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#37: That’s No Moon

(Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope, George Lucas, 1977, on the list)

Warning: Spoilers (for probably most of the original trilogy). But seriously, it’s 2015. Why haven’t you seen Star Wars?

When I was nine years old my mother took me to see Star Wars. It was 1997, and for the 20th anniversary of the film George Lucas released the trilogies in Special Editions, and my mother decided that we should go see it because she was certain I would like it. Even then I think she knew that I was kind of a nerd (that’s okay, because I am), and that people with laser swords and robots in space was something that I’d like. And she was right. Obviously. She’s right about a lot of things, though I tend to not admit that out loud. I honestly don’t remember much about seeing Star Wars for the first time. Probably because, as previously mentioned, I was nine and I am now 26 and I’ve seen an awful lot of movies since then. But I do remember that when I saw Star Wars I developed my very first crush. On Luke Skywalker. Because I was young and naive. Then, a couple of years later, I came to my senses and realized that Han Solo was very obviously the better choice.

This is going to be one of those posts that’s mostly about me and minimally about the film for a couple of reasons. First, because there’s not much to say about Star Wars that hasn’t already been said. I am not a student of science fiction, and my attachment to this film is too personal for me to have any really profound academic thoughts about it. Second, I’m planning to watch (almost) all of the Star Wars films in machete order* in the coming days/weeks and quite possibly write about each of them (though I may somehow condense it into one or two posts), so I’ll probably say more about the films themselves in those coming posts. Also I’ll try to space them out with posts on other films. I’m not insane, I know you all don’t want to read about just Star Wars. But I really like Star Wars and I feel like for the first film I should at least say something.

*I know it’s long but this is worth a read because the argument for watching the films in this order is incredibly compelling.

I decided to rewatch the Star Wars films after the new trailer for Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens came out. I actually watched the first film before I even watched the trailer. And I am not too proud to admit that when I did watch the trailer my heart skipped a little bit. Because it brought me back to being nine years old. After the first film got its rerelease, my mom told me that they’d be doing it with all three of the old films. She also told me that, if we wanted, we could go to the video store and rent the second and third installments and watch them sooner. I think (I’m not 100% sure if I remember this correctly or if I’ve somehow romanticized it in my memory) that I chose to wait so that I could see them on the big screen first. It is entirely possible that this is not true because I was a very inpatient child, but I’m choosing to believe that I’m remembering this correctly. Mostly because I remember how excited I was to watch the second and third one after seeing the first one. I wanted to know where it was all going (though, even at that age, I felt like Episode IV was a pretty good self-contained story. It wasn’t until I got older that I found out that was because Lucas wasn’t sure the film would do well enough to be able to make the next two). Seeing the trailer for The Force Awakens brought that excitement back to me. Suddenly I was 9 years old again, and I couldn’t wait to see what happened next.

The other great thing about watching Star Wars now is that, in my reignited interested to write this blog, I discovered that it was on the Guardian list that was the original inspiration for this venture. I’m really going to make an effort to get back to that list (I’m not saying I’ll stick to it exclusively, there are a lot of films I want to write about it that aren’t on it, either because they are too recent or because they just aren’t) and return to the original spirit of the project. I love film. For some reason, graduate school made me forget that a little bit, and I’m ready to remember. Also, this list gives me something of a goal to work towards. I am probably never going to watch all 1000 of those films. Some are hard to track down, and some I just have absolutely no interest in (sorry, Audition). But returning to this list gives me something concrete to tie this all back to. It’s not just writing about films when I see one I really like and feel inspired. It’s challenging myself to try to find things to say about films that I might not actually have anything to say about.

In all of the relocating that has happened in the last few months I’ve gotten sort of down on myself. I moved away from my hometown to try to make it on my own, to try to find a job outside of academia and make some sort of success for myself, and it didn’t go very well. Some of that was because of things that were out of my control, and some of that was that I just wasn’t ready for it. I took a big leap when maybe I shouldn’t have taken a smaller step, and now I’m trying to pick up the pieces a bit. So while I look for a job (and, if everything goes as planned, even after I find one), I’m going to commit myself more to this project. To give it the attention it deserves, because I like film and I like writing, and maybe it’s something that I’m actually good at. Maybe it’ll help me get to where I want to go, even if I’m not quite sure where that is yet.

This post has been very disjointed, which is fine. Like I said, there aren’t a lot of new things to say about Star Wars, and I can say those things when I write the posts about the other films in the series. For right now, I just wanted to say that I’m back. For better or for worse, this is what I’m going to do for a while, and maybe it’ll take me somewhere I didn’t expect. Come along with me if you want, but I’m going either way.

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#36: "You Better Lawyer Up, Asshole."

(The Social Network, David Fincher, 2010)

Of all the films that I’ve seen and wanted to write about, I think that The Social Network has been the one that’s taken the longest. I’ve wanted to write about this film ever since the first time I saw it, which was over four years ago. For some reason something has always stopped me. Throughout grad school I wanted to incorporate this film into one of my seminar papers, but the time never came. I started thinking that I would incorporate it into a chapter of my dissertation for my PhD. I had grand, almost fully formed visions of a chapter focused solely on Fincher’s work, specifically focusing on the way the men in his films interact with each other, with The Social Network as the centerpiece. Several times I also started to write about it for this blog and then, a few days later, deleted everything. It’s a sign of how hard it’s been for me to write about this film that when I started writing this I was living in Seattle, and now I’m not. I think that I felt that no matter what I wrote it would never live up to how great the film is. It’s taken me a few years to admit this, but The Social Network is easily one of my favorite films, and I think that years from now it will be considered a classic, a perfect artifact from a very specific time in our collective history. Anyone who knows me can attest to the fact that I have a Thing (with a capital “T”) for David Fincher (and for that matter, a Thing with a capital “T” for this film). That fact aside, for me The Social Network is about as perfect as a film can get, which has made it pretty difficult to write about. I want to adequately express how great it is, but I also want to keep the critical academic distance that I worked hard to cultivate. The truth is, if I keep waiting for the “right time” to write about this film it will never come. I’m never going to feel that what I have to say about this film is quite good enough, so I might as well just go for it.

I think the hardest thing about writing about The Social Network has been trying to figure out where to start. I’ve thought about starting with my experience with seeing it for the first time, or jumping right into the opening scene, which establishes the “character” of Mark Zuckerberg flawlessly through the combination of Jesse Eisenberg’s performance and Aaron Sorkin’s lightning-fast dialogue. After so many failed attempts to write about this film I think I’m going to go in another direction and jump right into the middle of the film, and a pair of scenes that I consistently stand by as two of the best that have been committed to film in my lifetime. The first is a scene between Mark Zuckerberg and Sean Parker (played by Justin Timberlake with the perfect blend of swagger, arrogance, and paranoia) that takes place in a crowded, noisy night club and in which Parker tells Zuckerberg the tragic story of Roy Raymond, the founder of Victoria’s Secret. The second is the scene that immediately follows, in which the Winklevoss twins and the rest of the Harvard crew team lose a very close race in the Henley Royal Regatta, to the thumping tune of Trent Reznor and Atticus Finch’s superb version of “In the Hall of the Mountain King.” What sticks out to me about both of these scenes – the Regatta scene in particular, which I have on several occasions claimed is one of the best scenes of the last decade – is the way they illustrate both success and failure, and the effects of each.

This diptych of scenes begins with the nightclub scene, in which Zuckerberg and Parker guzzle shots of fancy alcohol and Zuckerberg offhandedly says that Parker’s (very attractive) date looks familiar. Parker then launches into the story of Roy Raymond, who founded Victoria’s Secret, several years later sold it, and then when its value had increased enormously several years after that Raymond leaped from the Golden Gate Bridge to his death. While ultimately Parker claims that this is just a convoluted way of telling Zuckerberg that his date is a Victoria’s Secret model, what it ends up doing is contributing to Zuckerberg’s hyper-intensity about his own success and unwillingness to let Facebook pass into anyone else’s hands. Mark Zuckerberg was hesitant to monetize Facebook early on for fear that it would lose its "cool,” and Parker’s story effectively convinced him not to want to sell the company for fear that it would soon be worth much more than he had been paid for it. His – and Parker’s – yard stick for success seems to be a combination of monetary value and the ability to maintain control.

As the nightclub scene ends the film cuts to the Henley Royal Regatta, the opening strains of Reznor and Finch’s “In the Hall of the Mountain King” (which, seriously, I cannot say enough good things about), and the Winklevoss twins and the rest of the Harvard crew team rowing furiously against the Dutch. The crowd cheers, the rowers’ faces contort with effort, and as the photo finish camera flashes the Dutch finish first by a nose. As the music reaches its climax the faces of the Harvard team show the agony of defeat, their hard work seemingly all for naught. The scene works so perfectly because of the way it swells with the music. The scene at first seems quiet after the pounding music of the night club in the previous scent, but as Grieg’s composition becomes increasingly frantic it also grows in volume and intensity, mirroring the desperation of the Harvard crew team. For the Winklevoss twins the measure of success is much more black and white; you win your race or you lose your race, with no room for debate. Though in the following scene many people compliment the twins on how agonizingly close the race ones (”races of [that] length are usually won by a boat-length or two”), it remains glaringly evident that they lost, and for the Winklevosses and their partner Divya Nurendra that sort of absolute measure of success is the only one that counts.

This post became much more academic than I ever really intended it to be, but generally when I talk to people about this film I end up landing on the Regatta scene as one of the best, not just in the context of the film, but 21st century filmmaking as a whole. It serves as a stunning centerpiece to a film that artfully and (at least somewhat) honestly tells the story of one of the most ubiquitous cultural objects of our generation. When plucked out the scene still makes sense, telling a story in a minute and forty-two seconds that has a beginning, a middle, and an end. It builds tension and reaches a climax, and it has a spectacular soundtrack (seriously, have I talked enough about how much I love that song?). But within the context of the film it shines even brighter as a contrast to Zuckerberg’s type of competition, as well as to the court case the Winklevoss twins are embroiled in with Zuckerberg. The outcome of the case isn’t as easy as a feat of strength where one team clearly wins and one loses. It’s dirty and messy and ultimately ends with two parties agreeing to disagree, signing a non-disclosure agreement, and an undisclosed amount of money changing hands. No one really wins, at least not in the black and white sense that the twins would like.

I guess that’s all I really have to say about The Social Network. I mean, I could say more, but this can’t go on forever and this seems like a good time to wrap it up. I think about this film a lot, and as I said above, I’ve finally welcomed it into my heart as one of my favorite films (more and more of Fincher’s films seem to be taking up residence there), and it feels good to have written (in ink on the internet) something substantial about it. Recently The AV Club named it as number nine on its list of the 100 best films of the decade (so far), which made me feel very happy and somewhat validated in my love for the film (that is, of course, until I realized that Birdman didn’t make the list at all, which made me very sad). It’s a great film. If you haven’t seen it, I highly recommend it. And that’s it. Now I’ve written about The Social Network.

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#35: "Get That Smile Off Your Face, You're Freaking Me Out"

(Birdman, Alejandro González Iñárritu, 2014) About a year ago the course of my life took a very surprising turn. After completing my Master's degree in English I applied to six PhD programs in Film and Television Studies, and between January and February of 2014 I found out that I had been accepted to none of them. The bulk of my life for several years had been taken up by working towards the goal of getting my PhD so that I could teach film, and suddenly I was confronted with the reality that maybe that wasn't the path my life was going to take. At first, I was devastated. I couldn't believe that all of my hard work had gotten me to that point. Those six rejection letters haunted my dreams (literally. I literally had dreams about them) and forced me to think some hard things about myself. But after a few weeks I started to feel something unexpected... relief. I realized that the next 5-7 years of my life weren't going to be consumed by major field exams and dissertation writing. I realized that if I didn't ever want to teach freshman composition again I never had to. I realized that, really, I could try this again any time I wanted. But I decided that I didn't want to do it then, and I started to plan what the next stage of my life was going to look like.

This probably seems like a strange way to start this post, and maybe it is, but I have been absent from this project for several years now. My absence started when, after my relationship with my former co-author ended, I started to heal and the blog became too harsh of a reminder of something that once was. Then I started graduate school, and writing here felt to much like writing there. I wrote about film almost every day for "work" and doing it in my free time didn't seem fun any more. Actually, it seemed like the opposite. It seemed like more work that I wasn't even getting credit for. And then I started working full time and when I got home at the end of the day I was more interested in knitting and marathoning Game of Thrones than I was in engaging with film in a meaningful way. I also stopped seeing as many films. Because, again, after two years of watching films from an academic perspective it started to feel too much like work. I couldn't distance myself from my critical eye, and I didn't like that. So I just disengaged. But now, finally, I think I'm ready to do this again. As a more mature person, as a more seasoned scholar (HA!), and as someone who is currently unemployed and has a lot of time on her hands and a Netflix subscription. Simply as a work of cinematic art, Birdman is one of the best things I've seen in a very long time. I have seen it win several awards during this year's Awards Season^TM and heard a lot about its "groundbreaking style," but going into the film I knew very few details about it. It was about 15 minutes into it before I thought to myself, "oh... there haven't been any traditional cuts in this film... this has been presented as one continuous take."* Obviously this couldn't go on forever, I naively assumed. I watched and enjoyed the film, but in the back of my mind I was paying keen attention to the camera, wondering when the scene would cut and we'd end up somewhere completely different. But, until almost the very end, it never did, and I found myself in awe of the boldness of this cinematic choice.

*Obviously this isn't exactly how this thought passed through my brain in the exact moment. But that's the gist of it.

Thematically, Birdman is the perfect film to be shot in this way. The film's main character, Riggan Thomson (played masterfully by Michael Keaton, one of the most pleasant surprises I've gotten from a film in a long time), is a washed-up actor best know for playing Birdman in a series of comic book films.* In an effort to make himself relevant, Thomson adapts, directs, and stars in a stage adaptation of Raymond Carver's What We Talk About When We Talk About Love. The production seems constantly on the edge of failing, and Thomson's agent/friend Jake (played by a, once again, surprisingly masterful Zach Galifianakis) struggles to keep everything in place. The film follows its characters mostly through the theater space, transitioning from one scene to the next by moving through the hallways and on and off stage. Because of the unique way the film is shot, it often feels like an intimate stage play, albeit one that has distinctly cinematic features. It's surprising and effective, and for the first time in quite awhile I found myself thinking about it for several days and then, shockingly, wanting to write about it.

*The irony of Michael Keaton playing a washed-up star of comic book films is lost on no one, including Michael Keaton. It's part of the film's charm that it pokes fun at itself in this way.

At this year's Academy Awards, Birdman has nominees in three of the four acting categories (and is tied for the most nominees of any film, along with The Grand Budapest Hotel, which has no acting nominees). Michael Keaton is a top contender to win in the lead acting category, having already won the Golden Globe (though Eddie Redmayne, who won the SAG, is also in tight contention). Edward Norton and Emma Stone are also nominated for their supporting roles as a egotistical actor who claims he's only authentic on stage and Thomson's recovering addict daughter/assistant, respectively. Both turn in some of the best performances of their careers in this film, with Norton playing Mike Shiner with bite and surprising vulnerability and Stone playing Sam with the ferocity of someone who has nothing to lose. But really, that seems to be the theme of every performance in the film. I got the sense that all of these actors were doing work they truly cared about, that they were proud to attach their names to, which also rings true with the characters they are playing.

It's ironic to me that the first film I've felt this inspired by in so long has even a tenuous connection to birds, as the last film I had this sort of connection to was Black Swan, about which I wrote the writing sample I used for my PhD applications. Anyone close to me won't be shocked by this, as I've always had "a bird thing," but for me it feels more than coincidental. The bird thing aside, these films are similar in other ways, specifically that the each focuses on a lead character whose grasp on reality is tenuous at best, and who is desperate to get some validation for the work he or she has devoted their life to. Though my grasp on reality is (hopefully) a bit stronger than Riggan's or Nina's, their basic desire is one that I can strongly identify with. After years of trying to prove myself academically, I am now out in the world trying to prove myself in other ways, trying to get a little validation.

I guess it's probably no surprise to anyone that this ended up being far more about me than it did about Birdman. I guess that anyone who stuck with me for this long (which, after this prolonged absence I'm guessing is none of you) figured out a long time ago that this was only ever going to be about me, but in the guise of being about movies. I guess it's taken me a long time to figure that out for myself, but I finally have, and maybe now I'll be more eager to write here. Maybe not. Either way, I'm thankful for Birdman. I'm thankful for my reignited interest in film. And I am thankful for the tiny bit of validation I feel publishing this after spending so much time away.

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Here come some thoughts

It's been almost a year since I've updated this, and I'm not even going to apologize. It's been a challenging two years, but now that I'm done with my Master's program I've decided I want to spend more time writing about movies because I recently remembered that I really enjoy writing about movies, a realization that came about during my 6th and final term of my program.

This last spring I took a class in Film Theory, a class that I was fully prepared to hate because it had the word "theory" in the title. As I've said many times before, "theory" is a word that comes after other words and makes them sad, and the thought of ten weeks of theory made me sad. But a magical combination of a great professor, an incredible group of classmates, and the opportunity to write about a film I really love made the class surprisingly enjoyable, and also managed to remind me why I wanted to go to graduate school in the first place. I walked out of the class feeling better than I had in two years, confident that I finally had some idea of what I was doing and why I was doing it.

Anyway, the point of this is that I'm going to go back to writing this blog, but it's going to change some. There's no longer going to be an "On the List" and "Off the List" delineation. I'm just going to write about whatever the hell I want. If I confine myself to the list this starts feeling like work and I don't want to do it any more, so I'm not going to do that. I'll still mark somehow if a film is on The List, but I'm not going to concern myself with it as much. Things will still be numbered, but there won't be any of this half nonsense, just regular numbers.

Anyway, that's it. I'm back, hopefully more regularly. Expect a new post soon.

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#34: Porsche. There Is No Substitute.

(Risky Business, Paul Brickman, 1983) The feeling of not belonging or not being good enough is one that most everyone can identify with. There have been times in all of our lives where we've been in a situation where we've thought to ourselves "I am completely out of my element. I don't belong here. I want to go home." I had a profound moment of feeling out of place recently when I had my departmental orientation for graduate school. I found myself seated amongst 23 other new graduate students, all of whom seemed to have a much firmer grasp of who they were and what they were doing there. For the first time since being admitted I found myself thinking "I don't belong here, they must have let me in by mistake." In Risky Business, Tom Cruise's Joel has his moment of doubt when the Princeton representative lets him know that his many high school achievements just aren't quite Ivy League. I only mention that because this is ostensibly a post about Risky Business, but let's face it, it's really going to be a post about my first week of graduate school and how on the second day I had a sincere moment of thinking that I might just throw in the towel.

Because I feel like I must, I will take a moment to discuss Risky Business. It's a good film. The world certainly has this film to thank for the rise of Tom Cruise: Megastar. Or maybe they have this film to blame, I guess it just depends on how you want to look at it. That one underwear dancing scene is certainly entertaining. I enjoyed this film heartily, though admittedly many months ago. However, the scene that I briefly mentioned above has stayed with me and rung true for all of those months, so any time I reference the film in the rest of this post it will most likely be to that scene. Sorry. I know that I once made the statement that this was a blog about film, but that probably hasn't been true for a long time. With that in mind, let's start our journey through the insecurities of a graduate student in English.

  One month ago I was so excited to start graduate school that I could barely contain myself. I even went out and bought all of my textbooks in the first week of September and then proceeded to stare at them and marvel at the wonders and brilliant ideas they would be providing me with in mere weeks. I bought new pens and notebooks, dug out my trusty highlighters, and dusted off my school bag while I anxiously awaited the day that I would return to school, my mind ready to be filled with new and exciting things. By the second day of class I was convinced that my admittance to a graduate program was either a horrible mistake or a cruel joke. The stack of books in my room suddenly seemed like it was taunting me, its ideas far too complex for my feeble, undergraduate-quality mind. I was no longer the lone shark in a lake, I was suddenly a guppy in the Pacific ocean. And there were 23 hungry sharks staring at me as if they hadn't eaten in months.

  One of the lines in Risky Business that I remember most comes from that scene I mentioned above. Joel and the rep are in their meeting, and after running off a list of Joel's high school achievements Mr. Princeton says bluntly,  "you've done some solid work here, but it's not quite Ivy League now, is it." In a strange way those words have haunted me ever since. I now worry that I'm going to hear that or some variation of it every time I go to a professor with an idea for a paper or a topic that I'd like to research. "Well Caroline, you've got some interesting ideas here, but they just aren't quite graduate school quality, are they." I know I shouldn't think like that, but I hear those words echoing in my head every time I think I've come up with something good.

  The decision to go to graduate school was one that I made fairly quickly. I think a part of me never really absorbed what was happening or the gravity of the situation that I had put myself in until I was actually in it. I felt a bit like Joel when he realized how in over his head he was with Lana's pimp and the repair costs for his father's Porsche (seriously, a lot goes down in this movie). He's in a situation that he's put himself in and has to do what he can to get through it. While I can't really solve my graduate school woes by turning my house into a brothel (fear not, parents), I do have to just do what I can to get through it.

  Near the beginning of the film Joel's friend Miles gives Joel some interesting advice that Joel later repeats to the Princeton representative. It's advice that I'm trying to use whenever I find myself thinking "it's just not graduate school quality now, is it." When Joel tells Miles that his parents are going out of town, Miles says to him "sometimes you gotta say 'what the fuck,' make your move. Every now and then saying 'what the fuck' brings freedom. Freedom brings opportunity, opportunity makes your future." Of course, the difference between the film and my life is that Miles is trying to convince Joel that it's a good idea to hire a hooker (spoiler alert: it's not), ad I'm trying to remind myself that the chances of them letting me into graduate school as a cruel joke are probably pretty slim. But the advice is sound. Sometimes you have to let go and not worry so much and take chances and do the things that you want to do. So, you know... what the fuck (sorry, mom). Originally posted on October 5, 2011. Here ends the old posts. As everyone can see, it's been about 9 months since I've posted anything. The first new one should be up in the next few days. Thanks for going on this adventure with me.

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#33: The Raptor Fences Aren't Out, Are They?

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#31: End of Line.

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#30: Sometimes the Spaghetti Likes to Be Alone

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Caroline's Super Awesome, Last-Minute, Oscar Breakdown Extravaganza

I actually don't really care much about this category this year, but I'm going to write about it anyway because I'd feel bad if it was the only acting category I left out. Melissa Leo has won the SAG and the Golden Globe for her role in The Fighter, so it's a pretty safe bet that she'll win the Oscar as well. I have to agree, her performance was incredible, but I'm not sure she'd be my choice for the win. Hailee Steinfeld displayed poise way beyond her years as Mattie Ross in True Grit, and I think she should be rewarded for it. My mom feels like it can be kind of a shame when someone so young beats out veteran actors, but Steinfeld handled that character so beautifully that I truly believe she deserves the prize. Helena Bonham Carter in The King's Speech was also fantastic, but the Academy is never going to award someone who showed up to the Golden Globes in two different colored shoes. I think the biggest tragedy of this category is the exclusion of Mila Kunis from the nominees. Her performance in Black Swan proved to me once and for all that she's not just a pretty face and actually has some legitimate acting chops. I wish the Academy had recognized that instead of giving the fifth nomination to Jacki Weaver for Animal Kingdom, a film that no one I've talked to has heard of, let alone seen. Best Supporting Actor:

Remember two years ago when Heath Ledger was nominated for his role as the Joker in The Dark Knight, and everyone just knew that there was no way anyone else was going to win? We all said that the other nominees should just appreciate their nods and accept that there was no way they were going home with the statuette. Well, that's what's happening this year too. Christian Bale might as well be the only nominee in the category. His performance as Dicky Eklund in The Fighter is not only brilliant, it's also one of those total-commitment, body-altering roles that the Academy just loves to reward. Bale completely transformed himself into the crack-addicted, waifish Eklund, completely immersing himself in the character. The Welsh Bale even managed to perform a spot-on Boston accent, something that's challenging even for the most seasoned American actors. While we're here though, I would like to give a nod to Geoffrey Rush, who is nothing but charm and grace as Lionel Logue in The King's Speech. If Bale weren't in this category, the Oscar would be Rush's in a heartbeat. Best Actress:

This is another one of those runaway categories. Experts are saying that Annette Bening could be the upset with her role as the head of a household run by a same-sex couple in The Kids are All Right, but I have to firmly disagree. Natalie Portman in Black Swan was a revelation. Much like Christian Bale, Portman underwent an incredible physical transformation to make herself look like a ballet dancer, and even performed quite a few of her own ballet scenes. On top of that, she mastered the unstable psyche of Nina Sayres, convincingly flipping the switch between innocent ballet darling and stark raving mad. Like I said, this category is a runaway. Even seasoned Oscar nominees like Nicole Kidman don't stand a chance. Best Actor:

This category seems like it's gotten a lot of attention from the press, and for good reason; it's filled with outstanding nominees.  I haven't seen Javier Bardem in Biutiful, so I'm going to leave him out of this analysis (sorry, Javier). I have seen all of the other nominees in their roles, so I feel like I have a pretty good understanding of the category. Let's start with Jesse Eisenberg. It's no secret that The Social Network is easily one of my favorite films of the year (it's kind of neck and neck with Black Swan, we'll get to that later), and Eisenberg was a great Mark Zuckerberg. Usually nervous and awkward, Eisenberg tackled Zuckerberg's smug arrogance with finesse, convincing many in the audience that he (Eisenberg) was actually like that, my mother included. In another year Eisenberg might have been a contender for this award, but this year he sadly isn't. Next we have James Franco in 127 Hours. One of the most remarkable things about his role as Aron Ralston is that for most of the films 94 minutes, he's the only one on screen. The film is almost a one man show, and that's impressive. However, I feel like in the end James Franco is just playing James Franco with his arm stuck under a boulder, but it's a great feat nonetheless. His problem is similar to Eisenberg's, though. In a different year he probably could have won, but up against the next two contenders he has no chance. This brings me to Colin Firth in The King's Speech and Jeff Bridges in True Grit. What's interesting about this is that at last years awards the top two contenders were the same two people. Ultimately, Bridges walked away with his first ever Oscar for his portrayal of Bad Blake in Crazy Heart, an award which many believe should have gone to Firth for his understated performance in A Single Man (this is not a sentiment I agree with, but it's definitely out there). This year they find themselves up against each other once again. Firth has taken home a staggering number of awards for The King's Speech already, and will almost definitely take home the Oscar tonight. That being said, Rooster Cogburn might be the role that Jeff Bridges was born to play, and some believe that Firth will only take home the gold man this year to make up for the one that he was arguably cheated out of last year. If I'm being completely honest, I have to say that I'd give the award to Bridges, who I feel has been greatly under-recognized for this performance, but the Academy loves a period piece, and really loves a character with a handicap, so Firth will probably take home the win. Best Director: 

This is not a category that I usually care much about, though I did give a cheer last year when Kathryn Bigelow unseated James Cameron and became the first woman to win a Best Directing Oscar. This year I actually care a lot. Most of the experts have pegged Tom Hooper as the inevitable winner for his direction of The King's Speech, a prediction which I desperately hope doesn't pan out. I really enjoyed The King's Speech, but it's a film that I feel relies most heavily on the quality of its actors and less on the ability of its director. My choice for the win is either David Fincher for The Social Network or Darren Aronofsky for Black Swan. To me, The Social Network is a movie that is brilliant not only in execution, but in conception as well. It feels like it was born out of a director's vision, and then it delivers in every respect. Additionally, I love David Fincher and feel like his work is not appreciated enough and would love to see him rewarded for what he does. He doesn't only make films that people like, he makes films that make people think, and there isn't enough of that in Hollywood these days. On the other hand, Black Swan feels like a world and a story that exist beautifully inside Aronofsky's head. That he managed to put it on film so it could be shared with the rest of the world feels like a gift, and it would be just as much of a victory to see him take home an Oscar for what he did with that film. Best Writing:

Normally I would give these two categories (original and adapted screenplay) a lot of attention because they are probably my two favorite categories. Actors and directors are great, but without a good script a film isn't worth a thing, and I like seeing writers get awarded. This year, however, there's not much to write about. The Social Network will win Adapted Screenplay because it's Aaron Sorkin and he's brilliant, and The King's Speech will win Original Screenplay because, well, it just will. The only possible upset would be for Inception to win Original Screenplay, which I would actually love to see happen, but the Academy seems hellbent on not giving an Oscar to Christopher Nolan, so that probably won't happen. It's too bad, but it's the truth. It's great that they even gave him a nomination, which they steadfastly refused to do when he wrote and directed The Dark Knight. Best Picture:

The big one. The Academy decided last year that there would once again be 10 nominees in this category, a decision that I think is really silly and unnecessary. However, this year I have actually seen 9 of the 10 nominees, so I feel like I have a really good handle on this. I'm not going to talk about all of the nominees because some just don't really need to be talked about, but I'll give a rundown on the ones that I think are really worth mentioning. The one film that I haven't seen is Winter's Bone, which I've heard is great, but by all accounts has no real chance of winning. If the category was narrowed down to five like all of the other categories, the nominees would most likely be The Fighter, Black Swan, True Grit, The Social Network, and The King's Speech. Incidentally, those are also the five films with nominations for Best Director, which is no coincidence. 127 Hours could have sneaked in there, but that's really a film that's driven by a single performance, and if it were to get accolades, they would go to Mr. Franco. When you cut it down to those five, Black Swan can immediately be eliminated because, let's face it, it's just too weird for the Academy. It's a shame, because it's an amazing film, but that's how it is. The Fighter probably won't win, because as far as biopics go, The King's Speech can't really be overtaken. True Grit is excellent, but the Coen brothers are Oscar machines and will definitely have another chance. That leaves The Social Network and The King's Speech, a race that The AV Club predicted months ago and ended up being exactly what it came down to. In my perfect world The Social Network would take it for smug nerds everywhere, but once again, the Academy loves a period piece, and The King's Speech has won all of the guild awards, and the people who choose those are the same people who are in the Academy. I sincerely hope that The Social Network wins, but if and when The King's Speech overtakes it, I'll at least be comfortable with the knowledge that a very good film beat it out. I apologize for the grammar, punctuation, and spelling carnage that is probably currently present in this post, but I wanted to get it posted before the ceremony happened. After I'm done making Oscar night food and actually watching the ceremony, I promise I'll got back through and do my Bacehlor's degree in English proud.

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#29.5: How Can They See with Sequins in Their Eyes?

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#29: I Am Serious, and Don't Call Me Shirley

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#28: The Making of a Great Compilation Tape, Like Breaking Up, Is Hard to Do

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#27.5: What Happened to My Sweet Girl?

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#27: Gentlemen, You Can't Fight in Here! This Is the War Room!

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#26: I Feel the Need...The Need for Speed!

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#25: You Can Dream When the War is Over.

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#24: Well, Nobody's Perfect!