I Semi-Promise This Will Be The Last Oscar-Related Poll…

One last poll before the big day (Feb 22nd), when some really mediocre movies get handed awards, and hopefully, just to make the whole thing not a total disaster, Mickey Rourke and the FX teams on Benjamin Button get their gold-plated just desserts too. By now it’s probable that even though Slumdog has mysteriously been hit with all sorts of unsavoury accusations of child exploitation and dismissal by India, it’s going to romp home. Though I am on record as not being best pleased about that, I’ll just be happy if people stop referring to it as the longshot. It really isn’t. By now people desperately want it to succeed, and it will. Benjamin Button will go home with some technical stuff, and Slumdog will get the biggies, a decision that will be the sanity-twisting equivalent of this…


…and, eventually, just as regrettable and embarrassing for the Academy members and the folks at home as this.


That inevitability aside, there are some actual longshots in that list. The ones no one thinks to bet on. In some awards the longshot occasionally wins (no one expected Bryan Cranston to get an Emmy for his Breaking Bad work as there were other, better known nominees there), but with the Oscars it pretty much never does. That doesn’t mean they should be ignored though. Hence this new poll. Which longshot nominee would you most like to see score an upset and win?

  • Richard Jenkins (Best Actor for The Visitor)
  • Melissa Leo (Best Actress for Frozen River)
  • Michael Shannon (Best Supporting Actor for Revolutionary Road)
  • Viola Davis (Best Supporting Actress for Doubt)
  • Gus Van Sant (Best Director for Milk)
  • Thomas Newman (Best Soundtrack for Wall*E)
  • Martin McDonagh (Best Original Screenplay for In Bruges)
  • Peter Morgan (Best Adapted Screenplay for Frost/Nixon)
  • Wally Pfister (Best Cinematography for The Dark Knight)
  • Kung Fu Panda (Best Animated Feature Film)
  • The Baader Meinhof Complex (Best Foreign Language Film)
  • Milk (Best Picture)
  • Iron Man (Best Visual Effects)
  • Hellboy II: The Golden Army (Best Makeup)
  • The Dark Knight (Best Sound Editing)
  • Wanted (Best Sound Mixing)
  • I will admit, I have no idea if Wanted really had amazingly well mixed sound. I just want to know if anyone out there is eager for a movie featuring a Loom of Fate, bullet-curving, and bomb-rats to win an Oscar. If anyone votes for it, I’ll assume Mark Millar popped by. Anyway, have at it, my pretties.

    Rachel Gets Married In Magnificent Style

    When I posted my Best Movies of 2008 lists, I had a little rant about release schedules, and how making a list before seeing some potentially great movies got released made a mockery of the whole thing. Daisyhellcakes argued very persuasively that we wait for a little while longer, but the thought of posting a Best Of list at the end of March (the earliest we could see Synecdoche, New York, which is released on Region 1 DVD two months before it gets a UK release) was anathema to me. I love lists like Picard loves Earl Grey, so there was no way I could put off blurting out my picks.

    To be honest, I thought that the final few big contenders might not get on the list. Synecdoche was the big hope, praised by some whose opinion means a lot to me but dissed by some hardcore Kaufman fans, so I couldn’t be sure. Doubt looks promising, especially if you’re a fan of Viola Davis, guilt, ACK-TING, and/or Joe Vs. The Volcano. The Reader could appeal to the Winslet enthusiast in me, even if it sounds like a potentially mind-shredding mixture of worthy ingredients and themes baked into Seriousness Souffle.


    Other than that, there was Rachel Getting Married, which Daisyhellcakes had been excited about since The AV Club went a bit mental about it. Even though it was great to hear that Jonathan Demme — a director I had once been crazy about — was back on form after some dodgy efforts, I was less enthused than Daisyhellcakes, thinking I would like it well enough, but surely not more than I had liked the perfect crowd-pleasingness of Iron Man, or the complex power struggles and martial arts mastery of Red Cliff: Part One, or Colin Farrell’s eloquent profanity and existential misery in In Bruges.

    And yet I did like it. More than Iron Man. More than The Wrestler. More than In Bruges. More, even, than Kung Fu Panda, a film that makes me cry when watching just because I love it so much. We went to see it last night (finally released in the UK months after its initial US release), and I was floored by it. The only film of 2008 that I liked more was The Dark Knight, though Rachel Getting Married gives it a run for its money. Sadly for Demme and his amazing cast and crew, their excellent film still lacks Ledger and Eckhart, the Batpod, and the boat dilemma, so it could never be top of my list.

    I cannot overstate how happy I am that Demme has made a movie that feels so much like his earlier work, even if the shooting style (handheld cameras and a home movie feel) is so different from anything he has ever done before. Demme was renowned for making movies that feel like they’re full to the brim with life and unpredictability even though, formally, his movies were often very stylised and structured. Even something as potentially uncinematic as a Spalding Gray monologue was rendered visually lively in his movie Swimming to Cambodia, and yet all he was doing was filming Gray at a desk.


    His post-Corman movies all felt like parties with plotlines, bristling with energy and quirkiness, and even if they weren’t all perfect, they were still a lot of fun. Something Wild is possibly the ultimate Manic Pixie Dream Girl movie, generating so much goodwill in the audience that even the much-discussed third-act detour into thriller territory doesn’t derail the good times. Married To The Mob is possibly the oddest and most lovable gangster movie yet made, with Dean Stockwell doing a great job of being funny and threatening at the same time. Stop Making Sense is the classic concert movie, a playful celebration of not only the music of Talking Heads but the idea of live music as theatre. Melvin and Howard, coming across like a lost Hal Ashby movie or the brother of Bob Rafelson’s Five Easy Pieces, is in dire need of reappraisal. Even something as compromised as Swing Shift had the spark of something made outside the restrictive studio system despite the interference of people who just didn’t understand what he was aiming for.

    The only other filmmakers from that period who managed to fill their films with such energy (at least that I can think of) were Jim McBride and Martin Scorsese. McBride regrettably disappeared after the failure of Great Balls of Fire (one of the most infectiously anarchic mainstream movies ever to fail miserably at the box office), and Scorsese has been chasing Oscars with some uninspiring prestige movies for a while now, cranking out shadows of his former great work. That said, I totally don’t begrudge him winning, and even shed a tear when it happened. Look at him! I want to give that man a hug.


    (An aside: There is also former Demme collaborator George Armitage, responsible for the gleefully unorthodox Miami Blues and Grosse Pointe Blank, but sadly he too came unstuck with The Big Bounce, a deeply frustrating project that hinted at, if not greatness, then at least some light-hearted and good-natured fun.)

    That ossification of their exuberant style is similar to what happened to Demme. In a complete left-turn that still baffles me to this day, he made Silence of the Lambs, his biggest hit and an award magnet even though it is wilfully peculiar, bleak, and filled with idiosyncracies. It was a strange triumph for his brand of unorthodox and imaginative storytelling. However, for the longest time it was his last great hurrah. Philadelphia did a great job of raising awareness about HIV and AIDS, but it’s not a particularly good movie. It’s the first Big Theme movie of his career, and signalled that awful time in an Oscar-winning director’s career when they lose whatever it was that made them interesting in the first place. It doesn’t happen all of the time. Spielberg made Minority Report and Munich after winning two Oscars, and Bob Zemeckis followed his Forrest Gump win with performance-capture experiments of varying quality that were, however, still bold and fascinating on a technical level. However, how many interesting films has Barry Levinson made since Rain Man? Or Bernardo Bertolucci?


    In the case of Demme, while I would be eager to see his early movies, I have little interest in seeing The Truth About Charlie (despite having Joong-Hoon Park, aka the Korean Marlon Brando, in the cast), and zero interest in Beloved, which looks like a deeply flawed interpretation of Toni Morrison’s book. Plus, who wanted to see a remake of The Manchurian Candidate? It has all the elements of a potentially good movie, except that it serves no purpose. The updating of the story to satirise the nefarious motives of Big Business was potentially interesting, but garbled by horrible plotholes and inconsistencies. Flashes of Demme’s quirky eye for detail or image broke through from time to time, and the performances were a joy to watch, but it was a dispiriting experience, seeing Demme making movies that were a world away from his earlier films, all of which looked and felt like they were made on Planet Demme. His earthbound projects just didn’t inspire me at all. (N.B. I wrote this paragraph a couple of days ago, but a quick look at The AV Club’s New Cult Canon feature on Married To The Mob features the phrase Demmeworld. He really does make movies unlike anyone else.)

    In recent years his documentary work, such as Jimmy Carter Man From Plains, The Agronomist, and Neil Young: Heart of Gold, were critically praised, but their releases were so badly organised that, with my new apathy towards Demme, I couldn’t muster the energy to chase them down. I never thought it would come to that. And now, that period has passed. Rachel Getting Married did many things to my brain and heart and soul, but first and foremost it’s made me excited to watch his movies again. Those documentaries are definitely getting tracked down as soon as possible.


    Rachel Getting Married has been described as being Altmanesque simply because it features a large ensemble cast that talks a lot, and the subject matters echoes that of Altman’s A Wedding. Other than that the connection between Demme’s work here and that of the great man is not as definitive as has been noted. The use of naturalistic speech patterns have more to do with the way the movie is filmed, with hand-held cameras and natural sound, than with some stylistic tic appropriated from elsewhere. Cleverly the movie is filmed in the same style as a wedding video, as if an invisible visitor to the ceremony was recording everything. At times the film cuts to the PoV of a guest who is recording everything, and other than the film stock you can barely tell the difference in style. Altman’s overlapping dialogue was intentional and often overdone to the point of parody. In Rachel Getting Married, it’s a natural consequence of Demme letting his actors loose without rehearsals, hence lines are stepped on and come at the wrong moments, much as with real conversations. Check out this press kit for more information about Demme’s shooting style.

    Saying the movie is realistically filmed is one thing, but it would still ring false if the performances and script were not up to scratch, but they are all nigh-on perfect. Jenny Lumet’s debut script is an absolute marvel, superbly managing the tricky task of juggling tone and revelation and pace without giving away her structure. Love McKee though I do, it’s hard to watch a lot of movies as learner writers show their act breaks too obviously, using McKee’s work as a strict manual filled with compulsory rules instead of a guidebook of advice, which is how it should be treated. Lumet’s script flows like real life flows, with unpredictability and awkwardness and accidents, but is structured perfectly. You just never notice until you pick it apart later. Of course, I shouldn’t have to praise her for doing something that any writer worth their salt would do, but she does such an amazing job in a world where even this basic competence seems rare that I feel obligated to mention it.


    That said, even an amazing script would suffer without a great cast to add life and natural flow to it, and Rachel Getting Married has a superb range of performers who seem to have been in rehearsal forever, so seamlessly is everything played. One memorable scene — which could easily have turned into a stagy shoutfest — is conducted almost entirely through calm, acidic asides and vicious accusations delivered in quiet but furious voices, the protagonists moving from room to room while Anna Deavere Smith hands out plates of melon. Seeing the incomparable Bill Irwin desperately trying to hold his family together as the tragedy in their past threatens to bring everything crashing down is one of the most affecting things I’ve seen in film for years, and would not have worked if we were watching big meltdown moments.

    The only scene containing sustained histrionics — the climactic showdown between Kym and her feckless mother (played with odious brilliance by a perfectly cast Debra Winger) — earns those screams. The fight we see has been in the offing for years, and when it comes it starts with almost no warning. I can’t remember the last time a scene alarmed me more. Well, a scene that didn’t involve a Batpod, exploding bodies, or some kind of monster on a rampage.


    Music has always been important to Demme, and plays a huge part. He’s done more to champion African music than any other US filmmaker, and without it his narrative work of the past few years has felt incomplete. As the movie’s form demands no non-diegetic music be used for fear of breaking the semi-realist spell, Demme fills the wedding with musicians, used diegetically, throughout. Demme has said he was eager to present a wedding that reflects his life experiences and circle of friends, which is why Sister Carol East and Robyn Hitchcock turn up to perform (this is explained away by having Bill Irwin’s patriarch conveniently working in the music industry). There is much African soul and funk in later scenes, and classical-ambient noodling throughout earlier scenes. We even get to hear Tunde Adebimpe, in the role of groom Sidney, sing to Rachel (an excellent performance by Rosemarie DeWitt), which was a lovely touch.

    Sadly, that amazing soundtrack by Donald Harrison Jr. and Zafer Tawil’s gets no Oscar nomination. Neither does Bill Irwin, or Jonathan Demme, or even (and this really disgusts me) Jenny Lumet. This despite it being widely admired, though I guess that means little when you have the moneyed likes of Harvey Weinstein running around strong-arming voters into praising illiterate Nazi movies. Much of our post-movie debate (conducted over amazing food at the West End branch of super-restaurant Tsunami, food fans!) was spent bemoaning Slumdog‘s recent SAG Awards win for Best Ensemble Cast. I can think of a number of movies more deserving of that award than the indifferently performed Slumdog, and none more so than Rachel Getting Married, which features a large and talented cast at the peak of their powers.


    That cast is Demme’s secret weapon. By casting friends and family, filming them constantly, and ensuring that a party atmosphere prevails, Rachel Getting Married feels fresh and new and exciting, just like Demme’s work from decades ago. No other film of recent years is as vibrant and life-affirming as this, even while it deals with tragedy and pain and some of the worst behavioural impulses imaginable. The sense of real celebration, real love and emotion bursting from the screen, is palpable, even though Lumet’s script goes to extremely dark places and stares down pain and loss and grief without blinking, and even though Demme is not afraid to have scenes play out to uncomfortable or tedious length.

    And yet it is almost totally ignored by the Academy, with numerous nominations given to less worthy movies instead. Of course, that includes my current bête noire, Slumdog Millionaire. Apologies for banging on about this yet again, but after seeing Rachel Getting Married, we were furious about the nominationariational state of play. Danny Boyle’s movie purports to be an upbeat celebration of life and love, but at heart it’s a hollow, ugly, fake trinket, a cubic zirconium blob of contrived uplift and phony sentimentalism. Rachel Getting Married is often painful to watch, but it feels real, and earns all of the emotions it generates in the audience. It serenades humanity in all its forms, whereas Slumdog is an inconsequential hymn to Hallmark-card simplicity. Despite all of its distracting flash it’s little more than escapist Mogadon. As many fans have pointed out, it’s not trying to be anything more than escapism, and that wouldn’t be so bad if it wasn’t so ugly and boring and aggressively stupid. Rachel Getting Married is a thousand-times the movie Slumdog is, and seeing Boyle and his cohorts pulling in awards and rapturous praise while Demme’s movie is treated as little more than a competent amuse-bouche is driving me into paroxysms of rage.

    Of course, Rachel Getting Married did get one nomination. A Best Actress nod went to Anne Hathaway, whose phenomenal career-best performance earns her a prestigious Shades of Caruso Free Pass.

    I don’t care if she goes on to make The Devil Still Wears Prada, or a series of Bride Wars sequels that rival the Bond films for longevity. In Rachel Getting Married she is incredible, playing Kym — a messy neurotic bag of hostility and guilt — to perfection. I’ve heard some people say her tics annoyed them (including at least one loyal reader of this here blog), but I didn’t notice that. Perhaps it’s because I know Kym, or at least someone who went through some similar life experiences and, sadly, came out of it just as angry and unhappy as her. Hathaway reminded me of that period so much that it freaked me out for long stretches of the movie. But in a good way. For a start, it gave me an insight into why people try to help family or friends who are going through horrible internal strife. Obviously, it’s because you love them no matter what. A no-brainer answer, really.


    So yes, my lists (all four of them) are now all skewiff. The number two spot on my best films list goes to Rachel Getting Married. Anne Hathaway does the incredible and knocks the Unstoppable Winslet Machine out of the Best Actress spot. Rosemarie DeWitt and Bill Irwin get on my supporting lists. Jenny Lumet gives Martin McDonagh a run for his money for the Best Screenplay spot (I watched In Bruges again this week and I think it remains number one, but only just). Christopher Nolan remains my favourite director of the year, but Jonathan Demme is right behind him.


    Oh, Demme. Film buffs are still patiently waiting for the second coming of Woody Allen (or third, or fourth; I’ve lost count), and two weak-to-average movies have been treated like the equals of Crimes and Misdemeanours and Husbands and Wives, even though Match Point was a silly mess and Vicky Cristina Barcelona is kinda dull and obvious. We’re not getting another Manhattan, or Hannah and her Sisters, or even Broadway Danny Rose ever again, and we should just accept that and treat his late career projects as mildly diverting exercises in mannerism and waffling. Demme, however, hasn’t just made something better than The Manchurian Candidate. He’s not just made his best film since Silence of the Lambs. He’s made his best film since Melvin and Howard. Maybe even better than that. It’s not a return to form, or the late-blooming of a failed but interesting director (his early movies are too good for that insulting appelation). It’s vindication for his fans, proof that the man was an important and fiercely intelligent artist all along, and was just having a bad run that would end one day when the right project came along. In 2008, it finally did. I simply cannot praise it enough.

    I Fail Because I Linkblog

    Yes, linkblogging. Is there anything lower? Sadly, a post I had hoped to finish today on the train was ruined by many factors, including fatigue from lack of sleep, loss of inspiration, and being surrounded by dreary people in dreary suits talking about office politics into their mobile phones at great length and volume. I have to stay away from these people, as they live off the good vibes of the rest of us. So, because I reckon that excuses me from guilt over lazy posting, here are three articles I have enjoyed today, and a trailer for a film I cannot wait to see.

    Popular Mechanics appears to be big on Lost, and have consulted noted physicist Michio Kaku about the time-travelling stuff. I thought for a moment he was watching the show, but I doubt that’s the case. They do have Mythbuster Adam Savage blogging about it, though. Who do I prefer? Well, Kaku, in his popular science book Hyperspace, did explain how the universe exists in more than three spatial dimensions with far more clarity than most, but Adam Savage (with Jamie Hyneman) proved that a ceiling fan couldn’t decapitate a human being unless powered by a crazy motor that one time, so he wins.

    Also in Popular Mechanics, they pick their favourite FX scenes of the year. They make some interesting points, and praise some underrated moments from the year, including the huge amount of thought put into the way teleportation works in Jumper, the crazy colours and energy in the first stage of the Casa Cristo 5000 race from Speed Racer, and the forest elemental scene from Hellboy II. All great scenes, all ignored by the effects techs who vote as Academy members. Fuck ‘em.

    Finally, Slate has this fantastic drubbing of Slumdog Millionaire, which deconstructs the goddamn movie with far more pith and eloquence than I ever could. I thoroughly recommend it if you, too, have refused to acquiesce to the insane pod-person collective drool over this vacuous nonsense. In fact, I’m angrier about its success now than I was last week. Hopefully I’ll get to explain why tomorrow.

    Check it out! New Coraline trailer!

    Hopefully this will finally make Henry Selick a household name, instead of him being known as that guy who worked on that Tim Burton movie once.

    Right, I have to sleep. Posted without editing, so forgive broken links, spelling mistakes, pointlessness etc.

    Lost – Before You Left / The Lie

    The return of my favourite show of the last five years that doesn’t feature a team of corrupt cops in LA or a foulmouthed barkeep in the Wild West is normally a cause for celebration. Proper Bacchanalian celebration with enough fireworks to blast the moon out of orbit. And yet, this week’s two-episode season premiere happened with barely any fanfare on this blog or in my brain. Partially it’s because, as I said in this post, I’m busy and distracted by unavoidable and unpleasant RL stuff, which has dampened my usual enthusiasm, but it’s also because Lost, a show whose main attraction, certainly for a lot of its fanbase, is its willingness to spin plates and tease us with answers to questions that turn out to be questions themselves. It’s been thrilling to go on this journey, but we’re approaching the end, and those questions will now be answered with answers, and my confidence in the show’s ability to excite me faltered during the hiatus.

    Certainly that is not the only reason to love it, but it’s what makes Lost more than just an entertaining sci fi show. The speculation is half of the fun, and as someone said a while back, as we find out more about the central mystery, options for possible answers collapse like eigenstates, leaving us with what will eventually be a much more conventional story than some of us have expected. In the past I’ve tried to keep my own theories conservative, but even so, and even though I love the show like crazy, I don’t expect anything out of leftfield any more. Other than an hour of shirtless Sawyer.


    That said, I’ve been expecting that shift for a while now, and thought last season would feature a closing down of possibilities, but it actually featured even more pleasantly obfuscating craziness than I had expected, including Ben’s summoning of Smokey, Richard Alpert and Matthew Abaddon’s interest in Locke’s childhood, the frozen donkey wheel, and Claire’s internment in Jacob’s shack, to name just a few. This season, however, I had a suspicion that we would see the show become a little more conventional as the WTFs get addressed in a less mystical manner, and the two episode season opener didn’t dissuade me from that belief.

    Part of it is the possibility that some of the theories will turn out to be correct, meaning some of our expectations will be satisfied instead of confounded. Lost may be the only mystery story told where the fans will become increasingly frustrated by a story resolving itself with answers (note that I said fans, by which I mean the Lostpedia-surfing hardcore, not the majority of fans, who will almost certainly be thrilled). One theory thrown about that seemed likely was that the whispers heard on the island were from the survivors, that some time-travelling weirdness had thrown them back in time, so that they were observing what was going on and commenting on it from a nearby treeline.


    This opener strengthened that theory, though it had the added twist of showing us Dharma activity that we would otherwise never have seen. That was a great use of the time travel dynamic, and the showrunners seem committed to keeping continuity on the table and paradox off it, but then, just to piss me off, we also had Faraday meeting Desmond during his Swan station tenure, which lead to his conveniently timed memory flash back in the present (i.e. three years after leaving the island), which smacked of contrivance.


    Why did that memory return at that point? The only reason is because the story needed it for full dramatic effect, which either means some uncharacteristically shoddy plotting on the part of the showrunners, or the satisfaction of the audience has suddenly become a variable in the Lostverse. I know I’ve said before that I love how the showrunners have made the fans’ speculation part of their storytelling process, but that would be a step too far.

    To be honest, that part of the show is in danger of running amok. Too many fan in-jokes and winks at the audience cluttered these episodes, which were otherwise committed to rattling off as much backstory and plot as possible. It was a bit cutesy, and while that might have been a corrective against too much downbeat atmospherics, the show drew attention to itself in a way it hasn’t done before. That’s not to say I didn’t find it funny. Ben and Richard Alpert had some funny moments, for instance, and Neil Frogurt’s death by flaming arrow jolted a laugh out of me even while I thought it was a bit of a laboured gag. Even so, it was already hard to take Sayid’s lengthy incapacitation seriously, in that it seemed like a contrived way to keep Sayid out of the picture while Hurley wrestled with his demons, as well as giving Hurley space to get arrested at the end.


    Add to that the absurd sight of him being carted from one location to another like, as many have already stated, Bernie from Weekend at Bernie’s, and the traditionally broad Hurley-centric episodes written by Kitsis and Horowitz did a good job of dissipating the suspense of Cuselof’s opener (it feels wrong to add that movie to the list of works of art that have influenced this show). Perhaps aired individually the episodes might have worked a bit better, though we wouldn’t have had the phrase “Then God help us” uttered by Chang and Hawking at the beginning and end of the two-parter respectively. That’s a touch I didn’t pick up on first time around. (Check out the candles framing Miss Hawking’s face. Lovely.)


    Of course, it wasn’t all bad. Having the remaining survivors a-bippin’ an’ a-boppin’ through time removes one of my concerns about season five; that we would see the Oceanic Six get exclusive screentime for a couple of episodes before heading back to the island, where we would then have flashbacks of what had happened on the island during those three years. That could have been confusing, as we would be getting on-island footage from two time-periods at once, which has never been a problem before.

    Also, after having the show’s format shaken up last season, the possibility of on-island flashbacks would have seemed like a step back even though the content of those flashbacks would have been exciting. Instead, we’ve got the entertaining twist that the characters are now experiencing those flashbacks firsthand, participating in them and commenting on them. The best parts of this two-parter were spent trying to figure out what was going on and where everyone was within the chronology. The off-island stuff didn’t excite anywhere near as much, especially Hurley’s long-drawn-out crisis of confidence, which seemed contrived and inconsequential despite some terrific work from Jorge Garcia. I especially liked his Flying Hot Pocket of Death maneuver.


    In terms of “what the hell is going on?”, my Sirens of Titan theory (scroll down) is still viable, though it is hinted here that it’s not time agents trying to maintain the temporal status quo but time itself, which brings back nostalgic memories of Sapphire and Steel, where Time was sentient and evil. Here it seems like it is somehow patching itself up when damaged by the obnoxious actions of humans who are either trying to harness the power of the Frozen Donkey Wheel Chamber, or are unstuck in time like the few remaining Oceanic survivors.


    In fact, just a quick look through the online speculation about the most recent “revelations” (can anything on this show ever be considered definitive enough to be referred to as a revelation?) shows that many people consider this season to be more in debt to Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse 5, with its timelost protagonist Billy Pilgrim skipping from time period to time period. As I’ve yet to read that, I can’t comment, and so will stick with my main theory for now. Certainly, that amazing opening sequence, with Pierre Chang being shadowed by Faraday, suggests there is going to be a lot of the back-history of the show caused by our protagonists.

    But, as I said, any satisfaction I will get from correctly predicting what is going on (if indeed I am on the right tracks) will be tempered by my frustration at not being surprised by the mystery. I’d much rather be caught out by something than suss it out. Puzzle narratives often frustrate me, even though I love them. I remember desperately hoping that Gabriel Byrne really was Keyser Soze, as postulated by Chazz Palminteri at the end of The Usual Suspects, as I’d figured out it was Kevin Spacey early on and wanted to be proved wrong.


    That’s why Lost‘s emotional drama is the thing that will separate it from the usual puzzle narratives. Whatever the mystery turns out to be, the truly important answers will concern the fates of the characters. Is Charlotte doomed to die in horrible pain like Minkowski? Will Penny be murdered by Ben? Will Jack find peace? Is Jin alive? Is anyone actually dead? What’s going to happen to Walt? Is Locke really going to lead anyone at any point, or is he doomed to be throwing knives from the bushes for the rest of the series? I’m sure when the final episode airs non-fans will be carping that the final revelations are not that impressive, but to the fans, that won’t be what we take from it. We care about these characters, and we’ll be alternately happy and upset depending on who prevails and who dies. Knowing that the final mystery revealed is the identity of Adam and Eve, I expect there will be tears.

    A lot of these concerns have been rattling through my head for a while now, and a lot of it is pointless worry that will be rendered moot as the show progresses. However, the two episode opener was still a little disappointing on first viewing, though a second viewing and reading fan feedback on the net has made me fonder of them. My upset is obviously a symptom of my current malaise, as I took some silly things way too seriously, allowing them to fester in my mind until they all added up to proof that the show had finally gone off the boil. ::sigh:: This is all because I got depressed upon hearing Drew Goddard had left the show to make Cabin in the Woods with Whedon, you know.


    So what were the things that bugged me? There’s an absolutely terribly written and performed newscast at one point that shocked me, for one. It always amazes me how often news broadcasts in shows or films come off as unconvincing facsimiles of the real thing. There’s a template for news pieces that anyone with even the most fundamental knowledge of journalism could emulate, but so often it doesn’t happen. For Crom’s sake, the news-speak on The Day Today is the best example of a fake news programme sounding just like a real one, even though that features news stories about John Major beating up the Queen and a horse infestation in the London underground. Why can’t anything else get it that right?

    Sorry, personal bugbear. There was also some dreadfully on-the-nose dialogue, which might have been a consequence of the show rushing through so much plot, but even so, something like Charlotte responding to Faraday’s enquiry into her health by cheerfully commenting that she had forgotten her mother’s maiden name fell from our screen with a dull clang. Hurley’s sudden obsession with the truth and his vow to never help Sayid again (prior to seeing him help Sayid) was another example that irked. Though, as I said earlier, it’s tempered by my respect for Garcia, especially during his tearful confession scene, which was one of the highlights of the opener.


    Some plot mechanics were equally contrived. Considering Hurley is supposed to have killed three people, the police did a lousy job of looking for him. The visit to his house was awfully polite, with a bit of a chat with Cheech Marin before leaving without turning the place upside-down, and again, later letting Cheech drive away without searching the car, or getting someone to tail him. Of course, if I turns out they are agents of Widmore I take it back, though surely they would be even more ruthless.


    Also annoying was the show’s sudden over-reliance on last minute reveals. A door opens. Someone pulls Hurley over and… It’s Ghost-Ana-Lucia! WTF? Kate says hi to someone who is not facing us and… It’s Sun! Dun dun duuuuun! Someone gets some beer out of a fridge. He walks up some stairs and… It’s Frank! OMG! A man gets out of bed, listens to some Willie Nelson, gets ready for work, walks in front of a camera and… Holy shit, it’s Dr. Pierre Chang! Outrageous! By the end of the second episode it was getting ridiculous, even though the reveals of Ana-Lucia, Ethan Rom, and Miss Hawking were surprising (less so for Michelle Rodriguez, as her appearance had been spoiled for me a while back). If the show is going to rely on this kind of silly delay-and-reveal stuff for the rest of the season, I’ll be seriously pissed.


    Speaking of Pierre Chang, aka François Chau (who, bizarrely, played Shredder in Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles II: The Secret of the Ooze), he sure as hell delivered his dialogue at an outrageous acting volume. Until now he’s only been asked to intone Dharma info for the initiation videos, but here he gets to bellow warnings about dangerous time-energy leakages. It was hardly subtle. But enough of this carping. There was much to praise, as there always is. If Chang was performed at an inappropriately hysterical pitch, the performances from the huge main cast was invariably spot on and filled with character.


    Kudos especially to Yunjin Kim, who only had a couple of scenes but performed them brilliantly. Her transformation into creepy angel of vengeance is complete, her conversation with Kate brimming with barely suppressed rage. Her role in the outcome of this story is completely up in the air right now, but if I were Jack, I’d be worried. And probably crying about something or other.


    I’m now completely over my dislike of Jeremy Davies and his seemingly bottomless bag of acting tics. He grew on me in the fourth season, and in these episodes, trying to keep his scattered brain in check and presenting a face of calm to the survivors even as Charlotte’s fate becomes unclear, he was fantastic. Seeing him hanging around in the cave that will become the Orchid station will be remembered as one of the great Lost WTF moments, though I suspect this means he’s doomed to do something incredibly bad in order to save Charlotte. Some online speculation has brought up the possibility of his actions bringing about The Incident, even though that seemed localised around Swan station, not Orchid, though it’s telling that Chang is filming his Arrow orientation video while wearing a Swan coat.


    There’s talk this is a continuity flub, but I’m not so sure. Time will tell. (Geddit?!?!?)


    Terry O’Quinn had some great moments too, abruptly left alone only moments after inheriting control over the Others. His terror was especially affecting, as even the visit by Alpert could do nothing to calm him down. Only a spot of murderous knife-flinging in the final scenes seemed to restore his equilibrium. Now that he’s saved Juliet and Sawyer I think I can forgive him for killing Naomi. Speaking of Locke, his scene with Alpert was surprisingly unambiguous, but has thrown up several interesting questions about where Lost is heading, and it all revolves around a compass.


    Lostpedia maintains that this compass, that Alpert gives Locke to give back to himself at a later date, is indeed the same one shown to Young John Locke by Alpert in the episode Cabin Fever, though it does look a bit different so who can say, but of course, if this compass is indeed the same one, then Locke will probably go back in time to before that moment, hand the compass over to Alpert, tell him who he is, and then disappear again. Following that, Alpert will track Locke down, and show him this compass in the hopes that he will recognise it. That struck me as odd at first. Wouldn’t Alpert realise that Young Locke has no way of recognising an object that he doesn’t yet own? However, it’s entirely in keeping with what’s going on, and only confused me because I’d been so distracted by the connection between the multiple choice question Alpert asked Locke and its similarity to the ceremony used by Panchen Lamas to find the next Dalai Lama. It was actually a very straight question; Alpert thought Young Locke already had a compass like that one. Instead Young Locke just picked up a knife because… what? He wants to be an adventurer? He’s a potentially violent guy with serious issues? Who knows.


    The suspicion among Lost speculators is that Locke was visited by Alpert because he is somehow destined to be leader of the Others/Hostiles because the island willed it to be so. Instead, mysticism is not part of it at all. Alpert had already met Locke, and was chasing him down to find answers to this peculiar riddle in his past. That’s all. At least, that’s how it seems right now. This is the first time in a while that the idea that the island is somehow sentient, something speculators had been taking for granted, is off the table. Are we now entering a period when we visit the idea that the scientific anomaly that lies within the island has inspired different kinds of religious awe in the gullible population? Do the Others and the Dharma Initiative represent the battle between religion and science for the minds of the world? Seeing Miss Hawking doing very complicated maths in the basement of a church suggests there is maybe a reconciliation between the two.


    It strikes me that these two episodes, despite featuring a lot of new information, didn’t leave as much room for speculation as usual. They were pretty straight forward, which is probably why I have been complaining about how the possibilities are closing down. Instead of the curious meandering that has thrilled me and a number of other crazed fans, it delivered more pace instead, either through expositiony dialogue, which pissed me off, or with action, especially a thrilling night attack with flaming arrows, of all things.


    Anyway, I’m not really that worried about the show, especially after seeing the first two again. It’s just where my head is at right now, tainting almost everything I watch with sour emotions. Hopefully I can get myself together and properly appraise this season as it unfolds. Word has it the next episode, Jughead, is a corker. I hope so. Before then, some observations about miscellaneous moments from the opener.

    Kinda weird to find out that Ben’s League of Time-Travelling Commandos includes a butcher. Later on we see Miss Hawking surrounded by candles. It’s only a matter of time before Ben visits a baker and says something cryptic like, “The yeast is rising. If we’re going to stop Widmore, I need you to make a batch of Death Ciabatta. Or some Maim Bagels.”


    I didn’t see the credits on this episode, but I was wondering if anyone was listed as Jack’s Sweat Wrangler.


    Perspiration Spritzer? Withdrawal Emulation Expert – H2O? A shot of his back made Canyon speculate on how stinky Jack is right now. I didn’t need to be thinking about that. Kate is very upset to find out that she is no longer the stinkiest person on the show.


    I love how Hurley’s house is full of absolute crap bought using his winnings. A lovely touch. I could have shown about twenty screengrabs of that location, all cluttered with horrible out-of-place tat.


    Awesome cameo work from William Mapother as everyone’s favourite anagrammatic Other, Ethan Rom. His hair was also very entertaining. It looks about ten shades darker than it did before. Real life vanity? Or just a way to try to make him look younger?


    Would you buy a used chance-at-redemption from this man? Look at that smile! It’s more insincere and unconvincing than Gwyneth Paltrow’s efforts to portray herself as the upper-class white Oprah.


    Yay it’s Frank! They got him back for this episode, so hopefully that means we’ll get more of him. If not, the United Brotherhood of Frank Lapidus Fans (UBFLuFf) will have something to say about that.


    Is everyone with me on the, “OMG Sawyer, Juliet is a way better fit for you than Kate!” thing? Look at them! The combined hottness is almost impossible to comprehend.


    Though Sawyer really needs to cool down. His barely suppressed fury over what he thinks is the death of his beloved Kate was a sight to behold. It’s a testament to Josh Holloway’s evolution as an actor that he managed to be funny, scary, and tragic, all while wearing nothing but a pair of jeans.


    Cheer up Desmond and Penny! It might never happen, though if it does, there’s always a chance you’ll have to experience it twice, what with all the time-travelling and whatnot.


    Who the hell is Jones? And how did he like having a Locke-rock right in the chops?


    In the “previously on” we see Sayid with his post-island straight hair, which looks like it took a long time to style. Look what happens once he’s killed two men using gravity and a fully-loaded dishwasher; instant Jarrah curls.


    Yet again Locke falls off something, and is rendered unable to move, though thankfully it wasn’t an eight-storey drop this time. I guess the show will still be having echoes of echoes even though the original format has been ditched for this meta-format.


    Is Sayid the baddestass badass in the world of TV? Okay, so Jack Bauer beheads pedophiles, breaks people’s necks whilst having a heart attack, and enjoys snacking on terrorist-throat, but Sayid kills a man – using a dishwasher! – after being hit by two tranq darts. I think that counts for something. If he had the chance, Sayid would eat all the throats, I bet.


    Speaking of badasses, there is evidence that Juliet is becoming a badass. What evidence I hear you ask? Here is a picture of her with a gun.


    That is all.

    BBC Breakfast Watch! Bill Turnbull Gets Pictorially PWNed

    It’s been a while since I’ve watched this with a proper amount of attention, but I just had to mention this morning’s edition. As Gordon Brown has been revealed to have a thin skin about political cartoons depicting him as too fat, Sian and Bill spoke to cartoonist Martin Rowson about it. Turns out Rowson once met Brown before he became Chancellor, and after asking him a serious question about economics, Brown chided him for the corpulence of his lampoons. This, apparently, stuck in Rowson’s craw, which is why he, in particular, draws Brown as especially large.

    Anyway, after discussing his methods for a while, Bill and Sian made nervous comments about Rowson sizing them up for a drawing, and he revealed that he already had. Sorry for the crappy quality of this picture, but I had to use my terrible phone to take a shot of it. (Click on it for more detail. Oh, and copyright Martin Rowson, obviously.)


    I’m not sure what’s going on with Sian, but his depiction of Bill is genius. This picture, provided for comparison, doesn’t do the accuracy of the caricature justice, sadly.


    Of course Bill, being the delicate flower he is, took massive umbrage at it, and made sniffy remarks for the next few minutes. At first it seemed like he was trying to laugh off his “jowly” appearance, as Sian put it, but when she tried to pat his chins he got a bit arsy, and cutting back to them after a news bulletin he seemed genuinely annoyed. I loved every second of it.

    Quick celebrity encounter story: I met Rowson once at a talk with political comic writer/artist Joe Sacco at the ICA. While waiting to get my copy of Notes From a Defeatist, Rowson walked past and I collared him to thank him for a deeply offensive and hilarious cartoon about the Orange Walk that had just taken place with its typical levels of controversy. I think he thought I was going to tell him off about it. Poor guy. He was very nice about it. Joe Sacco was lovely as well. We chatted about his comic strip of a guy rebelling against work by furiously masturbating, and I said it put my frustrations about work into a much-needed perspective. He signed my book with an exhortation to get out of my soul-crushing job ASAP*, but I was so flustered about the growing queue of fans behind me that I rushed away without looking at what he wrote until later. He looked hurt that I didn’t react to his generous message, which I still feel bad about even to this day.

    Anyway, here’s my favourite picture by Rowson in a while, dealing with the BBC’s rejection of a DEC-endorsed appeal for Gaza, and the return of humour-void Jonathan Ross to TV. And yes, I didn’t say much about Bill and Sian, did I. It was just me expressing a burst of delicious schadenfreude, that’s all.

    * Funny I should recall that now.

    Morpheus Saves My Ass, And Not For The First Time

    CSI is not usually known for its uplifting qualities, dealing as it does with the nastiest elements of humanity, especially with its trademark forensic attention to minute, grisly detail. Nevertheless, this week’s episode, The Grave Shift, which featured the first episode starring Laurence “Morpheus” Fishburne as Dr. Raymond Langston was, at least to this fan, the right installment at the right time.


    I don’t want to dwell on real-life issues too much, as this blog was always meant to be a place for me, Canyon and Masticator to dissect the pop culture that has affected us, but I can’t talk about this wonderful hour of TV without giving up a little bit about myself. At the moment I’m staring redundancy in the face, and while there are huge benefits to this, and much to be happy about, there is also uncertainty, fear of the unknown, the prospect of that first day in a new environment. If you’re wondering why this blog has recently been updated so sporadically and indifferently, that’s why. I know I’m not alone in this, and this is not a big deal in the scheme of things, but it is affecting me, though I am lucky to have Canyon’s wonderful and much-needed support and advice to temper it all.

    Even so, it’s hard to concentrate on things while in this state of emotional flux, and it’s distracted me enough to make me disapprove of the first two episodes of the new season of Lost, a situation which is unprecedented. Suspecting the onset of acute anhedonia, I’ve almost felt like ignoring TV until the situation improves, but luckily I didn’t go that far, and last night we watched The Grave Shift with grins on our faces.


    As I’ve mentioned before, the prospect of one of my favourite actors taking over from William Petersen was a cause for celebration even though I didn’t want to see Gil leave. More importantly, I was tentatively confident that his arrival would be handled well. This optimism was bolstered by some evidence, such as the entertaining Gil-hiatus when Liev Schreiber guest-starred as the deeply troubled Michael Keppler, which showed that the showrunners can do great work introducing characters when they put their mind to it. However, there were also botched introductions, like Jessica Lucas’ minor stint as CSI Ronnie Lake, or Lauren Lee Smith’s Riley Adams, who was added to the team with as much abruptness as Louise Lombard many moons ago. Even after half a season I have no idea who this person is except to note that she’s a bit rude sometimes. As we already have Brass, Hodges and Doc Robbins filling that role, I don’t see what we’re gaining by having her around.

    My optimism paid off. Langston’s first appearances in the previous two-part serial killer episode were a great teaser, showing a smart and capable man afflicted by a touch of self-doubt and much enthusiasm, which is a weird combination of traits you don’t get to see in fiction every day. In his first full episode, Fishburne does an amazing job of making Langston a distinct character not just from his new CSI colleagues, but pretty much anyone else on TV. Meticulous, eager, jumpy, earnest, and a little bit out of his depth, Fishburne manages the incredibly difficult task of immediately manifesting a well-fleshed-out character the audience can warm to even as it mourns the loss of its most popular character.


    Well, okay, I speak for myself there. I know what opinion is like on the internets, and I’m not about to go looking for other takes on it, as I’m sure there will be a lot of carping and whining about how the show is ruined now Gil is gone. The worrying drop in viewing figures suggests hardcore Grissom fans are not willing to hang around to see what the new guy is like. Whatever. For those of us who remain, this episode was a terrific introduction, for us, for Langston and, funnily enough, for David Weddle and Bradley Thompson, the excellent Battlestar Galactica writing duo whose names popped up as producers in the credits of this season’s opener. This was the first episode credited to them as writers, and in a meta-comment on their new position, it concerned Langston’s first day on the job: learning the ropes, making mistakes, breaking a case, figuring out the office politics and making friends.


    My favourite character moments in the show revolved around Hodges, whose depression following Gil’s departure manifests as bitter hostility towards Langston. As an audience surrogate anticipating the traditional internet reaction to change (i.e. fruitless carping and shocking levels of entitlement), Hodges’ reaction was perfect, as was Langston’s initial frustration and subsequent efforts to win him over. Utilising Hodges’ help to crack an arson case, Langston provided us with a nifty set of facts about bomb-making on a budget, and then gave us a nice big explosion as a bonus. It’s a textbook way to win the audience over. Look! He’s doing it onscreen. Get over it, whiny schmucks.


    At the same time we see the rest of the team adjust to Gil’s departure and the new power structure in the lab, with Catherine in charge (a promotion I have been hoping would happen for years now), Ecklie given the job of undersheriff, and Nick turning Gil’s office into a communal workplace for the whole team. Pretty much every decision made by the showrunners has hit the spot dead on, anticipating fan reaction brilliantly. Seriously, this is probably a naïve thing to say, but if anyone watched this episode and didn’t like any of the adjustments made, I just can’t take their protestatons seriously. There are so many ways to fluff a major overhaul to a show, but this one has been handled superbly. I was thrilled by the thought that had been put into it.

    That, however, is not why the show salved my aching worryglands. As we were seeing Langston’s first day on the job, we saw him make errors (wrecking a print due to overzealous powdering), overstep boundaries (confronting a father who hits his son), and offer help to someone who literally spits in his face, an act that made me furious even though it’s only a TV show.


    (An aside. At first this scene pissed me off, as I don’t want our new hero dissed by some ungrateful little punk, but it is framed almost exactly like Horatio’s super-earnest and patronising discussions with the various orphans left in the wake of the crime wave perpetuated by Miami’s resident Nazis, drug barons, cannibals, nuclear terrorists, and time-travelling octopoid Martian overlords. Instead of that faux-heroic idiocy, Langstrom reaches out because he thinks it’s the right thing to do, and it goes horribly wrong. Are the showrunners trying to reassure us that CSI: Classic isn’t going the way of its drooling moron cousin? Maybe.)

    Despite these setbacks, he prevails through determination and curiosity, absorbing the advice of his new colleagues, adapting to challenges, and patiently practising the things he has learned. Throughout the episode we journey with him, learning as much new information as he does; no mean feat considering how long this show has been going and how much the fans have already picked up (did you know arson victims’ brains boil, and the steam escapes through the natural cracks in the skull? I didn’t, and I kinda wish I didn’t). The attention to detail, and the eagerness to impart new trivia, was a joy to behold.


    Langston won me over in the first few minutes, meticulously preparing for his first day, dressing in inappropriate but precise clothing, and throwing himself into work with huge enthusiasm. Now we have someone who is enthusiastic about the job, whereas the series has spent a couple of seasons dealing with the toll it has taken on the team’s psyche. For the first time in a while, Gil’s initial playfulness has been returned via Langstrom’s willingness to engage with the job. Just to seal the deal, his selection of relevant fingerprint powder, complete with a nifty snap of his wrist, was, for want of a better word, adorable (I never thought I would say that about Laurence Fishburne). It was such a nice touch that it is now immortalised in the title sequence. Sweet! It instantly rivals Alec Baldwin’s dramatic turn in 30 Rock‘s titles as best credit moment on TV right now.


    This was just what I needed. Though I’m never going to have a job as fascinating and semi-glamorous as being a criminalist with the fictional Las Vegas CSI team, it was still inspiring to see someone embrace the possibility of an exciting and inspiring new career instead of dreading the future, as I have in my darker moments. Langston’s attitude cheered me up immensely, and though I expect that to be temporary, it was a nice respite from stupidly fretting and making myself miserable. My gratitude to the cast and crew is hereby immortalised via blog, for them to stumble across somehow.

    Adventures In Awesome: Want! Now! (4)

    While wasting time farting about on AV Club last night, the subject of Brasseye and The Day Today came up during a discussion of UK comedy, as it usually does. Understandable, considering the massive effect it had on pretty much everyone who saw it and clasped it to their bosom. Even though it was broadcast over a decade ago, I can’t think of any other UK comedy that has come close to that level of brilliance except The Thick Of It. Don’t get me wrong, I have loved many shows made since then; Father Ted and Black Books, The Office, Garth Marenghi’s Darkplace, Big Train, and Outnumbered spring to mind immediately, and my DVDs of those shows comprise almost the entirety of my UK TV collection amid swathes of US boxsets. Even so, none of those shows have had the same effect on me as Chris Morris’ work. Here is the great man hanging around at CERN, which he apparently visited recently.


    During the AV Club chat, I remembered the radio predecessor to The Day Today; On The Hour, four episodes of which had previously been released by the BBC. My cassette copy bit the dust a while back from overuse, leaving me bereft. But now my pain is over. Inspired by that seemingly pointless chat, a quick search revealed that I had been horribly oblivious to Warp Records’ release of the complete On The Hour in two CD boxsets (and on iTunes).


    My life is a little more complete now. Finally I can find out what happened to Alan Partridge and his zombie wife after all these years (On The Hour was possibly even more willing to indulge in flights of fancy than the TV version, which was hobbled by budget restrictions, obviously). This revelation – which is old news to fans, I’m sure – comes after the recent screening of Armando Iannucci’s feature debut, In The Loop, the feature version of The Thick of It, at Sundance.


    This is probably the movie I’m most excited about this year (and have already gone on about it at length), a fact made even more remarkable by the fact that it’s made by BBC Films, who had seemed to have abandoned their boldness (see their previous support for Lynne Ramsay and Pawel Pawlikowski as a kind of proof) in favour of endless costume dramas and literary navel-gazing. A new version of Brideshead Revisited? An out-of-date adaptation of Richard Yates’ Revolutionary Road? The love life of Dylan Thomas? It’s been a crummy 2008 for them, especially as the other major film investor in the UK, FilmFour, had returned from financial collapse to bring us In Bruges, Hunger, and Slumdog Millionaire. Yes yes, I might not like that film, but it’s way more daring than some turgid, poorly-cast adaptation of The Other Boleyn Girl.


    Luckily for BBC Films, they now have a roster containing In The Loop, An Education (starring Carey “Sally Sparrow” Mulligan and Peter Sarsgaard sans his recent egregious Trigorin beard that he had cultivated for his run in The Seagull), Grant Heslov’s directorial debut Men Who Stare At Goats, the Churchill-tastic Into The Storm, Bright Star (yes, a historical drama about literary figures, but it’s by Jane Campion so I’m bound to be interested), Martin Campbell’s remake of his rightly celebrated Edge of Darkness, and Andrea Arnold’s Fish Tank, which will hopefully be as good as her excellent feature debut Red Road. Fair to say things are looking up. Those first two movies, Loop and Education, have been shown at Sundance, and according to Storyville editor Nick Fraser and Indie journo Gaynor Flynn, they have been rapturously embraced by audiences. It’s rare that I endorse UK culture on this blog, but when it’s promising, or distinct, or truly wonderful, it needs to be praised to the highest of high heavens.

    Let Down By The Academy Again

    The nominations are out as of yesterday, and in my annual mid-January funk I have looked at them, blinked, and mentally walked away to do something else (i.e. job searching). Recently I added a poll about outlandish potential nominations to the sidebar, and when I did it I figured I had come up with some odd choices, but maybe one or two long shots. Now I see that unless the movie’s title contains the words Slumdog or Curious, or is about a Nazi cougar, its chances were slimmer than a creepily enyoungenised CGI Cate Blanchett. Here are the results of that ill-fated poll…

    Which Highly Unlikely Oscar Nom Would Please You Most?

  • Actor – Robert Downey Jr. (Iron Man) – 7 (33%)
  • Original Screenplay – Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg (Pineapple Express) – 4 (19%)
  • Director – Martin McDonagh (In Bruges) – 3 (14%)
  • Supporting Actor – Aaron Eckhart (The Dark Knight) – 3 (14%)
  • Actress – Frances McDormand (Burn After Reading) – 1 (4%)
  • Photography – Caleb Deschanel (The Spiderwick Chronicles) – 1 (4%)
  • Art Direction – Peter Francis (Hellboy 2) – 1 (4%)
  • Visual Effects – Speed Racer – 1 (4%)
  • Supporting Actress – Emily Mortimer (Redbelt) – 0 (0%)
  • Costume Design – Eiko Ishioka (The Fall) – 0 (0%)
  • Foreign Language Picture – Let The Right One In – 0 (0%)
  • Adapted Screenplay – David Gordon Green (Snow Angels) – 0 (0%)

  • Winning the poll with ease was Robert Downey Jr. For his pitch-perfect personification of Tony Stark in Iron Man. As the nomination date approached it became increasingly obvious that he would be given a nod for his work as Kirk Lazarus in Tropic Thunder, but I had still hoped that we would see a superhero getting some Best Actor love. It’s hard to be bitter about it, though. Of the four actor nominations I’ve seen, three are definitely worthy, and the fourth, Brad Pitt, was good but varied little through the running time of the film. We’ve not yet seen The Visitor, but Richard Jenkins is wonderful in everything (he’s very funny in Step Brothers), so I can’t imagine he would suddenly suck in this.


    Next up is Seth Rogen and Evan Goldberg for their Pineapple Express script, which shares Superbad’s seemingly effortless air while being drumtight and superbly structured. In fact, possibly the only other original script that surpasses this for structural brilliance and comic genius is Martin McDonagh’s phenomenally good work on In Bruges, which got a well-deserved nomination. Though I think McDonagh should walk it, I reckon Dustin Lance Black will get it for Milk. As Canyon said to me earlier, Best Original Script often goes to the movie that has been nominated for a few big prizes but doesn’t win them (Good Will Hunting and Fargo spring to mind), and Milk won’t get any of the more visible awards, so it’ll win here instead. Wall*E is guaranteed Best Animated Picture, Frozen River might have a shot though it would be a very long one (another movie we’ve not yet seen so I can’t judge that with 100% accuracy), and In Bruges and Happy-Go-Lucky have no other nominations to lose, so this one’s in the bag for the Big Love writer. I may not have liked how closely it hewed to the biopic template, and it was on the nose a bit too often for my liking, but it was by no means terrible.


    Speaking of In Bruges, some people agreed with me that McDonagh deserved a nomination for his sure-handed direction. Though I think the most impressive directorial debut of the year was Steve McQueen on Hunger, McDonagh did great work on In Bruges, especially on the low budget he had. Of the actual nominees, the most personally upsetting is David Fincher. I’ve long adored the guy’s work, but now he gets praise for his flattest movie. I’ll defend everything else he’s done, and yes that means Alien3, The Game and Panic Room, all of which I like/love, but this is a nothing movie that just happens to contain some of the most amazing technical film work of the decade. If it were up to me, someone would hand over the award to Gus Van Sant right now (Canyon has even admitted a Ron Howard win would make her happy, as she loved Frost/Nixon so much), but instead it’ll be Fincher or Boyle. The money is on the latter right now.


    Aaron Eckhart’s superb work as Harvey Dent didn’t just thrill me, I’m very happy to say, but again, not enough Academy members agreed. I guess he could accept Heath Ledger’s Oscar when he inevitably wins. Again, that would be a win I could live with, though it’s hard to generate that much enthusiasm for it. No amount of awards is going to bring him back, after all. Other than that, I did enjoy Michael Shannon’s hatstand performance as The Craziest Man In Suburbia in Revolutionary Road, but I don’t think it should win.


    Frances McDormand gets a single vote for her terrific work in Burn After Reading, and believe me, I considered adding Brad Pitt to this list as well; he’s almost there in Benjamin Button but he totally nails it in this. His scenes with McDormand are the highlights of the movie. Anyway, she didn’t get a nomination (for a comedy?!?! Are you mad?!!?!!?!?!???!), but Kate “Gather” Winslet did for The Reader, and not her blistering work as The Unhappiest Woman In Suburbia in Revolutionary Road. We’ve not yet see The Reader (actually, we’ve not seen any of the Best Actress films, shamefully, though we’re working on it), but no matter how good she is, it does smack of self-parody that the Academy has given her a nomination for playing an illiterate former Nazi from youth to old age. They really don’t give a shit about how ridiculous their choices seem, do they.


    Someone else saw The Spiderwick Chronicles! And they loved Caleb Deschanel’s radiant photography as much as I did, which is nice. It’s one of the most visually impressive movies of the year, with some lovely naturalistic effects that look as beautifully lit as the sets. If only more people were interested in seeing it. Of the actual nominees, I’m pleased to see the awesome Wally Pfister get recognition for his Dark Knight photography, and am convinced Claudio Miranda will walk it for making Benjamin Button look so gorgeous. That said, I’ve not seen Changeling or The Reader, and Daldry’s Nazi-sex-book-fest is lit by the unstoppable double-team of Chris Menges and King Deakin (whose work here is hopefully more interesting than Revolutionary Road), so that stands a very good chance. As long as Anthony Dod Mantle doesn’t win for his gaudy Slumdog photography, a seriously headache-inducing melange of nasty colours, showy focus-tricks, and those fucking Dutch tilts. Compared to Robert Yeoman’s pristine work on The Darjeeling Limited from 2007, Dod Mantle’s obnoxious work looks empty, ugly, and needlessly complex.


    Peter Francis’ art direction on Hellboy II, which got a single vote here, was ignored by the Academy, and I have to say, this was one of the longshots I thought might pay off (the other being Eiko Ishioka’s costume design for TARSEM!s sumptuous The Fall). Instead, the customary praise for the costume dramas means the Troll Market, the BPRD HQ, the Devil’s Causeway, the Brooklyn Bridge set, and the home of the Golden Army gets snubbed, even though they comprise some of the most beautiful environments on screens last year. That snub genuinely angers me, as I had thought Hellboy II had sewn up nominations in a few categories. The make-up nom eases my pain a bit, but it’s still not good enough. Even though I’m happy The Dark Knight got a nomination in this category, I’d rather that went to the Hellboy team instead. Very sad.


    Speed Racer gets a little love, certainly more than was handed to it by the effects community that votes in this category. Just as with John Gaeta’s effects work on Matrix Reloaded and Revolutions, the envelope was well and truly pushed, with new technologies developed, but none of that mattered. The effects work on the three nominees is certainly good (in the case of Benjamin Button, it’s exemplary), but Speed Racer deserved recognition. I guess the Academy members are more desperate to avoid the taint of failure than I had imagined (see also E.T.‘s victory over Blade Runner). Of course, if they had picked Speed Racer they would have been vindicated by history, but they are cowards. COWARDS! [/Crazy John Givings]


    Sadly, some Oscar losers didn’t even get a face-saving vote in this most prestigious of polls. Excluded from Best Supporting Actress, arguably the category containing the worst nominations (Penelope Cruz over Rebecca Hall for Vicky Cristina Barcelona? Taraji P. Henson for her wheezing overacting?), Emily Mortimer wuz robbed, but then she did appear in a limited release martial arts flick from a writer whose recent ramblings about politics have probably made him persona non grata in Hollywood. It’s a shame, as Mortimer gets better with every film, and I gather she was even better in Brad Anderson’s Transiberia.


    I have little to say about the lack of a costume design nomination for Eiko Ishioka on The Fall other than that big blowsy gowns for Keira Knightley are worthy of praise but the astonishing imagination on display in Tarsem’s mad vision get nothing? Are these costume dramas getting nominated solely for research and the amount of work put in? In what universe does The Fall lose out on a nomination, other than our stupid one with shitty taste? Probably none. It’s rare that awesome clothes will make me want to see a movie, but that’s pretty much what happened here. Clothes, people. That’s how good that work was.


    While I’m angry at the Academy voters for that error of judgement, I can’t blame them for not including Let The Right One In, the most intentionally depressing vampire movie ever made. While I’d hesitate to call it ZOMG Best Vampire Tale Ever Told, it’s still a startling and bold movie filled with memorable setpieces and a stunning performance by Lena Leandersson. And yet Sweden was not about to be represented by a horror movie, even one as critically adored as this one, and so entered Everlasting Moments into competition instead. I also gather Let The Right One In was released too late for Sweden to endorse it, so who knows, it might be around next year instead. To be honest, originally I was going to put Gomorrah in this section, but I figured it was bound to get a nomination. This time the snub was due to Academy rules, and this omission is one of many frustrating moviegoers and critics. Well, apparently The Class is very good, and Waltz With Bashir looks interesting even as just a technical showcase, but still, this category has made me sad.


    And Snow Angels got nothing at all either. I honestly thought it would be one of those indies that caught people’s attention even though it was released early in the year, but by December any chatter about Hott Sam Rockwell was about his performance in Choke, and Kate Beckinsale was attracting buzz about Nothing But The Truth with little mention of her impressive work here, and that was all she wrote. A shame. The actual adapted screenplay nominees contain zero surprises. At a push I would pick Frost/Nixon (though who knows what I will think of The Reader or Doubt), but I know it’s going to Eric Roth for The Pointless Repeat of Forrest Gump. Either that or Slumdog. It makes me weep. Or consider weeping. Whatever. It makes me not happy, anyway.

    Is this the worst list of nominees in memory? The little victories (Richard Jenkins, In Bruges) pale next to the wrong (Benjamin Button should not be leading the noms), the frustrating (Dark Knight missing out on Best Picture), the criminal (The Boss not getting Best Song), and the anomalous (Wanted got as many nominations as Frozen River and The Wrestler). ::sigh:: I’ll find some things to root for on the night, but it’s a dispiriting list, full of cowardice and compromise. Anyway, a new poll is on the way. Watch this sporadically updated space!

    The Return of TV, The Departure Of A Blog Feature

    For a while now I have plugged away at writing enormous posts, filled with screengrabs, about the various weeks of TV, a task I once enjoyed and slowly came to dread, simply because even if I had some fun with it the process was horribly time-consuming, which made posting even more irregular than it already was. My reading time was overtaken by attempts at writing comments with every spare moment I got, which eventually became a source of much frustration as my ever-shitty TyTn II phone kept crashing and deleting my work. The last time that happened ended up removing the majority of a Week in TV post, and though I didn’t realise it at the time, it was the final straw. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again; THE TYTN II IS THE WORST PHONE IN THE WORLD! Do not even think of buying that buggy-assed fucking shit.

    So, with the TV season restarting after a Christmas holiday, I might as well admit defeat, even though I have several semi-finished posts filled with pictures littered around the place. Should I even bother finishing the rambling diatribes when I can’t even muster the enthusiasm to do anything with them now that a silly amount of time has passed, and I have now found other projects to concentrate on? I don’t think so.

    So, for now, here is a bit of what I was going to write, just for the sake of keeping track of my responses to the last few weeks of TV, which contained some dreck but mostly some of the best TV of the year, such as a wonderfully consistent season of Friday Night Lights, the grim but entertaining introduction of Dr. Raymond Langstrom (aka Morpheus) on CSI, and certainly the best series finale since the last episode of Angel, as The Shield finished with a staggering, emotionally draining closer that even my favourite show, Lost, cannot possibly top. And then there was this stuff…

    Stupidest Science:

    Suresh, the crusty unscientist and narrator of Heroes, is already the stupidest and most annoying character on TV, so having him experiment on, and kill, innocent people in order to make his serum work is par for the course of this moronic show. Even so, stating that they need a catalyst to make the proteins bond with the enzymes, as they did many weeks back, is possibly the worst kind of sciencey-sounding gibberish I’ve heard in years.


    Proteins and enzymes don’t bond. If they did, we’d never be able to digest meat (or nuts). Considering this is a show that features superheroes and scientists, it’s a blow to its credibility that no one who works on it seems to know anything about superheroes or science. It’s no wonder Suresh’s research creates this.


    Plus, for extra stupid points, this poor bastard mutates way faster than Suresh does. If a reason for this was given, I don’t know what it is. Suresh can’t even fuck up properly. What amuses me most, is that this non-science bullshit carries across the writing staff of Heroes. Here is a panel from Joe Pokaski’s dire Ultimate Fantastic Four, set moments after Jeph Loeb ruined the entire universe with his Ultimatum, a comic almost as bad as his Onslaught Reborn mini.


    And the way Heroes uses death to lazily generate drama?



    Don’t get too upset there, Ben. Oh, and because Jeph Loeb continues to be a plague on the world…

    Crappiest Plug:

    Obviously written before Jeph Loeb got shitcanned by Tim Kring, this episode of Heroes (It’s Coming) featured Hiro getting upset about the current state of affairs in the Marvel universe, proving that he truly is a fanboy in his current brain-damaged state. While the shock over the death of Steve Rogers is justified, getting all twisted up about Red Hulk is a waste of time.


    Once Loeb is off the title and Greg Pak or Fred Van Lente get back on it, that’s gonna get retconned as quickly as Supergirl got rewritten once Loeb left DC. And hey, when Bryan Fuller arrives at the end of this season of Heroes, he can retcon all of his nonsense here as well! It all works out in the end.

    Most Annoying Turn of Events:

    As I’ve mentioned before, it’s gratifying to see an atheist heading up a TV show, which is one of the reasons we’ve stuck with The Mentalist so far. Sadly, however, just as with the other big TV atheist, House, instead of letting that stand, the showrunners have to flirt with showing these characters in doubt about their stance. Fair enough if the character is dealing with some terrible event. As they say, there are no atheists on a deathbed. However, having characters doubt their beliefs just because some “supernatural” event has happened is just horseshit. It troubles me to think that atheists are just considered religious believers in waiting, and a bleeding statue or family tragedy is all we need to be pushed over the edge, just as it’s horseshit to assume a religious person would automatically eschew their beliefs if presented with examples of terrible mortal cruelty.


    House has flirted with this in the past, much to my disgust, this episode of The Mentalist (called Seeing Red, showed our jovial but tortured hero Patrick Jane meeting a psychic, played by Leslie Hope, aka super-unlucky Teri Bauer from season 1 of 24. For much of the episode he calls her out on her techniques, treating her as a terrible fraud. Much James Randi-esque fun is had as he toys with her, but all of that good will is undone in the final scene as the psychic tells Jane that she knows about his family’s murder at the hands of the evil Red John, and reassures him that they didn’t suffer. As she leaves, Jane bursts into tears.


    Now, the worst case scenario here is that Jane is so distraught over this tragedy in his past that he’s willing to suspend his scepticism long enough to allow the possibility that this information is real, which is a betrayal of everything he has stood for so far and scuppers the show entirely. That his devout colleague Grace Van Pelt sees him crying could suggest that that is what is intended, her look of sympathy also one of triumph. However, I’m going on the minor information I have about this lightly sketched character. For all I know, she understands that Jane is actually just grieving, having been reminded of the tragedy by the psychic, which is the scenario I would prefer to imagine. Jane has been portrayed as a man angry at the abuse of skills such as his, and I’d like to think the show is willing to portray him as a tortured man but not one turning his back on his beliefs (and his knowledge of fraudulent psychic nonsense) just for some solace. It’s lazy writing to have him debating this so early in the day, and smacks of focus group meddling. I hope Bruno Heller knows this and won’t take the show down that road, and so in the interest of giving him a chance I’m just going to assume Jane is merely grieving and not taking her words at face value. Nevertheless, I’ll be keeping an eye out for any further bullshit flare-ups.

    Best Road Trip:

    FNL has faced cancellation since early in its first season, and especially now, with the show on a roll, the prospect of losing it is a miserable one. Last season, ending on an episode that provided zero closure and only accidental cliffhangers, looked for a while to be the last episode ever until the DirecTV deal came through. That third season might also be the last (we’ll have to wait and see what happens when FNL returns to NBC), but at least we’re getting a little closure before then at the start of the season we saw Smash achieve his dream, and with this episode the same thing happened to Jason Street.


    Using actual New York location shooting with a bit more grace than the clumsy attention-seeking of Ugly Betty, Street and Riggins bumble around the city in search of clothes and employment like a couple of yokels, except lovable, funny, and relatable. In the process, we see Street’s confidence finally hit a speedbump, as he is rebuffed by the sports agent who had inadvertently given Street false hope, and yet more signs of Riggins’ newfound maturity, as his advice and support saves the day.


    As is usual with me, the end of the episode caused floods of tears, as Street gets his Happily-Ever-After with Erin, and Riggins watches from their cab. It was only then that it struck me: no more banter between these two friends. As grateful as I am that we got to see Street’s arc finish (and finish with a happy ending to boot), it’s a shame we get to lose that.


    The chemistry between Scott Porter and Taylor Kitsch has been one of the most appealing things about FNL since the pilot. It shall be missed.

    Most Pleasing Guest Star:

    My childhood adoration of Steve Martin has taken numerous knocks since he became the go-to guy for weak wacky dad roles or unnecessary and ill-thought-out remakes of superior works, but luckily his appearance on 30 Rock as the crazed white-collar criminal Gavin Polone was a shot in the arm for my admiration.


    Though he strayed into Wild-and-Crazy-Guyisms in the final stretch, for the most part he was reserved and quirky, much like in his film-stealing uncredited turn in Baby Mama. I’d hold out hope that this is a sign of a forthcoming renaissance, but I shouldn’t hold my breath.

    Worst Fashion Sense:

    I could have spent a long time dealing with the psychic fallout from this horrendous jacket (cagoule?) worn by Greg in CSI


    …but we’re actually both traumatised by the clothes foisted upon the female leads of The Mentalist. Amanda Righetti has been given some really badly fitting t-shirts, especially in the most recent episodes.


    She’s got a rocking bod, so it takes some skill to make her look bad. Still, in early episodes she did okay. Robin Tunney, on the other hand, has been lumbered with awful low-slung pants and nasty, tucked-in shirts. This picture…


    …doesn’t even begin to display the horror. If you watch the show (and you should, as it has gone from strength to strength, despite the quibbles voiced above), check out her dreadful ensembles. I’m shallow enough to want some CSI-style flash in their outfits. Tim Kang and Owain Yeoman also suffer with their bland suits, with only Jane looking swish with his vests. Maybe that’s the point. Still, though.

    Most Distracting Furniture:

    It was the confrontation absolutely nobody was waiting for. After two years of not thinking about it at all, Nathan Petrelli finally comes face to face with the father he thought was dead. It was one of the great TV moments, up there with the end of M.A.S.H., or that bit in Only Fools and Horses with the chandelier. And through it all I was transfixed by Pops Petrelli’s table.


    It’s just a sheet of circular glass resting on three metal beams. Simple. Yet I spent the whole scene either staring at it or worrying about the damn thing. Is the glass resting on the pointy corners of the beams? Isn’t that dangerous? If you nudge the table will those corners scratch the glass? Or are the corners flattened? In which case that wouldn’t happen, but the purity of the design would be disrupted. This fascination with furniture is proof that there is obviously something wrong with me, if I’m going to be distracted from all of the dramatic tension and devastating emotion on display by something so innocuous.

    Most Blistering Performance:

    Recently I pointed out how amazing Walton Goggins had been in The Shield, and his streak of acting brilliance continues all the way to the outrageously exciting finale, but in the penultimate episode, Possible Kill Screen, his genius was utterly eclipsed by one of the most astonishing acting moments I have ever seen.

    Shield spoilers! Do not read if you have not yet watched this amazing show!

    Michael Chiklis has been consistently great from episode one, even though I had a tough time buying this little man as a hardass despite all of the posturing and violence. In the penultimate episode, believing he has no choice but to sign a deal with ICE behind Ronnie Gardocki’s back in order to save his wife from an arrest that didn’t actually happen, Vic is asked to confess his wrongdoings in order to complete the deal, allowing him to start his new deal as a federal agent. After signing the document he pauses for a startlingly long time, something even the best TV shows don’t have time for, and in that time, he seems to age ten years. The weight of everything he has done is so overwhelming that the strain of it made him look like a different person. How he did this I don’t know. I don’t have a picture of that, so take a look at this, and imagine the complete polar opposite of it.


    The moment was electrifying, even more so when he finally unburdens himself of the list of crimes to an increasingly horrified Laurie Holden, who slowly realises that her support of Mackey has doomed her career. Vic’s deadened laugh as he recounts some of the more despicable acts of the past three years is chilling, but even worse is his arrogance at the end, knowing that he has saved his own ass, with his only remorse saved for Ronnie.

    Chiklis deserves honours and awards for his work here, but he wasn’t the only actor to shine even brighter than usual. Midway through the confession Claudette and Dutch arrive to catch Vic, only to find he is now immune to prosecution. CCH Pounder’s performance in that moment, snapping with the strain of seeing the man she detests getting away with not only the crimes she thought he was responsible for but also much much more, was another award-worthy moment, and not the first either.

    This is the depressing fact about The Shield, that outside its fanbase, it’s largely ignored in favour of more prestigious work. The recent disgraceful Golden Globes, which snubbed Lost and The Wire, also coughed up nothing for The Shield, and while there’s an argument that ballots were cast a while back, the show has been around for long enough that it deserved a sentimental nod just for old time’s sake. Though, of course, a gratuitous nomination just for making it to the finale would be almost as galling as no nominations at all, it still stings that Chiklis, Goggins and Pounder end up with nothing. At least they have the gratitude of a legion of fans who have been lucky enough to see these fine actors at the height of their powers.

    Most Pointless Torture:

    While waiting for the TV season to kick off again, we started watching the sixth season of 24, which we had yet to watch even though it aired a couple of years ago. During that there has been less of the torture, though saying that we’re not even halfway through, so who knows how that changes. Nevertheless, nothing they can do in that show will top the endless crazy zapping of Sylar (who, at that point, was momentarily good) by Elle.


    Seriously, she goes nuts.


    Really nuts. It’s to do with him killing her dad, Evil Ned Ryerson.


    Stephen Tobolowsky was a dick in this show, and she never seemed to like him, so why his murder brings about this response is, as with many things on Heroes, illogical.


    Even Mel Gibson doesn’t get tortured for this long in his movies, and he has a Christ complex.


    Well done, Elle, you blew some skin off his face. You can probably knock it off now.


    No? Still going? Okay. Do you need to recharge or something? Drink some Powerade?


    That wifebeater he’s wearing is awfully resilient. After all, in this opening shot, she destroys his jacket in a homage to Watchmen.


    Occasionally, for variety, he gets blown backwards.


    So yes, she is very angry.


    So angry I bet she never gets over it and forgives him! That would be crazy.


    Oh, for fuck’s sake.

    Most “Holy Shit!”-Inducing Improvement:

    We really never saw this this coming.

    Yes, Fringe had been, before the pre-holiday episode, a sporadically entertaining sci-fi show packed with silly implausibilities, boring secondary characters, poorly cast leads, and even more loose plot threads than Lost had at this point in its first season. Other than John Noble’s brilliant performance as Dr. Walter Bishop, we found it mildly diverting but frustratingly underwhelming, especially when compared to the electrifying mind games of Lost.


    And then Safe happened. Suddenly every character was written better, every plot thread echoed the others, and most of those annoying questions posed earlier in the season came together brilliantly. It also featured the best cold open so far, as shady FBI traitor Agent Loeb (surely a comment on the hapless writer/producer) used the phasing doohickey from a few weeks ago to steal a lockbox containing a mysterious machine.


    The sequence had pace, intrigue, grisly death and cool sci-fi trappings, and even better, we didn’t have to wait to find out what the machine was, and who it belonged to. By the end of the episode we knew it was part of a teleporter that had been designed by Walter many years previously, something that even he didn’t know.


    Not only did it sate our curiosity about the elements introduced this week, we got to see Mr. Jones in action, killing his lawyer (played by an underused James Frain), and then being snatched from his captivity in Germany by mad science to reappear in America, at Little Hill (another question from previous weeks thus resolved). The teleportation effect, disrupting the ground and shaking the prison, was especially well conceived.


    While the craziness raged, Walter’s memory hiccups continued, as Olivia began to mistake John Scott’s memories for her own. That the show had finally figured out how to make two plots intertwine in this way inspired hope that the writers were becoming more confident now that the format and characters have been set down. It’s not the best writing on TV, but it was the best writing on Fringe so far, and I take heart, hoping that this represents the moment the show kicks into gear.

    So, for now, that ends that. I’m sure that I’ll still talk about TV in the future, in some format, and not just because some of our favourite shows are returning. Yes, Battlestar Galactica, Big Love, and Flight of the Conchords are back, and coming very very soon, my favourite show, Lost, returns following a triumphant season. In the words of my good friend and dastardly despot Brian Michael Bendoom…

    Another List, This Time Featuring A Lot Of Wishful Thinking

    It’s Golden Globes time! The world is waiting for glamour, and so far we’ve got a red thing on Eva Longoria, some awesome gray hair on Alec Baldwin (sporting a very fetching bit of chewing gum he used to intimidate The Vile Seacrest), and way too much eyeliner on Debra Messing (who, according to Canyon, keeps doing her “sexy face”, which sounds unpleasant). Anyway, remember when I said I was done with lists? WRONG! Why not one more? Here is who I would love to win tonight, though I really don’t think any of them actually will. We’re avoiding the actual award results tomorrow (we’re taping the awards on Sky Movies Premiere and won’t get to watch it until tomorrow night), so there will be a long period with this completely inaccurate speculation sitting here without comment from us. Bear in mind, many of these are not my real favourites of the year. For instance, Frost/Nixon is not my favourite of the year (see posts passim), but compared to Slumdog Millionaire, or The Curious Case of Benjamin Buttons (as the idiots as E! called it a little while ago), it was easily the tops. My choice for each is in italics.

    BEST MOTION PICTURE, DRAMA

    * The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
    * Frost/Nixon
    * The Reader
    * Revolutionary Road
    * Slumdog Millionaire

    BEST MOTION PICTURE, COMEDY

    * Burn After Reading
    * Happy-Go-Lucky
    * In Bruges
    * Mamma Mia!
    * Vicky Cristina Barcelona

    ACTOR, DRAMA

    * Leonardo DiCaprio, Revolutionary Road
    * Frank Langella, Frost/Nixon
    * Sean Penn, Milk
    * Brad Pitt, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
    * Mickey Rourke, The Wrestler

    ACTRESS, DRAMA

    * Anne Hathaway, Rachel Getting Married
    * Angelina Jolie, Changeling
    * Meryl Streep, Doubt
    * Kristin Scott Thomas, I’ve Loved You So Long
    * Kate Winslet, Revolutionary Road

    ACTOR, COMEDY OR MUSICAL

    * Javier Bardem, Vicky Cristina Barcelona
    * Colin Farrell, In Bruges
    * James Franco, Pineapple Express
    * Brendan Gleeson, In Bruges
    * Dustin Hoffman, Last Chance Harvey

    This is a tough category. I’d be happy if either of the In Bruges actors won as well, and I wouldn’t cry if Javier won either. The sexy bastard.

    ACTRESS, COMEDY OR MUSICAL

    * Rebecca Hall, Vicky Cristina Barcelona
    * Sally Hawkins, Happy-Go-Lucky
    * Frances McDormand, Burn After Reading
    * Meryl Streep, Mamma Mia!
    * Emma Thompson, Last Chance Harvey

    A win for Rebecca Hall would also be cool. She was the best thing about that inexplicably adored movie.

    SUPPORTING ACTOR

    * Tom Cruise, Tropic Thunder
    * Robert Downey Jr., Tropic Thunder
    * Ralph Fiennes, The Duchess
    * Philip Seymour Hoffman, Doubt
    * Heath Ledger, The Dark Knight

    SUPPORTING ACTRESS

    * Amy Adams, Doubt
    * Penélope Cruz, Vicky Cristina Barcelona
    * Viola Davis, Doubt
    * Marisa Tomei, The Wrestler
    * Kate Winslet, The Reader

    I’ve not seen Doubt, but I’d also like Viola Davis to win, because she’s so amazing in everything and should win awards on a regular basis.

    DIRECTOR

    * Danny Boyle, Slumdog Millionaire
    * Stephen Daldry, The Reader
    * David Fincher, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
    * Ron Howard, Frost/Nixon
    * Sam Mendes, Revolutionary Road

    I didn’t like The Curious Case of Benjamin Button(s), but Fincher’s direction, despite the odd peculiar choice, was still the most impressive of the candidates in this category. I am astonished by the scope of the movie even as I am annoyed by its narrative slightness.

    SCREENPLAY

    * Simon Beaufoy, Slumdog Millionaire
    * David Hare, The Reader
    * Peter Morgan, Frost/Nixon
    * Eric Roth, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
    * John Patrick Shanley, Doubt

    FOREIGN LANGUAGE FILM

    * The Baader Meinhof Complex (Germany)
    * Everlasting Moments (Sweden)
    * Gomorrah (Italy)
    * I’ve Loved You So Long (France)
    * Waltz With Bashir (Israel)

    I don’t know if the subject matter is too dark, but Gomorrah should walk this. It’s a breathtaking movie.

    ANIMATED FEATURE FILM

    * Bolt
    * Kung Fu Panda (Obviously!!!)
    * WALL-E

    ORIGINAL SCORE

    * Alexandre Desplat, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button
    * Clint Eastwood, Changeling
    * James Newton Howard, Defiance
    * A.R. Rahman, Slumdog Millionaire
    * Hans Zimmer, Frost/Nixon

    ORIGINAL SONG

    * “Down to Earth,” WALL-E; music by Peter Gabriel, Thomas Newman; lyrics by Peter Gabriel
    * “Gran Torino,” Gran Torino; music by Clint Eastwood, Jamie Cullum, Kyle Eastwood, Michael Stevens; lyrics by Kyle Eastwood, Michael Stevens
    * “I Thought I Lost You,” Bolt; music & lyrics by Miley Cyrus, Jeffrey Steele
    * “Once in a Lifetime,” Cadillac Records; music & lyrics by Beyoncé Knowles, Amanda Ghost, Scott McFarnon, Ian Dench, James Dring, Jody Street
    * “The Wrestler,” The Wrestler; music & lyrics by Bruce Springsteen

    TELEVISION

    TELEVISION SERIES, DRAMA

    * Dexter
    * House
    * In Treatment
    * Mad Men
    * True Blood

    ACTRESS IN A TELEVISION SERIES, DRAMA

    * Sally Field, Brothers & Sisters
    * Mariska Hargitay, Law & Order: Special Victims Unit
    * January Jones, Mad Men
    * Anna Paquin, True Blood
    * Kyra Sedgwick, The Closer

    I only watch Mad Men of these shows, but I want anyone other than January Jones to win. Give it to Mariska Hargitay as a consolation for being in The Love Guru.

    ACTOR IN A TELEVISION SERIES, DRAMA

    * Gabriel Byrne, In Treatment
    * Michael C. Hall, Dexter
    * Jon Hamm, Mad Men
    * Hugh Laurie, House
    * Jonathan Rhys Meyers, The Tudors

    TELEVISION SERIES, COMEDY OR MUSICAL

    * 30 Rock
    * Californication
    * Entourage
    * The Office
    * Weeds

    ACTRESS IN A TELEVISION SERIES, COMEDY OR MUSICAL

    * Christina Applegate, Samantha Who?
    * America Ferrera, Ugly Betty
    * Tina Fey, 30 Rock
    * Debra Messing, The Starter Wife
    * Mary-Louise Parker, Weeds

    ACTOR IN A TELEVISION SERIES, COMEDY OR MUSICAL

    * Alec Baldwin, 30 Rock
    * Steve Carell, The Office
    * Kevin Connolly, Entourage
    * David Duchovny, Californication
    * Tony Shalhoub, Monk

    If Alec wins I hope he’s still chewing gum.

    MINISERIES OR MOTION PICTURE MADE FOR TELEVISION

    * A Raisin in the Sun
    * Bernard and Doris
    * Cranford
    * John Adams
    * Recount

    ACTRESS IN A MINISERIES OR MOTION PICTURE MADE FOR TELEVISION

    * Judi Dench, Cranford
    * Catherine Keener, An American Crime
    * Laura Linney, John Adams
    * Shirley MacLaine, Coco Chanel
    * Susan Sarandon, Bernard and Doris

    I actually haven’t seen John Adams, but I love Laura Linney. Terrible bias, I know.

    ACTOR IN A MINISERIES OR MOTION PICTURE MADE FOR TELEVISION

    * Ralph Fiennes, Bernard and Doris
    * Paul Giamatti, John Adams
    * Kevin Spacey, Recount
    * Kiefer Sutherland, 24: Redemption
    * Tom Wilkinson, Recount

    Why Kiefer? Because DAMMIT!!!!

    ACTRESS IN A SUPPORTING ROLE IN A SERIES, MINISERIES OR MOTION PICTURE MADE FOR TELEVISION

    * Eileen Atkins, Cranford
    * Laura Dern, Recount
    * Melissa George, In Treatment
    * Rachel Griffiths, Brothers & Sisters
    * Dianne Wiest, In Treatment

    ACTOR IN A SUPPORTING ROLE IN A SERIES, MINISERIES OR MOTION PICTURE MADE FOR TELEVISION

    * Neil Patrick Harris, How I Met Your Mother
    * Denis Leary, Recount
    * Jeremy Piven, Entourage
    * Blair Underwood, In Treatment
    * Tom Wilkinson, John Adams

    I chose Denis because he’s the only performance I’ve seen of those this year, but of course it would also shut out Doctor Mercury (aka Piven). That would be sweet.

    Tracey Morgan was just on extolling the virtues of collard greens, which was the perfect moment to sign of and go to bed. I look forward to finding out how much the Golden Globes judges disagree with me (i.e. by voting for Slumdog Millionaire over and over again).