gwyneth Paltrow School For Wooden Expressionless "Acting" beat our beloved Kate. I say NO MORE will we stand for this kind of shenanigan voting practice on the part of the Academy.
So at this most sacred time of year in my warped little world, I make a nightly wish and throw it to the south where the majority of Academy voters reside to ask that you do your jobs, Voting Elite, and cast your ballot (for once) on the merits of the performance without the distraction of studio campaigns, sentimentality, insider politics, nepotism, or profiteering interests. Shhhhhhh. Just do it.
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