I’m usually all abuzz and atitter come Oscar Day, but for some reason this year, I’m just not feeling it. Despite watching more movies in 2007 than I generally have historically (thank you Netflix), I’ve only seen one of the “Best Picture” and “Best Director” nominated movies thus far: Juno, which was sweet and charming, but feels like this year’s version of My Big Fat Greek Wedding or Babe as far as its prospects for a serious nod go. (Diablo Cody will take the “Best Original Screenplay” nod, and that will be that). The whole “stack it up at the end of the year in a few festivals” approach just leaves me cold as a viewer, since I’ve got no connection with or passion for things unseen.
The rest of the leading flicks, while I’m sure are well made and deserving their accolades, really just don’t interest me. I’ll probably see most of them out of some weird sense of obligation, but I don’t expect to enjoy the experience, since I don’t like musicals, and I don’t much like scenery-chewing acting, and I don’t really care for carnage for carnage’s sake. When you’ve experienced real carnage in your life, you don’t want to watch it as entertainment as much.
Other stray thoughts . . .
I adore Johnny Depp, but I don’t want to hear him sing or see rivers of blood flowing from his razor. I mean, I really don’t want any part of that.
I adore Julie Christie, but I don’t want to see her suffering from Alzheimer’s, even when she’s acting, and I have a hard time imagining any nominated performance this year could be better than Marion Cotillard’s in La Vie En Rose anyway.
I thought Ratatouille was utterly, painfully bad, unwatchable and irritating, even though I love animation dearly, so I don’t much care to see it win the “Best Animated Film” award, which it seems pre-ordained to do. Go Persepolis!
I will be absolutely appalled if Cate Blanchett gets a statue for the Dylan role in I’m Not There. Such pretentious arthouse twaddle and fanboy posturing, even though I actually like Todd Haynes, generally. Please do not encourage him further in this endeavor.
I guess I’ll be pulling for Viggo Mortensen among the best actors, since he carried an otherwise flawed movie.
Finally, I feel like I’m cheating on my Jon Stewart-Stephen Colbert boycott by watching Stewart host the big gig today. (Though he’s better than Ellen DeGeneres, who made my flesh crawl for three hours during her last stint as host).(I’d be a-okay if they made Steve Martin the perma-host, like Bob Hope used to be). Fortunately, Marcia is flying back from San Diego tonight, so I’ll leave for an hour in the middle of the show to pick her up. Hopefully that will be when all the songs from Enchanted are being performed. Yechh.