ryanjdonovan

[ryanjdonovan]

DONOVAN’S OSCAR PROGNOSTICATION 2024

Truth -- that seems to be the theme for the films at the Oscars this year.  What is truth?  Is there such a thing?  Can it ever truly be known? (Anatomy of a Fall)…  Is it perception? (American Fiction)…  Is it fluid, subject to interpretation? (Poor Things)…  Is it disputable? (Nyad)…  Is it timeless? (Past Lives)…  Is it colored by history? (Oppenheimer)…  Is it clouded by memory and nostalgia? (The Holdovers)…  Is it based on perspective, bent by fame? (Maestro)…  Is it subjective, controlled by a narrative or manipulated for personal gain? (May December)…  Is it controlled by power? (Barbie)…  Does it get rewritten? (Killers of the Flower Moon)…  Does it become forgotten or ignored? (The Zone of Interest)…  Is it purple? (The Color Purple)�� (Okay, I struggled with that last one.)

At a time when we doubt that anything is true, how can we believe in the Oscars themselves?  It's still secretive and opaque.  At least the cronyism this year has been discretely kept behind closed doors, as it should be, as opposed to transparently flaunted on social media (like last year with the Andrea Riseborough nomination scandal).  So this year, if the Oscars are going to be manipulated, at least they'll have the decency to hide it from us.

Here's one truth that's irrefutable: My 25th annual Oscar predictions are guaranteed 100% accurate.  So read on… and get ready for some unpopular opinions.  Think I loved masterworks from celebrated auteurs, like Oppenheimer, Barbie, Killers of the Flower Moon, The Zone of Interest?  No!  Overrated, all of them.  Film snobs (and Mattel executives) are sure to castigate and shame me for my treacherous viewpoints… because they are unwilling to accept the truth. 

Fact Check = True: You can follow me on Letterboxd: https://letterboxd.com/ryanjdonovan/

BEST PICTURE:

SHOULD WIN:  The Holdovers WILL WIN:  Oppenheimer GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  May December INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  The Taste of Things

It's a big year for characters that have been name-checked in retro popular music: Oppenheimer (in Sting's 'Russians'), Leonard Bernstein (in R.E.M.'s 'It's the End of the World as We Know It', Barbie and Ken (in Aqua's 'Barbie Girl').  Unfortunately for The Zone of Interest, there are very few pop songs about Nazis…

Oppenheimer will win Best Picture.  That is certain.  But should it?  Maybe the better question is: Have we been tricked?  Tricked into thinking this is the most important film of the year?  Into believing that the only acceptable way to see this film is in 70mm IMAX on the biggest screen possible, when 90% of the film is people talking in small rooms?  Into believing that this is dazzling, dynamic filmmaking because the editing, sound design, and score make it all (again, 90% talking) so seemingly intense?  Into believing the most complex and destructive calculations that the world has even known can be written down and solved on a solitary blackboard or a single sheet of paper?  My answer: Yes, we have been tricked.  Now, I think it's a fantastic movie, and it deserves a lot of the recognition it's getting.  And I'm exaggerating my assertion that we've been tricked… but only a little.  Other than the One Big Explosion, was it really critical to see this in a format that only existed in 11 states (fewer than 20 theaters) in the entire country?  I can't believe I'm being heretical of the theatrical experience, but… no, it wasn't.  If you just saw it on a regular movie screen, was that okay?  Yes, you can be forgiven for your cinematic transgression.  (And, for all the hoopla about the technical perfection of the theatrical film print, I still had a hard time hearing the dialogue, which has been true of all of Christopher Nolan's recent films.)  I can't shake the notion that the film is relentlessly propulsive… but also very boring.  The sound, the way it's cut together, and the music (and let's be honest, the nudity) essentially manipulate the audience into believing the story is more interesting than it actually is.  Without those elements working overtime, would we be nearly as captivated?  Would we even care about the outcome of the trial or the hearing or the tribunal or the security clearance inquisition or whatever the hell is going on?  Honestly, I wouldn't even put Oppenheimer in Nolan's all-time top 5.  An apt comparison -- but superior film -- is Dunkirk: historical events, thrumming sound design, thriller pacing, time-hopping story, Oscar acclaim.  However, that film has real stakes and drama, not senate committees and conference rooms and smirched reputations (the atomic bomb, of course, notwithstanding).  Similar to Oppenheimer, during the first watch, many of the filmmaking elements in Dunkirk call attention to themselves, and the film tends to get in its own way.  But on subsequent viewings, those initially-troublesome aspects pay off, and the viewing experience vastly improves.  Today, I'm willing to call Dunkirk a masterpiece.  Maybe the same will be true with Oppenheimer.  I guess I only have to watch it five more times to find out. 

So, my personal pick for what Should Win is not Oppenheimer.  Unfortunately, I can't really decide between my top three films: The Holdovers, Anatomy of a Fall, and Past Lives.  It keeps flipping.  Ask me on a different day, and I'll give you a different answer.  Such distinct movies.  They couldn't be more disparate in the ways that they appeal to me.  Okay, I've made a decision… for today anyway.  Here I go again, voting with my heart instead of my head…

My choice is The Holdovers.  (I can hear your disappointment.)  Many would argue this is exactly the kind of dusty film we should be getting away from for Best Picture, and that my endorsement is the best evidence for why it shouldn't win.  Fair.  My cerebral choice would be Anatomy of a Fall -- that's the film I've spent the most time pondering over after the fact.  But The Holdovers speaks my language.  That's the best way I can describe my personal connection to it.  I wasn't alive in 1970 and I didn't go to prep school and I don't know what my history teacher smelled like.  But somehow it resonates.  This is probably the Alexander Payne movie with the most heart and the most sincerity -- and that earnestness mixed with all the gleeful bitterness and sarcasm that you expect from Payne is what makes it so gratifying.  For me anyway.  Everybody else apparently prefers to watch bombs explode.

Masquerading as a domestic drama and a legal procedural, Anatomy of a Fall is actually a puzzle -- inviting and challenging, frustrating and rewarding -- and we're not even sure we have all the pieces.  This is a good thing.  As we go through the steps of the dramatic conflict and courtroom proceedings, we are compelled to pick up pieces along the way, and try to make sense of how they fit.  We're even put through the paces as if we are being judged ourselves -- we endure the details and subjectivity and inhumanity of a trial.  (And not just any trial, a French one.  Which is nothing like American trials we see depicted in movies and TV.  It's bonkers.  I have no idea if it's accurate, but it seems that storytelling and conjecture are much more important than facts and evidence.)  For me, it's an apt allegory for any conflict where there are multiple perspectives and selective facts (e.g., anything online, or every episode of Judge Judy); I find the older I get, the more I feel this way.  By the end of the movie, when trying to draw a conclusion, we don't even know if we can trust the puzzle pieces that we've collected and stitched together.  And we're forced to confront the realization: Maybe we can never know the truth… or, more distressingly, maybe there's no such thing as the truth.

Past Lives, the least assuming of all the nominees, might feel slight compared to other films that tackle more 'important' subject matter.  (The problems of three little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world, or so they say.)  The 'what might have been' theme is tried and true, but this movie puts a different spin on it, with the Korean concept of "in-yun" -- a kind of timeless fate between people.  And the sweeping love story doesn't rely on shortcuts (overt sexiness or titillating dialogue or suggestive imagery) or manipulation (sentimental music or emotional close-ups).  First-time director Celine Song gives the naturalistic film space to breathe and time to think.  A prime example (Spoiler Warning, for those who have not seen the film) is the final exchange between Nora and Hae Sung, which is truly exquisite.  They talk about what their relationship will be (in this life and future ones), and she says she doesn't know.  Initially, I heard his restrained response as "See ya, then" -- a deflated resignation and farewell.  But as it sunk in, I heard it as "See you then," as in "I'll see you in our next life" -- not as a goodbye, but as a resolute promise that he'll wait for her forever.  Subtle and deeply affecting.  (So, what about Nora and her husband Arthur, then?  I'm still a cynic, of course; this film did not thaw my cold heart.  They seem hopelessly tired of each other… and they don't even have kids yet.  Sorry guys, time to start thinking about the next past life.)

It's a little hard to describe to someone why I like Poor Things without sounding like a depraved lunatic.  "It's a really sweet coming-of-age story about a young woman who runs away from her domineering father -- who conducted experimental surgeries on her and an undead baby -- and has a sexual awakening that takes her across an otherworldly European hellscape, leading her to a life of prostitution and revenge.  Her numerous dalliances, which are graphic and sexual but not actually sexy, could be perceived as statutory rape since she has the mind of a child.  It's really great.  Hilarious."  Of course, the film is more than that, but it's a little hard to put into words.  I can't say I relate to any of it, but the perverse humor, fanciful sensibility, and fairytale/nightmare mash-up strike a chord somehow.  Maybe its power is in allowing the viewer a wide range of interpretations -- control or chaos, losing religion or finding faith, shunning love or welcoming it -- it's all there.  A couple things hold it back from being a truly superior film for me, specifically the dark turn in the final quarter (I get the point, but I don't need it) and the occasional bluntness (using a chainsaw when a kitchen knife would do.)  Overall a rewarding experience, but it's clearly not for everyone.

American Fiction has one of the toughest challenges of the nominated films: how to balance its many themes while still making their place in the story feel natural.  It's not a breezy list: death, family trauma, financial strain, artistic integrity, stereotype fetishization, heartbreak, commodification of pain, self-serving elitism, professional disrespect, societal expectations, alienation -- mostly as they pertain to race.  The film succeeds incredibly well.  Despite the personal and touchy subject matter, it's inviting, not hostile.  And despite its density and potential weight, it's thoughtful and light on its feet.  (Categorizing it as a comedy, which has been the case during awards season, is a bit misleading; half of it is satire, with plenty of humorous moments, but it's also a drama that avoids getting bogged down.)  Best Picture is not likely where the film will get rewarded, but I have a feeling it won't go home empty-handed. 

When Killers of the Flower Moon debuted, it seemed like it might have good chance at unseating Oppenheimer as the favorite.  And while there were plenty of rapturous reviews (though it's unclear how much of the fanfare was Scorsese-worship and how much was genuine love of the film), it never quite got there.  While admirable and epic and filled with exquisite craftsmanship, it feels somehow lacking.  True, the themes of evil in the hearts of men and descent into hell are undeniable and fuel every single scene (at an hour and a half in, the situation is already pretty execrable… and then they announce the KKK is coming).  But the overall story itself doesn't quite justify the 3.5-hour runtime.  The complex web of deceit and corruption might be more compelling if every character perpetrating the crimes wasn't such a moron.  The ensuing investigation isn't exactly a chess match; it's more of a game of checkers against a five-year-old.  (Bonus points to the brainiac who asks a lawyer if it's legal to adopt children and then murder them for financial gain.)

The Barbie trailer declares that the movie is for people who love Barbie and people who hate Barbie.  But what about people who have never cared one way or the other about Barbie?  Because that's me.  So maybe not surprisingly, I neither love nor hate the movie.  It's funny, engaging, and enjoyable.  But I never saw it as a contender to vie for Best Picture.  If you've been absorbing pop-culture satire anytime in the past 60 years, you know Barbie-as-metaphor is not a novel idea -- sketch comedy, music, The Twilight Zone, movies, etc.  (How quickly we forget about Tyra Banks.)  The movie has a lot of things to say, has been a huge success, and obviously means a lot to a great many people.  But I, ever the curmudgeon, like to look with a more cynical eye: Is this a pro-consumerism movie?  Or an anti-consumerism movie?  Or a movie masquerading as pro-consumerism in order to satirize unabashed consumerism while actually convincing us of the virtues of anti-consumerism but underneath really just being a vehicle to sell merchandise for a large corporation?  (Hint: Do you think Barbie doll sales increased in 2023?)  Where are the lines between self-awareness and subversion and hypocrisy?  Only Twitter knows for sure.

“A work of art does not answer questions, it provokes them; and its essential meaning is in the tension between the contradictory answers.”  Oh boy.  That's exactly what we want to see at the beginning of a movie, right? -- a clear indication that it will leave us confused.  That quote, from Leonard Bernstein, is what opens the film Maestro.  And sure enough, it delivers on that promise: almost no answers.  As someone who knew next to nothing about the legendary conductor ahead of time, I don't know what I was expecting to get out of this experience.  And despite spending two hours with the character, I don't think I really know much now.  Does that mean I wanted a more traditional biopic, a Behind the Music episode, or a film adaptation of his Wikipedia page?  Sadly, maybe.  The movie has its fans, and nabbed several nominations, so clearly some people are responding to it.  I'm sure director/star Bradley Cooper knew there was no way to please everyone.  (Maybe that's why Steven Spielberg pawned it off on him; Spielberg had planned to direct, but handed the keys to Cooper after seeing A Star Is Born, and stayed on as a producer.  Incidentally, Spielberg actually has more nominations for producing (13) than directing (9); this film makes him the most-nominated producer ever.)  Don't expect this film to factor in the race -- as soon as Cooper missed out on a directing nomination, its Best Picture chances were dead in the water.

I'm not quite sure what to say (or how to feel) about The Zone of Interest.  Through unique sound design (what you hear rather than what you see), it's a film that highlights the atrocities of the Holocaust by presenting it with an unsettling sense of normalcy, as seen through the daily lives of the Nazi family that lives next to Auschwitz.  The banality and ignorance are the point.  The idea seems to be that anti-shock value is even more disturbing than shock value.  But it's not sneaky, it's overt.  (Case in point: the flourishes -- like the red screen, the reverse negative, or the loud screeching sounds -- which may or may not be there just to wake up any dozing audience members.)  It's easily the most polarizing of all the nominees.  Whether you appreciate the film probably depends greatly on how effective you think the approach is.  Personally, I find the technique and the structure -- and therefore, the film -- confounding, preventing me from fully connecting with it.  It strikes me more as an experience than a narrative -- novel and provocative, yes, but not successful in terms of story.  (And it may or may not be pointing a finger at modern-day museum cleaning ladies, I can't be sure.) 

My pick for Ingloriously Snubbed is The Taste of Things, which was France's submission for Best International Film (instead of Anatomy of a Fall), but shockingly didn't end up making the cut for Best Picture.  It's a 19th-century French romance between a mature monogamous couple, set in a rustic country kitchen, cooking gourmet cuisine the entire time, with no violence, swearing, or enmity. In other words: porn for my wife.

Here is my unsolicited ballot with all the Best Picture nominees, from best to worst:

The Holdovers

Anatomy of a Fall

Past Lives

Oppenheimer

Poor Things

American Fiction

Killers of the Flower Moon

Barbie

Maestro

The Zone of Interest

BEST ACTOR:

SHOULD WIN:  Cillian Murphy (Oppenheimer) WILL WIN:  Cillian Murphy (Oppenheimer) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Leonardo DiCaprio (Killers of the Flower Moon) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Ralph Fiennes (The Rat Catcher)

After months of being neck-and-neck with Paul Giamatti, Cillian Murphy has emerged as the front-runner for his work in Oppenheimer.  (Though it's not a sure thing; there's always at least one curveball on Oscar night.)  While Murphy and Giamatti both give bravura performances and are singularly perfect for their roles, Giamatti could probably do his Holdovers character in his sleep (or while eating a cheeseburger at In-N-Out).  Murphy, meanwhile, gives a performance unlike anything we've seen from him, making it seem like more of a revelation.  He certainly benefits from the year's best cinematography: framed like a portrait, wearing his hat and coat like a superhero outfit, paranoia frothing over his hard-edged face, and fish-eye-lens shots in close-up rendering him like a deer in headlights.  There's also the drama-versus-comedy bias at the Oscars, of course.  But in the end, voters will choose Murphy for delivering a career-defining performance and being the center of mass in the movie of the year.  (Then again, you could use the same description for Margot Robbie in Barbie, and we know how that turned out with the Academy.)

The central figure in The Holdovers is what you might get if you put "Paul Giamatti as a teacher" into an A.I. engine.  It is, without a doubt, the Paul Giamatti-est Paul Giamatti role ever.  And it is totally my jam (which is definitely a phrase that people still use).  After their magical collaboration in Sideways, it's hard to believe it's taken Giamatti and director Alexander Payne almost 20 years to team up again.  (Then again, I realize "grouchy Paul Giamatti star vehicle" is probably not high on many studios' wish lists.)  Readers of this article over the years (both of you) know he's a first-ballot Snubbed Hall of Famer: American Splendor in 2004, Sideways in 2005, and Should Win / Will Win for Cinderella Man in 2006.  And so, of course, this year I'm picking… someone else to win.  As much as it betrays the very fabric of my being, I think I have to endorse Murphy for Best Actor.  In terms of Oscar bait, Giamatti is missing a key element: The Big Emotional Speech.  You can almost picture it -- at the end, when he praises his student to his parents in front of the headmaster -- it could easily be a three-minute swooning monologue, full of lionizing epithets, clever wordplay, and inspirational Greek quotes, providing dramatic salvation for the boy while heartbreakingly sacrificing his own career, eliciting cheers as you uncontrollably and elatedly shout at the screen through tear-filled eyes, "O Captain!  My Captain!" or "You're the man now, dog!"  The Big Emotional Speech would have secured the Oscar immediately.  But that doesn't happen.  Payne doesn't subvert it (as you might expect), he simply avoids it.  That's not Payne, and that sure as hell isn't this movie.  True to life, Giamatti effectively sacrifices the Oscar by dutifully serving the film.  Like the Hall of Famer he is.

With American Fiction, Jeffrey Wright finally relinquishes the title of Greatest Living Actor to Never Be Nominated.  (On the ladies' side, Emily Blunt does the same with Oppenheimer.)  You may recall that I accurately predicted a nomination for Wright two years ago (never mind the fact that I said it would be for a different film this year, Asteroid City).  With Fiction, Wright elevates the already-crackling material in a way that I don’t think anyone else could.  He seems extremely at ease with his character, despite the fact that the character is not at ease at all.  His is probably the most believable portrayal in this race, a person you might know in real life.  (Like, I would probably be his despised neighbor, Phillip.)  He has some momentum here at the end of Oscar voting, having the most recent movie and winning the Indie Spirit Award, but it won't be enough to pull him ahead of Murphy or Giamatti.  (I'm sure he'll take solace in the fact that I have him in a virtual three-way tie with those two actors for Should Win.) 

If the Best Actor award is for who wants it the most, Bradley Cooper would win hands down for Maestro.  The man is campaigning hard.  If you've seen or heard one of the 5,000 interviews he's done this season, you know what I'm talking about.  How Leonard Bernstein was speaking through him.  How he trained 36 hours a day to be a conductor.  How he was handpicked to direct the project by God (a.k.a. Steven Spielberg).  In each interview, he makes sure to weep at least once and tries to work in the story where The Hangover director Todd Phillips told him he wished he believed in himself as much as Phillips did.  To his credit, it all seems very earnest.  I truly believe that handwritten notes from Michael Mann make him cry, and I truly believe that he very much wants to accept an Oscar.  As for the performance, it's transformative, but often feels like it slips into caricature, especially in the second half -- it's like Joe Piscopo doing Frank Sinatra, with Ben Stiller's Maury Finkle and Rick Moranis's Merv Griffin sprinkled in.  And as far as character motivation, I'm not entirely sure -- he seems to have two pursuits: getting summer to sing in him and humping anyone with nice hair.  As actor, writer, and producer of the film, Cooper adds three nominations to his previous nine.  But at the end of the night, the hardest-wanting man in show business will be 0 for 12, I'm afraid.  

After years (decades!) of admirable work in supporting roles, it's nice to see Rustin's Colman Domingo get recognition in a star-making turn.  It's just a shame it's not a better movie overall.  The screenplay aside, the film has the immobility of a walled-in stage play, with performances that play to the back row.  (Maybe not coincidentally, director George C. Wolfe has a highly-accomplished career in theater.)  Everyone in the ensemble seems to be overdoing it by about 10% (even Jeffrey Wright, who's so great in American Fiction), with a striking lack of naturalism (especially when compared to, say, Past Lives, which got zero acting nominations).  As such, Domingo, playing real-life activist Bayard Rustin, feels a bit broad early on; but he's at his best in the final act, when the performance rises to meet the poignance of the events in the film. 

Ralph Fiennes, my Ingloriously Snubbed choice for The Rat Catcher, is the best argument for why performances in short films should be eligible for Acting Oscars. 

BEST ACTRESS:

SHOULD WIN:  Emma Stone (Poor Things) WILL WIN:  Lily Gladstone (Killers of the Flower Moon) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Natalie Portman (May December) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Juliette Binoche (The Taste of Things)

As we come down to the wire, it seems that Lily Gladstone is edging past Emma Stone, for her heart-wrenching role in Killers of the Flower Moon.  They've been deadlocked most of the season; just a few days ago I would have said Stone had the slight edge.  But the Screen Actors Guild award tips the race in Gladstone's favor.  Really, it's still up for grabs, but if I were wagering, I wouldn’t bet against Gladstone.  And while she gives a strong and effecting performance, she's not quite my top choice -- though it has more to do with the film itself.  Despite being the lynchpin of the movie, I don't quite believe the love story between her character and Leonardo DiCaprio's.  Her character seems too savvy and too emotionally mature to fall for DiCaprio's halfwit baloney.  And because that relationship is so essential to the narrative (and true to life, according to their descendants), and because it allows the viewer to understand how so many awful events in the story take place, my disbelief causes much of the film to fall apart.  And unfortunately, it's holding me back from fully endorsing her performance.

Emma Stone gives an astonishing, hilarious, and frank performance in Poor Things, as her character goes on a globe-trotting adventure of self-discovery and sexual awakening.  (She could be the protagonist of the Seinfeld movie-within-the-show, 'Rochelle, Rochelle'.)  She's my slight pick for Should Win over Sandra Hüller, based on the high level of difficulty in her role: She has to portray the mental and physical evolution of a child growing to adulthood in a woman's body (as well as portray a lot of "furious jumping") -- and despite the inherent bizarreness, none of it ever comes across as false.  Her journey feels shocking, but also inevitable.  Despite being manipulated by her 'father', she follows in his footsteps, using increasingly-scientific curiosity and methods to evaluate things, people, and experiences.  (You know, she's something of a scientist herself.)  Having won already for La La Land, many voters will be happy to give the award to someone else.  But for my money, Stone's Poor Things performance blows La La Land away.  (And I still hold a grudge against La La Land for crapping on A Flock of Seagulls.)

Watching Sandra Hüller's character, who's accused of murder in Anatomy of a Fall, she's like Schrödinger's Cat -- she's both guilty and not guilty.  She skillfully draws us into her perspective while somehow keeping her distance; we empathize with her, but we never know what she's thinking.  Upon that intimate unknowability, she adds more complex layers -- love for her son, knowing that she'll be judged in the public's eye even if she's found innocent, and arguing a point that she doesn't believe (or says she doesn't believe) for the sake of her defense.  It's a remarkable turn from an actress largely unknown in the United States.  Hüller may benefit from double-dipping (she's also fantastic in The Zone of Interest), but voters are clearly considering this a contest between Lily Gladstone and Emma Stone. 

In another year, Carey Mulligan might get my vote for her performance in Maestro.  Director and co-star Bradley Cooper has been vocal about Mulligan being the true star of the movie.  She's a formidable foil for Cooper in the first half, though she risks veering into affectation.  That changes in the second half, when the film ratchets up, and Mulligan's performance ascends, becoming more naturalistic and bare -- and as a result, more connected to the audience.  It's a showcase for the breadth of her talent.  Through it all, she more than holds her own in the cacophony of argumentative dialogue that gives the film its signature melody. 

Why are we doing this?  Why do we keep doing this to poor Annette Bening?  Nominating her again when she has no chance to win?  She doesn't need our charity.  Her fifth nomination (for Nyad) feels like an unnecessary courtesy, especially given the number of other deserving actresses this year (more on that later).  To be fair, at the outset of Oscar season, this seemed -- on paper anyway -- like a great shot for Bening to finally land the trophy: a biopic of a complicated real-life character, a unique story about a mind-boggling accomplishment, a punishing physical performance, a commentary about age and perseverance, and a potential showcase for emotion and drama.  Unfortunately, the movie itself, about long-distance open-water swimmer Diana Nyad, is less than amazing, and her performance probably suffers because of it.  She finds better footing (swimming?) in the second half of the film, however, when stilted dialogue and imitation give way to more authentic emotion.  A bit of a surprise when nominations were read, Bening will have to hope for another crack at Oscar glory in a better movie.  Regardless, I suspect she's doing just fine without us.

As for my pick for Ingloriously Snubbed… Thought I was going to say Margot Robbie for Barbie?  I actually preferred her (abbreviated) performance in Asteroid City -- her scene was my favorite in the film.  I have a few actresses I'd nominate over Robbie: The official choice is Juliette Binoche (The Taste of Things), but Greta Lee (Past Lives) and Zar Amir Ebrahimi (Shayda) would also be worthy inclusions. 

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR:

SHOULD WIN:  Robert Downey Jr. (Oppenheimer) WILL WIN:  Robert Downey Jr. (Oppenheimer) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Charles Melton (May December) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Willem Dafoe (Poor Things)

There's little doubt that Robert Downey Jr. will win his first Oscar for Oppenheimer.  Voters are responding to an overwhelming sense of "it's his time", "the movie is awesome", and "he gives a great acceptance speech" (oh, and "his performance is good").  A question they may ask, before casting their vote in the supporting category, is whether they think Downey has an Oscar-winning lead performance in him sometime in the future.  (If Dolittle is any indication, probably not.)  Personally, I'm not quite sure who to endorse, in a group of solid if not electrifying performances.  (See Ingloriously Snubbed for my real pick.)  It's maybe more of a process of elimination, but ultimately I land on Downey too.  It's not exactly his most dynamic or captivating performance ever, but for a supporting role, he delivers the goods without going all 'Downey'.  And, I'm not going to lie, I'm rooting for him too… I mean, he does give a great acceptance speech.  (One lament about Oppenheimer's supporting roles: I wish they would have gotten Gene Hackman out of retirement, just so he could say the word "Oppenheimer" in his signature growl -- à la his Oppenheimer Funds commercials of yore.)

Just a few short years ago, I gave Robert De Niro a rare double-helping of Gloriously Omitted (for The Irishman and Joker) and suggested he hang up his holster.  I'm happy to say the calls for his retirement were premature.  Killers of the Flower Moon is the best De Niro in years (decades?) and his first well-earned nomination since 1991's Cape Fear.  It's vintage De Niro, full of menace and manipulation -- a schemer who's just wise enough to know that he doesn't have to outsmart everyone, just the guy next to him.  (In a movie landscape full of shared universes, is it possible this role is a Louis Cyphre origin story?)

It seemed inevitable that voters were going to include one of the standout supporting performances in Poor Things -- either Mark Ruffalo or Willem Dafoe.  While I would have picked the other one (see below), this is probably the silliest, most dynamic, and (intentionally) funniest Ruffalo we've ever seen.  (No "They knew!" grandstanding here.)  It's unlike any part he's ever played, and his odd vocalizations serve him well in the role.  Despite being the 'adult' in his relationship with Emma Stone's character, he really nails the I-didn't-get-my-way pouting that every parent knows well.  While effective, it ultimately feels like he's play-acting a bit, instead of authentically inhabiting the role, so voters won't be swayed to give him the award.

Well, one doll we know won't be represented in Barbieland is Oscar Winner Ken.  Ryan Gosling is more than game in Barbie, but this is probably the film's least likely shot at a trophy.  Maybe Gosling's Ken can use his clicky-pen doctor powers to explain to me what the point of the Mattel sub-plot is and what the corporation is doing in the movie.  I don't mean what Mattel represents, I mean what they literally do.  Like, how do the Patriarchy Ken dolls get manufactured so fast?  The Ken revolution (and corresponding mass production) seems to happen in the span of a day, without any involvement from the company.  Does Mattel make dolls, or do the dolls somehow self-manifest based on the actions of the Barbieland characters with Mattel just reaping the benefits?  Basically, I don't understand any of the Mattel movie logic.  (And Will Ferrell clearly doesn't either.)

Sterling K. Brown was a bit of a late-breaking surprise for his part in American Fiction.  After three Emmy awards and a bunch of recent nominations -- so many nominations -- it seemed inevitable that an Oscar nod was going to happen for him sooner or later (though his movie career has taken longer to fully launch than expected).  While he has no real shot to win, his nomination is likely an indication of things to come.  (An even surer sign that he's made it is that he's created sworn enemies -- the sincerest form of flattery in Hollywood -- in Charles Melton and Willem Dafoe, two actors that were hoping to get his slot.)

Speaking of Charles Melton… I am, apparently, the only one on planet Earth that is not blown away by Melton's performance in May December.  I understand that as a victim of trauma at an early age, his character is supposed to be stunted and withdrawn.  But where viewers and critics alike find his performance mesmerizing and chilling, I find it… well, oafish and flat.  ("Yes, of course it is!" the Internet yells at me.  "That's because he's broken inside, you inconsiderate monster!")  Okay.  I get it.  Actually, I don't.  The performance doesn't strike me as particularly nuanced or engaging.  ("But he has an emotional breakdown in front of his son who's half his age but twice as mature!  The fact that they're totally baked and weirdly sitting on the roof of the house make it all the more poignant, you cretin!")  Sigh.  Every commenter out there anointed him the Oscar winner long before nominations were announced.  ("He's so perfect they should rename the category after him!")  I was unconvinced.  And so, it turns out, was a large portion of the Academy.  What will hindsight say?  I've watched the film again, and, with everyone so passionate about the authenticity of his performance, I'm willing to admit that I may be wrong about it.  On second thought, no.  I'm not.  And so I dub him Gloriously Omitted.  (A couple silly honorable mentions: Brendan Fraser, for showing up to yell for 10 seconds in Killers of the Flower Moon; and Jesse Tyler Ferguson, for treating Cocaine Bear like it's a sequel to Wet Hot American Summer.)

There's only one choice for Snubbed: Willem Dafoe in Poor Things, as the Scientist, or as the Father, or as Dr. Frankenstein.  (Or as God, if you like.)  In fact, he'd be my choice to win the Oscar over all the actual nominees.  His performance feels strangely authentic, despite the fact that his is probably the most audacious and ludicrous in the movie.  There's no note of novelty in his performance (which is something I can't say about his screen-mate, Mark Ruffalo).  It's as if Dafoe's long history of weirdo characters has led him to this wonderful culmination of superlative oddness.  Some other smaller performances worth mentioning: Tom Conti in Oppenheimer (I seem to be the only one who likes his goofball Einstein), Rhys Ifans in Nyad (the shaggy, underrated soul of the impossible quests), and Milo Machado Graner in Anatomy of a Fall (the gifted child at the heart of the film). 

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS:

SHOULD WIN:  Da'Vine Joy Randolph (The Holdovers) WILL WIN:  Da'Vine Joy Randolph (The Holdovers) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Julianne Moore (May December) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Viola Davis (Air)

The two leading contenders are the ones that (not coincidentally) have the best and most complete parts in their respective films.  The first is Da'Vine Joy Randolph, the runaway choice for her role as a grieving yet tender mother/coworker/road-trip-buddy in The Holdovers.  She's arguably the third lead in the film, with her own standalone story and well-developed characterization.  Typically a comedic actress, she gives her character a sense of faded warmth and vitality in the wake of recent difficulties.  She's never been my official Snubbed choice, but she's been in consideration for standout performances in Dolemite Is My Name and The United States vs. Billie Holiday (not to mention as the comically fed-up but dogged investigator in Only Murders in the Building).  (Good thing I'm not giving awards for Best Accent -- I'm not really sure what's going on with her occasional Boston inflection in The Holdovers.  She evidently didn't study Ben Affleck's Dunkin' Donuts Super Bowl commercial.)

Danielle Brooks similarly benefits from a fantastic part in The Color Purple, and she fully capitalizes on it.  The film brims with supporting roles that voters probably considered for nominations, but Brooks brings a unique (and welcome) energy to the film; each scene she's in changes the dynamics of the entire piece.  Her nomination is a no-brainer, encapsulating pretty much everything the Academy likes in a supporting performance.  She gets to sing, dance, and throw a punch -- but the role and screentime are less than what Randolph has to work with, so she won't realistically challenge for the prize.  But getting her own catchphrase ("Hell no!") isn't a bad consolation. 

Barbie has been called a lot of things -- smarter and dumber minds than mine have seen to that -- but one thing that stands out to me is that it's a sneaky coming-of-age story.  But unlike director Greta Gerwig's previous films (Lady Bird and Little Women), we realize halfway through that it's a coming-of-age story for the mother character (which makes it a coming-of-middle-age story, I guess?).  So the film in many ways is just as much about America Ferrera's character as it is Barbie herself.  I think that is a big reason why so many people (and voters) have responded to her performance, beyond her "Woman" monologue.  However, Ferrera's best performance of the year may have been trying to look impressed while co-presenter Kevin Costner awkwardly fumbled his way through an excerpt of her now-famous monologue at the Golden Globes.  Yikes.  (Bonus points to her for spoofing the speech in the Oscars promo video with Jimmy Kimmel.)

I think voters may have been grading on a curve when nominating Jodie Foster for Nyad.  It's a competent performance, but I personally don't think it's anything out of the ordinary; the fact that it's in a middling film with underwritten dialogue doesn't help.  I suspect that since she doesn't appear in many movies anymore, voters were enthused to see her on-screen, and lazily gravitated to her, over less-conventional performances from other actresses.  She'll get a True Detective bump (like Matthew McConaughey, Mahershala Ali, and Rachel McAdams before her), but she's no threat to collect her third trophy. 

While it's helpful to be graded on a curve, it's even better to be part of the snowball effect.  Case in point: Emily Blunt in Oppenheimer.  There's no real way to sugarcoat it: the nomination is week.  There's simply not much for her to do.  But Oppenheimer is rolling through town, and it's carrying a lot of people with it.  So her nomination has seemed inevitable since last summer.  The only surprise is realizing that she's never been nominated for anything else (like The Devil Wears Prada, The Young Victoria, Into the Woods, Sicario, A Quiet Place, Mary Poppins Returns, or The Girl on the Train).  Despite being her only nominated role, Oppenheimer probably won't even make the highlight reel of her career.  (At least her character has more to do -- albeit with less consequence -- than Rami Malek.)

The year had a lot of fun and interesting smaller roles, many of which weren't actually in contention for the Oscars, but are worth mentioning: Viola Davis is the obvious choice for Air, but it's certainly not her most memorable work.  Sandra Hüller (in The Zone of Interest) is a bright spot in a film I otherwise didn't love.  Kerry O'Malley is memorable in The Killer for what is essential a cameo.  (I hope she had a stunt double.)  Kate McKinnon is perfect in Barbie.  (I'm waiting for an announcement of a Weird Barbie spin-off.)  And Teyonah Parris: I'm not necessarily citing her role in The Marvels, but after doing action, horror, and drama, I would recommend a big-budget rom-com -- she has the best (and most under-used) smile in Hollywood. 

BEST DIRECTOR:

SHOULD WIN:  Justine Triet (Anatomy of a Fall) WILL WIN:  Christopher Nolan (Oppenheimer) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Bradley Cooper (Maestro) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Alexander Payne (The Holdovers)

This is the strongest lock of the night: Christopher Nolan for Oppenheimer.  But there is still intrigue with this category… specifically, after winning every single award of the season, how long can Nolan continue to pretend to be surprised and grateful and humble?  I don't think he can keep it up.  I think on Oscar night, upon his crowning achievement, he'll finally say, "We all knew I was going to win, I'm better than all these hacks, and it is long overdue."  A little honesty and pompousness would be refreshing.  (After many months of officially giving no comment on the Barbenheimer phenomenon and clearly having no patience for all the viral marketing nonsense, maybe he will finally tell us what he really thinks of Barbie.)  Perhaps he'll reveal how autobiographical his film actually is.  I'm not the only one who strongly suspects that it's a meta-commentary on the world at large not understanding his films and the negative reviewers not appreciating his genius.  (Lydon Johnson might as well be giving J.R. Oppenheimer a gold statuette instead of the Fermi Award at the end of the film, years after having his Inception Security Clearance revoked.)  And of course, Nolan is the obvious choice for Should Win… right?  I mean, how could he not be?  …Right?  Or…

…But then there's Justine Triet, director of Anatomy of a Fall.  While her film may lack the spectacle of Oppenheimer, she finds subtler ways to make it engaging and keep the viewer glued to the screen.  Through twisty psychology, magnetic performances, alternating points of view, DIY detective work, confounding legal proceedings, and shifting blame (plus a dog who may know more than everyone else), she keeps us highly invested while daring us to doubt the main character.  The film is long, but effectively so; Triet puts the viewer into the center of the arduous situation, frustrating us along with the protagonist.  It's a balancing act that could collapse at any time, but Triet keeps it all together.  So for the effect she has on the viewer, and the way she orchestrates all the components to tell the most engrossing story, I choose her for my Should Win.  (But if I'm being honest, that probably won't keep me from rooting for Nolan, one of my favorite directors over the past two decades.  Had he already won for Dunkirk, like I said he should, then I wouldn't be conflicted.)

From a visual perspective, I probably like the look of Yorgos Lanthimos's Poor Things best of all the Director nominees.  A Victorian fever dream with production design on steroids, the visual style matches the absurdity of the characters and the journeys they're on.  Elements that shouldn't go together end up meshing in a lovely but jarring, unique but familiar way.  It's a Frankenstein movie that evokes the aesthetic of a different monster movie -- Francis Ford Coppola's Dracula.  There are also strong influences from The Wizard of Oz and Alice in Wonderland, of course.  The city of Alexandria is straight out of Dr. Seuss's 'Oh, the Thinks You Can Think' (I was half expecting to see the Vipper of Vipp).  Much of the iconography seems heavily influenced by the Follies numbers in The Great Ziegfeld from almost 90 years ago.  And then it throws in some retro-future steampunk elements, just to irritate the European History teachers.  (I'd love to hear what Paul Giamatti's Holdovers character would say.)  I can't say I loved Poor Things quite as much as Lanthimos's previous effort, The Favourite, but he's become a must-see director for me. 

Killers of the Flower Moon gives Martin Scorsese his 10th Best Director nomination, vaulting him past his old nemesis Steven Spielberg for most by a living director.  (William Wyler is the all-time king, with 12.)  As Scorsese nears the end of his career, many thought this would be the grand finale and score him an elusive second statue, putting him in elite company.  But Christopher Nolan, his new nemesis, said, "Not so fast."  Were it not for Oppenheimer, I could easily see Scorsese winning; Flower Moon is one of his best-looking films (it looks a hundred times better than The Irishman).  It's also one of his best-sounding films -- without being able to lean on the Rolling Stones, he got a magnificent composition from Robbie Robertson (who passed away a few months ago), the kind of foreboding score that I really respond to, that isn't overly-manipulative or doesn't do too much heavy lifting (<cough> Oppenheimer <cough>).  It's also probably the most sensitive film he's made in years; instead of focusing primarily on the FBI investigation (which would have been in his wheelhouse), he refocused the story on "love, trust, and betrayal", after hearing input from members of the Osage Nation.  However, one hang-up I have is the radio-play ending, which felt awkward and blunt.  There's something dissatisfying about not seeing the characters meet their fate.  Maybe that’s the point… or maybe editor Thelma Schoonmaker said, "We gotta wrap this up."

This year's unconventional nominee, Jonathan Glazer, is an acquired taste, and certainly not for everyone.  With his résumé of button-pushing films (Sexy Beast, Birth, Under the Skin), he's not exactly a family-friendly director.  (My generation knows him as the director of Jamiroquai's iconic 'Virtual Insanity' video in the '90s, which won him an MTV Moonman Award.  Maybe he's going for a MEGOT?)  Glazer has jokingly referred to his film The Zone of Interest as "Big Brother in the Nazi house" -- which is not totally inaccurate.  A more serious comparison might be Jeanne Dielman…, or other European observational 'slow cinema' films.  Glazer goes to great lengths to make the film the inverse of what you might expect from a Holocaust film; visually, it's not graphic or assaulting or visceral, but thanks to the sounds he puts in the background (the "second film", he calls it), it is those things in your imagination.  The film goads and baits the viewer in ways no other film in my memory does.  I'm afraid to say it doesn't totally work for me, at least not as intended.  I can't help but feel like it's a lot of pretense lacquered onto subject matter that probably doesn't need it.  Glazer is clearly an artist of immense talent, who refuses to conform to conventions… which is another way of saying that he's probably a producer's nightmare.  I'm guessing in school he was often told how much potential he had by frustrated teachers threatening to fail him.  I just hope he someday channels that potential into a film that works for me (preferably one that includes a catchy tune, funky dancing, and a trippy moving floor).

I'm not sure if Maestro is well directed, but it's certainly very directed.  I'm guessing I'm not the only one that has director Bradley Cooper on the Gloriously Omitted list.  The film is full of pizazz and talent, but what's perhaps more fascinating than the film itself is the irresponsible psychological excavating we might do about its author.  How much of it is self-examination of Cooper himself and his thirsty quest for artistic recognition?  Only his therapist knows for sure, but I'd wager that the movie teaches us more about Bradley Cooper than Leonard Bernstein.  Honorable mentions to David Fincher for The Killer, doing less of what he does best, and Todd Haynes for May December, doing… well, I don't know what the hell he's doing.  (More on that in Original Screenplay.)

Under the singular direction of Alexander Payne, The Holdovers is like a warm, scratchy wool blanket at grandma's house -- despite the discomfort and awkwardness, it's so cozy and so familiarly specific that you never want to leave.  I'm a sucker for his analog-film aesthetic -- I relish Payne's version of the 1970s more than other retro nostalgia-porn, like Licorice Pizza or Dazed and Confused.  His omission was my biggest disappointment on nomination day, and is my easy Snubbed choice.  Other worthy contenders include Celine Song for Past Lives and Anh Hung Tran for The Taste of Things.  Song, a first-time film director, frames her shots in Past Lives like an old pro.  Perhaps my favorite is when the Greta Lee character (the center of gravity in the film) leaves the two men alone together.  The shot starts wide, as if it's unmoored by her departure, and calls attention to her absence.  But then as the men talk and make their own connection, the frame becomes anchored, centering on them and slowly pushing in.  But just subtly -- perfectly.  On the other end of the spectrum, Tran's sweeping camera work in The Taste of Things heightens the culinary experience that is the soul of the film.  While extremely complex and painstakingly choreographed, it feels effortless and looks natural, never calling attention to itself.  He also eschews a musical score, so the camera highlights the sounds of the gourmet kitchen -- and those sounds effectively become the score, providing surprising rhythm and melody. 

BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY:

SHOULD WIN:  Arthur Harari, Justine Triet (Anatomy of a Fall) WILL WIN:  Arthur Harari, Justine Triet (Anatomy of a Fall) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Christos Nikou, Stavros Raptis, Sam Steiner (Fingernails) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Alex Convery (Air)

There's an interesting phenomenon with the nominated writers this year: three of the films are written by domestic partners (Anatomy of a Fall, May December, and Barbie).  And appropriately (or alarmingly), those films also happen to include major conflicts between the sexes.  (I had assumed Greta Gerwig and Noah Baumbach had hashed everything out during Marriage Story.)  Anatomy of a Fall, written by Arthur Harari and Justine Triet, seems like it would be cause for concern for the couple.  Do we think a story about a woman who may or may not have killed her husband with zero remorse is a red flag?  I can imagine their writing style… 

Justine: [At the keyboard.]  Arthur: [Turns up music.]  Justine: "The husband is listening to his annoying music… and then he mysteriously falls off a third-story balcony to his death!"  Arthur: Shall I turn down the music, love? 

Assuming they haven't killed each other before then, I expect Harari and Triet will collect the Original Screenplay Oscar together. 

But it's far from a lock.  The script for The Holdovers (written by David Hemingson) has a good chance to sneak in.  It has the uncanny ability to make me nostalgic for things I've never known, places I've never been to, life before I was born, and experiences I've never actually wanted. 

Another strong contender and possible spoiler is Past Lives, the story of a love that defies the limits of time and distance… or the story of an Uber that shows up just a little too quickly.  Writer/director Celine Song, with her first film, handles the script with the delicacy of someone with decades more experience.  The film deals with the ideas of fate and free will, not just in this lifetime but across many lifetimes.  It also references another fantastic screenplay: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.  That film is specifically mentioned by a character, but its themes of repeating connections and the inevitability of love (even when relationships fail and heartbreak is inescapable) also reverberate throughout the story and dialogue of Past Lives.  Eternal Sunshine won Best Original Screenplay 20 years ago; even if Past Lives doesn't win, it's a worthy successor. 

After watching Maestro, I'm still wondering what Leonard Bernstein has to do with the end of the world as we know it.  The script, written by Bradley Cooper and Josh Singer, is probably the least compelling of the bunch here.  I'm equally fascinated and frustrated by the dialogue; it's like Bernstein's music -- boisterous, abrupt, busy, discordant, jarring, overlapping… and, probably intentionally, difficult to fully understand.  Aside from never saying what they actually mean, characters talk over each other and -- more crucially -- past each other.  I get to the end of a scene and wonder, What did I just listen to?  What are they fighting about?  I heard words, and yelling, and disagreement, but I don't actually know the meaning of what they said to each other.  The characters do not seem to be confused, but I am.  If the dialogue in the film isn't for you, at least you can smile at the Snoopy Thanksgiving Parade Balloon metaphor (which, like life, literally goes by without Bernstein seeing it). 

May December (directed by Todd Haynes, written by Samy Burch and Alex Mechanik) was at one time a strong Oscar contender in several categories, but ended up an also-ran.  Its lone nomination is for screenplay, and for me, it's a hard one to wrap my head around.  How to interpret the melodrama-run-amok that we see onscreen?  Upon a second viewing, it's clear that there's more than a healthy zesting of camp (if you're not sure, remember that Haynes is the guy that made Superstar: The Karen Carpenter Story -- with plastic dolls).  Here's my theory on how to reconcile the film (if you haven't seen it, skip this paragraph): We are not seeing reality; we are seeing the movie that Natalie Portman's character (the actress) is picturing in her head.  She is imagining the events of her research and interaction with the family as a melodramatic episode.  In her mind, she's picturing it play out as if it's her idea of a prestigious Oscar-type film.  But since she's not very talented, she's imagining it in an over-the-top, overly-performative, amateurish way.  So to Portman's character, it's supposed to be sophisticated, but it comes off (to us) as campy -- dramatic music, overt sexual tension, deceptive wife, boy-toy husband, evocative imagery, a lisp for a character tic, and herself as the sly (but ridiculous) seductress.  Since she doesn't have a deep imagination, she rips off other movies -- specifically her favorite prestige movie from her formative childhood: The Silence of the Lambs.  So she infuses the story with all kinds of Lambs elements that, of course, don't work at all in this narrative: butterflies, 1990s thriller score, a pet-shop stockroom that looks like Buffalo Bill's basement, a dark X-ray lab, face-to-face interrogation, characters looking into the camera.  But she's no Jonathan Demme, so her version of it is terrible, of course.  She thinks she's Clarice Starling, but she can't outwit Julianne Moore's Hannibal Lector.  (The film even casts Moore, who played Starling… but not in the original; instead she was in the second-rate, non-Demme sequel.)  We get to the end and see Portman's character has been deluding herself, stuck in a purgatory of basic-cable mediocrity.

If I name Asteroid City as my choice for Gloriously Omitted, will my Wes Anderson Fan Club membership be revoked?  It's… (choosing my words carefully here)… not one of his best.  I would probably go easier on the movie if 1) he hadn't included the scene with Adrien Brody and Margot Robbie, which is easily the most electric scene in the film, and made wish he made that movie instead, and 2) he hadn't also made The Rat Catcher, which I love, in the same year (see: the Adapted Screenplay category).  To be on the safe side, I'll go with Fingernails (written by Christos Nikou, Stavros Raptis, and Sam Steiner).  What a great premise.  What a boring execution.  The pitch: In an alternate reality, true love can be scientifically tested by ripping the fingernails off two people and putting them in a microwave-looking-thingamabob.  The experience: Dull people sitting around doing their mundane jobs or watching TV and passively doubting or projecting their feelings, failing to make us believe any of these mopes could possibly be in love with each other.  It should have been a lot weirder or a lot shorter -- it could have made a helluva Black Mirror episode.  (As it is, it's still better than any of the actual episodes in the latest season of Black Mirror.)  Honorable Mention unfortunately goes to celebrated writers Dustin Lance Black and Julian Breece for Rustin's script.  The film takes a dynamic figure playing a pivotal role in landmark events in history, and makes the experience feel educational instead of cinematic.  The screenplay often verbalizes the subtext, and makes it text.  You can practically hear a producer's reductive notes coming through in the stale dialogue.  A missed opportunity.

BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY:

SHOULD WIN:  Tony McNamara (Poor Things) WILL WIN:  Cord Jefferson (American Fiction) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Julia Cox (Nyad) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Wes Anderson (The Rat Catcher)

All the scripts in the Adapted category are smart and challenging, and interrogate what we think (or what we think we think) about well-established events, people, and perceptions (and toys).  A favorite among voters this year (and the likely winner) is American Fiction, the first film written and directed by Cord Jefferson.  All the films in this category confront the preconceived notions in different ways, but I think American Fiction does it more elegantly that the others.  My only reservation about the script is the ending.  (Some spoilers here.)  We come to form a relationship with Jeffrey Wright's character and become invested in his story.  So it's a letdown when we get a satirical resolution, instead of a sincere, meaningful one.  (I realize that's the point -- the character doesn't get to finish his own story, and he's succumbed to the idea of simply giving paying audiences the pandering ending that they think they want.)  We're left to question not only what happens to him, but also whether he's at peace with his choices.  Like the character himself, we feel a bit unfulfilled.  But I suppose that's life. 

Oppenheimer has yet to win a major screenplay award during the Oscar run-up, so despite it steamrolling through most categories, it's looking less and less likely to win here… but don't count it out.  With Christopher Nolan a sure bet to collect trophies for Director and Picture, voters will likely use this category to spread the love around.  And I agree with them; screenplay is not Oppenheimer's strongest suit.  Despite all the timeline chicanery, it's mostly a courtroom drama (never mind the fact that characters keep saying it's not a court).  More than that, it's a courtroom drama with low stakes.  Do we really care if Oppenheimer loses his security clearance?  Nolan's screenplay acrobatics try to trick us into thinking we care.  But we do not.  (And his framing device, despite being an attention-grabber, is ultimately inconsequential.  But don't tell Rami Malek that.)  In the script's defense, what I think Nolan is really trying to do is reclaim -- or at least reframe or question -- important (and very consequential) events in history.  And he succeeds in that.  (One final script critique: The movie goes out of its way to make the Trinity test extremely intense, but my wife will tell you, the most harrowing part of the movie is the relentless sound of the poor crying baby.  Good lord.)

If you're looking for a potential upset, the intense nomination-snub backlash for Barbie could propel it to a win here, as a way to reward writer/director Greta Gerwig (and co-writer Noah Baumbach).  The concept of a toy or doll coming to life is not exactly a new idea, so the core idea for Barbie is not terribly original.  Think of Pinocchio, The Lego Movie(s), The Nutcracker, Small Soldiers, Wreck-It Ralph, Mannequin, Annabelle, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, Ted, Child's Play… even Barbie herself in the Toy Story movies.  They all yearn for (and usually get) agency over their own lives, and 'write their own story'.  (Well… the screenwriters, like Gerwig and Baumbach, actually write their stories.)  Within that construct, Barbie manages to take on some big ideas about humanity, womanhood, mortality, and feet.  When it comes to screenplays with fantastical premises, I tend to get hung up on the in-movie logic.  A small sampling: What's the relationship between the Barbieland Barbies and the actual toys?  Is there one Barbieland Barbie for every single toy?  If so, there would be over a billion of them, and many of them would theoretically look the same.  And Margot Robbie wouldn't be the first doll to be outgrown and discarded.  Or is it one Barbieland Barbie for every toy model?  If that's the case, then that would mean that thousands of people have a toy that corresponds to Margot Robbie, not just America Ferrera.  So wouldn't those people all have influence over her?  Why is Ferrera the only one impacting her?  But then how to explain Weird Barbie?  Per the movie, Weird Barbie started as a standard model (maybe the Margot Robbie model?), and then got played with too rough.  If it's one Barbieland Barbie for each individual toy, shouldn't there be a ton of Weird Barbies?  And shouldn't their faces all look like the other standard Barbies that they originated from?  Or if it's one Barbieland Barbie per model, then how did a single toy being mangled cause an entire model (with thousands of corresponding toys) to become Weird?  (And I wonder why people hate watching movies with me.) 

With movies, I have a tendency to laugh at things that are audacious, even if they're aren't conventionally funny.  It's an expression of shock and bemusement, more than actual humor.  As a result, I'm often the only one laughing in a movie theater.  (Which just thrills my wife.)  And so I spent a lot of time laughing at Poor Things (written by Tony McNamara).  Don't get me wrong, the film is hilarious, wickedly so… but, understandably, not everyone appreciates the humor.  But the audacity is where it truly excels and sets itself apart.  In a category where any of the films could win, this is my pick for what should win.

I've already written at length about my lack of connection to The Zone of Interest (written by Jonathan Glazer).  It's hard to judge the screenplay, when the directorial style overwhelms any real sense of story.  Strong narrative is paramount to me.  And this isn't that.  To be fair, tidy storytelling and artful subtlety are not the film's aim; decrying complicity is.  But Glazer's choice of contrasting audio and visual is a risky gambit, and the film is not as affecting for me as others covering a similar topic.  I guess the important thing is that it calls into question whether we really remember the atrocities as an urgent warning, or if we breeze past them like a dusty museum piece -- just another rote, distant history lesson.  (It can also be perversely seen as an outside commentary on the hollowness of the "American Dream", but I don't personally buy into that reading.)

This is probably unfair, but I'm giving Gloriously Omitted to Nyad, written by Julia Cox.  It's hard to tell if the clunkiness is in the writing or directing or producing (or all of the above), but it's there nonetheless.  If you've ever seen an underdog sports movie, you know the beats, you've heard the dialogue, and you've seen the cliches.  The directors, Elizabeth Chai Vasarhelyi and Jimmy Chin (another married couple!) are acclaimed documentary filmmakers (Oscar winners a few years ago for Free Solo), but this is their first narrative feature.  So maybe not surprisingly, they deftly handle the physical feats but not the human drama.  The good news is, the script and direction become more comfortable in the second half, and it's hard not to get the feels when the ending hits the right notes.  (But then again, the real-life protagonist, Diana Nyad, has been accused of making a lot of stuff up about her accomplishments.  So there's that.)

If I made the rules, Wes Anderson's short-film adaptation of The Rat Catcher would be eligible here, and I'd be clamoring for a nomination (thereby restoring my recently-revoked fan club membership).  For feature films, Ingloriously Snubbed goes to Anh Hung Tran for The Taste of Things.  At the screening I attended at the Chicago International Film Festival, the writer/director had a wonderful and brutal description of a script: he called it a "dead body", only becoming alive once it receives the language of cinema.  For his buoyant script, I respectfully disagree. 

[ryanjdonovan]

DONOVAN’S OSCAR PROGNOSTICATION 2023

These are my 24th annual Oscar predictions, which don't mean much, except that the Oscars turn 95 this year.  So that means that I've been writing this article for more than a quarter of the entire existence of the Academy Awards.  That's an institution that started in 1929 and predates mainstream movies in color, World War II, the Great Depression, the Empire State Building, the end of Prohibition, and the Star Spangled Banner as the official national anthem, and is nearly as old as talkies.  It's older than nonagenarians Client Eastwood, James Earl Jones, Gene Hackman, and Robert Duvall… and almost as old as Everything Everywhere All at Once's James Hong. 

When I think of the effort and dedication that have gone into crafting these articles over the past 24 years, I can't help but feel… not proud… what's the word?  Pathetic.  Yes, pathetic.  And regretful, and depressed, and wasteful.  All those years… it's sad, really.  Had I applied myself to some fruitful endeavor, I probably could have made something of myself.

And you… If you’ve been reading these since the previous millennium, you have my sincerest apologies.  I feel bad about all the goals you may have been able to achieve, had you spent time nurturing your passions instead of reading my indulgent, hacky, blathering write-ups.   Honestly, I had much higher hopes for both of us. 

But, there's no sense in stopping now!  Please squander more of your precious life and read on for my fearless predictions.

Also, you can follow me on Letterboxd: https://letterboxd.com/ryanjdonovan/

BEST PICTURE:

SHOULD WIN:  Everything Everywhere All at Once WILL WIN:  Everything Everywhere All at Once GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Empire of Light INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Glass Onion

I thought this day would never come: The movie that I think is the best movie of the year is going to win Best Picture.  That film, improbably, is Everything Everywhere All at Once.  The concept of this movie winning the big prize last spring was laughable, but it's steadily gained steam, and is now the heavy favorite.  I couldn't be happier, or more surprised.  Sure, there have been years where the film that I thought Should Win did in fact win; but those were limited to just the nominees -- and usually, my favorite film is not nominated.  We can finally all rejoice and celebrate the fact that the Academy got this one right.  (Well, let's not congratulate ourselves too much.  There's plenty of other things the Academy will get wrong this year.)  Everything Everywhere isn't just the best film of the year, it's the one that you feel the most.  That's its superpower.  Somewhere in the overstuffed cocktail of alternate realities, genre mash-ups, laundromats, and tax returns, it's infused with basic, grounded emotions, which shine through in every single scene.  Even a scene with two rocks is emotional.  But more than that, the sentimental swells don't feel manipulative.  The film somehow manages deal with so many different themes and dovetail them in without feeling forced, by hiding them inside subverted genre set-pieces.  Trying to overexplain why I love the movie will only serve to undermine it.  What's great is that no two viewers have the same experience; everyone hones in on different aspects and themes that resonate with them.  Each person finds different things to love about it.  Fanny-pack bludgeonings are not your thing?  Then maybe you'll like a toy-poodle-whip attack.  Or a vengeful robo-grandpa.  Or flapping hotdog fingers.  (See?  I shouldn't overexplain it.)  The best I can do is say is that it's simply a modern masterpiece. 

I love Top Gun: Maverick, but let's get this out of the way right off the bat: It is not better than the original Top Gun.  It isn't.  So just stop.  (I swear -- while choking back tears for Goose -- this isn't just the nostalgia talking.)  But the real question: Can it win Best Picture?  You know, the Academy Award for the most prestigious movie of the year, joining the upper echelon as One of the Greatest Films Ever Made, with the likes of The Godfather, Schindler's List, Lawrence of Arabia, Casablanca, and Gone with the Wind?  Well, if you had told me back in June that it would be nominated for this award, I would have said you were crazy.  Yet here we are.  And yes, there is a decent chance it will win.  Why?  One: It's awesome.  Two: It has the benefit of being a movie that everyone has loved, and you can't say that about any of the other nominees.  (Even people who dislike action movies, fighter jets, or men with mustaches like this movie.)  Three: It may not be any voter's #1 choice, but it will probably be #2 on almost every preferential ballot, and if there's no other clear favorite, that could be enough to win.  Four: It's a sneaky way to give Tom Cruise an Oscar without giving him one for acting; the self-perpetuated, self-serving narrative that Tom Cruise Saved Hollywood -- Nay, Saved Democracy! -- is oddly pervasive and shamefully compelling.  Five: It's okay to hate the bad guys in the movie!  Because they're… well… nameless and faceless and country-less.  If we can all agree to hate the same generic enemies, then everyone is happy and everyone wins… especially Tom Cruise.

I’m a little leery of directors making semi-autobiographical 'this is why I became a filmmaker' movies -- especially ones that have a variation of the word “fable” right in the title.  The risk is that it's going to be effusive and self-indulgent.  And The Fabelmans, from Steven Spielberg, is those things, frankly.  (Though, thankfully, not as indulgent or unnecessary as his West Side Story remake -- now that was a movie I didn’t need in my life.)  But The Fabelmans is an enjoyable peek into the maestro's psyche, and it's been a huge hit with critics, audiences, creatives, and people with crazy uncles named Boris.  (And the cameo encounter at the end is inspired, and apparently 100% true.)  However, I can't help but be underwhelmed.  Maybe it's because, for me, coming-of-age stories either resonate or they don't.  Or maybe that it's a fairly trite, low-stakes movie, lacking the gee-whiz-ness that we've come to expect (unfairly, perhaps) from the master of spectacle.  Either way, for a Spielberg film, it somehow feels pedestrian.  (Though I think many will argue that's the point -- identifying the humanity in the filmmaker we've all built up as being super-human.)  As for the film's Oscar chances, in the fall, it was a slam-dunk to claim Best Picture.  It's been slipping back over the past couple months, and is now considered a long-shot, but can't be counted out completely.

Surprising as it may seem, I was not yet writing my annual Oscar article when the original version of All Quiet on the Western Front won Best Picture in 1930.  With a new version nominated this year, could it be the first title to win Best Picture twice?  The film won the top prize at the BAFTAs (British film awards), has nine total Oscar nominations, and has the muscle of Netflix behind it, so it's not out of the realm of possibility.  The easy comparison is 1917 -- same war, same horrors, similar lone-soldier perspective, but different side of the battlefield (1917 also had most of the same nominations as All Quiet).  But they have different trajectories: 1917 was an early front-runner that faded late in the race (eventually losing to Parasite), while All Quiet was a bit of a surprise on nomination day, but has been surging since then.  Ultimately, war films these days are a tough sell for Best Picture (looking at you, Saving Private Ryan), in part because they tend to be bombastic testosterone overload, and in part because of the argument that any depiction of war glorifies it (which I don't understand; I doubt anyone that's watched All Quiet or 1917 can be anything but horrified).  I expect All Quiet will make some, ahem, noise (sorry, couldn't resist) in other technical categories, but won't threaten Everything Everywhere for Best Picture. 

If you've ever been to the Aran Islands off the western coast of Ireland, you know the deal: beautiful land and lovely people, but cold, rainy, and bleak (not to mention terrible cell coverage).  And after visiting, it might not surprise you that boredom on those remote isles could drive people to: harbor grudges against lifelong friends, make irresponsible predictions about neighbors dying, talk about horse shite for two hours, or cut off their own fingers and throw them at someone's front door.  Welcome to The Banshees of Inisherin.  There is a lot of support for this film with critics, but with the Academy, I don't think it will be enough to sway a victory.  The film, set in a fictional part of those islands, seems like should be a fun, chatty little film about fellas repairing a fractured friendship in the Irish countryside during a bygone era.  It is not.  It certainly starts out charmingly enough, but devolves into an increasingly spiteful contest of acrimony and one-upmanship.  There's a distinct sense that the filmmaker isn't just being cruel to the characters, but also has disdain for the viewer.  And most irritatingly, the ending feels like a slap, because the whole movie seems to be driving toward some kind of finality (absurd as it may be), but it just… doesn't.  Thematically, I suppose it makes sense.  Writer/director Martin McDonagh has talked about this being an allegory for the Irish Civil War in the 1920s (which is happening over on the mainland, where the characters are barely aware of it), so he's clearly not aiming for a simple or definite resolution.  'What was the point of all that?' might just be the point.  Though personally, I think the overall story (ceaseless frustration, confounding escalation, and taking drastic, irrational measures which ultimately have no effect) is a better allegory for parenting: "Please don't poke your brother."  Poke.  "I'm telling you, don't poke your brother."  Poke.  "This is your last warning, don't poke your brother."  Poke.  "There will be consequences if you poke your brother again."  Poke.  "FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, I WILL CUT OFF ALL MY FINGERS IF YOU POKE YOUR BROTHER ONE MORE TIME."  (Guess what happens next.)

I feel bad for not loving Tár -- a film about a world-famous conductor, played by Cate Blanchett, slowly (then quickly) unraveling -- partly because it's gotten the highest critics scores of any nominated film, but mostly because I've been shamed by my favorite podcasters, who have unanimously declared this the best film of the year.  Why don't I adore this film?  What am I missing?  What's wrong with me?  Ahh… that last question -- that's probably the one that writer/director Todd Field wants you to ask, as he squeezes his protagonist through a crisis of the soul.  It's potent stuff, so why didn't it fully connect with me?  Don't get me wrong, despite my lack of enthusiasm, I want movies like this to exist, and continue to get made.  I guess I just want them to be more accessible, or feel like they've actually gone somewhere with the story.  There are a dozen things are dropped into the story, that remain too vague to really put a finger on, or that completely disappear altogether.  Without saying too much, I felt like I was curiously watching every corner of the frame, catching fleeting glimpses of things that never return.  (I never thought I'd compare this film to Three Men and a Baby, but I'll be damned if I wasn't searching for the boy in the curtains.)  Trying to explain this all to my wife, she skeptically asked, "Is this movie like Black Swan?"  "No!  I mean… okay, it's a little like Black Swan."  But where that film has a tangible payoff, Tár, for me, does not.  (To be fair, acolytes claim that you need to watch the film twice, perhaps three times, to fully appreciate it -- which is great if you have six or nine hours on your hands.)  Tár will be the top choice for some Academy voters, but for most, it's too cold and bewildering to contend for the big prize. 

For a few months, a big argument for giving Best Picture to Top Gun: Maverick was that it was the highest grossing movie of the year, and therefore the most beloved.  Well, people shut up about that pretty quick as soon as Avatar: The Way of Water passed it at the box office.  Yes, it's brought in the most money, but it's far from the most loved film of the year.  In theory, there should be plenty about it to love; after all, it's basically a collection of director James Cameron's greatest hits: take the previous movie (Avatar), mix in more deadly creatures from another planet (Aliens), add mysterious underwater things (The Abyss), blow up a bridge (True Lies), throw in Kate Winslet (Titanic), and -- I wish I was making this up -- trap our heroes on a gigantic sinking boat.  Voila!  Avatar 2: Even More Stuff.  (I assume we can expect killer cyborgs, flesh-eating piranhas, and Tom Arnold in next three sequels.)  To be fair, the movie is a fun ride, and the technical advances are admirable.  But when you combine the computer graphics, the jerky 3D, the high frame-rate, the questionable acting, and the basic plot from an episode of The Smurfs, it often just looks like one long video game cutscene.  But on the plus side, all parents are happy to see that even with a different species on an alien planet in another galaxy, kids are still disobedient back-talkers.  P.S. -- My kids thought the movie was called Avatar: The Wave of Water… and now I think that would be a much more logical title.

The story of Elvis Presley has been told on-screen ad nauseum, especially his early rise when his gyrations sent many schoolgirls (and a few schoolboys) swooning in the aisles.  And the latest adaption got the blessing of his family, which means he'd have to come off as fairly saintly and misunderstood.  So Elvis needed something extra to make it a unique experience.  Enter notoriously bombastic director Baz Luhrmann.  What he gives us is a movie that is more of a visual spectacle than an accurate representation.  The film is a series of impossibly-heightened life-altering decisions, intercut with soaring musical numbers so dizzying that we quickly forget that the facts presented may be muddled with fiction.  We can't really take anything at face value; but then again, the music is so good, we don't really care.  It's also the kind of rags-to-riches-to-Vegas story that's easy to make fun of.  (I mean, the preposterously bag wigs alone.  And Tom Hanks… oooo, Lordy… we'll get to him later.)  At its best, it's fascinating and sad.  But ultimately, it's an average movie gussied up in glitz and glamour -- a bloated Vegas act meant to charm the masses.  Colonel Tom Parker, for better or worse, would be proud.

Women Talking is certainly the most accurate movie title of the year.  The film, written and directed by Sarah Polley (adapted from the book of the same name, and inspired by a real event), tells the story of women living in a remote Mennonite colony who band together to discuss how to collectively handle a series of rapes by men in the village.  It's tricky, delicate, abhorrent subject matter.  But the film focuses not on the horrifying events, nor on the response, but instead shows the decision-making process in between -- frankly, the part that most movies would skip over.  In doing so, the film becomes a story of how to survive, how to come together, and how to thrive.  Once upon a time, this film was a leading contender across most categories; there was even talk of it sweeping the Supporting Actress category (on the strength of performances by two former Girls with Dragon Tattoos).  But critical and audience responses were tepid (for the few that actually saw the film), so it only ended up with a couple nominations.  It won't factor into the Best Picture race, but with its other nomination for Adapted Screenplay, there's a chance Polley won't go home empty handed.

How would you like to be trapped in a life-or-death situation with the dumbest, most selfish people from around the globe?  That's Triangle of Sadness.  It's a fun satire, to be sure, but its aggressive eat-the-rich (or is it throw-the-rich-to-the-pirates?) rhetoric is also preachy, unoriginal, tiresome, intentionally frustrating, and simply too long.  (Not surprisingly, it's the worst-reviewed film up for Best Picture.  Also not surprisingly, it won the Palm d'Or at Cannes.)  To give you an idea of what you're getting into, one sequence includes both a spirited discussion of American Communism versus Russian Capitalism, and a barf-o-rama that would make Lardass from Stand By Me proud.  It aims to please the Parasite crowd, but does so with the subtlety of a sledgehammer (or, literally, a hand grenade).  What it boils down to is this: rich or poor, old or young, beautiful or ugly, left or right -- stupidity trumps all.

I'm still a little surprised that Glass Onion didn't make the cut here.  (But obviously having more than two "fun" movies would be too many.)  I also would have put The Woman King, The Whale, and maybe The Menu into the ten contenders. 

One transparent awards-bait film that everyone agrees shouldn't have made the cut is Empire of Light.  I don't know what the film is trying to say, other than going to the movies is the best way to cure vague mental illness. 

Because nobody asked for it, here's my list of the Best Picture nominees in order from best to worst.  (Consider this my preferential ballot, since the Academy for some reason won't accept mine.)

1. Everything Everywhere All at Once 2. Top Gun: Maverick 3. All Quiet on the Western Front 4. Tár 5. Triangle of Sadness 6. Women Talking 7. Avatar: The Way of Water 8. The Fabelmans 9. The Banshees of Inisherin 10. Elvis

BEST ACTOR:

SHOULD WIN:  Brendan Fraser (The Whale) WILL WIN:  Brendan Fraser (The Whale) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Will Smith (Emancipation) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Felix Kammerer (All Quiet on the Western Front)

I realize that picking Brendan Fraser for the best male lead performance is no longer cool.  It's a very 2022 opinion.  Since then, Fraser's performance in The Whale has gone out of style, replaced by Austin Butler.  And then replaced by Colin Farrell.  And then replaced by Butler again.  And then came Paul Mescal.  And now Butler again.  But I'm sticking by my choice for Should Win (and Will Win).  This roller coaster is nothing new to Fraser.  Over the course of this Oscar season -- and over the course of his career -- he has been cool and uncool, popular and unpopular, in demand and out of luck.  There's been backlash, and backlash to backlash, and reclamation, and re-examination, multiple times over.  So while it's completely surprising, maybe it shouldn't be surprising at all, that he's at the center of the Best Actor race.  For my money, I think he gives an overwhelmingly powerful performance, one that would come through even without all the prosthetics and makeup.  And I like the movie a lot too, which almost feels like a hot take these days.  I prefer it to most of the Best Picture nominees.  This latest Darren Aronofsky film is the kind of "dark" movie that works better for me than The Banshees of Inisherin or Tár or even frankly Elvis; it has a tenderness that I find missing in those films (and missing from most Aronofsky movies, actually).  The Whale is challenging, that's for sure; it's full of contradictions and paradoxes, that are difficult to articulate and even more difficult to reconcile.  But there's also something beautifully simplistic about it, and that stems directly from Fraser's performance.  Whether you think Aronofsky has compassion for the character has been hotly debated (I think he does); but it's clear that Fraser -- the man and the actor -- definitely does.  And that compassion is what I think voters will respond to the most, giving him the edge.

But only a slight edge.  In fact, if you're betting, you should probably pick Austin Butler, for the oh-so-creatively-titled film Elvis.  He's the one more oddsmakers are picking.  Butler is the first person to be Oscar-nominated for playing Elvis Presley.  But is he the best ever?  The coolest?  The smoothest?  The most inspired?  I'm not sure he can lay claim to any superlative.  A small sampling of former Elvi includes: Kurt Russell, Don Johnson, Jonathan Rhys Meyers, Ron Livingston, Val Kilmer (!), Jack White (!!), Frank Stallone (!!!), and of course, probably the most superlative of all, Bruce Campbell.  (For my money, the best may have been lesser-known Drake Milligan.)  Butler is good, but he's not Oscar good.  Especially early on, his impersonation is more John Travolta than Elvis Presley.  But his performance really takes off in the second half of the movie, during Elvis's decline (though he can never quite summon the deep baritone that Presley had during the Vegas years).  We will debate the 'Best Elvis' forever (actually, other people will debate it; I don't really care).  But there's no disputing the 'Most Intense Elvis': Michael Shannon in Elvis & Nixon.  Disagree and he'll put his blue suede shoe right up your a--.

Maybe for the intelligence-impaired like me, they should have called it "The Wailing-Spirits-that-Foretell-Death-in-Irish-Folklore of Inisherin".  Take my advice: If you go see a movie with the word 'banshee' in the title, make sure you know what it means ahead of time; the movie will make a lot more sense.  We're talking, of course, about The Banshees of Inisherin, and the lead, Colin Farrell, has a strong case for taking the Best Actor prize.  While he may not have the genuine goodwill or performative audacity of Brendan Fraser, his boyish likability has gone a long way with voters, and unlike Fraser, he's headlining a widely acclaimed film (both he and Austin Butler have the advantage of anchoring films up for Best Picture).  Farrell has found another gear, doing the best work of his career recently (The Lobster comes to mind; Dumbo does not).  In Banshees, he wields an effervescent charm, comfortable with the unnaturally lyrical, playful dialogue, (mostly) tempering what could be an annoyingly theatrical role.  He treads the line between lamentable and pitiful.  He's the naïve voice of reason; he is all of us in recent times, just trying to ignore bad news and get through by having a beer.  That said, this performance is not quite my cup of tea -- or my pint of Guinness -- especially when paired with a flawless seasoned pro like Brendan Gleeson, so Farrell wouldn't get my vote.  There are plenty of far-fetched things in the film, but Farrell effortlessly lifting a 350-pound dead animal like it's a pillow takes the cake. 

Many people think Bill Nighy's nomination for Living is a make-up for Love Actually.  Those people are wrong.

I'm not seeing what the Academy is seeing in Paul Mescal's performance in Aftersun, a film that's long on subtext but short on actual text.  I would describe his performance -- as a doting (and mysteriously troubled) dad on a vacation with his pre-teen daughter -- as capable, even tender, but not necessarily award-worthy.  I can see why people are praising the film (which ambitiously attempts to capture the undefinable moment when kids start to see their parents as real people, especially their flaws) but it just doesn't reverberate with me.  (That's probably because, as a parent, I have no flaws.  I also don't allow my 11-year-old to hang out unsupervised with drunken, horny young adults late at night.)  Frankly, the most relatable part for most parents is when another dad carts off his screaming child from the water park, chiding the boy for "ruining everything for everyone as usual".  And, is it just me, or when the daughter starts talking about being under the same sun as her distant father, is she ripping off the song lyrics from An American Tail?

There are several other actors that I'd slot into this category ahead of Mescal, chiefly Felix Kammerer (in All Quiet on the Western Front); but also Gabriel LaBelle (as the young Spielberg stand-in from The Fabelmans), Ralph Fiennes (in The Menu), or even Adam Sandler (in Hustle).  (The prospect of Sandler doing another acceptance speech in his Bobby Boucher voice would be reason enough to nominate him.)

Tom Cruise is a very strong second place for Gloriously Omitted.  (For a hot minute, everyone was certain that he would actually score an acting nomination for Top Gun: Maverick.  We dodged a bullet there.)  But in an absolute shocker, Will Smith is the top choice, for Emancipation.  Of course, Smith was never going to get a nomination this year.  Obviously.  Right?  I mean… is it obvious?  Let's think about this for a minute.  (Why are we still talking about him?  Hear me out.)  Pretend, if you will, that last year's ceremony didn't have all the hullabaloo.  (I'm trying to figure out how to write about Smith without using the word "slap", so I settled on the word "hullabaloo".  You're welcome.)  In the months following, Smith would have been riding high, the reigning king of Hollywood, with several high-profile projects making headlines (starring in Bad Boys 4, producing Cobra Kai and Bel-Air, unwillingly appearing in Jada's never-ending social media feed).  Then late in the year, Emancipation would have been released, a dramatic opus with massive prestige appeal, featuring Smith attempting a superfecta: portraying a real-life figure rebelling against slavery, playing a pivotal role in the American Civil War, taking on a difficult (iffy?) Haitian Creole accent, and -- the pièce de résistance -- wrestling an alligator underwater.  In other words, textbook Oscar fare.  Honestly, it's not hard to imagine a world where Smith would have gotten another nomination for this role, and maybe -- I truly believe this -- a second consecutive Oscar.  The real shame is, Smith's specter overshadows the fact that Emancipation is a legitimately good film, with quality work done by many people.  Why oh why couldn't Smith have just taken a year off??  So close to the fallout, the film was tainted, and nobody was going to vote for this film on principle alone.  But a year from now, with a little more distance (and Smith tucked away out of the spotlight), the film could have realistically been recognized for, say, Antoine Fuqua for Best Director.  Or cinematography.  Or production design.  Or any of a number of craft categories.  But by releasing the film this season, any chance of Oscar attention was torpedoed. 

Also, I can't help but call this out…  In case you're wondering how many people Will Smith needs around on set to help him try to win an Oscar, here's a sampling of his entourage on Emancipation (and these are just the ones with official credits in the film): Assistant to Mr. Smith, Executive Assistant to Mr. Smith, Production Assistant to Mr. Smith, Acting Coach to Mr. Smith, Acting Coach Assistant to Mr. Smith, Dialect Coach to Mr. Smith, Hair Stylist to Mr. Smith, Assistant Hair Stylist to Mr. Smith, Makeup Artist to Mr. Smith, Special Effects Makeup Artist to Mr. Smith, Makeup Production Assistant to Mr. Smith, Costumer to Mr. Smith, Trainer to Mr. Smith, Driver to Mr. Smith, Security Guard to Mr. Smith (x2), Historian to Mr. Smith, Chef to Mr. Smith, Chef Assistant to Mr. Smith, Religious Consultant to Mr. Smith, and of course, Wilderness Survival Expert to Mr. Smith.  (I swear, I did not make any of these up.)  Maybe these are the people that really deserve the Oscars.

BEST ACTRESS:

SHOULD WIN:  Michelle Yeoh (Everything Everywhere All at Once) WILL WIN:  Michelle Yeoh (Everything Everywhere All at Once) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Natalie Portman (Thor: Love and Thunder) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Viola Davis (The Woman King)

Michelle Yeoh and Cate Blanchett have been trading the lead back and forth, based mostly on the insights of "experts" who don't actually know anything.  (Hey, don't look at me.)  As the precursor awards (the most accurate predictors) roll in, Michelle Yeoh is emerging as the favorite, but not by much.  It's still up for grabs, but I think the Screen Actors Guild award tips things in Yeoh's favor.  Personally, I don't have a strong preference; they both do incredible work in very different roles.

But since I have to pick one, Michelle Yeoh is my Should Win pick by a narrow margin; she's also clearly who I'm rooting for.  In Everything Everywhere All at Once, Yeoh is doing more than we (uncultured Americans) have seen her do -- especially comedy.  She plays somewhere between six and six hundred roles in the film, and even within a single role, she tackles sci-fi, romance, action, adventure, slapstick, gross-out, martial arts, fantasy, superhero, and drama, as well as comedy.  She quite literally does everything everywhere.  Maybe Yeoh will compare notes with fellow nominee Ana de Armas, both having played ass-kicking allies of a certain martini-drinking superspy.  Will they debate which co-star was a better James Bond -- Brosnan or Craig?  (Hopefully they both say Connery.)

One of Cate Blanchett's biggest hurdles is herself -- or more accurately, her Oscar history.  Having won twice already, voters will take a long look before giving her a third one, which would put her in the company of only seven other actors.  (Even Blanchett herself seems to be suggesting that she doesn't need another trophy, instead talking up others actresses while on the publicity tour.)  Victory or not, her role in Tár will go down as one of her best.  Say what you want about the movie (I probably would have been very underwhelmed were it not for her), it's Blanchett doing what she does best -- cold, wiry, in command (with a haughty accent to boot) -- in every single scene.  As an orchestra conductor, her expertise is sound, and she's obsessed with things that don't sound right (real or imagined).  It's weirdly relatable: I zero in on every stupid little creak and hum in my house and assume the ceiling is falling down or an appliance is breaking or a pipe is leaking (and I'm right more often than I care to be).  Her austerity is an organic extension of the movie itself, and her paranoia makes it difficult to tell where the real world ends and her mind begins.  In a movie that probably won't win any other awards (compared to Yeoh's Everything Everywhere All at Once, which is a heavy favorite across the board), will Blanchett's performance be enough to win?  One more thing in her favor: She also voiced Spazzatura the monkey in the animated nominee Guillermo del Toro's Pinocchio. 

What to make of Andrea Riseborough's nomination for To Leslie, a tiny film very few people had heard of, let alone seen, that made only $27,000?  (That's literally one theater for one week.  If you saw the movie before the nominations were announced, and you are not Riseborough's cousin, I am officially impressed.)  If you want hot takes, Twitter has mountains of them.  And if you want all the tawdry details of exactly how this happened, there are plenty of online articles out there.  But basically, her indie film had no publicity budget, so instead a no-cost social media campaign was launched on her behalf, and it shockingly resulted in an Oscar nomination.   Personally, I'm conflicted.  On one hand, it's impressive to see a tiny film get rewarded without spending millions on a slick campaign like the studios do.  It's like the ultimate grass-roots, word-of-mouth success story.  Wouldn't it be nice if all nominees had to do it on their own, without the corporations and publicity machines pumping endless dollars into what is essentially a shamefully political popularity contest?  Imagine a performance being recognized -- gasp! -- based solely on its own merit.  It's remarkably refreshing.  On the other hand, this wasn't exactly organic.  People didn't just happen to stumble upon this film and good-naturedly recommend it to their friends.  This was much more calculated (and yes, publicists were heavily orchestrating this plan, too).  Basically, the filmmakers and the "team" (I'm not singling out Riseborough, because I don't know how much she actually had to do with it) figured out that with roughly 1300 people in the Actors' branch of the Academy, you only need about 200 votes to secure an acting nomination.  And so they enlisted some famous friends to host screenings and throw parties and post about it (all using lazy copy/pasted text) -- and effectively wrangle a couple hundred of their colleagues to vote.  Looking at the number of recognizable faces they got to post about it, it was probably very easy to get 200 votes.  If influential, Academy-friendly celebs like Gwyneth Paltrow, Charlize Theron, Edward Norton, Jennifer Aniston, and Kate Winslet each get 20 people, they're half way there.  If you're a pessimist, it's nothing more than Tinseltown cronyism.  It's basically the same (but weirdly inverted) tactic employed so successfully by Miramax years ago, with social media instead of advertising dollars.  Is it better or worse than the big-studio tactics?  Debatable.  But it does show that in a post-Harvey, new-media, international Hollywood, a few powerful people can still move the needle.  And A-Listers can essentially pick their friends.  Now, are we reading into this too much?  Probably.  Sure, it's neat that a little indie movie can muster the support to get the awards recognition that it (may) deserve, but ultimately, I don't think I want Paltrow, Norton, and Winslet manipulating the Oscars and handing nominations to their pals.  (By the way, the Academy loves this stuff, despite the fact that they say they don't.  Controversy generates conversation, which generates interest, which keeps them relevant.  If everyone agreed on everything, and nobody ever freaked out (and nobody wrote long, tedious prediction articles ever year), the Academy would become unnecessary.)  As for the film and the performance themselves: The film is not great, but Riseborough is.  As an addict and a mother trying to get her life on track, her character feels very familiar and very real; she's like someone we've all interacted with, tried to help, or relied on -- for better or worse.  But is it worthy of an Oscar?  The performance doesn't strike me as that much different from similar roles in other movies, so I'm not sure I would single her out.  And the backlash won't help her in the voting (unless… there's a backlash to the backlash… which is probably inevitable).  For Riseborough's sake in the long term, I hope she's remembered for the performance, and not the noise that's overshadowed it.

Michelle Williams is another great example of the chaos and unpredictability that is the race for Oscar nominations.  If you're smart, unlike me, you'll ignore all the drama and wildly inaccurate predictions until the nominations are announced.  For her work in The Fabelmans, Williams raised a few eyebrows when she campaigned for Leading Actress instead of Supporting Actress (it's not a trivial decision; establishing yourself as a Lead instead of Supporting, whether you win or not, is extremely important in future casting and contract negotiations, especially for actors over 40).  Regardless, she was a front-runner early in the season (Spielberg + drama + eccentricity + four previous noms + a striking haircut + Dawson's Creek cred).  As Michelle Yeoh and Cate Blanchett emerged as critic and fan favorites, the buzz on Williams died down.  Then, after precursor awards and other strong performances, word was that she had fallen out completely.  Finally, when nominations were announced, Williams had somehow avoided the Andrea Riseborough shrapnel and claimed a spot.  (Viola Davis and Danielle Deadwyler were not so lucky.)  For me, the film is melodramatic, and the characters (Williams's in particular) largely serve to amplify that, probably to their detriment.  For voters, her competition is extremely strong (and she has the added obstacle of viewers not really liking her character), so it's clear she won't win.  But… could she have won in Supporting Actress?  Yes, I think she probably would have.  On the other hand, did you see the scene of her buttering the toast??  The worst toast-buttering I've ever seen.  I can't endorse an award for that.

Ana de Armas is probably the most polarizing nominee in any category, for her searing portrayal of Marilyn Monroe in Blonde (which was supposed to be Netflix's big Best Picture show pony).  Reviews for de Armas have been positive, but reviews for the film itself have been… decidedly not.  Personally, I'm not sure this film says anything that Elton John hasn't said already.  As a historical document, this movie is probably a waste of time.  But as an exploration of the anguish of a mental prison, exacerbated by being on public display and exploited by countless stakeholders, suitors, husbands, and hangers-on (not to mention a President of the United States of America), the film can be quite compelling.  But, for most of us, probably not enjoyable.  Marilyn learns early in acting class to picture herself outside her body, and uses that tool to externalize and dissociate trauma.  And there's plenty of trauma.  If the movie is successful, it is mostly due to the fervid performance by de Armas.  She's fantastic in the film -- and not just her ankles, as Colin Farrell would have you believe.  Trying to judge how "realistically" she portrays Marilyn falls apart pretty quickly; plenty of impersonators have had a closer physical resemblance, and the voice becomes less believable as the movie goes on.  But that's beside the point.  She's going for a hyper-stylized version of Marilyn, a play on what we've seen and how she might have felt -- a composition of imagery and memory, not reality.  It's a commentary on the enigmatic nature of Norma Jeane Mortenson and the cult of Marilyn Monroe.  And it's effective… the way a root canal is effective.  (If you're looking for a good time at the movies, you should probably stick to Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.)  de Armas was an early front-runner in the fall, but as reviews shredded the film, she seemed to slide out of contention altogether.  But after some late awards attention, I was happy to see her sneak in as a bit of a surprise.  But don't expect her to contend for the prize.

So if the ploy hadn't worked for Andrea Riseborough, who would I like to see here?  I'd vote for Viola Davis, who anchors The Woman King as a fierce and compassionate warrior, which features fight choreography as good as any Marvel movie (and whose real-life soldiers helped inspire the Dora Milaje in Black Panther).  I would also mention Zoe Kazan in She Said, who hasn't gotten the same attention as her co-star Carey Mulligan, but is very much the emotional driver of the film.  And Olivia Colman is one of the few bright spots in Empire of Light (but she's had plenty of recent awards attention, so she can afford to take a year off). 

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR:

SHOULD WIN:  Brendan Gleeson (The Banshees of Inisherin) WILL WIN:  Ke Huy Quan (Everything Everywhere All at Once) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Tom Hanks (Elvis) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Paul Dano (The Fabelmans)

When Ke Huy Quan wins Best Supporting Actor Everything Everywhere All at Once, it will probably be the feel-good moment of the night.  When the film came out last spring, there was plenty of buzz about his welcomed return to the screen, his youthful buoyancy still shining through.  (His last Hollywood role had been Encino Man (!) 20 years ago.)  Any awards chatter was for co-star Michelle Yeoh; an Oscar nomination for his quirky performance seemed like an impossibility.  As the year wore on, and the film remained in the conversation, his nomination felt possible, then realistic, and then inevitable.  Now he's the heavy favorite to win, against seemingly the longest odds.  It's the kind of underdog story we all love, and is practically the plot of the movie itself.  And he's not just trading on nostalgia; initially his performance hits us with the familiar (he still sounds a bit like Shorty and Data), but soon it shifts as the role expands, and the brilliance of his casting becomes apparent.  As the emotional center of the film, he's clearly the one I want to win the most.  But I admit he's actually not my pick for Should Win (though it's very nearly a toss-up).  Which brings me to…

Has there ever been anyone more perfectly suited for a role than Brendan Gleeson in The Banshees of Inisherin?  (Other than perhaps Shelley Duvall as Olive Oyl in Popeye.)  Instead of being cast, it's as if he existed fully-formed, sipping a pint in the Irish countryside (woolly vests and all), and the movie was created and filmed around him.  (That may not be much of an exaggeration -- writer/director Martin McDonagh wrote the part specifically for him.)  He seems to simply live this performance, my personal pick in this category.  A consummate character actor for decades -- while also playing roles as varied as Winston Churchill, Mad-Eye Moody, and Donald Trump -- this is, in my humble (yet correct) opinion, a career best.  He effortlessly conveys a lifetime of baggage that he doesn't need to (and refuses to) explain to us.  His character is confounding and selfish; his motivations that are inscrutable and illogical at best, cruel and dangerous at worst.  Like the landscape around him, he is harsh and unforgiving.  And yet we still want to spend time with him, just as his puppy-like best friend does.  (Gleeson gets extra credit for actually playing fiddle, and even composing the titular song.)  Unfortunately for me, his brilliance gets overshadowed by the muck of the final act of the movie.  As the story becomes repellant, his character almost literally cuts off his nose to spite his face.  (Maybe 'cut off your fingers to spite your frenemy' was a common phrase in 1920s Ireland, I'm not sure.)  As playwrights are often wont to do, McDonagh doesn't go easy on his metaphors.  Gleeson's biggest hurdle in claiming Oscar gold isn't, however, the unpleasantness of this movie, nor is it front-runner Ke Huy Quan; it's his costar, Barry Keoghan.  While voters adore this movie and its performances, Gleeson and Keoghan will inevitably cannibalize each other's votes, each boasting vocal supporters.  As much as I adore the performance, when it comes to the film itself, I can't help but channel Gleeson's plainspoken character: "I just don't like it."

So what to make of Barry Keoghan as Dominic, who's repeatedly dismissed as the "dim" one on the island in The Banshees of Inisherin?  Well, much has been made of his performance, by critics and moviegoers alike, but I'm not totally on board.  By way of comparison, Keoghan amps up the affectations and mannerisms, while Brendan Gleeson gives a much more naturalistic (and for my money, impactful) performance.  On my first viewing, I thought Keoghan was aggressively hammy, leaving no line of dialogue un-goosed, whose presence I felt was a little manipulative and mostly unnecessary.  Without question, he was taking an awfully big swing.  (I also spent a disproportionate amount of the run-time trying to determine if he has eyelids.)  But I'll admit, upon a second viewing, I saw there was more to it; not nuance exactly, but an additional layer.  Much of that is in the writing, but Keoghan taps into it in unexpected ways; he knows where he's going, and he doesn't necessarily care if the viewer goes there with him or not.  It's the fate of the character -- and of the performance -- to be misunderstood, at least initially.  But when you see that Dominic possesses a sort of invisible, simplistic wisdom, and is feeling things he can't express, the performance comes alive.  (It doesn't hurt that he has the most acrobatic dialogue in the film.)  That said, he's near the bottom of this category for me.  He has no shot of winning of course, but he'll do plenty to wreck Gleeson's chances.  Feckin' Dominic.

Brian Tyree Henry was a bit of a surprise nominee for his role in Causeway, an Apple+ movie very few people have seen, and even fewer have been talking about.  Its lack of notoriety is a bit of a shame; for talky character dramas, I'd take this film over The Banshees of Inisherin any day.  And Henry is a significant part of why it stands out.  Not unlike Brendan Gleeson's, it's a comfortable, lived-in performance that doesn't call a lot of attention to itself.  Unfortunately for Henry, he doesn't benefit from having the One Big Scene he'd need to truly contend for the prize.  Oddly, that's probably the film's biggest strength: its measured, realistic feel.  In a story that could easily drive straight into the melodramatic, the film remains restrained.  (Jennifer Lawrence plays the main character, home after a severe injury in the military in Afghanistan, who meets Henry, a local mechanic, and they go on a journey of physical and mental healing together.)  It's a slow burn.  There aren't otherworldly stakes; sure, the characters have health issues, but the real stakes are friendship.  (To which the marketing team undoubtedly said, "Are you kidding me?"  I'm sure the filmmakers had to fight off all kinds of pressure to juice up the drama.)  Unfortunately, it's a double-edged sword: The ending is probably too restrained; the final act doesn't quite come together, and the film feels largely unresolved.  

How often do you hear someone say, "This movie could use more Judd Hirsch?"  Well, that's the most definitive thing I can say about The Fabelmans.  As someone who saw every episode of Dear John during its original run on TV, and counts Ordinary People as one of his favorite films, I'm definitely cheering for Hirsch.  But he's only in two scenes!  Dammit, Steven Spielberg, let the man cook!  It would be a gas to see 87-year-old Hirsch collect the award (notably, he's the only former nominee in the group), but if I'm being honest, this is not an Oscar-worthy performance.  I mean, he's in the movie for all of five minutes, and mostly yells and stomps around and dispenses unrealistic and irresponsible life advice.  (And might be… a ghost?)  It's a little silly.  But also, I wanted more of it.  And the best part of it is, supposedly the hallowed movie that made the legendary director think of Hirsch for the role was… Independence Day.  Simply incredible.  (Meanwhile, erstwhile fugitive Randy Quaid is still waiting for his Spielberg call.)

But as much as I dig Judd Hirsch, they nominated the wrong guy from The Fabelmans!  Did they see the same movie I did?  Paul Dano is clearly the more meaningful performance.  With an understated performance (especially when compared to his other 2022 role, as the Riddler -- who's actually more of a yeller than a riddler), he moors the film emotionally and narratively, a welcome counterbalance to the louder performances in the film.  Other standouts this year include: Eddie Redmayne (The Good Nurse), Micheal Ward (Empire of Light), Adrien Brody (Blonde), and Zlatko "The Croatian Burt Young" Buric (Triangle of Sadness). 

In Elvis, Tom Hanks does a fantastic impersonation of Jiminy Glick; but of Colonel Tom Parker?  Not so much.  Other Glorious Omissions include Ray Stevenson in RRR, Ben Foster (who's trying to corner the market on adversarial sh-theels) in Emancipation and Hustle, and Miles Teller (or pretty much any of the lifeless clowns playing fighter pilots) in Top Gun: Maverick. 

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS:

SHOULD WIN:  Kerry Condon (The Banshees of Inisherin) WILL WIN:  Angela Bassett (Black Panther: Wakanda Forever) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Alison Doody (RRR) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Janelle Monáe (Glass Onion)

But how will Martin Scorsese feel?  That's a question that nobody is asking, regarding the Best Supporting Actress race.  Angela Bassett is the favorite to win for her performance in Black Panther: Wakanda Forever, and if she does, she'll be the first person to win an Oscar for acting in a Marvel movie.  (As it stands, she's the first acting nominee.)  I only bring up Marty because someone inevitably will, after the much-ado-about-nothing feud that he unwittingly sparked a few years ago when he off-handedly opined that comic book movies were not cinema.  (The controversy is so stupid that it makes me nauseous, but on the other hand, I do like stirring the pot.)  Bassett is certainly the fan favorite here, not just for the comic-book devotees, but for movie-goers in general.  The only previous nominee in the group (for What's Love Got to Do with It almost 30 years ago), she's been doing undeniable work for decades.  In Wakanda Forever, she achieves many of the hallmarks of an Oscar-winning performance, nailing a pivotal role in acclaimed movie that has significant heft and poignance, where she is largely the emotional center.  If I'm being honest, it's not a career-best performance, but I'll be more than happy to see her claim the prize. 

Speaking of fan favorites and venerable veterans, Jamie Lee Curtis scored her first nomination for Everything Everywhere All at Once.  It's probably a bit of a career achievement recognition, but not an unwelcome one.  She's clearly having a blast, both in the movie (as a ridiculous, curmudgeonly, dragged-up tax auditor slash alternate-universe mutant love interest), and on the press/awards tour (whooping it up as her co-stars rake in the accolades).  She even has the year's most fun character name, Deirdre Beaubeirdre.  In terms of winning, it's never a good thing to compete against someone from the same movie; it's even worse when your competition is as unforgettable as Stephanie Hsu.  Fortunately, Curtis isn't here to win, she's here to party. 

Somehow, Stephanie Hsu's character in Everything Everywhere All at Once is even more ridiculous than Jamie Lee Curtis's, but much more of the film's central conceit and  emotional heft revolve around her.  She's the beneficiary of some of the film's most gonzo gambits, and steals every scene that Michelle Yeoh and Ke Huy Quan don't.  When she's not using sex toys as deadly weapons (a certain pair of clubs comes to mind), she's tapping into a heart-wrenching ennui that feels very grounded and real.  Despite being the least known of any of the nominated actors prior to this film, her versatility, costumes, and choice of breakfast food have made her one of the most memorable.  I expect her first nomination is just the beginning. 

My personal pick is Kerry Condon, the put-upon (but decidedly not dull, despite her reputation) sister in The Banshees of Inisherin.  Critically, she's our proxy, our way into the confounding quarrel between men and the idiosyncratic goings-on in the town.  The film, via Brendan Gleeson's character, explores the themes of legacy (creating art, late-life crises, having purpose in one's life, leaving something that will last, etc.) in an inelegant way, which by the end hinders the viewing experience.  Condon's character, on the other hand, explores the same themes in a much more elegant (and subtle) way; and as such, Condon makes great strides toward (almost) rescuing the film.  Her character, unlike so much of the film, has clarity of purpose.  I credit the story for that, of course, but Condon's performance is also largely responsible.  It makes her scenes, which are too few, immensely refreshing.  It doesn't hurt that she's the only sane one on the island.  And the only wise one.  Her wisdom is never more evident than when she exits the film well before the ending -- a valuable lesson for all of us.

There are plenty of things about The Whale that have been criticized: the story, the casting of Brendan Fraser, the performances of minor characters, the melodrama, the believability, and the ending.  But the one thing everyone praises is Hong Chau, who plays Fraser's nurse and confidant.  She brings a strong sense of humanity to the story -- not just kindness, but anger, frustration, humor, resentment, and heartbreak, too.  She's not exactly the audience's avatar, but she enables us to tap into the many conflicting feelings from scene to scene, and the film is much better for it.  She's also gotten a boost from double-dipping -- playing a fun, pivotal role in The Menu as well.  She has a lot of supporters, but in this stacked category, she was probably the last one to make the cut. 

One actress I would have liked to see make the cut is Janelle Monáe, for her sneaky performance in Glass Onion.  Another standout this year was Thuso Mbedu in The Woman King.  And what about Kelly McGillis and Meg Ryan for Top Gun: Maverick??  They should be the top choices as Ingloriously Snubbed -- not from the Oscar race, but from the movie completely!  #JusticeForKellyAndMeg

Alison Doody's cringeworthy performance in RRR just makes me nostalgic for her character Elsa in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.  Sigh. 

BEST DIRECTOR:

SHOULD WIN:  Daniel Kwan, Daniel Scheinert (Everything Everywhere All at Once) WILL WIN:  Daniel Kwan, Daniel Scheinert (Everything Everywhere All at Once) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Baz Luhrmann (Elvis) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Joseph Kosinski (Top Gun: Maverick)

The unlikeliest prestige film of the year is helmed by the unlikeliest directing duo.  Daniel Kwan and Daniel Scheinert (often credited as the single entity "Daniels"), bring an usual sensibility and playful DIY aesthetic to their brilliant opus Everything Everywhere All at Once.  I can't tell if they share the same brain, or if they each bring completely different and unique sets of perspectives that somehow mesh into a cohesive (yet deliriously messy) vision.  However they do it (and I don't think even they can explain it), it works.  (For a primer, watch their early music videos and short films, like Pockets and Dogboarding, most of which are under three minutes long.)  Emotional absurdity -- or is it absurd emotionality? -- is their specialty.  With Everything Everywhere, by far their most ambitious undertaking to date, they make the preposterous relatable, endearing, intimate, and sentimental.  In doing so, they craft the best movie of the year, with the best directorial effort of the year.  And so the unlikeliest directing duo will soon be known as the unlikeliest Oscar winners.

The Fabelmans is, in part, Steven Spielberg's apology to his father, who he blamed for his parents' divorce for many years -- which is why the father in so many of his early films is absent, irresponsible, or a child-eating shark.  Which begs the question: Had he known the truth, would Spielberg have been a lesser, perhaps terrible, director?  Maybe E.T. would have stayed home; maybe Richard Dreyfuss would have just eaten his mashed potatoes; maybe the Ark would have remained unraided; maybe Jaws would have stuck to seafood.  Thank goodness for childhood trauma, I guess?  (Humorously, and tellingly, he said of making The Fabelmans, "This is like a 40 million dollar therapy session.")  Until recently, giving Spielberg the Best Director Oscar seemed like a perfunctory exercise: A career-capping reward for his most personal movie (about making movies, no less) seemed like too good an opportunity for voters to pass up.  But now, not only is he not the unanimous choice, he's not even the favorite.  And I'm helping lead that charge -- I don't think this is even in Spielberg's top 10 directorial efforts.  I realize that I sound like an underqualified a-hole troll trying to impress online idiots with a contrarian take: "Meh, Spielberg isn't that good".  But the point is that he is that good, and this movie should be better.  In this story, his avatar learns he can tell the truth with the camera; then he learns he can bend the truth with the camera; finally, he learns he can create magic with the camera.  I just wish he had created magic when making this movie.

Many have viewed Tár as a commentary on the famous and the powerful -- using an orchestra conductor as the conduit to a world most of us know little about, but reflecting a hierarchy that feels disturbingly familiar.  That's all valid, but I'm actually fascinated by the allegory to filmmaking itself -- the conductor as a stand-in for the director.  (Not surprisingly, the director and the writer of the film are the same person, Todd Field.)  In a profession where the credit "a film by" is often used in place of "directed by", the portrait of a megalomaniacal conductor is fairly apt comparison.  Seen through that lens (pun partially intended), it's interesting to see Fields's thoughts (or fears?) on the matter.  (As a filmmaker, the parallels must not be lost on him.)  In the movie, the conductor is theoretically controlling everything -- at least she believes she is -- but the further we probe, the less we see she's actually in control of.  The control is an illusion, an instrument of a rigid but brittle power structure.  Ultimately, the true lack of control is exposed, and all hell breaks loose.  I'm guessing Field, or any director, could relate.  (And we've all seen movies where that's clearly happened to the director.)  Would Field suggest that this is a truism of directing any film?  Or a cautionary tale of what could happen (and what has happened) to other directors?  Or would he simply say, "It's about a conductor, you idiot"?

I'm out.  I'm out on Martin McDonagh.  I've tried, I really have.  In Bruges.  Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri.  I even watched his 2006 Oscar-winning short film, Six Shooter.  My reactions have ranged between unimpressed to downright repelled.  I thought his latest, The Banshees of Inisherin, would turn it around for me.  And for the first half of the film, it did; I was ready to repent and declare that McDonagh had finally won me over.  But then the chopping began.  And I realized it was all a trick.  While the film is more palatable than Three Billboards, it's still mean-spirited and off-putting enough to make it official: I dislike his films.  He's so deft at writing rich characters and compelling scenes; wouldn't it be grand if he just told a nice, pleasant story?  Or if another director made a more conventional film out of one of his scripts?  Of course, McDonagh has no interest in doing those things.  I can only imagine that his mind is filled with the dark stuff, and the film would be impure if he filtered any of it out.  Damn him and his artistic integrity.  Critics are doing backflips for this guy, and I can't figure out why.  I suppose it could be his ability to imbue his films with the sense of holding opposing opinions in one mind.  More than likely, each viewer believes they identify with one of the main characters -- the one that values today, or the one that values tomorrow.  Frustratingly, I think that McDonagh is saying that each of us is really both at the same time… and there's no painless way to reconcile that.

The increasing internationalization of voters in the Academy has resulted in more nominees from overseas, especially in the Director category.  This year's big beneficiary is Ruben Östlund, a semi-surprise in this group for Triangle of Sadness (which also scored noms for Picture and Original Screenplay).  He has a strong Nordic sensibility, but also takes lots of cues from American filmmaker Robert Altman.  Much more popular abroad, Triangle of Sadness hasn't really struck a chord with North American audiences.  Perhaps this is because Östlund largely treats his characters as generic stand-ins for classes and stereotypes, rather than treating them as individuals.  By the same token, the film strikes me as less malicious than, say, The Banshees of Inisherin, because it is more blunt and broad, and takes aim at groups instead of unique people (and as a result, I find it a bit more palatable).  His filmmaking style is often overtly combative, using techniques to restrict what the viewer is able to take in (scenes shot from a great distance, muffled dialogue, characters partially or completely out of frame).  The general consensus is that Östlund's nomination is more of a reward for the culmination of his last three films (a trilogy of sorts) -- the previous two, Force Majeure and The Square, were much more highly regarded -- so don't expect a victory for him here. 

Why no Best Director nomination for Joseph Kosinski, the technical force behind Top Gun: Maverick?  If you ask me, he's the one we should credit with rescuing the theatrical movie experience.  (And maybe his team of digital artists who magically de-aged Tom Cruise by 30 years.)  Kosinski is my narrow Snubbed choice over All Quiet on the Western Front's Edward Berger (I had predicted Berger would grab the typical international director slot over Ruben Östlund).  There are plenty of other directors worth mentioning, including Antoine Fuqua (Emancipation), Sarah Polley (Women Talking), and Robert Eggers (The Northman). 

Can a movie be over-directed?  Based on Baz Luhrmann's Elvis, the answer is a resounding yes.  Baz never met a shot he couldn't muddle up by shaking the camera, zooming and whip-panning, superimposing junk on top of it, and generally loading it up with artifice.  My hands down pick for Gloriously Omitted.

BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY:

SHOULD WIN:  Daniel Kwan, Daniel Scheinert (Everything Everywhere All at Once) WILL WIN:  Daniel Kwan, Daniel Scheinert (Everything Everywhere All at Once) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Sam Mendes (Empire of Light) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Robert Eggers, Sjón (The Northman)

What a loaded category.  In most other years, four of the nominated films would probably be the favorite.  (Apologies to Triangle of Sadness.)  This year, it will realistically come down to two films: Everything Everywhere All at Once and The Banshees of Inisherin. 

Mystifyingly, the award that Everything Everywhere All at Once deserves the most is the one it's least likely to get.  The screenplay categories are the ones that are often used to spread the hardware around -- especially if the Picture and Director winners are expected to align, and the directors are also the writers. So while Everything Everywhere (written by Daniel Kwan and Daniel Scheinert) is the most original screenplay, and the best screenplay, and the most fun screenplay, and the most emotional screenplay, there's a strong chance The Banshees Of Inisherin will win here as a consolation prize.  And that would be a goddam, low-down, filthy disgrace, I tell you.  The films couldn't be more different, but they surprisingly take on some similar themes.  Specifically, I think Everything Everywhere deals with midlife crisis more interestingly, complexly, and elegantly than Banshees.  (Admittedly, the one thing Everything Everywhere is missing is a donkey.)  Who will actually win?  It's coming down to the wire, so it's pretty much anybody's guess.  But I'll say that the Everything Everywhere's unique blend of reverence and irreverence will tip the scales. 

I really don't know what to make of the script for The Banshees of Inisherin (written by Martin McDonagh).  I can't say that it's bad, but I also can't get past the unpleasant experience of the final act (which is, of course, completely intended).  McDonagh is undoubtedly a gifted scriptwriter; I've said before that while I don't like his films, his scenes are impeccably crafted, and his lyrical dialogue simply hums.  This script in particular has a purity to it, as well as a commitment to themes that feel true to the author (even if the story's contours and destination don't suit me).   But I don't know what he's trying to achieve.  Sure, it's a war allegory.  But there has to be more to it.  Is it a grief metaphor?  (I have some theories on the ending -- or non-ending -- that are a little far-fetched but seem logical to me; however, the Internet tells me I'm wrong.  I won't do any spoiling of the ending here.  But buy me a beer, and I'll give you an earful.)  Is it saying that man can't escape his nature?  (The characters on the island are literally and figuratively removed from the Irish Civil War on the mainland.  But they’ve got their own little interpersonal civil wars, which seem just as important, just as trivial, and just as confounding.  Their tiny haven seems like a deliberate microcosm of the greater population, despite being completely isolated.  After all, Inisherin translates to "Ireland island".)  Or simply that the Irish are drunkards that like to fight and swear?  (The film doesn't exactly offer evidence to the contrary.)  I just don't know.  The best way I can reconcile it is to consider it a folktale, one that's been retold and exaggerated and reinterpreted over the course of 100 years, with an absurdist ending that can be customized to whatever the storyteller wants to convey.  "Let me tell you the sad tale of the rowin' Irish lads and the Banshees of Inisherin…"

Todd Field has written three feature films in his lifetime (including In the Bedroom and Little Children), and all of them have been nominated for Best Screenplay.  When he finally writes one that isn't, just imagine how disappointed his family will be with his failure.  Like his previous nominations, this one for Tár won't result in a victory.  But it won't be for lack of effort.  Critics can't stop praising this screenplay, even if they can't agree on what it means or what it's saying.  I'm not able to agree (or disagree) because I haven't got a clue what it means or what it's saying -- and that's perhaps my biggest problem with it.  It's a mystery that remains a mystery (for reasons unknown, or maybe just unclear); instead of a reveal, we get shadows and ripples, mostly.  It's a little frustrating.  Despite the overarching narrative, to me it feels more like a series of essays than a complete story.  It doesn't every really crescendo (at least, not in a way that feels earned); it feels like it's missing a critical coalescence in the final act.  This is all completely intentional by the writer, no doubt.  It's all there, I'm sure; he just doesn't want us to find it, at least not in the conventional way.  Are the characters discussing music and composition, or sex and orgasms?  Are we seeing things objectively, or from the main character's perspective, or someone else's?  Will our conductor be haunted for the rest of her life, or has she paid her penance and will now be at peace (despite living in professional purgatory)?  "You're just stupid," the fervent supporters would certainly tell me, right after Googling what the story really means.  Despite my misgivings about this film, I loved Fields's previous films, and am eager to see what he tackles next.  (I just hope he dumbs it down for me.)

They say 'Write what you know'.  Maybe The Fabelmans, Steven Spielberg's autobiographical coming-of-age story, should be an argument against that.  I can't help but question whether Spielberg is the right person to write and direct his own biopic.  The script (co-written by frequent collaborator Tony Kushner) is, disappointingly, a very conventional drama; but it also gets too cute and corny when it shouldn't, and gives some very young characters some very unrealistic dialogue.  It's like a long, mediocre episode of The Wonder Years (but with fewer uses of the word "butthead").  It's fictionalized, but not as much as you might expect.  (Maybe it should have been more fictionalized.)  Ultimately, I'm not sure what the script is saying, other than 'My parents got divorced so I became a filmmaker'.  Believe it or not, it's Spielberg's first Oscar nomination for writing, but alas, it won't be his first win.

Reactions have been mixed to the script for Ruben Östlund's Triangle of Sadness.  What the story seems to strive for and what it actually achieves are, unfortunately, very different.  What it aspires to: a clever, incisive examination of class and classism -- society's inherent flaws laid bare, pitting capitalism, socialism, Marxism, sexism, elitism, and all the other -isms against each other, under contrasting sets of circumstances.  What is actually is: White Lotus meets Below Deck -- with more arrogance, less subtlety, and the same amount of feces -- playing out in hyper-speed to a logical, imploding conclusion (which is, of course, Lord of the Flies). 

My pick for Ingloriously Snubbed, the electric script for The Northman (written by Robert Eggers and Sjón), has a lot going for it: revenge, destiny, and naked sword-fighting inside a volcano… but mostly deadbeat dads.

My Gloriously Omitted choice: Sam Mendes usually doesn't write the movies he directs; Empire of Light is a good example of why. 

BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY:

SHOULD WIN:  Edward Berger, Lesley Paterson, and Ian Stokell (All Quiet on the Western Front) WILL WIN:  Sarah Polley (Women Talking) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Andrew Dominik (Blonde) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Dean Fleischer Camp, Nick Paley, Jenny Slate (Marcel the Shell with Shoes On)

Women Talking (written by Sarah Polley) is heavy, heady stuff, dealing with the philosophical, the theological, the moral, and the ideological… but not necessarily the practical.  While the central deliberation is fascinating (it's like 12 Angry Men, but with characters deciding their own fate), I tend to focus on the logic in movies (always a dumb thing to do), so I'm very curious about what would happen next.  Where will the women go?  How will they live?  Will they find income, or try to live off the land?  How far could they possibly get before the men track them down?  Will they get double-counted in the census??  (You know, important stuff.)  Since the film is primarily dialogue, and the subject matter is so weighty, the film feels very "written", and as a result is getting a lot of attention for its screenplay.  It's the favorite to win, but its lead is shrinking by the day.  We'll see if it can hang onto the lead come Oscar night.

Spoiler, for those who have never heard of World War I: All is not quiet in All Quiet on the Western Front.  The German film (written by director Edward Berger, Lesley Paterson, and Ian Stokell) is based on the classic novel of the same name, penned by a German combat vet.  Some updates have been made to the new film version, making the tale of a young Central Powers soldier at the end of the war even more harrowing and heartbreaking.  The attention to detail is captivating -- especially a remarkable sequence about the cycle of a soldier's uniform, hauntingly symbolic of the systematic, unending death.  If anything has a chance of beating Women Talking in this category, it's this script; if you ask me the day before the ceremony, I might well predict this as the winner.

Let me get this straight: Top Gun: Maverick, a masterful and pioneering technical achievement in aerial filmmaking, is not nominated for Best Director or Best Cinematography, but despite banal characters and a wafer-thin plot, it is nominated for Best Screenplay?  That's the Oscars for you.  Maybe I'm not being fair.  Maybe I'm holding screenwriter Christopher McQuarrie's pedigree against him -- after all, he won an Academy Award for writing The Usual Suspects, one of the best scripts of the last 30 years.  (Alas, he wrote that solo; he teamed up with a cabal of writers for Maverick.)  But then I think of how the Maverick script oh-so-subtly informs us about Rooster and who his father might be… while he's sporting a mustache, shades, Hawaiian shirt, and white t-shirt, using an avian call sign, literally playing 'Great Balls of Fire' on piano.  We get it; they probably could have stopped at the mustache.  And for those of us dummies who are still unclear, the script throws in flashbacks, old photos, and Maverick looking traumatized for several minutes.  "Ohhh, I wonder if that guy is related to Goose…"  Then there is the huge missed opportunity for fun dialogue.  "I feel the need… the need for speed", "Take me to bed or lose me forever", "The Defense Department regrets to inform you that your sons are dead because they were stupid", "Negative Ghost Rider, the pattern is full", "Yeehaw, Jester's dead", and "Bullsh-t, you can be mine" are all fantastic lines that are not in this movie.  And no dialogue in it comes close to the original film's.  Forget about an all-time classic like, "Your ego is writing checks your body can't cash."  (Though to be fair, I've spent years trying to figure exactly what that means.)  I just don't think "I am good, I'm very good" is catching on.  Oh also, the story manages to work in Penny Benjamin, the admiral's daughter that Maverick slept with years ago, mentioned in the first movie.  Penny is now played by Jennifer Connolly, age 52.  That means that she was 16 during their first romance in 1986.  Congratulations screenwriters, you've made Maverick a pedophile.

Remember those times in college or early adulthood when you hang out in cheap bars with pals that you spend all your time with, bond with, confide in, make plans with, and share big dreams with?  You know, the ones you're certain will be your best friends for life?  And then you get a little older, and you realize that, in fact, those people have become pretty irritating and annoying?  Like, it turns out they're just the worst?  And you feel like you want to kill them in a highly premediated, theatrical, convoluted, yet somewhat comedic kind of way?  Uh, no?  Well, someone in Glass Onion does, so I'm officially not alone.  Welcome to the confusing Adapted Screenplay category, where two original stories are officially considered "adapted" instead of "original" solely because they are sequels.  This tale of treachery and murder (written by Rian Johnson) is one of those non-original original adapted screenplays.  It might not be quite as dazzling as the predecessor, Knives Out (also a screenplay nominee, my snubbed choice for Picture and Director, and one of the best films of 2019), but it's a worthy heir, very clever and extremely fun.  It's maybe not so much a mystery as, well, an onion, revealing layers and new information as the movie progresses.  (Some argue that it irritatingly eschews the rules of a whodunnit by withholding necessary information from the viewer.)  I just have one piece of advice for those who are fed up with their friends: If the world's greatest detective is with you, maybe wait until, you know, after he leaves before you murder one of them.

Living is an adaptation of a story that's already been told by Akira Kurosawa (in the film Ikiru) and Leo Tolstoy (in the novella The Death of Ivan Ilyich), so it has some pretty big shoes to fill.  It doesn't hurt that the writer is Kazuo Ishiguro, who's no slouch himself (Nobel Prize winner, author of books like The Remains of the Day and Never Let Me Go, and screenwriter of several movies).  Living probably won't have quite the legacy that Ikiru does; but then again, that film didn't get any Oscar nominations.  Take that, Kurosawa!

I'm picking Marcel the Shell with Shoes On (written by Dean Fleischer Camp, Nick Paley, and Jenny Slate) for my Snubbed slot.  It's a wonderful, simple story about the wonders of simplicity, about connections past and present, about people loved and lost, and maybe -- just maybe -- the meaning of life.  (Honorable Mention goes to the script for She Said, written by Rebecca Lenkiewicz.  But honestly, I can't believe they didn't get Ben Affleck to do the voice of Harvey Weinstein; his impression -- which is not as much of a hit at parties anymore -- is uncanny.)

In 10 years' time, will Blonde (written and directed by Andrew Dominik) be considered shameless exploitation or high camp?  Right now, it's really hard to tell.  The harrowing portrait of Marilyn Monroe is very serious subject matter, but is also highly fictionalized and shellacked with glitzy flourishes.  It has the schlock of a Russ Meyer film, but the prestige of being an adaptation of a revered Pulitzer-finalist book by Joyce Carol Oates.  (It's actually not even the first adaptation of the book -- there was a barely-remembered CBS mini-series in 2001 starring Poppy Montgomery.)  The film is leaden with symbolic imagery; the NC-17 content is meant to evoke the dizzying, gut-wrenching experience of being Ms. Monroe, but often comes off as either vile or silly, including (but not limited to): facial and genital body horror, drowning children, scary mommies, domestic abuse, living photographs, unabashed nudity, national monuments as giant phalluses, Hollywood as a literal burning hellscape, kneeling in the Oral -- ahem -- Oval Office, and of course, a talking fetus.  Subtle, this script is not.  (Dominik even said prior to its release, "There's something in it to offend everyone.")  I'm sure there will be an online reclamation of this film at some point, but for now, it will have to live with my Glorious Omitted commendation. 

[ryanjdonovan]

DONOVAN’S OSCAR PROGNOSTICATION 2022

Nobody cares about the Oscars, but who cares? The cultural cachet of the Academy Awards dwindles every year, but my fascination holds ever strong. When it eventually becomes a measly TikTok broadcast with 100 viewers, I will love it all the same. Are you annoyed that your favorite big-name blockbusters didn't get invited to the party this year? Good! Go watch the People's Choice Awards. I'll be here by myself, cheering for films you've never heard of, having a grand old time. (Whether the Oscars should be an entertaining show for the largest possible viewing audience, or recognition for true cinematic excellence is a debate for another time.)

This year is a sprint to the finish. More than any race I can remember, the frontrunners have been shuffling at an alarming rate down the stretch. Half the categories have had a lead change in the past week. By the time you finish reading my 23rd annual Oscar predictions, they will already be out of date.

BEST PICTURE:

SHOULD WIN: Nightmare Alley WILL WIN: CODA GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Spider-Man: No Way Home INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: A Hero

Confusingly, the Oscars are back to giving out 10 nominations for Best Picture (which was the case in 2009 and 2010) instead of a random floating number between 5-10 (which it has been in the years since). I'm not sure they anticipated the burden that would place on me personally, nor my fragile mental state. Who has the time (or patience) for 10 films? It certainly didn't make for a better crop of movies. There are no sharp, tight, start-to-finish home runs, like we had in recent years with Get Out, Hell Or High Water, or Her. (See my Snubbed pick below for one that should've made the cut.) While watching this year's nominees, I've spent more time wondering why characters make illogical choices than actually enjoying the stories themselves. With no masterpieces, it's not surprising that maybe the best way to win Best Picture these days is to be the second choice on the most ballots. If there's no consensus #1, then a lukewarm but popular #2 can prevail. (Think: Green Book, The Shape Of Water, Spotlight.)

Which brings us to this year's race. There's the passionate choice, The Power Of The Dog, which most people have assumed would win for months. But there's the popular secondary choice, CODA, which is quickly gaining in warm-fuzzy popularity, if not outright accolades. Adding intrigue is the fact that both are trying to be the first streaming movie to win Best Picture (The Power Of The Dog for Netflix, CODA for Apple). You can bet those companies are putting more money into the Oscar campaigns than they did into the movies themselves. (And you can bet Steven Spielberg is lobbying for a theatrical movie like, say, West Side Story -- coincidentally the one he directed.) Personally, between the two, I much prefer CODA; but not surprisingly, my personal pick is a different one altogether, which has no shot of winning. I'm officially picking CODA, but if we know anything about the movie gods, it's that they like to prove me wrong. So place your bets accordingly.

Is being a crowd-pleaser a good thing or a bad thing? The one thing everyone agrees on is that CODA is an unabashed crowd-pleaser. What they can't agree on is whether that will help or hurt it in the Best Picture race. Sometimes Oscar looks favorably on the sunny movies, but usually he rewards something more challenging. It tends to be cyclical: a few years of heavier "important" movies, then a light movie peppered in to relieve the pressure. So where are we right now? It's been two years of no-fun movies (Nomadland, Parasite), so I think the Academy is ready to embrace CODA, a coming-of-age story about a Child Of Deaf Adults dealing with the tribulations of high school, pressures of college aspirations, and weariness of working in the family fishing business as a deckhand and translator. There's a lot to like (performances, positive yet realistic portrayals, family bonding, overcoming obstacles, singing -- lots of singing one particular song)… but maybe to put it more pessimistically (and accurately), there's nothing to dislike. (Note that "I don't dislike it" is not the same as "I like it". And a lot of people are in the "don't dislike" camp.) Half the time it feels fresh, and the other half it feels like it's giving off Freeform movie-of-the-week vibes. Above all though, it's earnest, not cloying. And that's what people are sparking to. (I am firmly an "I like it".) Is it any voter's favorite movie? Probably not. But remember what I said before… I think it'll be the second-favorite movie for enough people that it will steal this award.

It's steadily lost ground, but The Power Of The Dog still has a chance to pull a victory. Jane Campion's subversive slow-burn takedown of stereotypical Western masculinity is big on theme but low on momentum. I hate to label something that's so exquisitely-made as boring, but for the first hour and 50 minutes, it's boring. It's plodding, and there's plotting, but not much plot. Passive aggression is simply not cinematically compelling. Even at three-quarters of the way in, after much psychological warfare (for reasons that are never completely clear), I had no idea where it was going. The end pays off in a brilliant way (which is what most supporters are responding to, I think), but it doesn't completely redeem it for me. Disliking the first 90% of a movie and then liking the last 10% doesn't mean I revise my opinion of the first 90%. The film is not intended to be easy; it achieves its goal of haunting your thoughts long after the credits roll. The key, however, is that it's meant to be challenging. Unfortunately I found it mostly manipulative.

The Letterboxd crowd will hang me by my thumbs for this, but Nightmare Alley is my personal pick for Best Picture. (Not my favorite movie of the year, mind you, but my favorite of the nominees.) Guillermo del Toro's playful portrait of moral descent has all the hallmarks of a master at work: lavish, tactile production design; 1930s noir aesthetics; meticulous cinematography; pulpy performances designed for a 50-foot screen. But that's not why I’m picking it. It has the most engaging, intriguing story, wire to wire, with an ending that completely delivers. It's not a realistic contender with the voters, for a few reasons: "It's too long." (It is long, but it doesn't feel like it. The lengthy first act is necessary to help the viewer believe what comes after it. And it feels shorter than the laborious The Power Of The Dog, if you ask me.) "It's a mess of different styles." (del Toro wanted to create a movie that could have been made 80 years ago, but with jarring modern characterizations -- like a black-and-white movie shot in saturated color.) "It's overly performative." (Yes, Cate Blanchett dials the noir factor up to 11. But watch the film a second time and you'll see a completely different performance. Her portrayal, true to the movie, is a carnival trick; it's much subtler than it appears.) "It has no monsters." (del Toro has said that in this film, the humans are the monsters. Take that, critics!) I generally don't endorse Bradley Cooper, and his earnest drifter shtick doesn't really work early in this movie, but when he becomes the oily, smarmy, silver-tongued swindler (that has no concept of a backup plan), I totally buy it. (Is there anyone in Hollywood better at playing sh-t heels? Cooper's got two whoppers this year, including his cameo as Jon Peters in Licorice Pizza.) The real question: Where does Cooper's character rank among the great cinematic psychics, like Oda Mae Brown, Tangina, and Madam Ruby? You'll find the answer in the basement of the Alamo.

As you may be able to guess from my first and last names, I am very familiar with the people descended from Ireland. And I'm here to tell you: We don't look like the glamorously made-up movie stars in Belfast. For a broke family living a hardscrabble life in the middle of a veritable warzone, the characters are incredibly gorgeous, stylish, and coiffed. Unlike the rest of us pasty, freckled commoners, they'll look great on the Oscar stage… or at least that's the hope. Belfast, Kenneth Branagh's autobiographical-ish account of growing up during the Troubles in Northern Ireland, has an outside chance to take the big prize. It's one of my favorites of the bunch; it's the one that feels the most effortlessly transporting and immersive. But to hear the critics talk, it doesn't stand a chance. Nobody is terribly unkind in their reviews, but their tone is generally aloof, dismissing the film as uncool or same-old-same-old. When pundits talk about Belfast as a top contender, it's almost apologetically or derisively. "Well, the Academy fell that old treacle again." People, this doesn't have to be so painful or angsty; a movie can simply be enjoyed. (Now, excuse me while I go crap on a bunch of other sentimental movies.)

Based on the title Licorice Pizza, I guess we should know we're in for something whimsical and childish that doesn't make much logical sense. (It may not surprise you to learn there is neither licorice nor pizza.) What I grapple with: How much of the scattershot movie is supposed to be "reality"? Is the whole thing a 1970s teenage fever-dream fantasy? (Curiously, writer/director Paul Thomas Anderson was born in 1970, so he's about 10 years too young for this to be a fun-house reflection of his own high school years.) Nobody seems to be able to answer the "Is it real?" question; instead they affectionately refer to it as a 'hangout movie' (which apparently means you should watch it stoned so you don't pay attention to things like common sense or structure). As such, the movie is not supposed to be a lot of work as a viewer, but it is for me. I suppose that largely depends on how creepy you feel the central relationship is, and your views on casual pedophilia. (If you're in the 'pro' camp, please don't leave me a comment.)

I've played plenty of Nintendo Game Boy Tennis in my day, so I consider myself an expert on King Richard's subject matter. And here's my definitive opinion: It's good. The film knows how to play to the audience of sports movies, with the right balance of struggle and triumph. Some filmgoers have even gone so far as weeping multiple times during the movie. Hmm, I'm not getting that carried away. But to be fair, 'unbelievable' doesn't begin to cover Venus and Serena Williams' careers. So it's fitting that their story would become a Hollywood movie, especially when you throw in the boisterous, driven personality that is their father, Richard. But the Williams' real story is a little too legendary to be a truly revelatory dramatic film. We already know where they're going, and we know they had an uphill climb; there are not many surprises, and the film gets a little repetitive. And it's a little hard to judge objectively when it’s essentially a publicity piece sanctioned by the family. Much like in Venus's loss in her first pro tournament, the film will be iced out of the Best Picture race. (By the way, who would have predicted Arantxa Sánchez Vicario would be the year's baddest movie villain?)

Drive My Car is about coming to terms with… something. And despite dealing with deep pain, it's about catharsis… maybe. It's a great movie to discuss with your philosophically-minded friends, according to the film snobs that rate this highest of all the nominees. It's also a great movie to nap to, according to the guy snoring loudly next to me in the theater. (I'll admit to getting drowsy around the one-hour mark -- which was only a third of the way through the movie. When the title isn't displayed until 40 minutes in, you know it's gonna be a long one.) Will this Japanese film become the second foreign language film to win Best Picture? Well, it doesn't have the passionate supporters that Parasite did two years ago. And thematically, many feel it's similar to (but less impressive than) last year's prizewinner Nomadland, with its quiet mediations on loneliness, regret, hurt, and healing. So in short, no. (Speaking of napping -- see if you can get through this entire article without nodding off at the one-hour mark.)

The worst possible thing for Dune's Oscar chances was to announce that there would be a Part Two. It torpedoed any realistic chance at Best Picture, and probably cost Denis Villeneuve a Best Director nomination. Like with The Lord Of The Rings trilogy, the Academy will wait for the final chapter to reward Dune in the major categories. (Though it's expected to crush the below-the-line awards with its masterful technical work.) Given that it's only part of the story, I'm not sure what to make of this Dune. (And is it officially titled "Dune" or "Dune: Part One"? In an inadvertent tip of the cap to George Lucas, theatrical and at-home viewers seem to disagree.) I only superficially understand what's going on in the plot, and I don't have an emotional connection to any characters. And with half a dozen Oscar and Emmy nominees in the cast, why of all people does Jason Momoa get a prestigious "With" credit? In a movie filled with confusing stuff, it's the most baffling of all.

The best thing about the new West Side Story is that "Somewhere" is sung by Rita Moreno and not Phil Collins. As for the rest of the film… it's just not for me. The original film and Broadway production were poignant takes on the Romeo And Juliet story. Steven Spielberg's don't-you-dare-call-it-a-remake is somewhat updated, but for me feels somewhere between indulgent and unnecessary. Other than a handful of fantastic performances (more on Ariana DeBose later), I didn't get much out of it. I'm more interested in the trivia: This is the first remake of a Best Picture winner to score a nomination in that same category. If it wins (groan), it would be only the second remake to win Best Picture, after The Departed. (Does the trippy 1978 The Lord Of The Rings cartoon count?) Some things in this Story haven't changed: Tony is still a dud. The dialogue is still silly. And Maria still has terrible taste in men. (Tony doesn't set off any red flags? Like when he reveals why he went to jail? How about when he murders her brother? 12 seconds is the requisite amount of time to be forgiven, because, ya know, star-crossed young love?) For the next remake, can it please be about Anita and Bernardo? Or about Chino getting his CPA and Maria making the sensible choice to marry him instead? Or better yet, how about Maria and Anita realizing they don't need any of these clowns at all?

If I told you Will Ferrell's (former) best friend wanted to make a ridiculous Hot Shots!-style spoof of planetary-annihilation flicks like Armageddon with a half-dozen Oscar winners and have it compete for the most prestigious film prize on earth, you would have said I was crazy. Or if you were Netflix's Ted Sarandos, you would have said, "Yes! Here's a billion dollars." And that's presumably how we got Don't Look Up, Adam McKay's latest foray into silly movies about serious things. It's a really enjoyable ride, probably because it leans much farther toward silly than serious, and if the allegories (which are intentional, like climate change, and unintentional, like Coronavirus) annoy you, they're pretty easy to ignore. And because I try to make everything about me, the biggest allegory seems to be for many jobs that I've had: When I tried to escalate a serious issue, nobody listened to me; but when others raised catastrophic concerns, I dismissed them as whiny lunatics. (Or, when I maniacally and fruitlessly try to convince the world that Nightmare Alley deserves to win Best Picture.) Unfortunately, the film's conceit wears a bit thin by the end. What's really surprising is that the rocket-launch special effects are actually less-realistic than Armageddon's, 20 years later -- I mean, you can't look worse than the thing you're lampooning. (And I actually think the math in Armageddon might be more sound, too.)

Not surprisingly, the movie that most deserves to win Best Picture is one that was not even nominated: A Hero. After all the melodrama and bombast and look-at-me performances of the nominees, A Hero doesn't even really feel like a movie. It doesn't necessarily feel like real life either, but it does feel true. It's a wise examination of the human moral experience -- of average people, not fantastical movie people -- in shades of grey. We're all somewhere in the middle, close together; the only things that make us appear so different are what others choose to focus on. Perspective forces a sharp relief. Iranian filmmaker Asghar Farhadi (no stranger to the Oscar stage, with A Separation and The Salesman) finds his story in the mundane, the honor and trials of everyday life, unadorned by sensationalism. Can you be earnest without being honest? Can you be dishonest in an effort to be honorable? Can you achieve both justice and fairness? This is not a fun time, or a thrill ride, or a slick story, or a sinister tale, or a feel-good flick; but it is rewarding, in its own way, with an appropriate amount of unanswered questions, heartbreak, and solace. It leaves you pondering the question: What is the burden of honor, and what are you willing to do to maintain it? See if you get that from Licorice Pizza.

(If you don't care about Spider-Man, do yourself a favor and skip ahead; this will bore you. If you do care about Spider-Man, do yourself a favor and skip ahead; this will irritate you.) Spider-Man: No Way Home failed to make the Best Picture field despite the re-expansion to 10 nominees (a.k.a. The Dark Knight Rule), which was implemented specifically to encourage voters to include big blockbuster movies in a concerted effort to boost interest, and in turn, viewership. The gambit backfired. Instead, as is often the case, the extra slots were used for good (lesser-known films that have a small but passionate fan base) and not-so-good (mediocre Oscar bait) -- neither of which will help TV ratings at all. (And if we're talking comic book movies, I'd vote for The Suicide Squad or Shang-Chi And The Legend of the Ten Rings over Spider-Man.) So, the exhaustingly unimportant question that everyone (online) is debating is: Does Spider-Man deserve to be nominated? I'm here to end the debate: No, it does not. (And, by the way, I really liked the movie -- it was a total blast, and I smiled the whole way through it.) Sure, I'd probably put it ahead of some of the nominated films (including the one that will probably win), but there are plenty of others that I would have nominated instead, like Passing or The French Dispatch. So what are the arguments to include it? It's fun! (Never underestimate that. But fun and Oscar don't exactly go hand-in-hand.) There are real stakes! (Psst, in every comic book movie, the fate of the world hangs in the balance; getting into an elite college is not "stakes" in this genre.) There are three Spider-Men! (Is it really that amazing, or are we just entertained by the meta-ness of it? And didn't they just do that in Into the Spider-Verse?) And what's the argument against it? Logic. I'm not bothered by the preposterousness of teenagers opening portals to parallel universes and good-hearted criminals transforming into deadly clouds of sand, I'm bothered by intelligent humans making completely illogical decisions in a shameless effort to engineer the plot. To wit: Despite having a long history with choices that have cataclysmic consequences, the characters make knee-jerk decisions to alter the very fabric of reality without thinking through it for 10 seconds. Peter Parker is an idiot, but the blame for all this falls squarely on Dr. Strange. Maybe I'm hoping for a lot, but I would think someone with a doctoral degree would be familiar with the concept of due dilligence. This is why teenagers aren't supposed to get their way. Be the adult, Strange! In my world of software design, where even our biggest catastrophes have exactly zero impact on people's survival, when we do releases for an innocuous change, like a font color, it gets way more scrutiny (critical thinking, reviews, testing, edge-case investigation, sign-off) than these characters give to re-engineering the entire universe. I won't even get into all the illogical, contradictory ramifications of the ending of the movie. (Does he still have a birth certificate?) But there are plenty of other absurd things I have a hard time looking past: How exactly does the "fabricator" work? It's basically a Dr. Doofenshmirtz invention ("Behold… the Fabricatorinator!"). Why aren't the Spider-Men (who presumably did not binge-watch Loki on Disney+) more confused about the multiverse? Doesn't curing mental illness with a magical doodad in 30 seconds feel reductive and perhaps a tad insulting? When the Spider-Men return to their respective places, after their realities have been irrevocably changed, won't they in fact return to alternate timelines and be forever alienated from the worlds they know and the people they love and the humans who depend on them to save the day? In short: No, this movie does not deserve a Best Picture nomination. And also, despite everything I said, the movie is great and everybody should see it.

BEST ACTOR:

SHOULD WIN: Denzel Washington (The Tragedy Of Macbeth) WILL WIN: Will Smith (King Richard) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Leonardo DiCaprio (Don't Look Up) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Idris Elba (The Suicide Squad)

It's Will Smith's kingdom, we're just living in it. No, it's not 1997, but Smith is on top of the world. (And he still looks like it's 1997. Damn.) After 15 years of decidedly non-Oscar fare, Smith is going to claim his first big prize, for playing the polarizing force pushing his daughters to become the greatest tennis players in the world, in King Richard. (Though I'm still puzzled about why a movie about Venus and Serena Williams is called "King Richard" and focuses on their father. Why didn't we get "Queens Venus and Serena"?) His performance is fantastic -- effortless and credible (especially in scenes with on-screen wife Aunjanue Ellis). And of course that irrepressible charm sneaks through the acting façade every now and then -- he just can't help it. It may not be the best acting in this category, but it is some of the best acting of Smith's career… and after his recent string of clunkers (Gemini Man, Bright, Collateral Beauty, After Earth… need I continue?), it's even more impressive. The bottom line is, everybody simply wants him to win. Decades removed from claiming the 4th of July as his own personal holiday, Smith's charisma is still off the charts. In a time when nothing is surprising anymore, I'm not sure what's harder to believe: that the Fresh Prince will have an Oscar, or that my wife had never heard his song "Parents Just Don't Understand".

But… if last year taught us anything, it's that a sure thing is never a sure thing. (Anthony Hopkins wasn't even awake when he won the Best Actor Oscar last year.) So don’t be shocked if there’s a Cumberswitch. The Power Of The Dog could start steamrolling, and the main beneficiary would be Benedict Cumberbatch. He dominates the screen as a repressed, menacing rancher who's not too keen on his brother's new wife. (Remember people, you don't just marry the person, you marry their whole family too. Do your research.) Cumberbatch also benefits from being in another movie with strong reviews (The Electrical Life of Louis Wain) and the biggest smash of the year (Spider-Man: No Way Home), both of which are often a boost in the Oscar race. But he's not overdue yet. And he doesn't have Will Smith's smile. So voters are willing to make him sit this one out. Personally, I don't buy his character motivations (or maybe I just don't understand them) for most of the movie, so I can't give him my endorsement. (Also, I still gotta hold him responsible for some of Dr. Strange's poor choices. Sorry Benny!)

Dammit, I forgot how hard the dialogue in Macbeth is to follow. Thank goodness for Denzel Washington, and his unique, authoritative take on the Bard's batty royal headcase, in Joel Coen's The Tragedy Of Macbeth. While I still struggle to parse many of the words and follow the finer details of the plot (which is true of most Coen movies, actually), with Denzel, I feel it and I understand. My favorite Actor performances of the year are not nominated, so out of this group, he's my personal pick -- it's pretty hard not to go with the stalwart. It's fascinating to watch him do his Denzel thing with Shakespearean dialogue, especially when he gets fired up. And with the film's incredible stylistic visual approach, his presence is absolutely commanding. (The stark, heavy, black-and-white surrealism is equal parts Ingmar Bergman, German Expressionism, and Sin City by way of the 11th century.) The film got surprisingly few nominations, so Washington is probably its best hope. "Is this an Oscar which I see before me?" Unfortunately no, methinks.

If god wanted to punish me, he would make me watch musicals based on musicals about musicals. But I've lived a clean life, so surely he would never… Oh, no -- he has brandished his wrath through the vessel of the Oscar race, and it has taken the unholy form of tick, tick… BOOM! Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating the dread I felt going into this movie about Rent creator Jonathan Larson; after all, it's the directorial feature debut of Lin-Manuel Miranda. (Not sure if you've ever heard of him, but he's pretty good at musicals.) Then comes the opening line of the film: "Everything you see is true, except for the parts Jonathan made up." Ugh, so it's that kind of movie. Fortunately, star Andrew Garfield is a pleasant surprise. He's actually lifelike and vivacious, a stark contrast to his red-suited cameo in a certain recent blockbuster. (These films, along with his role as Jim Bakker in The Eyes Of Tammy Faye, are not the future I envisioned when I discovered him in the film Boy A.) And I'll admit, tick, tick… BOOM! has a kinetic energy and begrudgingly catchy songs. Does Garfield get my vote? Nope. I reflexively resent anyone who chases their dreams, even if they're a character in a movie. And he ain't no 29 years old. (By the way, I can't wait for Miranda's next project, Click, Click, Boom!, the musical about revered Y2K nu-metal pioneers Saliva.)

Nobody involved with Being The Ricardos deserves an Oscar nomination -- especially Javier Bardem. (The only possible exception is Nina Arianda, excellent as Vivian Vance.) As far as looking like their counterparts, Nicole Kidman is a real stretch as Lucy; but as Desi, Bardem doesn't even try. Besides being previous Oscar winners, I have no idea why Bardem, Kidman, and J.K. Simmons were cast. The film -- which is not awful, but is not great -- almost plays like basic-cable sketch comedy: Aaron Sorkin does I Love Lucy! (I'm hopeful the trend continues… David Mamet does The Honeymooners! David Milch does The Partridge Family!) Unfortunately, of people alive today, more have probably seen Being The Ricardos than an actual episode of I Love Lucy. "Man, that’s some bad makeup on Lucy and Ricky -- they look nothing like Nicole and Javier."

For my snubbed pick, do I choose with my head or my gut? If I'm going with the cerebral dramatic pick, it's Amir Jadidi in A Hero. If I'm going with the role that I purely enjoyed the most, it's Idris Elba. (And since I picked A Hero for my Picture Snub, it's time to honor Elba's film, The Suicide Squad. It's like an R-rated movie for children. That seems like an insult, but it's high praise, I assure you.) We all know Elba is a capital-L Leading man. But also effortlessly combining hard-R humor, violence, and action, he proves he's got it all in his repertoire. Get this guy into a Marvel franchise, now. And to think, Elba almost didn't get this role, intended for a certain Oscar frontrunner reprising his character from the previous Suicide Squad. If Smith doesn't win the big trophy, he'll be kicking himself for passing on The Suicide Squad.

It's practically an annual tradition: Giving overrated Leonardo DiCaprio a coveted Gloriously Omitted slot. (Another perennial favorite, Adam Driver, narrowly missed, with several movies to choose from.) Leo brings an underwhelming performance and his best Christian Slater impression to Don't Look Up. The pop-culture film wags a finger at pop-culture consumers for paying more attention to pop culture than real issues. Ultimately, the movie is (ironically?) the same distracting pop-culture noise that it claims to rail against. (If you don't think Leo is a primary contributor to that noise, and you haven't been alive from 1996 until now, just Google 'Leo tabloid'.)

BEST ACTRESS:

SHOULD WIN: Olivia Colman (The Lost Daughter) WILL WIN: Jessica Chastain (The Eyes Of Tammy Faye) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Angelina Jolie (Eternals) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Tessa Thompson (Passing)

The Best Actress category isn't really about who gave the best performance. We all know that's irrelevant, right? It's about whether someone deserves to win a second Oscar.

Jessica Chastain (as the titular eyes in The Eyes Of Tammy Faye) seems like the logical choice. She was the first strong contender to emerge in the fall, she's playing a transformative role in a white hot spotlight, she's a multi-nominee and one of the most revered actresses of her generation who "should" win an Oscar at some point, and she's up against three women who have already won, plus another (Kristen Stewart) who generally doesn't want to be there in the first place. But then… there's the movie itself. With a less batty performance, or a better-received movie, she'd be the unquestioned favorite. Guided by the hand of sketch veteran Michael Showalter, the movie is (very intentionally) ridiculous, and the role is (maybe intentionally) over-the-top. It's the latest in a weird trend -- Prestige Trash (a genre I just made up) -- aiming for highbrow camp, often about tabloid stars, elevated from what should be a Lifetime movie-of-the-week, nominated for awards, and usually starring Sabastian Stan. You know it when you see it: I, Tonya, The Disaster Artist, Bombshell, Richard Jewell, Pam & Tommy, and pretty much anything from Ryan Murphy. When Eyes is a sly comedy, it works. When it gets serious, it's hard to take seriously. Given that it's based on a real person, does Chastain give a good performance? Considering everything I know about Jim and Tammy Faye Bakker is from Saturday Night Live, I can't really say. (Man, I wish this movie starred Jan Hooks.) The bigger question is: Should Tammy Faye be Chastain's legacy forevermore? I don't think so, but the Academy will. The 'Eyes' have it. (I'm sorry, I immediately regret making that terrible pun. I deeply apologize for even thinking it. It does not reflect who I am as a person. I shall repent.)

So, the Academy will decree that nobody here is worthy of the rare second Oscar. That means that my personal pick of these nominees, Olivia Colman, is out of luck. Had she not won three years ago for The Favourite, she'd probably be a lock here, for her acerbic role in The Lost Daughter. And with her recent awards haul from The Crown, as well as accolades from The Father and Fleabag, is Colman fatigue setting in? Not if she keeps giving wonderfully daffy acceptance speeches. Playing a mother with grown children vacationing alone in Greece (and annoyed by / fascinated with / obsessed with the dubiously wealthy family from Queens that descends on her solitude), she's the best of what we love about her: cutting, hilarious, duplicitous, goofy, and totally believable. As difficult as the performance should be -- an emotional terrorist with a gleam in her eye and a penchant for petty theft -- she has no false notes. Bonus points for delivering the best line of the year, to an expectant mother: "You’ll see. Children are a crushing responsibility. Happy birthday."

Let's get this out of the way: Nicole Kidman is not a passable Lucille Ball. The well-intentioned filmmakers and artists behind Being The Ricardos try desperately to transport us to the 1950s, but the lead actors take us right back out. The digital de-aging and shaping shenanigans are a joke. Even on the small screen, the effect looks like a rubbery, motionless mask. Your average internet deepfake (or even a not-so-deepfake) would be better. The only times Kidman resembles Ball are in the heavily-photoshopped promo photos/posters, and in the recreations of famous black-and-white scenes from I Love Lucy. To her credit, Kidman does sound a helluva lot like Ball… except when she's stuffing Aaron Sorkin's overwrought dialogue into her mouth, betraying Ball's iconic rhythms and cadence. (For my money, I think Christine Ebersole is a more convincing Lucille Ball in Licorice Pizza.) Kidman does have some things working in her favor, other than the voice: The movie is generally fun, and Kidman benefits from the general appeal of Sorkin's trademark repartee. Kidman deftly imbues Ball with believable genius, giving us insight into how her mind may have worked. And most importantly, the guild members (various departments of voters that work in Hollywood) are eating it up, especially the insider-y jokes. And hey, the story -- about published accusations of Ball being a Communist in 1953 -- can (if you squint) be interpreted as a story of Hollywood conquering xenophobia, so what's for them not to love? Kidman was the frontrunner for a few months, but has fallen back in the home stretch.

Penélope Cruz's prior victory was in a different category (Supporting Actress), but she's a previous winner nonetheless. This year she's nominated for her work with frequent collaborator Pedro Almodóvar in Parallel Mothers. A bit of a surprise on nomination day, she beat out a bunch of singers, like Jennifer Hudson (Respect), Rachel Zegler (West Side Story), Alana Haim (Licorice Pizza), and -- the one that really pissed off Twitter -- Lady Gaga (House Of Gucci). This is nomination #4 for Cruz, and her acting gets better as she ages. My theory is that Cruz is the only reason her husband Javier Bardem is nominated for Being The Ricardos; he was going to be there as her date anyway, so they might as well save on seats.

Kristen Stewart is an interesting case as Diana (the Diana) in Spencer, but is ultimately not a factor. Quick show of hands: Who thinks this movie is necessary? Who even knew this movie existed? Who thinks Naomi Watts -- who was not nominated for 2013's Diana -- is pissed? (What will the next Diana biopic be called? Did she have a middle name?) There isn't a topic I care less about than the British royal family, and I find the recent glut of film/TV content (and the accompanying avalanche of awards) baffling. This film, about an emotionally-fraught Christmas that Diana spends with the royals as her marriage to Charles is crumbling, does not convert me. When text at the beginning informs us this is "a fable from a true tragedy", you know we're in for some real nonsense. And Diana's opening line is literally "Where the f--- am I?", so from the outset it's clear we're in heavy-handed metaphor territory. What follows is a tough sell, even for the most devout of The Crown evangelists: a psychological thriller, swimming in horror tropes and evocative imagery (choking on pearls, glowering monarchs, being trapped in a haunted mansion), about -- gasp! -- spending a weekend with the in-laws. Marrying into the royal family is hard. We get it. (I sympathize with the real Diana, I honestly do. But a fictionalized version of this regal pseudo-hysteria is just not my bag. I'm more of an I Wanna Marry Harry guy.) I'm not even sure what actually happens in the movie, but best I can tell, the ghost of Anne Boleyn convinces Diana to get a divorce. As for Stewart's performance, it's hard to judge, because it has to be so specifically in service of the tone and atmosphere of the film. Which isn't bad, it's just… a lot. It's a parade of exasperated sighs and stubborn sulks, occasionally veering into casual paranoia. It has all the breathless insincerity of a Kate Winslet acceptance speech. You know the movie poster of Stewart looking sullenly and wistfully out a window? It's that, for 117 minutes. The typically press-averse Stewart has actually been gamely publicizing the film with convincing (read: well-rehearsed) geniality. But I'm afraid it's all for naught.

If we were truly picking the best performance, my clear choice would be Tessa Thompson, for Passing. How did the Academy miss this one? (And not just the actress, the entire movie: I would have nominated it for Picture, Supporting Actress, Director, and Adapted Screenplay as well.) In a year of externalized performances, Thompson gives a powerfully internalized one. Co-star Ruth Negga has had the majority of the awards buzz and probably the showier role, but I think Thompson has the more difficult part. The film doesn't take the easy way out to clue us in to what she's thinking: no inner monologue, no verbalizing her feelings, no emotional outbursts. And more than that, she's almost always hiding what she's thinking, and is perpetually conflicted. She spends the duration of the film trying to figure out Negga's character, but she's the one the audience is trying to figure out. Is she jealous? Appalled? Fearful? Annoyed? Indignant? Aroused? Indifferent? Vengeful…? My feeling on the Oscar snub, however, is crystal clear: disappointed.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR:

SHOULD WIN: Kodi Smit-McPhee (The Power Of The Dog) WILL WIN: Troy Kotsur (CODA) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Timothée Chalamet (Don't Look Up, The French Dispatch) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Jeffrey Wright (The French Dispatch)

What a cluster this category is. A total disaster. It's as if the morons… Wait, I'm sorry. One of my New Year's Resolutions is to hold less anger in my heart for subjective popularity contests that have no real impact on my life, and instead be more compassionate, gracious, and optimistic…

Ahem. This year's slate of Best Supporting Actor nominees is a refreshing, exciting departure from the expected. It adds a welcome dash of spice to break up the monotonous predictability of the mindless Oscar slog. We should all be grateful for this unexpected treat…

Nope. I can't. I can't do it. The hell with my resolution. This category is a chaotic mess. Choosing names at random would have been a more logical way to pick the field this year. Usually the nominees align closely with the precursor awards; but this year, not only do they not align, there's a negative correlation. If you got a Screen Actors Guild nomination, you were 60% likely to not get an Oscar nod. Bad news for those who had already booked limos, like Jared Leto, Ben Affleck, and Bradley Cooper -- all of whom the telecast producers were counting on for some desperately-needed star power. But don't worry, I'm sure sexagenarians Ciarán Hinds and J.K. Simmons will pull in monster viewership. Have you seen their Twitter numbers? Dozens of followers. (The only thing trending about Ciarán Hinds is "How do you pronounce Ciarán Hinds?") Now, Hinds and Simmons are talented actors who give fine performances (and trust me, I was not rooting for the jilted movie stars), but some logic would be nice. It's as if the Oscar voters decided, "Who cares who the nominees are? It doesn't matter. None of it matters. That guy? Jesse what's-his-face? Sure." This isn't a big deal. So why am I so bothered? I just… I don't need this kind of uncertainty in my life.

The favorite (today, anyway) is Troy Kotsur, playing the deaf, blue-collar father of an aspiring singer in CODA. The film in general (and Kotsur's performance in particular) have been charming audiences since it took Sundance by storm early last year. Kotsur's been little-seen before now, but his is a fun, gruff, contentious character, and he gets his 'one big scene' that voters respond to. As the lone acting representative from a movie with a strong cast, people looking to support the film will put their weight behind him. Bonus (at least for me): He played a Tusken Raider in The Mandalorian! (And you thought I wasn't going to sneak some Star Wars into the Oscar discussion.) So for my own sanity, can I at least count on one thing in this category -- a Kotsur victory?

Probably not. So watch for an upset. The actor with the best chance at it is Kodi Smit-McPhee (also my personal choice). He had been the prohibitive favorite for months, but then Kotsur swooped in and took the recent major prizes; perhaps the pendulum will swing back. In The Power Of The Dog, Smit-McPhee is easily the brightest spot in a bleak film. His performance is very specific. In addition he benefits from the neat parlor trick that energizes the entire movie. He seems like an odd choice, until his character clicks into place. I'm not sure anybody else could have played the role; you couldn't just throw, say, Timothée Chalamet in there, you'd get a very different (and less effective) movie. (Why mention Chalamet? I wonder if he'll come up again in a minute…)

After being largely ignored by critics' awards, Jesse Plemons wasn't on the radar for his role as a tender but extremely unobservant rancher in The Power Of The Dog. But for no other reason than to frustrate me, here he is. More interesting than the nomination itself is its implication: The film is even stronger than expected with actors (the largest body of voters), so it could spoil other categories, like Kirsten Dunst (Plemons's cinematic and real-life wife) pulling an upset in Best Supporting Actress. He could also be torpedoing the film's chances in this category, by splitting votes with castmate Smit-McPhee. An eventual nomination for Plemons was probably inevitable, given his recent run of prestige projects (Judas And The Black Messiah, The Irishman, Vice, The Post, Bridge Of Spies). But I'm a little baffled by the nod here. Plemons's character spends the majority of the movie standing around expressionless while ignoring the torment of his wife and her son. Given it's a film where a lot of things don't make sense, I guess this choice fits right in.

I'm workshopping a tweet here, to compete with all the hot-take zillion-follower imbeciles half my age: "Simmons will win the Oscar… J.K.!" That oughta get me a blue check. J.K. Simmons, nominated for his role as William Frawley (a.k.a. paunchy neighbor Fred Mertz on I Love Lucy) in Being The Ricardos, is a nominee you can eliminate for sure. He's the only previous winner in the group -- in fact, the only previous nominee. He won't score a second Academy Award for a role so slight (and silly). The good news for him is, he gets to keep his Oscar. You're confused; allow me to explain: When I take over the Academy, I'm going to institute some new rules. Near the top of the list: First-time acting nominees are not allowed to take home the award. If they win (which I would strongly discourage), the statuette goes on layaway until they secure their second nomination. The idea is to weed out the flukes, the flashes-in-the-pan. If you never get another nom, you never get your award. (I realize that would impact over 100 actors -- more than 25% of all winners. Relax. I'm still working out the details. Special considerations would be made for premature deaths, nominations in other categories, lifetime achievement awards, or any irrational whims I may have.) But bottom line, Anna Paquin, Mira Sorvino, and Tim Robbins do not get to keep their Oscars. So under the new bylaws, Simmons would have gone home empty-handed when he won for Whiplash, and would instead collect the hardware this year, with his second nomination. (We'd do a little presentation in the lobby next to the coat check, or set up a photo booth or something. He could it tweet to his 15 followers.)

Do you ever get the feeling that voters just watch YouTube clips to pick nominees? That's what it seems like this year. All you need is one poignant emotional scene to grab some attention. (If it's in a hospital bed, and you verbally summarize the film's theme in a weighty speech, so much the better.) I'm not claiming that's what happened with Ciarán Hinds in Belfast, but I'm not not claiming that's what happened. Though voters may have picked him based on a couple key scenes in a sizzle real, I don't have an issue with his nomination (though I'm sure his costar and early favorite Jamie Dornan does). As the family patriarch, Hinds doles out both sweet encouragement and terrible advice to his 9-year-old grandson, as the conflict between Protestants and Catholics escalates around them. Hinds grew up during the Troubles in Belfast in real life, and his presence carries some legitimate weight. He's been Oscar-adjacent for decades in films like Munich, There Will Be Blood, and Road To Perdition, so it's nice to see him finally score a nod himself. But he's not a threat to win.

If we really wanted chaos in this category, I could pick my own favorite five performances, which might not overlap with the nominees at all. Let's see… How about: Wesley Snipes in Coming 2 America (A triumphant return to his comedic roots; everyone needs more Snipes in their lives… except his tax attorney); David Dastmalchian in The Suicide Squad (Is Polka-Dot Man the greatest superhero of all time? Give him his own show and let's find out); Rob Morgan in Don't Look Up (He quietly makes everyone else in the star-studded affair look like a moron); Jon Bernthal in King Richard (Who knew he can act??); and my official Snubbed choice, Jeffrey Wright in The French Dispatch. A Wes Anderson neophyte, every single vocal choice that Wright makes is incredible (like this bon mot: “I’ll answer your question out of sheer weariness”). Had he not played the Watcher, he would have been my top choice to play Kang in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Listening to his version of the twisty, expository multiverse dialogue in Loki would have been sublime. Fortunately for us, he's already lined up for Anderson's next film, Asteroid City, later this year. Let's hope I don't have to name him as my Snubbed choice here again next time.

Believe it or not, my anxiety over this category could have been worse: Timothée Chalamet. (Oh there he is.) My runaway choice for Gloriously Omitted, he deflates almost every movie he's in. This year he's in several (Don't Look Up, The French Dispatch, Dune), and he's annoying in all of them. (Even that Scissorhands commercial.) The big question: Who's a more irritating Paul Atreides: Chalamet and his Ministry-of-Silly-Walks sand-shuffle, or lifeless Kyle MacLachlan and his chemistry with absolutely nobody? Well, we've got at least one more Dune sequel to find out.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS:

SHOULD WIN: Ariana DeBose (West Side Story) WILL WIN: Ariana DeBose (West Side Story) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Vanessa Hudgens (tick, tick… BOOM!) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Caitriona Balfe (Belfast)

When Ariana DeBose wins Best Supporting Actress for playing Anita in West Side Story, she'll join an exclusive group: pairs of actors who won Oscars for playing the same character. (Rita Moreno, of course, won for the 1961 version; had Moreno been nominated for her role in the new one, she would have been in a category all her own.) Moreno and DeBose would be the first pair in a re-make; Marlon Brando and Robert De Niro won for Vito Corleone (a sequel); Heath Ledger and Joaquin Phoenix won for the Joker (a reboot). DeBose has a big advantage in this category, because she's practically a third lead, and she does it all: acting, crying, singing, and dancing. (If you told me she designed the sets too, I wouldn't be surprised.) And she's the key to the film's romance: She and Bernardo have way more chemistry than the unconvincing Maria and Tony. DeBose is also my personal pick here; I give her a slight edge over Aunjanue Ellis because she's the best thing in a movie that I think is largely superfluous. Not bad for an actress who before now was best known for performing as an inanimate object: In Hamilton, she played the bullet!

Kirsten Dunst is the only other nominee here with a chance, albeit a slim one. (But if her film, The Power Of The Dog, goes on a rampage, look out.) If we're talking musical chops, compared to DeBose's singing, Dunst's piano isn't cutting it. But her character plays a pivotal role in the film, especially in its drawn out (reeeeeally drawn out) sense of dread. Most of the time, she's a ghost of who she had previously been. She's the one that anchors the film in its themes of loneliness and isolation. Not even 40, she's 30-plus years into her career (kickstarted by a co-starring role with Tom Cruise back when he was only mostly-crazy), and is getting the best notices she's ever had. But if she does ever win an Oscar, it will probably be for a Sofia Coppola film.

In King Richard, Will Smith is getting all the attention, but the real revelation is Aunjanue Ellis, playing the mother of the Williams sisters. Richard is the show, but sometimes Ellis's Oracene is more fun to watch. The film really takes off with her pivotal scene, a heated argument where Oracene calls out Richard and cuts right through his alpha B.S. She's the rare performer that can go toe-to-toe with one of the most famous people in America. (And lord knows Alfonso Ribeiro tried.)

There is no shortage of young, childless podcasters weighing in on the accuracy of the portrayal of fraught mothers in The Lost Daughter. “I babysat once, and it was like, really hard.” One of those mothers is played by Jessie Buckley, who was one of the bigger surprises on nomination day, as a younger version of Olivia Colman (really?). Few saw this nomination coming, as all the buzz for the film was around Colman and writer/director Maggie Gyllenhaal. (Personally, I thought Buckley was stronger in I'm Thinking Of Ending Things -- one of my Snubbed choices last year.) Unfortunately, I think Buckley's flashback scenes are where the movie ultimately sags. I'm in the minority here, as everyone is raving about those scenes, and how it shows the difficulties and frustrations of parenting young children, especially from a mother's point of view. And in one respect, it's refreshing to see, since that struggle is rarely shown on screen in a realistic way. It gets into the ugliness of parents being overwhelmed and underprepared. Kids are a pain. (Not mine. Other people's.) I just found that aspect of the narrative less interesting; I was invested in the present-day character and her mysteries. (And that freakin' doll.)

We all love Dame Judi Dench -- who doesn't? -- but her nomination here is just plain lazy. With so many fine options in this category, Dench's inclusion for her cranky-grandmother bit in Belfast is just a yawn. Yes, she's perfectly cast, and her trademark feistiness is a welcome addition to the film, but overall the role is slight, and not particularly memorable in her grand oeuvre. (Though she gets credit for setting the bar so high.) She has one powerful, memorable image at the end of the film, but otherwise doesn't boast any of the Big Oscar Scenes that litter this contest. She is, however, the beneficiary of the film's overall transporting and immersive power, and her authenticity plays a big part in that. I guess I'm just mostly annoyed that there were plenty of other deserving, unrecognized actresses, that don't have the benefit of her Pavlovian award response. Frankly, Dench isn't even the most deserving in her own movie. Which brings us to…

Caitriona Balfe, my official Snubbed choice, in Belfast. Despite Balfe collecting all the nominations over Dench prior to the Oscars, Dench managed to underhandedly steal this one. (Dench, a notorious swindler and feared presence in the seedy Surrey underworld, has been suspiciously mum on rumors of voter blackmail and threats.) A more diplomatic explanation is that voters were simply confused about where to cast their votes for Balfe. She quite clearly has a lead role, but campaigned in the Supporting category; very likely her votes got split between the two. (Academy members aren't known for paying attention to what's going on around them.) I can almost guarantee Balfe got more overall votes than Dench. (Mysteriously, several of the ballot boxes were routed to the PricewaterhouseCoopers "Special Counting Division" in Surrey, England. Quite puzzling.) Belfast is eliciting some of the most emotional reactions of all the films this season, and Balfe is a primary reason why. She does all the heavy lifting in the film, narratively and emotionally. Though to be honest, my Ingloriously Snubbed pick is really a toss-up between Balfe and Ruth Negga in Passing. I'm giving it to Balfe because she has the bigger role (I'm not immune to category fraud myself), and because I'm hesitant to name Passing as my Snubbed choice in every single category (though I would be justified). Aside from them, there are plenty other women I'd nominate ahead of Dench: Margot Robbie (The Suicide Squad), Kathryn Hunter (The Tragedy Of Macbeth), Judith Light (tick, tick… BOOM!), Marlee Matlin (CODA), Cherry Jones (The Eyes Of Tammy Faye), Nina Arianda (Being The Ricardos), Alexandra Shipp (tick, tick… BOOM!), and Margot Robbie a second time, because she's just that awesome in The Suicide Squad.

BEST DIRECTOR:

SHOULD WIN: Kenneth Branagh (Belfast) WILL WIN: Jane Campion (The Power Of The Dog) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Stephen Chbosky (Dear Evan Hansen) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Denis Villeneuve (Dune)

Jane Campion is the runaway winner here for The Power Of The Dog. (My personal choice, Denis Villeneuve, is not among the nominees; more on him later. But you could have sold me on several other directors here: Wes Anderson for The French Dispatch, Guillermo del Toro for Nightmare Alley, Asghar Farhadi for A Hero, Rebecca Hall for Passing. Even James Gunn for The Suicide Squad.) Westerns are a tough sell for me, as are Campion movies. (In high school, sometime between action flicks and goofy comedies, I suggested to some buddies that we see The Piano, without knowing anything about it beforehand. Those guys have never forgiven me.) With The Power Of The Dog, Campion has made a film that's lovely to look at, and she imbues the film with a sense of something rotting, but I mostly feel frustrated with the storytelling itself (especially with the musical cues, which I find manipulative). After she wins the Oscar, she'll have her pick of projects; I can't wait to see if she casts Sam Elliott in her next Western.

Belfast is seen by many as a return to form by Kenneth Branagh, and crowning him with an Oscar would be recognition of finally making good on his early (over)hype as "the next Olivier", after storming the scene with Henry V three decades ago. And if Campion were not in this race, Branagh would probably get it. Despite the film's aforementioned lack of hipness, the direction is universally considered exceptional and engaging. The streets of Northern Ireland provide the perfect intimate canvass for him to create a portrait of his childhood, and a film that will likely be remembered as his signature work. Especially after the CG artifice and excess of Murder On The Orient Express, Belfast, tactile and unsanded, feels like Branagh's surest footing in ages. (My gripes? So glad you asked. The black-and-white is so close to being perfect… god, I wish he had shot it on film instead of digital. The intro in color looks like cheap travelogue stock footage. Some of the edits intrude abruptly on beats. And the vintage Van Morrison songs make for a fantastic soundtrack, but they feel like an emotional shortcut, where a traditional score might serve better. But hey, if VanMo was my hometown hero -- and he would take my calls -- I'd do the same thing.) If nothing else, I'm sure Branagh is relieved he's had better luck with Belfast than with his recent Agatha Christie movies, where his stars -- Johnny Depp and Armie Hammer -- have had a habit of getting canceled.

After all these years, I still don't know if I like Paul Thomas Anderson as a filmmaker or not. There are plenty of things I like in his films, but I come away from each somewhat empty. They feel stubbornly inaccessible. My reaction to pretty much every film is, "Huh." (With the exception of Magnolia, where that reaction was followed by "What the f---??" Also, I took my mother to see Magnolia. Take a guess how that went.) Licorice Pizza, though a much different vibe (you mean it's okay to smile during a PTA movie?), still leaves me feeling a similar way. Instead of just enjoying the breezy story of first love, I spent most of the time wondering, What the hell is really going on here? (I've been told I need to chill out.) PTA is a lot of people's favorite filmmaker, so an Oscar is undoubtedly in his future. But it won't be in this race. This year, his only real chance is in the Original Screenplay category.

If you're feeling unaccomplished, you might want to skip this paragraph. With West Side Story, Steven Spielberg has now secured a Best Director nomination in six different decades. Most people haven't even seen a movie in six different decades. He's still looking for that elusive third win, but it won't be this year. His film is gorgeous, but ultimately a re-tread, and not enough to draw any significant votes. Maybe he'll have better luck in his seventh decade.

Drive My Car is a big beneficiary of the international expansion of the Academy's voting body. Japan's Ryûsuke Hamaguchi is the latest in a recent raft of directors nominated for non-English-language films (there have been one or two each of the previous three years; before that, it was rare). His film is lovely, but isn't awestriking in the way that other films in this category are. At its best, the film uses imagery and expressions to tap into universal emotions that are hard to describe in words; at its worst, it's feels languid and plodding. (Did he consider jazzing it up with a jaunty Beatles song?) Many people have been genuinely moved by this film; unfortunately, I wasn't one of them. But don't feel bad for Hamaguchi -- unlike that deadbeat Spielberg, he'll go home with an Oscar, for Best International Film.

Denis Villeneuve is doing it better than anyone right now, especially when it comes to spectacle. (People whine that the aforementioned Spider-Man movie didn't get a Best Picture nomination; but if Villeneuve had directed it, it would have.) Dune got 10 nominations, but somehow not Director; no film with that many nominations has missed on Best Director in 35 years (the last was Spielberg -- that guy again -- for The Color Purple in 1986). I'm sure Villeneuve isn't losing any sleep over this slight; he still got noms for Picture (as a producer) and Screenplay. And I'm willing to say right now that he'll be nearly a slam dunk to win Best Director for the final Dune installment (whether that's Part 2, Part 3, or Part 7).

BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY:

SHOULD WIN: Kenneth Branagh (Belfast) WILL WIN: Paul Thomas Anderson (Licorice Pizza) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Aaron Sorkin (Being The Ricardos) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Wes Anderson (The French Dispatch)

Usually my favorite category, this year's Original Screenplay category doesn't disappoint. It features a showdown between two revered, venerable triple-nominees: Paul Thomas Anderson (Licorice Pizza) and Kenneth Branagh (Belfast). They've been making Oscar-caliber movies across four decades, mastering many disciplines (directing, producing, writing, and for Branagh, acting), and collecting troves of nominations (11 for Anderson, 8 for Branagh). But despite the general consensus that both are worthy of the big prize, neither has won. Their styles and sensibilities couldn't be more different. California cool vs. British dignity. Heady vs. weighty. Inscrutable vs. particular. New period pieces vs. old period pieces. Dirk Diggler vs. Hamlet. There's not a lot of overlap in their Venn diagram of fans. In any other year, either of them would be heavily favored to win based on legacy alone. But this year, voters will be forced to choose. (Man, I would love to see the ballots.) So who will win?

It could be either one. But as the big show approaches, Anderson seems to have the edge with Licorice Pizza. Especially in a writing category, he's the one more people seem to be gravitating to. A lot of it is because it's his first film that feels, for lack of a better word, warm. It's pleasant. It's uplifting. It doesn't make you fear that all of humanity is lost. In other words, it doesn't really feel like a PTA film. Personally, I'm not sold. Despite the simplicity of the story and structure, I was thoroughly lost the whole time. How? It's a series of lazy-Sunday vignettes (many based, improbably, on real stories from Anderson's friend Gary Goetzman), collected together like a playlist, easy to drop in and out of -- what's so hard about that? To me, none of it (the decisions, the circumstances, the shambolic nature) seems logical, at least not in the life of a teenager. But it's like life, especially in memories, a series of random encounters -- that's what people are saying. No, it's not! Life is nothing like what happens to this kid. In this movie, there's an ignorant joyfulness about the high school experience that makes me think Anderson never attended high school. My theory: If you told me Anderson wrote this story when he was actually 15 -- this is what he imagined life to be like, and how he expected older women to act -- I would totally believe it. Of course a teen would dream up: himself fawned over by older women in short skirts, owning a pinball arcade, being a movie star, having his mom work for him, never going to school, being a respected patron at a high-class cocktail lounge, messing with adult a-holes, sleeping on water beds, being an L.A. business mogul, watching movie stars jump fire pits on motorcycles, assuming Jon Peters is a raving lunatic, and -- most crucially -- almost zero consequences. (I also thought there was a strong chance that we'd get a reveal at the end that it was all mostly in the teenager's head. I would have liked that better.) Ultimately, I think supporters are focusing less on what we see, and more on what we feel. And most people feel marvelous. (That only works if you have feelings.) It's a coming-of-age story, and I think those either resonate or not. For me, this one does not.

Branagh's Belfast is getting some of the most emotional reactions of all the nominees. The story of innocence lost is a tried-and-true theme, and a pretty good way to lure Oscar votes. (And, that scene where the mother takes the kid back to return the pilfered laundry detergent during a violent riot is actually true -- Branagh's mother did that to him in real life.) It's my personal pick here, but it's not necessarily a rock-solid endorsement (see below for the script I would have voted for in this category). By the way, am I the only one that thinks the Everlasting Love musical number is really annoying? (Classic me. I keep bemoaning the gloom of the nominees, and then when Belfast has one measly joyful scene, I trash it for being frivolous.)

Is it a successful political satire if both sides of the aisle claim it as validation, and most viewers don't even know it's a political satire in the first place? Don't Look Up, written by Adam McKay and David Sirota, while highly amusing, doesn't quite approach the sharpness of McKay's previous Oscar-winning script, The Big Short. It's not a real threat here to win. The movie playfully hums in the first half ("But it's all math"), but sags in the second, as it devolves into some predictable allegorical stuff that is not nearly as much fun. It also takes aim at billionaire megalomania and wades into heavy conglomerate paranoia -- which is all founded, but also uninteresting. (Bold, seeing as how this movie was made by Netflix. Maybe Ted Sarandos didn't read the final draft.) Perhaps the logic in the film is beside the point, but it's not totally clear to me when exactly the asteroid is supposed to hit and when the plan to thwart it is supposed to happen. Wait, it's the same day?? (I need a big ticking clock and a famous person constantly yelling how much time is left, dammit.) And I suppose this is weird gripe for a comedy, but I thought there were too many jokes; the follow-up punchlines didn't land nearly as well as (and detract from) the initial ones. I guess that's a polite way of saying I could have used about 30% less Jonah Hill.

The overall goodwill for King Richard spilled into a few categories, including Screenplay. The real story of the rise of Venus and Serena Williams alone is probably enough to get this nomination. And the script (written by Zach Baylin) takes great care not to screw it up: Taking a page from wholesome real-life(ish) sports movies from the 1990s and early 2000s, King Richard enables you to root for the underdog heroines from beginning to end. And the script tweaks the formula enough to give it an edge and make it feel contemporary. It's strongest when it examines the relationship between the parents; it could have been stronger if it delved deeper into the relationship between the siblings. Whether it paints an accurate picture of Richard Williams is a subject of some debate; I have no idea, and I'm too lazy to read Wikipedia. But the script accomplishes the most important objective of all: You never stop cheering for the Williams sisters, even if you're not always cheering for their father (or Arantxa Sánchez Vicario).

The biggest left-field nomination in the whole shebang was for The Worst Person In The World -- a Norwegian film nobody has seen, starring actors nobody has heard of, written by a duo (Joachim Trier and Eskil Vogt) unfamiliar to Western audiences, from a country most Americans can't find on a map. Anybody who says they predicted this nomination is lying. (By the way, I predicted this nomination.) It's a story that's a bit all over the place, but -- unlike some other contenders -- it uses that trait to great effect. The result is a film made up of 12 chapters (almost like mini-films), with varying genres and tones, flouting tropes along the way. For example, the film captures the aimless protagonist so precisely that we effectively experience her silent inner monologue, which is so much more natural, convincing, and relatable than the manic psychological nonsense in Spencer. And the film's episodic nature is messily coherent, resulting an experience that feels much more like truth and reality than Licorice Pizza. It's not perfect script, and it's not one of my favorite films of the year, but it's a wonderful ride, and it lands nicely. It's okay with everything not being okay. (The lead actress, Renate Reinsve, reminds me a lot of a grown-up Danica McKellar. Could this movie be Winnie Cooper's life after Kevin??)

We've heard all the adjectives about Wes Anderson before, so let's see if I can write about The French Dispatch without using the following words: stylized, whimsical, fussy, twee, extravagant, intemperate, fetishized, mannered, cutesy, nerdy, and of course, quirky. This anthology film is an exhibition of Anderson's core sensibilities completely unbridled (should've added 'unbridled' to the list) -- much like the beloved, unedited, unbounded journalists in his movie. You might argue that Anderson could use some reining in, but I would argue that would defeat the purpose. Is this up there with Anderson's best? No. Did I love it? Of course I did. Even if I didn't, would I admit it? I don't really know why I'm so enamored with Anderson. I can't say he gets me. He’s like a European New Yorker by way of Texas, and I am… not. His films couldn't be further from my experience or my values. But he is my indulgence. Some engorge on food, others splurge on wine. I revel in Anderson-ness. (I'm still breathlessly awaiting the release of The Coterie Of Midnight Intruders.) Is it so terrible to love something that I objectively know is possibly, maybe, not very good? As his art dealer in The French Dispatch says, "Surely there ought to be a double standard for this sort of predicament."

Do we really need Being The Ricardos? Is Aaron Sorkin's decidedly-less-than-definitive take on Lucy and Desi necessary? I can feel the writing inserting itself into the story in an unnatural way. It really stretches to connect the dots. It's confusing. The metaphors are blunt and also a reach. And honestly, it's a really dumb title. I'm a fan of the man, no doubt, but (I can't believe I'm saying this) can Sorkin be 10% less Sorkin-y? The good news is, a lot of people will get the Cuban Pete reference in The Mask now. Chick-chicky-boom!

BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY:

SHOULD WIN: Jane Campion (The Power Of The Dog) WILL WIN: Jane Campion (The Power Of The Dog) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Steven Levenson (Dear Evan Hansen, tick, tick...BOOM!) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Rebecca Hall (Passing)

There is a rare three-way race for Adapted Screenplay. The Power Of The Dog holds the edge, but the lead over CODA and The Lost Daughter gets slimmer by the day. The fact that Jane Campion will win for Director and maybe Picture opens the door to reward someone else in this category. I've mentioned that I don't like The Power Of The Dog that much. But it's easily the movie that I've thought about the most, racking my brain trying to figure out why characters do the things they do. I even watched it a second time (which is rewarding, picking up more clues along the way), but ultimately it's more interesting to me to think about than watch. Is that a screenplay strength? The script certainly boasts one of the best endings of the year. But mostly the story feels like a long joke with a short punch line. And it gets away with a lot of contrivances and convenient events that allow for the dramatic denouement. Even as I finish this paragraph, I'm already doubting that it will win.

Will CODA's late surge carry it in this category? I'm saying no, but don't be surprised if I go back and edit this to say yes when nobody's looking. Though the subject matter and perspectives are new, the story beats are familiar to anyone who's ever seen a coming-of-age movie. (Why is leaving for college such a drawn-out, traumatic experience in the movies? My parents changed the locks the minute I left.) What writer/director Sian Heder's script lacks in plot, it makes up for in charm. The parents are fun and immature and self-absorbed; they act more like teenagers than their teenage children. The young protagonist is the opposite of a hyper-articulate teen (which is refreshing), who wins us over a lot faster than she wins over her dud of a singing partner. It explores some interesting themes for the CODA teen: She bemoans the fact that her family depends on her, but she has unwittingly depended on her family for her own identity for years; if she's not a translator for her parents, and she's not pursuing her dream of singing, then who is she? The film begs the question: What's the key to great writing -- technical perfection, or how it makes you feel? Ultimately, I guess it depends on how you feel about tidy, uplifting resolutions (and maybe a big ol' family group hug at the end).

I really wanted to love this movie. When I saw the trailer for The Lost Daughter (the feature debut from writer/director and erstwhile actress Maggie Gyllenhaal), I was all in. It promised to be a twisty, taut psychological thriller with a pedigree, anchored by a compellingly untethered Olivia Colman. But the film itself is much more meditative than thrilling. Meandering, almost. For me, it's a let-down. (I should know better; I need to stop watching trailers.) The film is psychological, to be sure, but it's more of an examination; it's a leisurely stroll instead of an off-the-rails ride. It starts out promisingly enough: Colman arrives on vacation and quickly signals to the audience that something is not quite right -- there is an underbelly to the paradise, and to her soul. She almost immediately takes offense to the loud, gaudy Real Housewives and their shady husbands that invade the beach ("We're from Queens." No sh-t.), and the intrigue rises. Who are these people? And why is Colman so invested? What is she cooking up? The mystery sucks us in. But from there, the foot comes off the gas, veering off into excursions and flashbacks (lots of flashbacks), and becomes much more of an internalized mental exercise. And I become much less fascinated. Gyllenhaal has something very specific she's going for, and executes it well, but it just isn't what I was hoping for. The big talking point around this movie is the expression of motherhood, in its various forms and degrees of messiness. It raises some interesting questions about mortality, morality, perpetuating cycles, and faithfulness (to oneself, a partner, and children), and intentionally leaves a big swath of ambiguity. (I have a theory about the ending, but the internet says I'm wrong.) That's all fine, but I guess I just wanted the movie to pick a story and stick with it.

How's your Checkhov? Specifically, are you intimately familiar with the themes, beats, and plot points of Uncle Vanya? No? Well, you might struggle to fully understand the animus of Drive My Car, which spends about a third of its three-hour run-time re-enacting scenes from the 19th-century play. (The other two-thirds are about, you know, driving a car.) The contemplative story, written by director Ryûsuke Hamaguchi, and Takamasa Oe, weaves some fairly simple plot points into a complex tapestry about love, loss, coping, self-sabotage, guilt, and ultimately (hopefully) something more. Taken all together, the point of the movie is… well, if someone can send me the CliffsNotes for Uncle Vanya, I'll get back to you.

The fact that Dune is nominated for Screenplay makes its Director snub all the more insulting. Of all the raves that the film is getting, the script (written by Eric Roth, Jon Spaihts, and Denis Villeneuve) isn't at the top of the list. The film is riveting, no doubt, but ask anyone to give you a two-minute synopsis of the movie, and you'll be met with a blank stare. (As far as I can tell, it's about oil.) The film certainly tries to distance itself from David Lynch's 1984 curio (a lot more realism, a lot less sexual tension between all the men), but still has some head-scratchers: Instead of the OG's widely-criticized opening monologue by Virginia Madsen, there's a disembodied computer voice giving the same clunky exposition? In the year 10190, in another galaxy, people are still drinking coffee? And using contemporary idioms? How do you kiss without bumping nose tubes? As with Best Picture, any real chance for Dune to win a Screenplay Oscar will come with the sequel.

As the writer and director of Passing, I'm going to give an all-around Ingloriously Snubbed nod to Rebecca Hall. (She's also a Snubbed alumna, as an actress in 2008's Vicky Cristina Barcelona.) While so much of the acclaimed fare this year is cold and foreboding, Hall's film is completely inviting. That's not to say it isn't thorny. It's subtle, cerebral, psychological, substantive, and requires examination. But (what a relief!) it's not illogical or confusing. The character motivations are abstruse, but not confounding, like in The Power Of The Dog or The Lost Daughter. The film's stated theme is "Who’s satisfied being anything?" It presents a few very different perspectives, but leaves room for ambiguity, and ultimately asks: Who isn't passing for something, in one way or another? Hall's connection to the story (adapted from a 1929 novella of the same name) is fascinating: Ancestors on her maternal side had been passing for multiple generations, and the book helped her understand and come to terms with it. As a first-time director, Hall is extremely self-assured, and puts a bold stamp on every aspect of the film: the black-and-white (or as Hall calls it, "grey") cinematography, the unexpected 1950s melodramatic tone, the boxy 4:3 aspect ratio, the natural lighting, and the hypnotic music -- my favorite of the year. (I'm shocked that Devonté Hynes was not nominated for his jazz score.) My only reservation about the film is the ending, which is (intentionally) jarring and difficult to reconcile. But credit to Hall for making a decision to end the film in a way that makes it impossible to shake.

It's rare enough for a writer to have two movies made in the same year based on their screenplays. But it's downright unheard of for both of them to make my Gloriously Omitted list. Congratulations to Steven Levenson, writer of Dear Evan Hansen and tick, tick...BOOM!, on this dazzling achievement in futility.

You can follow me on Letterboxd: https://letterboxd.com/ryanjdonovan/

[ryanjdonovan]

DONOVAN’S OSCAR PROGNOSTICATION 2021

We all knew it was coming: The Oscar nominees are now almost literally handpicked by Netflix and Amazon. We thought it would be a few years away, but it's just one more piece of fallout from the pandemic. It won't be long now before I'm making my predictions for the Flixies or the Amazies. (By the way, streamers: I just want to watch the friggin' credits, why is that such a problem??)

In case you haven't been paying attention (and I'm pretty sure you haven't), Nomadland is going to win the big Oscars. Haven't seen Nomadland? Or even heard of it? Or any of the Oscar-nominated films? Or didn't even know the Oscars were happening this year? You're not alone. With no theaters this past year, the non-bingeable, non-Netflix-welcome-screen movies were pretty much an afterthought. (But if you asked the streaming services, the nominees this year each accounted for a billion new subscribers and topped the worldwide digital box office for months.)

Well, I'm here to tell you the Oscars are in fact happening, albeit a few months late. Fear not: my 22nd annual Oscar predictions will provide everything you need to know before the big night. (You don't even need to watch the movies themselves -- reading this article will take you just as long.)

BEST PICTURE:

SHOULD WIN: Minari WILL WIN: Nomadland GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Pieces Of A Woman INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Ma Rainey's Black Bottom

If you're a fan of capitalism, this is not the year for you. Nominees like Nomadland, Mank, Judas And The Black Messiah, The Trial Of The Chicago 7, Ma Rainey's Black Bottom, Hillbilly Elegy, Minari, and The White Tiger are all (to varying degrees) indictments of a capitalist system, or at the very least are suspicious of those who benefit from it, and focus on those left behind. It's certainly fertile ground for angst and high drama, if not belly laughs. (Don't get me started on the ironies of all these movies being distributed by billion-dollar conglomerates. The filmmakers, producers, and actors can tell you that the checks cash just fine.) Like Austin Powers said, "Finally those capitalist pigs will pay for their crimes, eh comrades?"

There is no way for me to talk about Nomadland, which will win Best Picture, without sounding like an a-hole. It's a gorgeous work of art, and a fascinating character study, but I struggled to connect to the story. (You should know that for me as a movie watcher, story is more engaging than artfulness or character. But hey, why can't we have all three?) I wanted to like it, I really did. I'm content to drift along with Fern, the resilient main character played naturally by Frances McDormand, but she has no true objective or antagonist. She's a nomad on the road, either searching or hiding, either with the world or against the world, we're not quite sure which. I thought it might be driving (literally) toward a bigger revelation or resolution, but no. (Same with life, I guess.) It's meandering, reticent, languorous, and ethereal (I'm trying really hard to avoid using the word "boring" here). This is all quite intentional, by the way -- the film moves at the pace of its protagonist, and the effect is palpable. (And don't worry, it's not lost on me that I'm watching this movie about people barely scraping by, on a large ultra-high-def TV on my comfy couch in my warm home under an electric blanket, using a streaming service that the movie's characters probably couldn't access or afford.) Am I wrong about all this? Of course I'm wrong. Every critic out there is doing backflips over this film. And not surprisingly, the movie's mortality themes are playing well with the Academy, whose average age and closeness to death are extremely high. (Like the nomad Swankie, they're all anxious about that final kayak ride down the River Styx.) But beware the movie whose 'user/audience score' is significantly lower than its 'critic score' -- it means that regular people are not quite buying it. For me, the biggest problem with slice-of-life films is that I don't really want to go to movies to experience regular life -- I have life for that. Then again, I'm also a superficial, materialistic a-hole. But you knew that already. (Added intrigue: Hulu, Nomadland's distributor, might score a Best Picture win before Amazon, and gives Amazon a subtle middle-finger in the movie with its depiction of seasonal workers.)

Remember when feel-good movies were a thing? It didn’t mean that there were no conflicts or problems for the characters, it just meant that they were enjoyable to watch, and you came out feeling good about humans. Minari is the rare feel-good Oscar movie, and my personal pick for what should win Best Picture. It easily might have been a tough sit based on the premise: A Korean family moves to rural Arkansas to start a farm, and must overcome a drought, financial calamity, a complete lack of agriculture experience, a crumbling marriage, the son's potentially-deadly heart condition, and a grandmother that drinks all their Mountain Dew. In keeping with Oscar tradition, it could have been a constant assault of upsetting scenes. But instead, it's a warm, sunny, optimistic, funny movie. The family faces struggles and hardships, to be sure, but the story is treated with positivity, not negativity; with a sense of community, not isolation; with an attitude of resolve, not blame. And they get through their problems with mutual support, togetherness, tenderness, humanity, and of course, love. (Not to mention grandma planting some weeds that may or may not miraculously heal physical and emotional wounds.) All these things combine to make it a more engaging experience for me than Nomadland. Not only do I wish this movie would win the Oscar, I wish I could give it a hug.

A lot of pundits think The Trial Of The Chicago 7 has the best chance to upset Nomadland. But I'm not seeing that happen. It was an early favorite and has been getting tons of nominations in the awards run-up, but it hasn't actually been winning much, and seems to be losing steam. (The lack of a Best Director nod is virtually a killer.) I think Minari has a small chance to sneak away with a victory, as it's gotten almost as much universal praise as Nomadland, but hasn't had the same audience. Judas And The Black Messiah is an interesting case, in that it's a late entry that had little early awareness (it didn't plan to be eligible until next year's Oscars), but it scooped several unexpected nominations. Debuting a contender late and taking advantage of recency bias has been a successful strategy in the past, so don't be surprised by a surprise. (Had Shaka King scored the last Director slot over Thomas Vinterberg, I think Judas would be a fairly legitimate threat.)

If you had asked me in September, I would have predicted that Mank would be the wire-to-wire favorite to win Best Picture. Aside from being a prestige David Fincher film (more on him later), it's a smorgasbord of Classic Tales of Hollywood. And the centerpiece couldn't be bolder: It's an homage to, a making of, a dissection of, and political dissertation on Citizen Kane -- only the most deified film of all time. Simply recite the synopsis, describe the film's 1940s black-and-white aesthetic, and mention Gary Oldman's name as the star, and just watch the Oscars come pouring in, right? Well, not quite. It netted 10 nominations, more than any other film, but it's looking like it might not win any of them, certainly not Best Picture. I don't think the film quite knows what it wants to be; at least, I'm not sure what it wants to be. Centered on Herman Mankiewicz, the man credited with co-writing Citizen Kane with Orson Welles, it's a distorted, polemical, impressionistic portrait of a man I barely even knew existed. Though Welles is only briefly portrayed in the film, it demystifies him a bit, suggesting that he's maybe not as responsible for this work of genius as we thought. If the film was framed as "Who actually wrote Citizen Kane?", it would be a little easier to get into. But it feels somewhat academic and circuitous (in a way that Kane itself doesn't). And while the script is clever, it's clever to the point of being confusing. Of course, a film of this pedigree invites a lot of scrutiny, maybe more than any other awards contender (or any film that actually got released this past year, period). It has a lot to appreciate, and surely would benefit from a second viewing. I also can't help but root for the fact that it's been Fincher's passion project for almost a quarter-century. (Then again, tell that to any indie filmmaker who spends their whole life on a single passion project that ends up getting completely ignored, and they’ll tell you where to shove your Fincher pity.) Ultimately, it's an admirable work, but if you're looking for a Rosebud, it's not there.

Promising Young Woman continues to defy expectations. Not only did it rack up six Oscar nominations, it's likely to win one or two of them, and for a while, was gaining on Nomadland for Best Picture. Now that the chips are falling into place, we know it won't win in this category, but it remains one of the most talked-about films of the season. What I like most about the film is not necessarily the literal story (I should have seen the main twist coming a mile away), but the way writer/director Emerald Fennell elevates it in an interesting way. Instead of showing the whole story, she starts her film at the end of a typical revenge thriller (several years after the incident and the legal aftermath). In fact, the victim is not even in the movie, and the victim's best friend is already far along on her path of retribution. (It also challenges the definition of "victim".) The film is not voyeuristically exciting in any way; it's unsettling, but also oddly charming in unexpected ways. The key for me is how it serves as a metaphor for the secrets people keep from loved ones and the toll that it takes on them, and the penances we give ourselves instead of allowing ourselves to heal. It also made me realize that movies could use more Juice Newton. (Paris Hilton, not so much.)

Sound Of Metal and The Father were probably the last two films to make the cut in this category, and are the least likely to win. Their best chances are in other categories. (Pro Tip: If you put the word "sound" in the title of your movie, there's a very good chance you'll win Best Sound.)

I don’t recommend Pieces Of A Woman to anyone who's pregnant, or partners of pregnant women, or anyone planning to have babies anytime in the future, or any partners of anyone planning to have babies anytime in the future, or people hoping to be grandparents anytime in the future, or doctors. (And I'm certain midwives are not giving this a ringing endorsement.) The film starts with an infant death, and then gets worse from there. It's not just an unpleasant experience, it's a series of unrelenting unpleasant experiences: Depression, extra-marital affairs, guilt, a domineering mother, lying, manipulative spouses, abandonment, feelings of inadequacy, sexual dysfunction, litigation, sibling jealousy, public shame, borderline domestic abuse, bribery, courtroom drama, financial problems, baseless blame, and drug addiction. And if that's not upsetting enough, they also manage to throw the Holocaust in there. (This should be a movie sub-genre: "Parade of Horrible Events". This fraternity would include: Manchester By The Sea, Mudbound, Uncut Gems, 12 Years A Slave, Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri, The Family Stone, and of course, The Revenant.) And then there are the characters. It would be one thing if these were ordinary people in extraordinary circumstances. But these are extraordinary a--holes making extraordinary circumstances much worse. It's literally laughable. If I didn't understand what the word 'melodramatic' meant before, I do now. I'm aware that this is based on the experiences of writing/directing spouses Kata Wéber and Kornél Mundruczó, and I don't mean to trivialize their pain or what they went through. Nobody should have to suffer that trauma. And I realize art is a healthy and oftentimes beautiful outlet for grief. But… did I mention the movie is unpleasant? There are certainly wonderful fragments and ideas in here; if the components added up to something moving, I would be much more receptive to it. If I were a snarky (okay, snarkier) reviewer, I might call it "Pieces Of A Better Movie".

Soul is a lovely and inspiring movie, but I'm at the point where I have to judge films by my experience while watching them with children. Try explaining this movie to a 6-year-old. Way too many existential/philosophical/theological questions. I guess it's good for parents who like to talk to their children, but if you're trying to keep your kid occupied and quiet (the reason screens were invented) so you can do something else, it's a bust. (It's no match for the hysterical self-explanatory antics of a certain motor-mouthed, overweight, black-and-white, martial-arts-fighting bear with a penchant for sitting on people's heads and, more importantly, keeping kids silently dumbstruck.) And: Did they have to make the entrance to the afterlife -- a giant bug zapper -- so terrifying? If that's how you get to heaven, what is the entrance to hell like??

BEST ACTOR:

SHOULD WIN: Chadwick Boseman (Ma Rainey's Black Bottom) WILL WIN: Chadwick Boseman (Ma Rainey's Black Bottom) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Pete Davidson (The King Of Staten Island) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Delroy Lindo (Da 5 Bloods)

This one hurts. I usually don't feel a connection to or an overabundance of sympathy for celebrities, but this one genuinely hurts. When Chadwick Boseman wins Best Actor (for Ma Rainey's Black Bottom), it will be a wonderful celebration, but also a painful reminder, not just of who he was, but of who he was yet to be. If ever there was a unanimous vote, this would be it. Before this movie, we had seen him play heroes and outsized personalities, but there had been nothing quite like his role as Levee, the gifted and demonized trumpet player in Ma Rainey's band. His brash, wounded performance is astonishing, revelatory. Since the film debuted after his passing, we can only watch it through the prism of his death. It's hard not to feel parallels: Levee is just starting to scratch the surface of his talent, giving us hints of his abilities with composition and brass before his breakdown; similarly, we have only gotten a taste of Boseman's range and depth. For both the character and the man, we're being deprived of the art he would have created. Boseman's passing makes the performance more resonant and unshakeable, but I think under different circumstances he would still be the front-runner in this race. The only difference would be, we'd assume this would be the first prize of many.

Anthony Hopkins picked an unusual time to go on a hot streak. He recently left a memorable impression on the Marvel Cinematic Universe as Odin, got an Emmy nomination for Westworld, and scored 2 Oscar nominations (after a 22-year drought) -- all after his 80th birthday. This year's nomination, for playing a man slipping into dementia in The Father, probably would have been a favorite to notch him his second Oscar in a different year. He seems like he should be a two-time winner, and we just don't know how many more chances he'll have. (I stand by my declaration that he should have won last year for The Two Popes, over Brad Pitt.) To those aforementioned aging Academy members who fear mortality and probably consider Hopkins a spry young man: Maybe you shouldn't watch this movie.

Riz Ahmed's performance in Sound Of Metal establishes the tone for the entire film, making the experience feel grounded and real. I appreciate how his outward, physical performance is very still, while his internal performance is frenetic, like there's a live wire in his head that he's trying to conceal from the world. His quietness leaves us with an uncertainty that feels like authentic; he's not going to tell us all the answers, because his character is figuring it out as he goes. Speaking of questions, I have a few about his band in the movie (before the hearing loss): Are they any good? What kind of living do they make? Is their cashflow net positive or negative? Are they considered successful (in whatever way you want to define that)? What is their ceiling, commercially and artistically? Are they one lucky break away from making it, or is it a lost cause? Most importantly, if Ahmed and fellow nominee LaKeith Stanfield (Judas And The Black Messiah) had a sad, doleful, wide-eyed staring contest, who would win?

Steven Yeun has been a recognizable face in film and TV (and a prolific voice actor) for a decade, but we haven't really seen him front and center until Minari. And after this bright, heartwarming turn, I think you can expect him to remain in the spotlight for the foreseeable future. His understated and remarkable performance carries this beautiful story of a family finding its path through a new way of life. Despite scant dialogue and minimal exposition, we seem to always know what his character is thinking -- that he's facing daunting odds but has a steel resolve. He and screen partner Yeri Han (who deserves as much credit as Yeun for this film) create one of the most tender crumbling marriages I've seen on screen in a long time. (Though a marriage counselor could have given his character some helpful "dos and don'ts" that might have saved him some headaches.)

What's more improbable, Mank's meandering, decades-long journey to the screen, or the fact that we're supposed to believe 63-year Gary Oldman as a man in his 30s and early 40s? Well, once his performance begins, it's so hammy that you forget all about the ridiculous age discrepancy. He's playing Herman Mankiewicz, whose bombastic writing and sozzled demeanor helped mold the script for Citizen Kane into the legend that it is. It's a bloviated, ostentatious, spectacular exhibition of affectation and panache that only Oldman could pull off. It's a lot of fun. (It must be exhausting to be his wife.) It’s as if Mank wrote the story of his own life... and gave himself the best part.

I'm naming Delroy Lindo for my snubbed choice, for his intense and crushing performance in Da 5 Bloods. I've been hoping he'd get an Oscar nomination for 20 years, and by all accounts, this was going to be his year. Even in the fall, after a slew of critics' awards, he was the odds-on favorite to win. So it was a disappointment that his name wasn't called when nominations were read. For now, he'll have to be content with being everyone's favorite never-nominated actor. (But here's to hoping The Harder They Fall is frickin' amazing, so he can end that drought next year.) There are plenty of honorable mentions this year: Adarsh Gourav (The White Tiger), Mads Mikkelsen (Another Round), and Kingsley Ben-Adir (One Night In Miami) come to mind. (By the way: How often do Kingsley Ben-Adir and Sir Ben Kingsley get each other's take-out orders switched?) But my runner-up is John David Washington (my snubbed pick two years ago), who undoubtedly became an A-List movie star in the past year… but not for the reason you think. Yes, Tenet was a blockbuster and the cinematic story of the summer, but he had special effects and storyline trickery supporting him. Instead, Malcolm And Marie is what stands out to me -- he has nothing but his performance (as abrasive as it is), and he still commands the screen and our attention. When he gets hold of a juicy monologue, he starts cooking… but when he starts dancing on the countertop? Look out.

BEST ACTRESS:

SHOULD WIN: Andra Day (The United States Vs. Billie Holiday) WILL WIN: Andra Day (The United States Vs. Billie Holiday) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Anya Taylor-Joy (Emma.) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Jessie Buckley (I'm Thinking of Ending Things)

Coming down to the wire, we've got a race where three women have a chance to win, and the favorite depends on who you ask and when you ask. Carey Mulligan, Viola Davis, and Andra Day have each won precursor awards, and seem to leapfrog each other daily. Mulligan has been picked by most prognosticators, with Davis right behind. But I'm going to put my untarnished reputation on the line and predict a long-shot upset for Day. (And when that doesn't happen, I'm going to say that I actually thought Mulligan or Davis were more likely.)

Maybe I'm picking Andra Day because she's also my personal favorite, for her star-making debut in The United States Vs. Billie Holiday. The movie itself is serviceable but not stellar (some of the scenes and dialogue are absurdly expository), but Day is an absolute dynamo as the Lady Day. The film is a fairly rounded picture of her life, including her drug abuse, health issues, singing the controversial-at-the-time civil-rights song "Strange Fruit", and an investigation by the U.S. government (hence the title) -- all of which is intriguing for those of us not familiar with her personal story. (I'm sure you'll be shocked to learn that, despite my curmudgeonly ways, I was not in fact alive in the 1940s.) Day has seemingly come out of nowhere, because there was no early hype about the film, and nobody even saw it until a few weeks ago (and even now, it hasn't been seen by nearly as many people as the other contenders). Known primarily as a singer before this (I'm a big fan), she literally transformed her voice (straining her vocal chords, taking up smoking) to capture Billie Holiday's unique vocals. The singing alone might be enough to get her a nomination, but it's the dramatic work that puts her ahead of the field. More than any other nominee, we really get the feeling that she's laying her soul bare onscreen. Even for a seasoned actress, the depth of this performance would be impressive. Her film doesn't have the popularity or momentum that Mulligan's or Davis's do, so she's heading into Oscar night as an underdog. But if voters judge the actresses strictly on performance, not on the movies themselves, she might just pull an upset. And, if you haven't heard Day sing outside this movie, do yourself a favor: Stop reading this article (you might want to do that anyway) and browse her catalogue -- she has the best voice of any contemporary singer, period. Forget Billie Eilish, why isn't Day singing the next James Bond song?

Carey Mulligan returns to the Oscar game for the first time in 11 years, for Promising Young Woman. (Is she bitter that her performance in An Education lost to Sandra Bullock in The Blind Side? Probably not as bitter as I am.) Promising Young Woman is getting a lot of attention and accolades, and much of it is due to Mulligan's strong turn as Cassandra, a woman on a revenge crusade that has taken over her life. It's a layered performance; we see a lot of Cassandra's facades, but we don't know if we ever see the real person. Her best friend's rape and subsequent suicide has left her stunted; by the time we meet Cassandra, she's literally and figuratively become someone else. As rough as it sounds, Mulligan is able to make it… well, 'fun' isn't the right word, but 'enjoyable'. We see Cassandra refusing to sit or be bullied; she has agency and kinetic energy in situations where many do not or cannot. Whether or not the film works rests largely on Mulligan's shoulders; it's a good thing she's such a talented actress, because not many could pull it off. The more people see the film, the more she's been picked to win the prize. Will she get enough support for a victory? (Ms. Bullock, you owe her a vote.)

Out of all the nominated performances this year, Viola Davis's is the most amusing. Playing the titular singer in Ma Rainey's Black Bottom, it's clear she's having blast. When she's onscreen, Davis owns every single inch of it. She doesn't just drink a bottle of Coke, she guzzles the whole thing with gusto and verve, serving notice that this is going to be the most entertaining consumption of soda you've ever seen. And so it is with the rest of the performance. (Though the lip-synching is not particularly believable; but then again, that didn't hurt Rami Malek in Bohemian Rhapsody.) It will be interesting to see what happens on Oscar night. She's been up and down in the predictions. She was down after losing the Golden Globe (it's taken us until now to realize the Globes are a waste of time??), but rebounded strongly with a Screen Actors Guild win. She is universally adored, but she's also won an Oscar already for Fences, so voters may not feel quite as compelled to give it to her overall.

And we haven't even talked about Frances McDormand in Nomadland yet. Early on, this category seemed like a sprint between McDormand and Davis. But when neither won the Golden Globe or Critics' Choice, it became anybody's race. As we near the end of the contest, McDormand has pretty clearly fallen toward the back. I don't think it's her performance; instead, she's been discounted due to her own victorious history. She's already got two Oscars (in 1997 for Fargo and 2018 for Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri); a third one would require extraordinary circumstances. By comparison, it took Meryl Streep 29 years (and a lot of Ls) after her second to get her third. But if McDormand hadn't just won for Three Billboards three years ago, I think she'd be a lock here; Nomadland may even be a superior performance. She's probably the only actor alive that could pull this off; if she gave up acting, this is how I assume she would be living in real life. It's remarkable how she internalizes everything, yet informs the viewer how she's feeling and what she's thinking with very few words, just her physicality. This project seems particularly challenging. Her character doesn't have the answers; she's searching, but she doesn't even know what for. "I'm not homeless. I'm just house-less. Not the same thing, right?" It's as if she's posing the question to herself, and she really doesn't know. She gets lonelier as the journey goes on, a sort-of self-imposed isolation, and the viewer really feels it. (What does she ultimately find? Well, that's one of the frustrating ambiguities of the film. Don't get me started.) No matter what happens in this category, what McDormand will find is Oscar gold: She's a producer on Nomadland, so she's a strong bet to walk away with a Best Picture statuette.

Saying Vanessa Kirby is the best thing in Pieces Of A Woman is a bit of a backhanded compliment. My distaste for the film was made pretty clear in the Best Picture section, and anybody acting opposite Shia LaBeouf is going to look like Streep. But Kirby is legitimately great, and I think a welcome surprise to those who know her from the Mission: Impossible and Fast & Furious franchises. (And how many fans of The Crown thought Kirby would beat Claire Foy to an Oscar nomination? Don't lie.) Kirby makes the most of her role as an unpleasant person in an unpleasant situation enduring a barrage of unpleasant events surrounded by really unpleasant people. (An infant tragedy is the least of their problems.) But ultimately the film fails her, and unfortunately I don't really believe what any character is doing in this movie. Her nomination has been bolstered by a whopper of an opening scene: a 24-minute single-shot of a childbirth that ends horrifically. But I can't help but feel like the shot comes off as gimmicky; the immediacy of the scene was effective, but the filmmakers seemed to choose stylistic camera movement and choreography over intimacy and realness. The scene may be emotionally truthful, but hoo-eey, Kirby is dialed up. (My personal favorite ridiculous scene? When she's on the subway, wistfully watching children giggling pleasantly and behaving like angels. Ahhh, seems so blissful. Have you ever taken kids on public transportation? They would be fighting, screaming, climbing over the seats, kicking her, throwing goldfish everywhere, getting yelled at by the parents, bumping into passengers, licking the handrails, wiping snot on seats, and saying inappropriate things to strangers. That's parenthood.)

When the movie gods decided to create a remake that would be the exact opposite of what I would like, they conjured up Emma.. (That's "Emma.", with a period at the end of the title. Seriously. It's a "period" piece. Get it?) Anya Taylor-Joy is undoubtedly talented, but she's a letdown as the fabled matchmaker. She also believes that she can bleed on cue. With regard to her climactic scene: "I was in the moment enough that my nose really started bleeding." Wow. No words. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but her performance actually makes me miss Gwyneth.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR:

SHOULD WIN: LaKeith Stanfield (Judas And The Black Messiah) WILL WIN: Daniel Kaluuya (Judas And The Black Messiah) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Shia LaBeouf (Pieces Of A Woman) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Glynn Turman (Ma Rainey's Black Bottom)

Can you have a movie with two main characters but no leading actors? If you're wondering why the two stars (and title characters) of Judas And The Black Messiah -- LaKeith Stanfieldand Daniel Kaluuya -- are both competing in the Supporting Actor category, congratulations, you're a human on planet Earth. That's Oscar politics for you, and it's nothing new. They are both unquestionably leads; nevertheless, the shift to Supporting has worked out well for both of them. The assumption was that Stanfield would campaign in the Lead category and Kaluuya in Supporting so as not to cannibalize each other's votes, and to have Kaluuya (the stronger awards bet) compete in the less crowded category. (It's been clear for half a year that Chadwick Boseman would be winning Best Actor.) Stanfield was considered an unrealistic shot to crack the nominees anyway (he was probably 8th for Best Actor, behind Delroy Lindo (Da 5 Bloods) and Tahar Rahim (The Mauritanian)). So when the nominations were read, it was a pleasant shock that he had been slotted in the Supporting Actor category. (And wouldn't you rather have him here than Jared Leto?)

But won't they split the vote, resulting in the very problem they were trying to avoid in the first place? As it turns out, no. Judging from other major awards, voters had made up their minds for Kaluuya long ago, so any votes to support this film will likely go to Kaluuya. It's not hard to see why: As Black Panther leader Fred Hampton, he's dynamic, steely, and charismatic. It's very different -- more confident, self-assured and domineering -- than we've seen him in other roles, like Get Out. (This movie is a like a mini-reunion of Get Out. Dang, now I want a sequel to Get Out.) But I'll be the dissenter, and cast my personal vote for Stanfield. I'm conflicted; they're a close 1-2. But for me, Stanfield's role (as an FBI informant infiltrating the Panthers) has more facets to play, and Stanfield's signature tenderness brings me into the character more. Plus, he also has the bigger challenge: he has to play the Judas (a role he initially didn't want). Like another character actually says to Stanfield in the movie: "This guy deserves an Academy Award."

Leslie Odom Jr.'s quest for an EGOT (Emmy, Grammy, Oscar, Tony) has hit a speed bump. Already armed with a G and a T, he was the presumptive favorite heading into the Golden Globes to collect more hardware, for playing singer Sam Cooke in One Night In Miami. But that was before anybody had seen Judas And The Black Messiah. As the lone acting nominee for Miami, he's got a lot of support from anyone looking to honor the film and its stellar cast. And as the singer, he gets to show off his lustrous Hamilton-honed pipes several times. In many ways, he's the most relatable character in Miami, the one that (despite Cooke's fame at the time) seems the most mortal. So though he'll lose Best Supporting Actor, fear not: He's the favorite to win Best Song, and keep the EGOT dream alive. (Unless… 12-time nominee Diane Warren finally gets the sympathy vote for her song for the little-seen The Life Ahead. Wait, you mean she didn't win for Mannequin's "Nothing's Gonna Stop Us Now"??)

Paul Raci is a fascinating nominee, for Sound of Metal. He was virtually unknown before this movie (best known as Eugene the Animal Control Guy on Parks And Recreation), but his background is intriguing. He's a Vietnam vet who started as a small theater actor in Chicago (he has a Jeff nomination!). With his upbringing as a hearing CODA (Child Of Deaf Adult), he's a frequent player in ASL theater and is the lead singer in an ASL metal band. (Am I the only one who was gotten CODA confused with ACOD (Adult Child Of Divorce)? Is there such a thing as ACODDA (Adult Child Of Deaf Divorced Adults)?) And in the understated role of Joe, who runs a facility for deaf people and serves as a guide for Riz Ahmed's character, he's fantastic. It literally seems like he's been preparing his whole life for the role, and it pays off. (Though upon further examination of his character… Joe seems like a benevolent, trustworthy guy with altruistic motivations, with a shelter focused on mental healing, addiction recovery, and self-sufficiency. But he also appears to foster an environment that isolates its members, severs contact with all loved ones, preys on those who are unstable to begin with, and convinces members that they will struggle if they leave the community. Ultimately Joe runs every aspect of members' lives, and in return expects unwavering devotion and complete submission to his methods. As soon as Ruben says one thing to challenge him, Joe accuses him of sounding like an addict, knowing it will trigger shame and self-doubt, in a clear effort to control his actions. Joe even slyly suggests that he personally knows how to reach heaven, "the kingdom of God". Is there a chance Joe is actually running a cult??)

They may have just picked a name out of a hat to see which member of The Trial Of The Chicago 7 ensemble would get an Oscar nomination (now these are all supporting actors), but however it happened, nomination day was a good day for Sacha Baron Cohen. (He also got a writing nod for Borat 2.) He is effective in the movie -- maybe the best of the bunch -- and it's a (slightly surprising) affirmation that he's a good actor in addition to being a talented performer. Is his performance actually worthy of an Oscar nomination? I'm fairly impressed (except for his I-love-you-too-man scene with the inert Eddie Redmayne, which plays cheap… but you can probably pin that one on Aaron Sorkin). But there are several other people I would have nominated over Cohen. For starters, my snubbed pick, Glynn Turman, is exceptional as a musician holding his own against Chadwick Boseman in Ma Rainey's Black Bottom. (It seems like just yesterday he was the colonel on A Different World, one of his 150+ acting credits.) Honorable mentions include 7-year-old Alan Kim (Minari), Clarke Peters (Da 5 Bloods), Charles Dance (Mank), and Arliss Howard (Mank).

Wow. Shia LaBeouf is not the only repellant part of Pieces Of A Woman, but he's probably the most repellant part. I'm sorry, but anything he does, or is involved in, instantly becomes less believable. At one point he seems to be trying to creepily make out with his wife… while she's actively pushing in labor. Then later, in a distressing "love" scene, he looks like someone who has never had consensual sex with a partner before; I know the film is going for emotional rawness, but it just looks like assault. Bottom line, I have no idea what he's doing in this movie. (And I guess I don't care what he's doing, as long as it's not another Indiana Jones movie.)

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS:

SHOULD WIN: Yuh-jung Youn (Minari) WILL WIN: Yuh-jung Youn (Minari) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Nicole Kidman (The Prom) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Ellen Burstyn (Pieces Of A Woman)

Oh, sweet revenge. Don't you just love a rematch? It was just two short years ago when Olivia Colman, in a flabbergasting upset, tearfully apologized to presumptive victor Glenn Close in her acceptance speech. (…Or did she condescendingly mock her? We can't be sure about anything in that speech.) Now they are both nominated again -- Colman for The Father, Close for Hillbilly Elegy -- and the bad blood between them couldn't be boiling hotter. Since there are no nominee lunches or in-person media parades this year, I'm assuming they drunk-Zoom each other at all hours and call one another every cruel British and American curse word in the book. Colman even reportedly tweeted, "Glenn, this will be your Hillbilly Elegy: You never won a dang Oscar." Nasty stuff, but nothing unusual during campaign season. Colman is facing a tough challenge (besides playing a woman whose father is in the grips dementia). Voters will be hard-pressed to hand her a victory again so soon (and without any losses). Additionally, she didn't even get nominated for a BAFTA award -- the British Oscar-equivalent -- on her home turf (and they nominate six actors in each category). (But, she would be quick to point out, Close didn't either.) All the talk around The Father is about Anthony Hopkins. Colman is facing extremely long odds.

Which seems to perfectly set up Close to swoop in for the kill. Six months ago, on paper this seemed like a slam dunk. The word was that Hillbilly Elegy featured two of the losing-est actors (Close and Amy Adams) in transformative roles in a heart-wrenching adaptation of a successful book. It was going to exorcise the demons for both of them. Then the movie debuted. And the response was lukewarm. But then the response to the response was harsh. People hated the movie, hated the performances, and hated the participants for shilling shameless Oscar bait. (If you think there's a different kind of Oscar bait, I'm afraid you haven't been paying attention.) The film was weirdly derided as political, and faced a sort of anti-Trump backlash (which I don't understand, considering the movie takes place in the 1990s and early 2010s, when Trump was just known for being an inept USFL football owner and a silly reality-TV host). Entertainment Weekly actually used these words in a single sentence to describe the film: "ham-handed", "smug", "Appalachian poverty porn", and "moralizing soap opera". (I guess people felt about this film the way I felt about A Star Is Born.) And no, the movie is not great; it fades soon after the credits roll. But Close is compelling; at the very least, she's working her tail off. (If you think she's just hamming it up in drag, stay tuned for the end-credits images of the real Mamaw. It's uncanny.) I think the voters really want her to win (but I thought the same thing two years ago). The question is: Do they want her to win for this movie? The answer increasingly seems to be No. The general feeling (which I agree with) is that the role feels a little lacking, and below Close's other lauded performances. People realize that if she wins, it may get dismissed as being a flimsy career-achievement award, which would tarnish it.

So, which one will claim victory this time, leaving the other groveling at her feet, Colman or Close? Neither, it turns out. In a shocking turn of events, Yuh-jung Youn has emerged as a favorite over both of them. (Fortunately, she's blocked Colman and Close on Zoom.) Calling Youn the heart of Minari would be trite. She is, but she's much more than that. She's the conduit for connection: to the children, between the parents, and to the audience. Before her arrival, it feels like there's something missing. (The young son has a heart condition, is constantly chugging Mountain Dew, and is hiding his wet underpants. And the dad thinks he doesn't need a babysitter?) It's when Youn enters the film that the film excels, and we start to feel like part of the family. She also challenges our (and her grandson's) ideas of what a grandmother is (including possibly having magical healing superpowers). A lot of people are looking for a way to reward this film, and this category is its best chance. Heck, even if voters only hear Youn's one line of English dialogue ("Ding-dong broken!" -- referring to her grandson's wiener), that could be enough to win.

Maybe the most curious nomination is for Maria Bakalova, starring in Borat Subsequent Moviefilm as the notorious Kazakh's daughter. A lot of things in the past year would have been impossible to predict, but an unknown Bulgarian actress stealing the spotlight and getting an Oscar nomination for a surprise-release Borat sequel would have to be near the top. And she's actually the only one in this category who's managed to score a nomination from every major organization. She won't win, but her performance (and memes) may live on the longest.

I must be missing something in Mank. (Granted, I haven't watched it the requisite four times in order to truly appreciate it, according to the Fincherists.) But I just don't understand what the fuss is about with Amanda Seyfried. She certainly plays her part well (as Marion Davies, the illicit love interest of William Randolph Hearst and the platonic love interest of Herman Mankiewicz), but I don't see how she elevates it or brings anything extraordinary to it. Her character plays a pivotal role in Citizen Kane (Davies was the inspiration for Kane's second wife), and I presume she's supposed to play a pivotal role in Mank's literary epiphany, but I fail to understand why. (Or maybe I failed to understand her Brooklyn accent.) But more than that, her narrative thread seems distressingly incomplete. She appears to be set up for a meaty final scene, but then her character simply exits, leaving Mankiewicz (and me) baffled. I've been more impressed by her work in other movies, like First Reformed. Of course, perhaps the most significant implication of Seyfried's nomination: Two of the Plastics now have Oscar nominations. (Gretchen, stop trying to make an Oscar nomination happen. It's not going to happen!)

Just in case there was any confusion, 88-year-old Ellen Burstyn is here to let us know she can still bring the thunder. Pieces Of A Woman is a mess, and her character is dubious, but she gets one powerhouse speech to shine and (somewhat) anchor the movie -- a declaration of strength, resilience, and survival. And she delivers a two-handed, rim-hanging, backboard-shattering jam. Oh, right, there's the woman who scored an Oscar, plus four other nominations, in a 9-year span in the 1970s. And who's been an Emmy fixture the past 15 years. And who has four more movies already in the works. Just another not-so-gentle reminder that she's one of the great actors of her generation. (Honorable Mentions go to The United States Vs. Billie Holiday's Da'Vine Joy Randolph, who continues her scene-stealing ways after Office Christmas Party and Dolemite Is My Name; and Dominique Fishback, whose performance adds emotional heft to Judas And The Black Messiah.)

BEST DIRECTOR:

SHOULD WIN: Chloé Zhao (Nomadland) WILL WIN: Chloé Zhao (Nomadland) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Ryan Murphy (The Prom) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Christopher Nolan (Tenet)

The second-most-certain thing this year is Chloé Zhao winning Best Director for Nomadland. She's dominated the narrative and the awards circuit this year; nobody else is close. In fact, she might win four Oscars, which would be a record for one person with a single film. (In 1954, Walt Disney was a quadruple winner for four different movies… but do short films really count?) Odds are that she'll win three, but if she wins Best Editing early in the night, the record will be hers. Historically joined at the hip, Best Director and Best Picture have surprisingly been split between different movies several times in recent years. The voters will align them this year, but I'm going to malign them. (Disalign? Unalign? Who am I kidding, I will malign them too.) As tepid as I am on Nomadland for Picture, Zhao is my Director choice. She is clearly a masterful artist and impressionistic storyteller. But more than that, she's able to conjure a mood and state of mind with her pseudo-documentary hybrid style. She gets us to feel what the character is feeling and put us right in the environment -- and makes it seem effortless. The film's long, languid takes allow us to breathe the air, drink in the scene, and live in the moment, unhurried. Zhao augments the nomadic quality of the film in every shot. But (oh, you knew there was a 'but'), on the down side, I also find the style to be a bit tedious and overdrawn at times. Because of my lack of investment, the film often struggles to keep my attention, or more accurately, my curiosity. And despite the film being touted as a tale of community and interconnectedness, it mostly suggests to me (via the main character) feelings of pain, loneliness, coldness, and sadness. But ultimately, I think those things speak more to the story than the directing. This will doubtless be a crowning a achievement for Zhao, but I'm more excited to see what the future will bring, and what she can do for a story that I'm invested in.

I was really close to picking Lee Isaac Chung for my Should Win, for his rich, captivating film, Minari. (Really close. You, the fortunate, insulated reader, will never truly know how much I agonize over this. Some suffer for art, I suffer for unsolicited criticism.) Honestly, I was tempted to give Chung a clean sweep of Picture, Director, and Screenplay; but instead I've opted to spread them around (I can play Academy politics all by myself). So many of the qualities of Zhao's film are present in Chung's film as well; his toolbox is just as full and varied. His quiet, atmospheric shots are unburdened by haste yet always nudging the story ahead. Chung draws us in, as another member of the Yi family, our hopes rising and falling with each challenge and trifle (and sexed chick) they face. There's a real confidence in his style; he knows how to best engage the audience for the specific journey. For me though, what I appreciate most is the warmth of his filmmaking; while the story has tribulations, the film itself is compassionate, never harsh or aggressive. That stands in stark contrast to Nomadland; the palette is one of the main things that sets them apart. Chung also scored points by showcasing the best accessory on the virtual Golden Globes telecast: a ridiculously adorable child. (Was that his own kid, or a rental? Only his publicist knows for sure.) Careful, I might accidentally talk myself into flipping my pick to Chung.

This was supposed to be his year. Goddammit, this was supposed to be his year! That was the sentiment from cinephiles all over the internet this year. Throw a rock in any direction and you'll hit a podcaster (and possibly me) ranting about how David Fincher was robbed in 2011 when he lost Best Director for The Social Network to Tom Hooper and The King's Speech. (Was the Academy justified? Since then, Fincher landed a third Oscar nomination, fourth Golden Globe nomination, and two Emmy wins; Hooper directed Cats.) In early winter, the pieces seemed to be lining up for a Fincher victory with Mank: a big, mainstream, Hollywood-y underdog story; an ode to the most revered film of all time, Citizen Kane; a scenery-chewing performance from beloved thesp Gary Oldman; a film that was more accessible (read: less weird and violent) than most of his other fare; and a passion project that he had been developing for decades, written by his late father. The only question was not whether the film could win all the Oscars, but whether it could cure pediatric cancer or pilot a rocket to Jupiter. But that was 2020… and we all know how that year went. Maybe it's the fatigue caused by the prolonged award campaign season, maybe it's the lack of theaters that would have showcased his visual marvel, or maybe it's the fact that the film didn't quiiiiiiite live up to the hype, but one thing is clear: Fincher is out of the race. I'll say what a lot of the other film snobs won't: This is probably not the film we want Fincher to win for anyway. We want him to win for something sharper, weirder, more incisive, and more upsetting; in short, something more Fincher-ish. Mank is fantastic, to be sure; and in (mostly) pulling it off, Fincher demonstrates his mastery of historical and contemporary cinema. But the hiccups are puzzling. The film is structured like Citizen Kane itself, which makes it at times equally difficult to engage in; but while Kane's flashbacks feel natural, a handful of Mank's feel shoehorned. The dialogue is in the style -- but not the pace -- of hard-boiled 1940s films, which alone is a recipe for difficult viewing; further peppering every retort with unnatural irony makes for wit but not necessarily comprehension. The Kane-esque echo effect doesn't help; neither do subtitles. (I tried.) While it turns out that it's not supposed to be his Oscar year after all, I commend Fincher on an effort like this -- the singular vision, the vigor, the risk -- even when I don't necessarily love the movie or connect with it. We need his art, we need his beautiful mess. (But next time maybe throw in a grisly murder, perverted romance, or crippling heartbreak… and acquire a charming child for the awards telecast.)

Emerald Fennell impressively scored a nomination for her first feature film, Promising Young Woman, an inventive genre-mashup of a Rape Revenge movie -- a new spin on a 1970s grindhouse staple. Like a lot of people, I don't quite know what to make of the movie (I don't think I've ever actually seen a Rape Revenge movie… though I've seen plenty of Dognapping Revenge movies). It's a film that could go badly a thousand different ways, but Fennell makes choices that keep it fresh and thoroughly watchable. The primary word that comes to mind is 'subversive'. From the candy coloring to the pop music to the meet-cute to the campy suspense, she toys with convention at every turn (in some cases more effectively than others). Even the support casting -- the kooky, on-the-nose (or 180-flipped) cameos spice up the movie, but also tend to undermine it and give it a B-movie vibe. (Do we really need Jennifer Coolidge and Max Greenfield doing what they do best, but not as well as they usually do it? Probably not. Do they make me chuckle? Yes.) The result is an oddly entertaining movie on a subject that is anything but. The patina of playfulness is helpful; if it was an avalanche of distressing, horrifying scenes, it could be a tortuous watch. All in all, it might be the most enjoyable Rape Revenge movie you'll ever see.

Perhaps the biggest surprise nominee in any category is Thomas Vinterberg, for the Danish film Another Round. (The lion's share of the Oscar buzz had been for star Mads Mikkelsen; the film is also up for Best International film.) This movie is in the grand tradition of celebrating alcohol because excessive drinking is awesome. And the Academy has recognized Vinterberg because he has so astutely captured how booze is a tasty balm for every wound -- an ancient and failsafe key to enlightenment and inner peace. Wait, what's that? I'm sorry… I'm being told that this movie is actually a cautionary tale. Hmmm. I guess I should have watched it sober. In light of that, I suppose the film is an interesting examination of middle-aged ennui and the tendency to overlook that which is right in front of you. (Anyone that has gotten this far in the article knows exactly what ennui is, and should have overlooked what was right in front of them.) It's also an unintentionally apt allegory for pandemic life: When it started, we began drinking a bit at home, enjoying Zoom happy hours, and generally having a good time; pretty soon we were day-drinking out of sheer boredom, trying to teach our home-schooled kids long division while buzzed, and it got very sad and depressing; now we're all pretty much ready to jump off the pier. In general, I like the film (though I prefer my mid-life drinking crises more in the mold of Old School), but the story and arc are fairly telegraphed. You mean their problems can't be fixed by increased alcohol consumption? The more you drink, the harder it is to control? Drinking at work as a teacher around minors might go awry? Instead of booze, have they tried rest, exercise, healthy eating, or appreciating the good things in their lives? (Who I am kidding, those are a waste of time.) Ultimately, there are several directors I would have chosen over Vinterberg (Christopher Nolan for Tenet, George C. Wolfe for Ma Rainey's Black Bottom, and Florian Zeller for The Father come to mind), but it's interesting to see the continuing trend of nominating non-American filmmakers in this category, as the Directors' branch of the Academy becomes increasingly international.

I want to talk about the ending of Another Round for a moment. If you didn't see the movie (and I'm betting you didn't), just skip this paragraph. Most of the reviews I've read online interpret the ending as a hopeful, happy one. I think that's crazy. The ending is a Trojan horse. It looks joyful, but just underneath lies tragedy: The trio resume drinking after they've seemingly hit rock bottom and lost their best friend to booze; they believe they're in control and having a good time when really they're spiraling into chaos; they think they've found a balance, when they're actually sliding endlessly further into alcoholism. They don't realize that they cannot enjoy life sober. I think one of the reasons why I like the movie so much is that it masks that ending as a "happy" one, much the way a drinker would see it when they don't realize there's a problem. The ending is denial. A lot of people have seen the final scene as uplifting and life-affirming (even Vinterberg seems to say this in interviews, which is puzzling), that the friends have come to terms with their drinking, and have found a way to drink in moderation and still invigorate their lives and celebrate the small things. I don't understand that take at all. I would buy it if they had found a way to celebrate life while sober. Instead, I think it's the surest sign that they are destroying their lives, because they don't even realize it's happening. It's the 'darkest timeline'. They ask themselves the wrong question, "What would Tommy do?", instead of "What would Tommy want us to do?", and we know exactly what Tommy would do because we see him drink himself to death. Martin has gotten a reconciliatory text from his wife, but just as he's about to go to her, he instead joins the party, quickly gets plastered, and literally goes off the deep end. What's truly heartbreaking is seeing that they've (gleefully and unknowingly) perpetuated the cycle, having encouraged the next generation to drink in order to cope and be "awakened to life". I think there are hints in the final song lyrics ("What a Life") and the movie's poster (the image of Mikkelsen recklessly chugging champagne in a blurry stupor is from the final scene). To me, the seemingly exuberant ending is a fallacy… and utterly tragic.

In a surprise move that everyone saw coming, I'm naming Christopher Nolan as my Snubbed choice, for his twisty, backwards-y spectacle, Tenet. Did I understand the movie? Of course. Oh, you didn't? Dummy.

BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY:

SHOULD WIN: Derek Cianfrance, Abraham Marder, Darius Marder (Sound Of Metal) WILL WIN: Emerald Fennell (Promising Young Woman) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Aaron Abrams, Brendan Gall (The Lovebirds) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Sam Levinson (Malcolm And Marie)

Did his name have to be Ryan? No, that wasn't my biggest takeaway from the script for Emerald Fennell's Promising Young Woman. But it was a big one. As Carey Mulligan's chances fade a bit, Screenplay is the movie's strongest chance to strike gold, making a strong run in the precursory awards. The ending of the film has been pretty divisive, but I like that it's completely unexpected. Maybe it's contrived, but it's what makes the movie memorable for me, and separates it from other revenge thrillers. Or maybe it's inevitable, given the themes of the movie and the character pursuing her mission past the point of no return. Either way, did his name have to be Ryan? Unless Fennell's role (she's an actress, too) as Camilla Parker Bowles on The Crown accidentally embroils her in recent royal family controversies, she should be collecting this award on Oscar night.

Most of the praise for Sound Of Metal has been specifically for its sound design. But it starts with the script (written by director Darius Marder, along with Derek Cianfrance and Abraham Marder), which is the blueprint for the sound and experience of the movie. And it's my pick (by a hair) for best screenplay of the year. It has -- hey, whaddya know! -- an actual narrative, with a main character who has an objective and opposition. It's always impressive to me when a story has very little I can directly relate to, but it still manages to resonate, and strikes a tone that feels real. I also appreciate the skill in the writing -- it's minimalistic, yet thorough in the ways that matter. The film doesn't explain a lot or give us much exposition -- it doesn't lean on voice-over, window characters, or monologues. It's quiet. Which may seem obvious considering it's about a man losing his hearing, but even the man himself and the real world he lives in have a muted vibe (despite his mind being anything but calm). The film has also been lauded for its authentic portrayal of deaf people… but not for its authentic portrayal of audiologists. (I mean, how bad is Ruben's audiologist consultation, that he is in no way prepared for how things would sound after getting cochlear implants? I get more information from my dentist when getting a cavity filled.) Also: What does metal sound like? I still don't know.

Aaron Sorkin would seem like the obvious pick here, for The Trial Of The Chicago 7. It's the kind of sonorous, social-consciousness word-porn we've come to love and expect from him. But he's already got an Oscar (though most people assume he has three), and the fight-the-system theme isn't exactly unique to his script this year. Not surprisingly, the movie feels like a mash-up of The West Wing and A Few Good Men, complete with humorous exchanges of smug cleverness, heart-warming declarations of overly-simplified principle, and his own trademark Sorkin-esque version of facts. Sure, the story of the Chicago 7 is intriguing, but would I rather watch a movie about a Chicago 7-Eleven? It's tempting…

I've previously talked about the reasons I appreciated Minari so much (written by director Lee Isaac Chung). A lot of the sweetness of the film is present in the screenplay. He cleverly tells much of the story through the eyes of a 7-year-old boy, so it's told less fact-by-fact, and more through the filter of a child's memory. (Chung based the screenplay somewhat on his own experiences growing up.) Charming as it is, I can't help but view it through the filter of a parent's anxiety: 1) Is moving across the country to live in a small town where you don't know anyone, living in a trailer, and starting a farm with zero experience the best way to solve marital problems? 2) One of the main promotional photos for the movie is a of the little boy holding a stick. Am I crazy, or is that the same stick that the father was going to use to beat the boy when he disobeyed? Did the marketing person keep their job after that? 3) The friend's deadbeat dad leaves the kids alone overnight, presumably out carousing and drinking, then shows up at breakfast hammered, saying, "Tell your mom I was here all night." How many times can you get away with that? 4) When the boy cuts his foot, is it bad that I did not think of the wound or his safety, but about the blood getting on the carpet? 5) Why aren't these kids in school??

Perhaps the script (and movie) with the biggest head of steam coming into awards night is Judas And The Black Messiah, a late entry that has been picking up acolytes left and right. The film has been lauded for its approach to the story of Black Panther leader Fred Hampton -- by telling it as a gritty, 70s-style, cat-and-mouse thriller, from the perspective of the FBI informant sent to help stop him. Director Shaka King (who wrote the script with Will Berson, based on ideas from the Lucas Brothers) has said that structure, instead of a more traditional biopic style, helped get it made by a studio. Despite the inevitability of the ending, the dramatic conflict and ferocity of the performances make for a satisfyingly tense ride.

This is going to come back to bite me, but my snubbed pick is Malcolm And Marie (or, as it should have been called, Things You Shouldn't Say To Your Girlfriend At 2 AM When You're Drunk And She's In A Bad Mood). It's like a really long Bad Idea Jeans commercial. Now, I'm not necessarily recommending this movie. You should know that most critics and regular people hate it. It's two hours of a couple arguing. It's a rough ride. It's indulgent, overwrought, and well, chock-full of mental and emotional abuse. But (stay with me here), if you can get past all that, those elements have a purpose, and there is a point to the film. I think the key is that it's not intended to be literal. It's allegorical for how we talk to ourselves -- the internal conflict we have, when we wrestle with ideas that are hard to reconcile. It's also lyrical; there's an elegance in how the characters spew eloquent vitriol at each other and rhapsodize (okay, rant) about some opinions that seem dead-on and others that seem wildly inaccurate. In some ways, the words seem like the most important thing; but in other ways, I think the movie could work as a silent film. (Either way, it's inventive: It was the first major film to shoot completely during the pandemic, so it takes place in a single home, with 2 actors, in more-or-less real time.) Writer/director Sam Levinson poses interesting questions about storytelling and authorship: Sure, write what you know; but also, and maybe more interestingly, try to write (and learn) about what you don't know. (Case in point: I don’t really have any experience or expertise about the Oscars, yet here I am.) Levinson has gotten a lot of criticism for what appears to be his point of view. I think that's fair, but I also disagree. I believe it's a bit of a misdirection. I think he believes in both sides of the argument; he's been the irrational, emotional one, and the cool, calculating one. The characters are halves to a whole. There's also the frustration with how the couple end up. The film is ambiguous, but audiences seem to think they stay together. I think the girlfriend actually decides before the movie starts that she's leaving him, and this is their breakup. That's why she lets him say all the horrible things he does, because she knows he has to get it out -- it affirms what she already knows, and reinforces her decision. Did I sell you on the movie yet? No? Well, how about this: It's the best autobiographical movie that Burton and Taylor never made.

As an honorable mention, it would have been a nice story had Mank been nominated here, as it was written by David Fincher's father, Jack Fincher, over two decades ago. The elder Fincher was a life-long newspaper man, who had an affinity for 1930s/1940s cinema, a strong knowledge of Herman Mankiewicz, and a fascination with a famously-dissenting Pauline Kael article that disparaged Orson Welles's contributions to the Citizen Kane screenplay. David Fincher had hoped to get his passion project off the ground in the 90s, but hasn't been able to until now. A nomination would have been a touching tribute to his father, who died in 2003. (Another interesting connection: John Mankiewicz, Herman Mankiewicz's grandson, was an executive producer on David Fincher's House Of Cards.) Despite my frustrations with the overall movie, the script is slick, and analyzes some intriguing inside-the-snowglobe aspects of Citizen Kane. It's a crackling, showy piece that jauntily goes out of its way to flaunt its writerliness. (For you keen-eyed writers out there, you'll notice I just made up the word 'writerliness'.) It doesn’t necessarily require you to believe that Citizen Kane is the greatest film ever made, but a healthy sense of awe doesn’t hurt. (It also helps to have a working knowledge of the film's lore, pre-WWII Hollywood, and 1930s -- or some would say, 2020s -- California politics.) The script simultaneously adores and gives a middle finger to Hollywood. Isn’t that what art is supposed to do? (That's not a rhetorical question. I'm actually asking if art is supposed to do that. Because I don't know.)

I've picked The Lovebirds as my Gloriously Omitted choice, not because it's a bad movie, but because it's a missed opportunity. It should have been amazing. The premise, the trailer, the choice of leads, and the chemistry are all fantastic, and set lofty expectations. But the movie itself is just… underwhelming. Maybe hopes were too high, but it's not as clever, tight, or funny as I wanted it to be. The problem isn't the actors -- Issa Rae truly holds the screen, and Kumail Nanjiani is naturally funny (though his character doesn't stray far from previous ones). I think it's the script (from Aaron Abrams and Brendan Gall), which feels rushed and half-baked, like a collection of sketch ideas. It's as if the screenplay left chunks blank, with a note saying, "The actors will figure out something funny on set." For these actors, I'd rather see a taut thriller story, and let them imbue it with humor and humanity. Or better yet, let Rae and Nanjiani write it themselves next time.

BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY:

SHOULD WIN: Christopher Hampton, Florian Zeller (The Father) WILL WIN: Chloé Zhao (Nomadland) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Jane Goldman, Joe Shrapnel, Anna Waterhouse (Rebecca) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Ruben Santiago-Hudson (Ma Rainey's Black Bottom)

Adapted Screenplay is going to get swept up in the Nomadland tidal wave on Oscar night, but to me it's probably the film's weakest element. I've talked about my lack of connection to the story. I understand the opinion that it's resonant, but is it revelatory? I can certainly see how it would strike a stronger chord during the pandemic, when we are all isolated; it makes the main character's loneliness feel more real. We've all been living in Nomadland, and whether it's David Strathairn shattering our favorite plates, or our kids shattering our iPad, we're just about at wit's end. But Chloé Zhao's script also plays up the theme of community and interconnectedness, and I didn't really feel that. The main character seems to be closing herself off from connection (though the ending suggests a change that we never actually get to see). A red flag is a movie description that says, "It asks more questions than it answers." Ugh, that's tough. For me, narrative is king. I understand that the movie is literally about a drifter with no plan, and the structure of the film is supposed to make you feel unmoored, but a little plot direction would be nice. Then there's the emotional climax, when Bob the Nomad Guru comes to the rescue to explain the whole theme. He tells Frances McDormand (but really, us) that he gets through grief by helping other people: "For a long time, every day was, How can I be alive on this earth when he’s not? And I didn’t have an answer. But I realized I could honor him by serving people. It gives me a reason to go through the day. Some days that's all I've got." Hmmm, where I have I seen that exact sentiment expressed before? Oh yeah, an award-winning short film called Through The Trees. (Available now, for free on YouTube.)

Dementia Mystery Thriller… is that a movie genre? Well, it might be, after success of The Father (written by Christopher Hampton and Florian Zeller, adapted from Zeller's Tony-winning play). "Exciting" is hardly the word I would use to describe the horrible crumbling of the mind that is dementia, but in this movie, it weirdly fits. The film has a way of presenting the disorder in a unique manner, that goes a long way in conveying the helplessness and frustration of the victim. With copycat movies inevitable, I can almost see Christopher Nolan's version now: Demento, where a mumbling Tom Hardy (unrecognizable under heavy old-man makeup) kills his caregiver twice because he can't remember if he already killed her… or her identical twin. The big twist comes when he discovers whether he killed them in the past, or in the future, or if he's remembering the memory of someone else who killed them. The scenes of the movie play in a different random order every time, and the only score is the constant deafening sound of the old man's heartbeat. Marion Cotillard plays the twins -- apparently the only females in the universe -- using whatever accent she feels like, because she has limited, unrealistic dialogue, and has no compelling story or agency, or any useful traits for an actress whatsoever. Hardy's son may or may not be a British crime lord or an undercover MI6 agent, played by Michael Caine (digitally de-aged to look the age that Hardy actually is). An emaciated Christian Bale, who manages to lose 3 inches of height for the role, makes a cameo as Joseph Gordon-Levitt. Revolutionary practical effects include a life-size recreation of Westminster Abbey inside a zero-gravity chamber, for one massively-complicated but forgettable 5-second shot. It will only cost $723 million, and will go straight to HBO Max. I will name it the best film of 2022.

I may be picking The Father, but I'm rooting for The White Tiger, written and directed by Ramin Bahrani. Set in India in the recent past, it's a striking, chilling tale of what men may be willing to do (or forced to do) to escape poverty. Bahrani constructs a fiery examination of themes that never get old: power vs. agency, freedom vs. choice, complicity vs. culpability. His script uses a lot of devices that shouldn't work: excessive, expository voice-over; explicitly-stated metaphors; speaking directly to the audience; and on-the-nose correlations to current times. But the story and acting are strong enough to make these feel integral. Given the themes and foreign setting, it has the misfortune (or great fortune) of being an easy comparison to Parasite, last year's Oscar grand prize winner. But I find The White Tiger far more accessible and scrutable than Parasite (maybe partly due to the devices I mentioned). A win here would be a welcome surprise. By the way, Bahrani's first Oscar nomination is an interesting footnote to Hollywood lore: In the 2014 Roger Ebert documentary Life Itself, we learn that Ebert was given a legendary token by Laura Dern -- a puzzle that had been passed on from several film icons, with the understanding that each would pass it on to someone truly deserving. Dern had gotten it from revered acting teacher Lee Strasberg, and it originated when Alfred Hitchcock gave it to Marilyn Monroe years before. And now Ebert was giving it to Bahrani. 60 years of movie history, from Hitchcock to Bahrani, and into the future. (Good thing it's not at my house, we would have lost several pieces by now.)

Four of the most famous and popular men in the country walk into a bar… so shouldn't the patrons be freaking out more? One Night In Miami plays out a very intriguing hypothetical scenario: When Malcolm X, Muhammad Ali, Jim Brown, and Sam Cooke all met one night in 1964, what did they talk about? The compelling script (by Kemp Powers, based on his own play) and naturalistic direction (by Regina King) make for a highly enjoyable think-piece and character study. It's a daunting task, to say the least: Not only are they representing extremely visible and important figures, but two of the actors (Kingsley Ben-Adir as Malcolm X, Eli Goree as Ali) are reprising roles already played by Oscar-nominated performers (Denzel Washington, Will Smith) who may be more famous than the actual figures themselves. I guess my hang-up (besides the horrendous Johnny Carson impersonation) is, what are the stakes? Historically, we know the stakes for these four people, in the larger context of their lives and the civil rights movement. But in the film itself, in that single night, for these specific characterizations, what are the stakes? What are they each looking for that evening? I think the movie doesn't fully address this, structurally. Ultimately, due to their fame, we know where the characters' lives go from here -- how it "ends". While that makes it interesting culturally, it feels like it puts a ceiling on the movie in a way, like it's holding something back. With these outsized characters, plot-wise, I wanted a little bit more.

Released in October with almost no warning, Borat Subsequent Moviefilm either single-handedly swung the presidential election, or had no absolutely no impact whatsoever, depending on who you ask. It's a rare feat for an original movie and its sequel to both score Oscar nominations for screenplay; I can't think of another time it's ever happened for a comedy. The fact that it's even under consideration -- given its improvisational nature and whopping nine (nine!) screenwriters (I'm not going to name them all, I'm trying to keep this article brief) -- is fairly astonishing. Even more baffling still, it's been placed in the Adapted category instead of Original. (Pesky Academy rules: Any sequel is automatically defined as an adaptation of the original.) The movie itself is unfortunately a shell of the unrelentingly funny original (Sacha Baron Cohen looks more like a middle-aged man doing a mediocre Borat impression at this point). When the big night arrives, the film will either single-handedly swing the Oscar vote, or have absolutely no impact whatsoever, depending on who you ask.

One of the biggest surprises on nomination day was the exclusion of Ma Rainey's Black Bottom from Best Picture and Best Adapted Screenplay, assumed to be a lock in both categories. It was even thought to contend with Nomadland in this category (it would have gotten my vote, had they asked me). I think it was diminished by the perception of being a fairly straight recreation of August Wilson's play, which is a shame. The film version (written by Ruben Santiago-Hudson) makes wonderful use of the physical space, the confinement, the claustrophobia. And I'd say the movie feels more like an album than a play -- a collection of "songs" (monologues, exchanges, and actual songs), each with its own rhythm, beat, lyrics, and theme, but coming together as a cohesive piece. The composition is effective; it draws you in the way the best albums do, and challenges your brain to think one thing while your heart feels something else. (My only complaint is that I wanted more of Viola Davis and Chadwick Boseman together! Their personalities are electric, and their personas overtake the room. Their conflict is brief (it mostly flows over to conflicts with other characters), and I really wanted to see them alone, head-to-head and unbridled. I realize their distance is purposeful, and important thematically, but damn, it could have been a showdown for the ages. Just another reason to wonder… What might have been?)

The remake of Rebecca was written by a few people, including Joe Shrapnel, whose name may have been a bad harbinger for what was to become of this script. Keep it simple: Please leave Hitchcock alone.

[ryanjdonovan]

Donovan's Oscar Prognostication 2020

Pablo Picasso said, "The purpose of art is washing the dust of daily life off our souls." I'm sure all of this year's Academy Award nominees believe he was talking about them specifically. The same cannot be said, however, of this excruciatingly long and dull article. It'll put that dust right back all over your soul. So sit back, relax, pop some trucker pills, and prepared to be bored stiff with my 21st annual Oscar predictions.

BEST PICTURE:

SHOULD WIN: 1917 WILL WIN: 1917 GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Downton Abbey INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Knives Out

In a year when all the acting races were decided before New Year's, the Best Picture category may have one of the few chances for a surprise. At least three movies (or five, depending on who you ask) have a shot to win: 1917, Parasite, and Once Upon A Time… In Hollywood (plus The Irishman and Joker). But if you like to bet, the odds of 1917 taking the big prize are getting better by the day. It was in good position already, but its recent Producers Guild victory (which foretold somewhat-surprising Best Picture winners Green Book and The Shape Of Water) puts it over the top. 1917's chances are further buoyed by the preferential voting system in this category, which favors movies that are universally liked over movies that are loved by some and disliked by others. (This is how many pundits explain Green Book's surprise victory last year, which nobody seemed ecstatic about. And if you want to know the details on how the voting system works, buy me a beer sometime and I'll bore you to tears.) Oh, and 1917 may also win because it's an absolute masterpiece. So then, why might it lose? History, for one: No movie has ever won this award without having at least an acting OR editing nomination -- and 1917 has neither. Secondly, critic reviews like the one from the New Yorker: "1917, a film of patriotic bombast, has an imagination-free script filled with melodramatic coincidences that trivialize the life-and-death action by reducing it to sentiment." Wow, I bet he's a lot of fun at parties. And finally, the reason I've been hearing most often: It's a simple story of good old-fashioned bravery and triumph of the will, and in these sardonic times, people don't wanna hear that rah-rah sh#t. But ultimately, you can likely count on optimism prevailing and carrying the film to victory.

So if 1917 doesn't win, what will? Well, what kind of person are you? The cynics are picking Parasite (and I'm a cynic, so it's weird that I'm not picking it). If you want to feel like you are personally responsible for every socioeconomic injustice on the planet and at least partly accountable for several socially-motivated murders in South Korea, then this is the movie for you. The obstacles for it to overcome to win Best Picture are tough: No foreign-language film has ever won (remember Roma last year?); voters will rationalize that it's assured to take home at least one trophy anyway, for Best International Film; and the same voters that are passionate about Parasite are also passionate about Once Upon A Time, so the vote will get split. But on the other hand, in its favor: Parasite is a huge international box-office success, which Roma was not; it isn't facing the "Netflix backlash" that we all underestimated last year (i.e., "streaming movies are TV movies and TV movies shouldn’t win Oscars"); the Academy has reportedly increased its international membership to 20%; and finally, movie people friggin' LOVE it. The industry, especially actors (the largest group of voters), love the movie, love the cast, love the director. They made a movie that makes everyone feel horrified and confused and upset and exasperated, and people go bananas for them at every award ceremony. The movie has captured something unique in the zeitgeist, and that's a factor that makes things almost impossible to predict. (As for me, I liked it, but I don't know what the hell it's about or what it means. More on that later.)

The West Coasters, the hippies, and the delusional are picking Once Upon A Time… In Hollywood. But wait, what about the modern film snobs? (Hey, I'm one of those too. Very weird.) They're Quentin Tarantino's bread and butter -- aren't they picking it too? Well, they're split (and very conflicted), because they've found Parasite, which has the same kind of edge and wit that Tarantino provides, but with much more incisiveness. They quite frankly don't know what to do. Here's a hint: Whichever film the snobs say they're picking, they're lying, and are actually picking the other one. The big backers for Once Upon A Time will be the old-school, long-time, insider-y insiders. Hollywood incarnate. The Hollywood that loves to reward itself. I mean, "Hollywood" is literally in the title of the movie. In theory, that should take it far with voters. But in the end, the rollicking, intoxicating, revisionist fairy tale will probably fall just short. It's clear the actors' support of Once Upon A Time is getting funneled toward Brad Pitt. Ultimately, that means it won't be #1 on enough ballots to win Best Picture.

The old school film buffs are picking The Irishman. If you don't think any good movies have been made in the last 25 years, then this is your movie. I was as excited as anyone when this came out, and really want to love it, but it's… in a word, underwhelming. As a theater purist, I can't believe I'm saying this, but: I should have watched it on Netflix on my TV. I proudly bought tickets for a film festival screening, before they announced the run time. Three-and-a-half hours is just a long damn time (without an intermission -- what happened to those??) to sit in an uncomfortable theater. It's a marathon, literally -- many people can run 26.2 miles in less time. At home, I could have taken a break, hydrated, stretched, changed compression socks, etc. It also looks like it was filmed for TV viewing, not cinema screens, despite the staggering budget and Martin Scorsese's assertions to the contrary. The de-aging of Robert De Niro, blown up on a big screen, looks downright silly: He has the shape and movement of a very old man, with patchy, digitally smoothed areas around his eyes and black shoe polish in his hair; and the fake blue eyes just look creepy. And the scenes where the actors are obviously green-screened onto a location background are jarring and look cheap. The net effect of all that is that it distracted me enough to take me out of the movie. Honestly, on Netflix, I think I would have enjoyed and appreciated it more, and could have gotten absorbed into the story.

And like everyone anticipating The Irishman, I was salivating about finally getting the Pacino/De Niro pairing that the world has been wishing for since 1974 (not counting two scenes in Heat), and it's… sort of satisfying, I guess? (But wait… can't Disney get the Russo Brothers to make a new Godfather trilogy, where Pacino and De Niro both appear as badass Force ghosts? I'm just saying, let's not dismiss the idea out of hand until we've seen a treatment.) More than definitive opinions on The Irishman, I'm left with what-ifs: What if the movie had been made 20 years ago? What if the script had been tightened up? What if the digital effects looked good? What if John Cazale was still alive and made an appearance? What if I could have paused the movie for 60 damn seconds to make a Pop-Tart? It could have been the greatest movie of all time.

The genre fanatics and fanboys/girls (other than the Marvel acolytes) are picking Joker. It's not the obvious choice, but having the most overall nominations automatically puts Joker in the Best Picture race. It doesn't pose a realistic threat to win, but the sheer popularity of it will garner some votes. Did the world really need yet another movie about the Joker and the death of Bruce Wayne's parents? Probably not. (With Jared Leto, definitely not.) The world didn't ask for it, but we got it anyway, and it turned out to be pretty incredible. And from the least likely source: Todd Phillips, the middle-to-low-brow filmmaker behind broad comedies like Old School (one of my all-time favorites) and The Hangover. And Phillips took the most obvious but least likely approach: to tell it as an serious, realistic, dramatic origin story of a man, comprehensible but not sympathetic, unable to fit in anywhere and disturbed beyond his breaking point, set in a superpower-less world, without even a mention of Batman. The Dark Knight this ain't. I'm completely on board, but have some issues with the third act; and beyond that, I can't even formulate an opinion about the confounding yet entrancing ending. Weirdly, the film doesn't quite deliver the promise of the trailer, which is a shame. I'm not giving my Best Picture vote to Joker, but I would probably vote for the trailer for Best Short Film.

The East Coast literati are picking Marriage Story. Both Marriage Story and The Irishman are long shots, but being Netflix films makes their odds even longer. The streamer tried more a palatable release strategy than it had for Roma; it gave these films month-long theatrical runs before putting them online. But we know from experience that the Academy is wary of crowning a Netflix film as Best Picture. Marriage Story is a fantastic, brainy, wrenching film, to be sure (sprinkled with lighter notes of life's absurd realities to keep the weight of it bearable), but I have a big issue with it: believability. Not that the couple is getting divorced, but that Scarlett Johansson would marry that clown Adam Driver to begin with.

And don't get me started with the kid in Marriage Story. I'm still waiting for the movie that shows a home that looks like children actually live there. If you've ever been to planet Earth, you know that homes with kids look like they've been taken over by raccoons… who are hoarders… with unlimited access to Amazon Prime. If movies were realistic, you wouldn't be able to see counter tops, rugs, tops of dining room tables, or clear paths to children's closets. The homes would basically all look like Grey Gardens. Where are the stalagmites of spilled cereal calcified to the floor? Where are the brand new books that already look like they've been attacked by hyenas? Where are the single, unmatched socks tossed in every conceivable location except a hamper? Where is the rotten food buried under piles of Legos? Where are the magic marker doodles on the screen of the iPad? Where is the foul diaper stench that is obvious to everyone except the parents? Where is the tinkle sprayed everywhere EXCEPT the inside of the toilet? Where is the pacifier stuck in the chandelier? Where are the footprints on the INSIDE of the roof of the car? Where are the crumpled up art projects from school that nobody gives a damn about? If most families' homes were ransacked by the Home Alone robbers, the parents literally wouldn't notice the difference.

And come to think of it… what kind of kid doesn't bite, scratch, talk back, throw food, scream for no reason, call anyone an a-hole, melt down over Minecraft, or tell his parents in a sweet voice, "You're not on the Naughty List… because you're on the Stupid List"? This boy in Marriage Story never even once tells his mom or dad that they are ruining his life (even though they kind of are). So, is there anything in the movie I could relate to? Well, maybe arguing with your child about Halloween costumes? I mean, you come up with an amazing group Halloween costume, and you've gotten explicit agreement from your children, and then the kids change their minds the day before and refuse to participate and want to wear something dumb instead and totally ruin the whole thing, ruin the whole holiday, hell, ruin the whole year. WHY CAN'T YOU JUST STICK TO MY AMAZING PLAN?? Nope, nothing I can relate to.

As for the remaining nominees… The book clubs are picking Little Women. The comedy fans and Hitler impersonators are picking Jojo Rabbit. Gearheads (especially Ferrari Club members that don't own Ferraris) are picking Ford V Ferrari. None stand a chance in this category.

Everybody else is picking 1917. Here are my estimations for each of the contenders winning Best Picture: 1917 - 60%, Parasite - 25%, Once Upon A Time - 11%, Irishman - 2%, Joker - 2%. Bet on it.

BEST ACTOR:

SHOULD WIN: Joaquin Phoenix (Joker) WILL WIN: Joaquin Phoenix (Joker) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Robert De Niro (The Irishman) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: George MacKay (1917)

I'm sorry, I need to get this out of the way right off the bat: Adam Driver is a total waste of time, in Marriage Story or anything else.

Joaquin Phoenix is going to win the Oscar, and I couldn't be more conflicted. His support is strong with the Academy, but it's not without some trepidation. From a career perspective, he makes a lot of sense for voters: With his fourth nomination (plus a couple of narrow misses), people feel he's due; it's one of Phoenix's most transformative and immersive roles; with the boffo box office and impact on popular culture (and potential sequels), it will remain in the consciousness for years; Leonardo DiCaprio already has an Oscar; and the other nominees are de facto also-rans. As much as it pains me to say it, Phoenix deserves it. With films like this, Walk The Line, and Her, I begrudgingly admit that he can be, on occasion, phenomenal; and other times, he makes I'm Still Here. As for his secretive process for the Joker, he dropped a big hint when he said, "My significant other right now is myself, which is what happens when you suffer from multiple personality disorder and self-obsession." That would do it.

And of course, there is the inevitable Heath Ledger vs. Joaquin Phoenix debate, which will annoyingly factor into voting. When Phoenix matches Ledger with an Oscar victory, what happens to the argument? It's an unsolvable puzzle that the Joker himself would love. Here's the real question: What if their situations were reversed? If Phoenix's performance was first and had died right after, while Ledger's portrayal came along 10 years later and he was still living? It's easy: Phoenix's performance would be considered superior, hands down. And I'm not so sure Ledger would have won the Oscar. (Cue the readership rage.)

It's a meme come true! The internet got its wish when Jonathan Pryce was cast as his papal doppelganger, Pope Francis, in The Two Popes. (Look up the comparisons from when Francis was elected in 2013.) He's the least likely nominee to win, but I was close to choosing him as my personal pick. He's mesmerizing as a soft-spoken yet opinionated cardinal (not yet the pope) at odds with Anthony Hopkins' Pope Benedict XVI, in the days leading up to Benedict's resignation. He's a man dealing with internal and external crises of character and church, but to his credit, Pryce does not externalize it into an emotional performance. It's measured, and funny, and feels real. (The Welshman's Argentinian accent, however, is… rough. And while he tried to learn some Spanish for the role, most of his Spanish dialogue was dubbed by a native speaker, and it's glaringly obvious.) After spending most of his career playing a slight variation on the same meek everyman (which made him the least-threatening Bond villain of all time), his roles recently have been the best, juiciest, and most versatile of his career. (By the way, how did I miss the fact that Phoenix played Jesus Christ in a movie in 2018? Get these Best Actor nominees together, and the casting for the inevitable Two Popes sequel is already done.)

Pryce and Antonio Banderas are two of the nicest surprises of the awards season. They're both a couple of prolific, reliable vets who have never really been Oscar-fare guys, and aren't exactly drawing the attention they once were. It's really refreshing to see them both get some career-validating recognition with their first nominations. Heading into nomination day, I assumed only one (or neither) would get nominated, so I was thrilled to see them both chosen over more conventional (and more decorated) nominees. (And, it freed up my Snubbed award.) Banderas's character in Pain And Glory is an understated, nuanced performance, as his recent Spanish roles tend to be, but not typical compared to the more bombastic roles we're used to seeing him play in the U.S. It's perfect for the film, itself an introspective, personal story from Pedro Almodóvar, uncharacteristically simpler than the films he's most known for. Decades after he should have racked up all the awards for the brilliant Desperado, Banderas is finally going to the Oscars. And Antonio… bring your guitar.

I'm getting soft. I'm becoming numb to my dislike of Leonardo DiCaprio. He almost doesn't single-handedly ruin movies for me anymore. He's been in enough great movies (and actually been decent in a few of them), that I hardly even roll my eyes in annoyance at the mere sight of him at this point. Case in point: Once Upon A Time... In Hollywood. He's there. He's fine. He has two commendable scenes, and several other dynamic ones with the rest of the cast. That's it. The movie is good, but I can't help but feel it would be better with someone else. (Ditto Brad Pitt.)

As blasphemous as it sounds, I'm going to say it: I think Robert De Niro needs to hang it up. It's almost getting too painful to watch. Between The Irishman and Joker, he managed to sweep my Gloriously Omitted awards this year, which is no easy feat. He just looks so inert in damn near every scene in The Irishman. He's misguidedly supposed to play a much younger man through most of the movie, and you want to picture Johnny Boy or Jake La Motta or even Jimmy Conway, but instead you're seeing… Abe Vigoda. I’m putting him in the same Time To Retire category as Harrison Ford (I mean, in his upcoming movie The Call Of The Wild, it looks like the only co-star they could get for Ford is a badly-CGI'd dog). I would have also put Nick Nolte in this category, but he's redeemed himself with The Mandalorian. I have spoken.

There are a lot of actors in the running for my Snubbed pick this year: Eddie Murphy in Dolemite Is My Name, Roman Griffin Davis in Jojo Rabbit, Himesh Patel in Yesterday, Paul Walter Hauser in Richard Jewell. But ultimately, I'm going with George MacKay in 1917. For all the talk of technical and directorial accomplishments, MacKay carries the film on his shoulders. The movie simply doesn't work if he's not fantastic.

BEST ACTRESS:

SHOULD WIN: Renée Zellweger (Judy) WILL WIN: Renée Zellweger (Judy) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Taylor Swift (Cats) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Awkwafina (The Farewell)

Somewhere over the rainbow, Judy Davis is unimpressed… but Renée Zellweger is going to skip away with the Oscar for Judy. Every so often, a role comes along where the performer is so spot-on that they win the Oscar based on the movie's preview alone, before the movie even comes out, months before award season (like Daniel Day-Lewis in Lincoln, Helen Mirren in The Queen, Mo'Nique in Precious, Gary Oldman in Darkest Hour, or Jamie Foxx in Ray). When the Judy trailer debuted, everyone who matters (myself included) watched her clang-clang-clang with tipsy grandeur in a gilded pantsuit and half-inch eyelashes -- the Judy-est damned Judy Garland you ever saw -- and instantly said, "Yep, that's it." Throw in the fact that it's an emotional story about a beloved and tragic Hollywood icon, plus Zellweger's overexaggerated-yet-oddly-appealing comeback narrative, and the race was over before it began. The real question is whether it will break the record for Most Oscar Votes Submitted By People Who Didn't Even Watch The Movie. (The current record-holder is Meryl Streep in The Iron Lady.) In fact, I think the only Academy member who's actually watched the film is Liza Minnelli.

The only contender here that's going to pull any votes from Zellweger is Charlize Theron, for her universally lauded role in the divisively polarizing film Bombshell. Theron is riding a late-breaking wave of acclaim, has consistently matched Zellweger nomination-for-nomination, and has many critics trumpeting this as her best work. Further helping her cause, Zellweger already has an Oscar (for Cold Mountain), so she's not getting any lifetime-achievement votes. If Theron herself had not already won (for Monster), she might actually be in the running. But let's face it, even in her best hair and heels, Megyn Kelly just isn't going to compete with Judy Garland, whether it's on the screen, in a drag show, or at the Oscars.

It's almost a shame that Zellweger has been such a wire-to-wire favorite, because Scarlett Johansson is absolutely remarkable in Marriage Story. If I had a seat in the Academy, I would know that intellectually I needed to vote for Zellweger… but I would probably vote for Johansson anyway. I've never seen her so grounded, endearing, and, frankly, repellent. Her task is daunting: Beyond playing a woman slowly being torn apart at the seams during a divorce, she has to be flawed, supportive, tough, loving, conniving, sympathetic, perplexed, hurt, supportive, lovely, guarded, longing, angry, nurturing, vicious, unglamorous… and most of all, able to elicit empathy from the audience -- all without smiling, AND with shorter hair than Adam Driver. Johansson has long been considered a talented and strong screen presence, but as recently as Avengers last summer, nobody was touting her as an Oscar-caliber actress. And of course, now she has not one but two nominations (with her supporting turn in Jojo Rabbit). It's a nice payoff on the promise we saw early in her adult career, before the rom-coms and superhero flicks, boasting films like Ghost World, Lost In Translation, and Girl With A Pearl Earring. So, she won't win here, but there's always next year… Is it too much to hope that her upcoming Black Widow origin story, besides ass-kicking and acrobatics, includes a messy divorce, a nasty custody battle, World War II drama, and maybe even an imaginary Nazi?

I was glad to see Cynthia Erivo nominated for her titular role in Harriet, but I honestly thought she'd be more of a threat here. When this project about legendary heroine Harriet Tubman was announced, starring a Broadway headliner, it figured to be a favorite for Best Picture and a shoo-in for Best Actress. I penciled her in for my Nomination Locks immediately. The film debuted to strong buzz, but as the season went on, and other films and performances dominated the scene, the buzz quieted. The film missed out on most accolades, and while Erivo managed some key nominations, she missed out on a few others, casting her Oscar nomination in doubt. A lesser prognosticator may have been surprised when her name was called on Nomination Morn, but I never wavered. Am I just as confident that she will prevail at the ceremony? Well… If she does in fact win (for Actress or Original Song), the erstwhile Color Purple star will make some interesting history: the youngest person to achieve an EGOT (Emmy, Grammy, Oscar, Tony), and in the shortest amount of time (five years). And if she doesn't win, is it too soon to hope for another Harriet Tubman movie, based on the 30 Rock episode, directed by Tracy Morgan, starring a completely crazy Octavia Spencer?

Probably the least surprising name in the mix this year (or any year) is the one almost no Americans can pronounce: Saoirse Ronan. With her fourth nomination at the ripe old age of 25, we can pretty much count on an awards contender (or a Timothée Chalamet collaboration, or both) pretty much every year for the foreseeable future. Her nomination for Little Women seemed inevitable, even when she missed out on a Screen Actors Guild nod. This isn't her year, but when she hits nomination number five, it's going to start getting really hard not to give it to her… at the washed-up lifetime-achievement age of, you know, 26.

Awkwafina is my clear pick for Ingloriously Snubbed this year, for her surprising, powerful, and grounded turn in The Farewell. Other welcome inclusions would have been Lupita Nyong'o in Us, Alfre Woodard in Clemency, and Ana de Armas in Knives Out.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR:

SHOULD WIN: Anthony Hopkins (The Two Popes) WILL WIN: Brad Pitt (Once Upon A Time... In Hollywood) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Robert De Niro (Joker) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Willem Dafoe (The Lighthouse)

Well, my #AnybodyButBrad campaign is not going well. This is a category of absolute legends, and Brad Pitt is who we're picking?? It's frankly insulting. And you people (yes, you all!) are enabling this. I'm sorry, smiling is not acting. He had two good (okay, fantastic) scenes in Once Upon A Time... In Hollywood. But that was all. And we can agree, he's been a lot better in a lot of other movies. Part of the push is that he's the only nominee who hasn't won an Oscar for acting, so… we should reward him for being the least talented actor in the group? (By the way, he actually does have an Oscar, for producing 12 Years A Slave; but let's be honest, all he probably did was lend his name to secure meetings and woo financiers.) It's clear to me now that everyone is insane except me. You can make any argument you want for Once Upon A Time, but for me it comes down to this: I don't want to live in a world where Brad Pitt can beat up Bruce Lee.

The statistics and history with this group of nominated actors are fascinating (to me, but probably nobody else). The group (Tom Hanks, Anthony Hopkins, Al Pacino, Joe Pesci, Pitt) collectively boasts 30 nominations and six wins. Aside from Pitt, the last time any of these heavyweights was nominated was 2001, and the last victory was Hanks in Forrest Gump a quarter of a century ago. (As I'm typing this, I’m painfully realizing that some younger readers have probably never heard of these actors.) Pacino achieved his ninth nomination this year (his first in 27 years), putting him in third place for most male acting nominations; only Jack Nicholson (12) and Laurence Olivier (10) scored more. And if he wins, he'll have won in both Lead and Supporting Actor categories, joining a short list of nobodies with names like Lemmon, Washington, Hackman, and De Niro. (And it's worth nothing, lest any of these young whippersnappers get too impressed with their haul of nominations, that 87-year-old composer John Williams has almost double the nominations that the group has combined, having notched his 52nd nomination -- the most for any living person -- for scoring the latest Star Wars movie.)

I'm casting my dissenting vote for Anthony Hopkins, the longest odds to actually win. We take his thespian prowess for granted, and as a result I think we forget how amazing he actually is. In The Two Popes, as Pope Benedict XVI, he's unequivocally at the top of his game. His accent is iffy, but his characterization and physicality are remarkable. And his papal odd-couple pairing with Jonathan Pryce is a match made in… well, you know. Their scenes together are absolutely electric, especially their initial sit-down scene in the garden. Ostensibly, it's just two old men talking, but really, it's so much more; we SEE them quarrelling, debating, poking, out-witting, insulting, joking, and one-upping, but we FEEL them jousting, swiping, dancing, circling, assessing, piercing, and wounding. It's an exhausting prize fight, and they literally never touch. Maybe it's because he knows he has no shot at winning, but Hopkins isn't exactly wooing voters by demystifying his acting technique: "I don't research. It wasn’t difficult for me to play old because I am old. Acting for me has become dead easy. It’s not brain surgery." Tips from the master.

My favorite nomination here belongs to Joe Pesci for The Irishman. Considering he came out of a 20-year retirement to do the film, and totally nails the character, it's a wonderful capper to his career. It's intriguing to look back at his career with some perspective. He became kind of ubiquitous for being Joe Pesci (or for the public's perception of Joe Pesci), but he was actually in a remarkably small number of movies. And despite his career not taking off until he was in his late 40s, he became one of the most impressive actors of his generation. Even if you discount Raging Bull in 1981, he had an astonishing run of movies from 1989 to 1995, which included: Lethal Weapon 2, Goodfellas, Home Alone, JFK, My Cousin Vinny, A Bronx Tale, and Casino. He literally made a classic every year. And Goodfellas and Home Alone, two of the most iconic films of all time, were released a mere month apart in 1990. Then, only nine years into his hot streak, after Lethal Weapon 4 in 1998, he retired. (Though honestly, EVERYONE involved in Lethal Weapon 4 probably should have retired.) It's nice to see him one more time, reunited with a legendary director, putting a new twist on the old Joe. The things you do for money (and Scorsese).

Al Pacino is nominated for playing Jimmy Hoffa in The Irishman, and for being Al Pacino. I wouldn't pick him to win, but I’m on board with the nomination. Given his age, he should be playing Hoffa's father, but at least he, unlike Robert De Niro, looks like he's having fun in the movie. For my money, Nicholson was more convincing in looks and demeanor in his (nomination-less) portrayal of the legendary teamster boss in the 1992 film Hoffa, but Pacino makes up for it in charisma. Though I suppose it could have used at least one "Hoo-AAAAH!"

Tom Hanks is back in the mix for A Beautiful Day In The Neighborhood, now that he only portrays real-life celebrities in movies. After playing Captain Sully and Walt Disney, I guess the only sunnier and squeakier role left was Mr. Rogers. I realize he's getting loads of acclaim for this part, but I have a hard time buying him in these non-fiction roles. He's become a person so famous for disappearing into characters that he can no longer disappear into the character of a famous person. I don’t know who he can possibly play after this; unless they make a movie about Tom Hanks, he might be forced to retire.

I'm sorry, how is Willem Dafoe not winning his first Oscar for his totally bonkers role in The Lighthouse? How is he not even nominated? He's crazy, the premise is crazy, the camerawork is crazy, the, uh, mermaid parts are crazy, the whole movie's crazy, you're crazy, I'm crazy, the entire world is crazy. A couple other roles I was cheering for (which were a lot less likely, but not much less crazy): Wesley Snipes for Dolemite Is My Name and Ray Liotta for Marriage Story. Both of them were borderline certifiable, and pretty much exactly how I would hope they would be in real life.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS:

SHOULD WIN: Kathy Bates (Richard Jewell) WILL WIN: Laura Dern (Marriage Story) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Anna Paquin (The Irishman) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Jennifer Lopez (Hustlers)

After sweeping the awards circuit, it's clear that Laura Dern will win by a landslide for her role in Marriage Story… but I'm still trying to figure out exactly why. There's no denying she's great -- it's a fun, sharp, duplicitous turn. Her character is a viper in stilettos, and she leans into it. But she just seemed like Laura Dern, if Laura Dern had a penchant for using legal jargon, manipulating old men, and putting the screws to soon-to-be-unmarried fathers. Basically, divorce lawyer Laura Dern looks and sounds a lot like talk-show guest Laura Dern. In her defense, I will say she complemented the other actors, and led a cast of spectacularly over-the-top supporting players, including Julie Hagerty, Merritt Wever, Alan Alda, Martha Kelly, and Ray Liotta. It helps that she's on a hot streak of prestige TV shows, Little Women, an upcoming return to the Jurassic Park franchise, and of course, Star Wars (I still don't understand why a droid couldn't have piloted her suicide mission; I mean, C-3PO was standing right there until he quietly backed away, but whatever). The only Oscar justification I've heard from insiders is, "It's her time." Compelling. But I guess this year that's good enough.

Why not Kathy Bates, for her role in Richard Jewell? It's possibly her best deep-south, wigged-out, overprotective mama bear role since The Waterboy. On second thought… can we just give her an honorary Oscar for The Waterboy?

While I’m stumping for Scarlett Johansson in Marriage Story, I'm not quite as high on her nomination for Jojo Rabbit. It's a refreshing characterization to be sure, veering opposite the obvious saccharine choices she could have made for the role, portraying a mother trying to raise her son and make some sense (and jokes) out of life in wartime Nazi Germany. However, I can confidently say that her nomination is more for the pivotal impact her character has on the movie, rather than the performance itself. But all things considered, with two nominations, the highest grossing movie of all time, a Captain Marvel cameo, a trailer for her own superhero movie, and (yet another) engagement, she's had quite a year.

I thought Margot Robbie might have a tough time scoring a nomination this year; it seemed like strong campaigns for Bombshell and Once Upon A Time... In Hollywood might cannibalize each other and cancel each other out. (She actually managed to score BAFTA nominations for both, but Oscar rules preclude actors from being nominated multiple times in the same category.) The meatier role in Bombshell won out, but any role would lose to Dern overall.

You had to figure someone from the supporting cast of Little Women would get a nomination here, whether it was Florence Pugh, Emma Watson, or Meryl What's-her-face. Meryl never stood a chance.

The person I would probably vote for is the one person everyone expected to be here and is also the one person who isn't here. I am personally bummed for Jennifer Lopez. I think it's easy to forget what a fantastic, dynamic actress Lopez was, early in her career, before J.Lo and Jenny From The Block and celebrity marriages and pop-stardom and brutal rom-coms and Super Bowl halftime shows and all the Razzies (so many Razzie nominations - 10 of them!). Back in films like Selena and Out Of Sight, she was the real deal. And even through the Razzie years, she has always been a smart actress with abundant charisma. So a nomination for Hustlers would have been nice validation for a long, productive, far-from-dull (and far-from-over) career. And, by the way, she's outstanding in the film. It's exactly the right role (acting and producing) at the right time in her career (and it also helps that she's effectively ageless). The film was a bit of a gamble: a "gangster" film about female strippers that has more in common with Goodfellas than Showgirls. The film basically dares audiences to root for the "bad guys" when they are women, and dares critics to praise a movie as "cool" when it's driven by women committing crimes and manipulating people. (A quick scan of the 'greatest films of all time' reminds us that we've been doing both for men for a century.) And of course, the gamble paid off in spades. A nomination would have been icing on the cake. My gut tells me conspiracy… How many of her exes are voting members of the Academy, anyway? (Looking at you, Ben.)

Honorable mentions for the Snubbed Choice: Annette Bening for The Report and Lily James for Yesterday. I really thought Bening would challenge for the prize, which would have been her (overdue) first, but her campaign never really caught on. And James de-glammed (slightly) to play the heart (to Himesh Patel's soul) in the Beatles love letter.

BEST DIRECTOR:

SHOULD WIN: Sam Mendes (1917) WILL WIN: Sam Mendes (1917) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Tom Hooper (Cats) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Rian Johnson (Knives Out)

This category could be ripe for an upset… by pretty much anyone. All indictors point to Sam Mendes being a lock for 1917: He won the Director's Guild Award (the most accurate predictor of any award in any category), he also won all the other lead-up awards, and everyone pretty much agrees his film was the most technically challenging of the bunch. And I've got to say, the praise is warranted. It's an emotional, visceral, non-stop assault, in the best possible way. Of course, much of the credit goes to cinematographer Roger Deakins. But Mendes's meticulous planning of every single camera move and unbroken continuity thrusts the viewer, almost unwillingly, into the dizzying melee, physically and mentally. The Oscar is rightfully his. But still, there is some doubt. He's already got an Oscar (for American Beauty), and this is only his second directing nomination. Given the company in this category, is it right that he go two-for-two? Is he as great as Martin Scorsese or as influential as Quentin Tarantino? And he's only directed eight feature-length films in his entire career, so isn't he just plain lazy? On top of all that, he got to direct the James Bond films that Tarantino always wanted to. I mean, is any of that fair?

I think Bong Joon Ho stands the best chance of pulling off an upset, especially if there's a Picture/Director split. He was a long-shot early in the race, but he's quickly gaining ground, and there's an X-factor here that can't be quantified: He seems to have tapped into something that people keep talking about (the film shot up IMDB's all-time Top Rated Movies list almost instantly), his film is becoming more of a global phenomenon by the day, he and his cast have charmed at all the festivals and award shows, and people in the industry are flat-out rooting for him. And while Mendes, Tarantino, and Martin Scorsese already have Oscars, he's a first-time nominee who has been adored by critics for years (I mean, who doesn't love a good sledgehammer-shattering-a-frozen-arm scene?). But the big thing that will thwart his bid is the splitting of the "cool" vote: Many of the people that want to vote for Bong also want to vote for….

…Quentin Tarantino, who also has a real shot with Once Upon A Time... In Hollywood, and it has more to do with legacy than his film. He has two Oscars, but they're both for screenwriting (and he may have a third before the night is over); he does not have a statuette for directing. The big question in everyone's mind is: Will history look favorably on the Academy if Tarantino -- thought by many to be one of the most influential (if not one of the flat-out greatest) directors of his generation -- never wins a Best Director Oscar? Tarantino has shrewdly said that he's only planning to make one more movie before he retires (and it may be a Star Trek flick). To voters, that means: The clock is ticking, and this might be the last chance to bestow the honor. While I don't think that sentiment will carry a victory, it will undoubtedly be a factor. For my personal choice, as is often the case, this comes down to Who Do I Think DESERVES To Win vs. Who Do I WANT To Win? No question, I think Mendes deserves to win… buuuuut, I'm rooting for Tarantino. If he had simply won for Pulp Fiction (which will likely hold up as his most revered film 50 years from now), we wouldn't be in this mess.

You also can't quite count out Martin Scorsese, for The Irishman. His ninth Best Director nomination pushes him past Billy Wilder for second-most all time (William Wyler leads with 12). A win would be shocking, but then again, if you took a poll of cinephiles and asked who is more deserving of two career Oscars, Scorsese or Mendes, the vote would probably be unanimous for Scorsese. Early on, it looked like the race was his to lose, when his film debuted for a short theatrical run, and critics and devotees rhapsodized about a definitive masterwork (well, those who stayed awake, anyway). But once the film hit the masses on Netflix, and every-day account leeches were less enthusiastic, Scorsese slipped back into the middle of the pack.

I can't help but wonder, will Scorsese's "controversial" comments about superhero movies not being cinema cost him votes? I mean, people really freaked out about that, and both the internet and legitimate Hollywood players clapped back loudly. Give me a break. I don't necessarily agree with him, but let the man talk. He was off-handedly asked his opinion about Marvel movies in an interview (along with a lot of other topics), and he simply replied. And people went bananas. It's not like he's out on Twitter trolling people or inserting his opinion where it's not invited. He is unquestionably one of the greatest filmmakers of all time, and also one of the greatest film historians of all time. I'd be willing to say that no single person on the planet knows cinema better than he does, and perhaps nobody alive has left a bigger imprint on cinema than he has. I think the man has earned the right to have an opinion on the subject. If Scorsese wants to tell me that home videos of my kids on my phone lack substance, stakes, and three-dimensional characters, I'd say he's well within his right. So before writing an aggrieved blog post attacking him, I would think twice about whether I was even qualified to make the argument. (But since I'm ALSO one of the preeminent minds on cinema, I am certainly qualified to shout my opinion and slam anyone I want online. Oh, hey, look, I just wrote an article doing exactly that.)

And as far-fetched as it seems, Todd Phillips is also in the mix, for Joker. The film surprisingly has the most nominations, with 11. That momentum often carries over into unexpected categories. I never really thought of Phillips as a visual storyteller or a master of tone, but with Joker he's a revelation. In a year where the Joker is the hero, I guess anything is possible.

BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY:

SHOULD WIN: Rian Johnson (Knives Out) WILL WIN: Quentin Tarantino (Once Upon A Time... In Hollywood) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Julian Fellowes (Downton Abbey) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: M. Night Shyamalan (Glass)

Might we see a tie for Original Screenplay? It looks like a dead heat between Quentin Tarantino (Once Upon A Time... In Hollywood) and Bong Joon Ho and Jin Won Han (Parasite). And we don't have the benefit of the Writers Guild Award to tip us off: Parasite won the trophy, but Tarantino famously does not belong to the WGA, and therefore is not eligible for their prize. In the last couple days, most of the respected pundits have switched their prediction to Parasite, but this disrespected pundit is sticking to Once Upon A Time. (And I already have a bad feeling about it.)

We're all in this together, and we're all screwed: That's what Parasite is saying. At least, that's what I think it's saying. Or could be saying. Or maybe, isn't saying. Okay, I have no idea. And anybody that says they know exactly what Parasite is about is lying. Nobody knows. I'm telling you, you don't know! And I think that may be part of the point, from the little I've been able to cobble together from writer/director Bong and co-writer Jin. What can we even call this thing that they have created? A parable? Metaphor? Satire? Allegory? All of the above? If there's a lesson, I have no idea what it is, and I'm not sure there is one. Bong gives us a hint in the final, pessimistic shot; but he's also said, somewhat paradoxically, that he prefers action to inaction. At face value, I think Bong is articulating in the film: I see difficult things in society, in the world, between people, and this story is figuratively how awful they make me feel -- the visual embodiment of the pathos. To me that's valid (if the story is not taken literally), and potentially powerful. The film certainly gives me anxiety, and makes me more anxious the more I think about it, especially because most of it could have been easily avoided by characters making different decisions. (In fact, I'm getting anxious right now just writing about it.) I'm also bothered by the fact that it's easier to point out problems than offer realistic solutions, and other than violence (which I don't think Bong is endorsing), there are no readily-identifiable solutions. Something I keep coming back to: The film seems to dare you to find guilt or choose a side, and by doing so, it seems you might actually be tricked into endorsing a guilty party and condemning yourself. If that's the case, what is this thing they've created? A trap.

Almost no readers get this far in my article, so I'm not too worried about giving away spoilers. But if by the grace of god you are still reading, and you haven't seen 1917, SPOILERS AHEAD: SKIP TO THE NEXT PARAGRAPH. Screenplay is widely considered the weakest element of 1917, and is the one award that the film definitely won't win. Its script is seen by many as a mere blueprint for the mechanics of the camera, and undoubtedly tells a simple story, but I honestly don't think Sam Mendes and Krysty Wilson-Cairns get enough credit for it. I can't help but wonder, is the story any better if my theory on the ending is correct? SPOILER: First of all, my theory is totally wrong. I've found absolutely no evidence supporting it online, from critics, or from people who have seen the movie, and my tweets to Mendes have gone sadly unanswered and un-re-tweeted. But I'm sticking to it! In the final shot, the soldier walks away from the army hospital, and sits down at a tree; the camera pans around 180 degrees to show his face and what's behind him… which is nothing. No army hospital anymore. Just an empty field. So… is he really there? Is he dead? Does he die when he encounters the sniper and the screen goes black, and never awakens from unconsciousness? Are all the remaining characters, who appear in a foggy, dream-like nightscape, just projections as he journeys to the afterlife? Are his wife and child also already dead? Is that what her inscription, "Come back to us," really suggests? Yes? Yes? No?? Ah, the hell with you people.

The script for Noah Baumbach's Marriage Story (a totally fictional "personal" story focused on a New York writer that is totally not at all based, like, at all, on his totally-coincidental divorce from actress Jennifer Jason Leigh; again, no parallels whatsoever) is somewhat about the end of a marriage, but mostly about dialogue. The ostentatious wordiness is what makes it endearing and scathing and clever, but is at times also a hinderance and a little too clever. It's no surprise; after all, Baumbach is a graduate of the esteemed Wes Anderson School Of Stylized Dialogue. Don't writers know that writers don't talk the way they write? Half of it feels real, and the other half feels cutesy and New York writer-y. (I prefer Midwestern writer-y, where they take ten times as long as necessary to make a simple point. In other words, they make the same point again and again without adding anything valuable. Multiple times.)

It's hard not to watch Marriage Story without thinking Adam Driver is Kylo Ren without a helmet (he was just as whiny, self-absorbed, and immature as his Star Wars counterpart). Come to think of it, I think I'd rather see this movie with Driver as Kylo Ren and Scarlett Johansson as her Avengers character Black Widow. That dude would never stand a chance. Imagine it…

STAR WARS: EPISODE X - MARRIAGE ENDGAME Kylo Ren is sulking on a Star Destroyer, considering ending his marriage. The Avengers helicarrier lands. Black Widow jumps out. KYLO REN (tears in eyes): I know what I have to do, but I don't know if I have the strength to do it. Black Widow unsheathes a katana sword and swiftly cuts off Ren's head. She licks the blade. BLACK WIDOW: Consider that a divorce. FADE OUT.

(If you like that, you'll love my other Star Wars script, Millennial Falcon: It's the story of a spaceship that doesn't want to jump to hyperspace because that's not really its passion, expects to be able to make the Kessel Run in 12 parsecs without any hard work, and prefers to be called just "Falcon" because it doesn't believe in labels. "May the Force be with you." "Okay, boomer.")

Rian Johnson's Knives Out is the least likely to win, but is my personal favorite. Incredible movie, incredible cast, incredible direction, incredible cinematography… but most of all, incredible script. It's cool to see the accolades for Johnson after making slick, underappreciated films like Brick and Looper. (And it almost makes me want to forgive him for his mess of Star Wars: The Last Jedi. Almost.)

With my snubbed choice, I'm going with a curveball… Glass, from M. Night Shyamalan. The capper in the Unbreakable Trilogy, the film is a lot better than the critical reviews and January dumping-ground release date would lead you to believe. It's a fascinating, slick, melancholy resolution to a film series that was ahead of its time. (Go back and watch Unbreakable, and see how much of the "reality-based" comic-book/superhero craze it presaged.) As smart as it is, it unfortunately lacks charisma and fun, so it's probably too heavy for what audiences expected from a PG-13 superhero flick. But I'm sticking up for it, all the way to the Oscars. (Other worthy original scripts include The Farewell by Lulu Wang, Us by Jordan Peele, and Yesterday by Jack Bart and Richard Curtis.)

BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY:

SHOULD WIN: Taika Waititi (Jojo Rabbit) WILL WIN: Taika Waititi (Jojo Rabbit) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Jeff Nathanson (The Lion King) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Christopher Markus, Stephen McFeely (Avengers: Endgame)

With the top three candidates for Picture and Director duking it out in the Original Screenplay category, Adapted Screenplay is open for someone else to pick up a prize. But who? It's going to be close between Taika Waititi for Jojo Rabbit and Greta Gerwig for Little Women. Waititi's win at the Writers Guild Awards would seem to tip the scales heavily in his favor. However, the WGA was just voting on screenplay, while the Academy is notorious for compensating across categories, and will give Gerwig plenty of votes for her Best Director snub. A week ago, I would have predicted a win for Gerwig. But in a tight race like this, history tells us to follow the guilds. So I'll go with Waititi by a (Hitler) mustache.

And in case you hadn't noticed, Waititi is everywhere. Besides being a quadruple threat (writing, directing, co-starring, producing) for Jojo Rabbit, in the past year he directed and did a voice for Star Wars: The Mandalorian (which was arguably better than the actual Star Wars movie that came out), wrote/directed/produced the cult hit show What We Do In The Shadows, and was a significant contributor to a little movie called Avengers: Endgame. In his spare time, he's lined up creative roles in more Marvel movies and TV shows, the DC Universe, a new Time Bandits, and (if the rumors are to be believed) a new Star Wars movie. Oh, and he was nominated for a couple Oscars. (Fun fact: These are not his first; he was previously nominated for a short film called Two Cars, One Night in 2005.) He's got my vote for Adapted Screenplay for Jojo Rabbit. Gerwig deserves the praise for her updated take on Little Women, but that film has been re-made over a dozen times (as recently as 2018), so I'm going with Waititi's irreverently fresh, fun, gut-wrenching, and hopeful take on World War II.

Gerwig is in a long-term relationship with fellow nominee Noah Baumbach (Marriage Story) -- and of course, their relationship is also totally not at all an inspiration for his film. They are the latest in a surprisingly long list of couples who have both been nominated in the same year (names like Taylor & Burton, Hepburn & Tracy, Woodward & Newman, and Jolie & Pitt). In the cases where one of them won an Oscar, almost every time, it was a woman. If Baumbach values his career, he'll break up the night before the ceremony. Just imagine if they'd both been nominated for Best Director…

Only an a##hole would relentlessly compare The Irishman to Goodfellas. So here I go… Martin Scorsese (and co-writer Nicholas Pileggi) crafted a perfect ending (and one of the greatest movies of all time) with Goodfellas. Ray Liotta's character escapes with his life, only to spend the rest of it trapped in suburban purgatory, exiled into anonymity, powerless and castrated, complaining to an imaginary audience. The denouement is short, but his anguish is palpable. With The Irishman, Scorsese (and writer Steven Zaillian) unmoor us, letting the audience drift along for the listless (and seemingly endless) conclusion. Compounding that feeling is the fact that Robert De Niro's character is mostly passive throughout the film, so we're sort of forced along on the ride by other characters. Ultimately, we don't really know any more about him at the end than we did at the beginning. Maybe that's the point, but it doesn't really work for me. Overall, the script has a lot to offer, but it felt too loose to be compelling or poignant.

So, they make a movie called The Two Popes, and neither of them was John Paul II? JP2? The Deuce? Papa Due? The guy was a marketing monster in his day. He was so popular, they kept putting him on the Popener years after he died, because Benedict was so dull and not pulling in the sales. (And if you don't know what a Popener is, you need to stop reading this article right now, go to Rome, and buy a bottle opener and with the pope's face on it.) Aside from that transgression, the script by Anthony McCarten is a fantastic, crackling, metaphorical, even funny, piece of work. As a result, the film is engrossing, considering most of it is just two old men talking. You don't even need to know much about Catholicism to enjoy the sparring between these two headstrong leaders debating their ideals while trying to find forgiveness and peace. My one disappointment? No argument over who has the better Popener.

Todd Phillips and Scott Silver's script for Joker is hypnotic in a dread-inducing kind of way, and in the theater caused at least one grown man to grab my leg in fright (you know who you are). But I feel like the last act unraveled a little bit, and the ending, I mean, who the hell knows? Even now, I don't quite know what to make of the film or what it's trying to say. Maybe Charlie Chaplin captured it best, long before the Joker existed: "Life is a tragedy when seen in close-up, but a comedy in a long-shot."

[ryanjdonovan]

Donovan's Oscar Prognostication 2019

The legendary, recently departed screenwriter William Goldman famously said, "Nobody knows anything." Then again, he never read my Oscar predictions. My first bold forecast: Alfonso Cuarón will win something. For more excruciatingly safe predictions, behold my 20th annual Oscar predictions.

(Oh my god, I just realized I've spent 20 years of my life doing this crap.)

BEST PICTURE:

SHOULD WIN: The Favourite WILL WIN: Roma GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: The Ballad Of Buster Scruggs INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: A Quiet Place

Unthinkable only a few months ago, a foreign language film is going to win Best Picture for the first time ever. By now it seems pretty clear, with all the other awards doled out, that the Best Picture winner will be Roma, produced (and directed, and written, and filmed, and edited) by Alfonso Cuarón. It's also the rare black-and-white film that will take the big prize. I love the film and the look of it; the style gives the film a texture of a different era, yet an overall feel of timelessness. (I suppose you could also argue that it's a bit of a cheat: It's much easier - and cheaper - to achieve the period look of the 1970s and pass off common objects as "old" with black-and-white.) I'll get into other reasons I champion the film later; Cuarón is unquestionably my choice for Best Director. But I can't help but feel that Cuarón's name and reputation are the main reasons it's getting such a push for Best Picture. If it had been made by some other no-name filmmaker, charming as it may be, would it have ever made it beyond the indie festival circuit? I'm guessing probably not.

For crying out loud, why are people getting so worked up and emotionally invested (and literally crying out loud) about A Star Is Born? It's like audiences suddenly lost their abilities to think rationally just because the main characters can sing. This falls into a subgenre of movies that I like to call 'Idiots Making Bad Decisions'. The film should have been called A Star Is Blind To A Whole Bunch Of Red Flags. So… Lady Gaga meets Bradley Cooper while he's a drunken mess, is somehow charmed by his sloppy stupor, falls in love with him without ever actually seeing him sober, is an active enabler of his alcoholism… and her ONLY boundary is that she won't get on a motorcycle with him?? What about the other 99% of the time when she's idly watching his boozed-up, destructive behavior? "Sure, that's fine. Hey, let's go sing a pretty ballad in front of 50,000 people without rehearsing!" The only person in the movie who actually says something about it is her manager - and somehow he gets labeled as the sleazebag. Are you kidding me? He's the only one with any goddam common sense! He is the only person who tells Cooper's character anything remotely resembling the truth - not his bandmates, not his brother, not his limo driver, not even his best friend. If you ask me, the manager isn't the villain, he's the hero of the movie! So does the film have a chance of winning? Well, it went from strong front-runner to also-ran in the span of about three weeks. But it boasts eight nominations, a boffo box office, and loads more attention than Roma. However, the fact that Cooper didn't get a Best Director nod would seem to torpedo its chances (unless he gets a ton of sympathy votes for Best Picture, à la Argo and Ben Affleck a few years ago.) It has an outside chance, but don't bet on it. (I will say, I love seeing Dave Chappelle pop up in the movie, but man, they don't give him anything to do! "Hey Dave, here's the part: You show up out of the blue, give a half-hearted pep talk, be an accomplice in a really bad decision, and then disappear for the rest of the film. Whaddaya say?" Here's a Kickstarter I would donate to: ANOTHER remake of A Star Is Born, which would actually be a sequel, starring Chappelle and Andrew Dice Clay.)

A lot of experts think Green Book has the best chance of upsetting Roma here, but I don't see it. I actually think Black Panther has a better shot at an upset, based on its momentum as a global phenomenon, seven Oscar nominations, and the Best Cast victory at the Screen Actors Guild Awards. Both films are hurt by a lack of Best Director nomination; Black Panther theoretically faces even long odds without a Screenplay nomination (a few films have won Picture without a nomination for Director, or without a nomination for Screenplay; no film has ever won Picture without either of them).

BlackkKlansman will also get a share of votes, as Spike Lee got some of the best reviews of his career. (It doesn't hurt to have Jordan Peele with his Midas touch as a producer.) I think it lives up to the hype, but I have no idea why it seemed to be marketed as a comedy. It's certainly funny in the sense that the story itself - an African American cop in the 1970s infiltrates the Ku Klux Klan (based on real events) - is utterly audacious. While it has satirical elements, it's not exactly chock-full of yuk-yuk jokes. (I suppose any chance at comedy went out the window once sour-puss Adam Driver was cast.)

Vice would seem to have a shot here, checking all the requisite boxes: eight total nominations, nods for directing and writing, high pedigree across the board, rapturous reviews for the actors, and a hot-button story about American government during recent events. But ultimately the film is too divisive to have a real shot at Best Picture; most people that want to reward the film will put their votes toward Christian Bale in the Best Actor category.

Despite its international appeal, audience raves, triumphant spirit, and jaw-dropping box office, Bohemian Rhapsody is not a factor in this race. Most critics would tell you it wouldn't make for an above-average VH1 Behind The Music episode, much less a worthy Oscar nominee. Rami Malek was dazzling as Freddie Mercury, but I can't help but wonder what the film would have been like with its original star, Sacha Baron Cohen. Galileo! Galileo! Galileo! Galileo! Galileo, Figaro, verynice!

The Best Picture race is fine and all, but I was more intrigued by the announced-and-then-immediately-revoked Popular Film award. Not to see who would get nominated or who would win, but to see what the heck they would actually name the category. Best Popular Film? Most Popular Film? Popularest Film? Most Populous Film? Outstanding Achievement in Popularity? The Popularity Contest? #favepopflick? Film Most Unlike Those Other Crappy Unpopular Films? Film Most Likely To Get All The Hollywood Chrises To Attend The Ceremony? I'm guessing they would have gone with the obvious: Film Most Likely To Boost Television Ratings.

BEST ACTOR:

SHOULD WIN: Rami Malek (Bohemian Rhapsody) WILL WIN: Rami Malek (Bohemian Rhapsody) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Ryan Gosling (First Man) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: John David Washington (BlackkKlansman)

Remember not long ago, when A Star Is Born was going to sweep every single Oscar? Bradley Cooper was going to win his first acting Oscar in his fourth try, along with an armful of statuettes for other categories. It was a foregone conclusion only a couple months ago; but for Cooper, it probably feels like years. In the ensuing weeks he (and the film) have been passed over in just about every major competition. Now it seems like his Oscar night will look a lot like his character's Grammy night in the movie - not much to do except watch Lady Gaga accept an award for music. (And if he's also embarrassingly drunk, it could make for an excellent telecast.) Across acting, producing, directing, singing, and writing, this was the one nomination I think Cooper really deserved… and I hate myself for it. I'll (begrudgingly) admit, he was very good in American Sniper, and this performance towers over that one. If Cooper wins, I may not be happy about it, but I'll understand. But, he won't win. (Which is good, because empathy is not my strong suit.)

While Cooper was still on top, riding the wave of his emotionally-manipulative movie to box office gold and glittering reviews, Green Book snuck onto the scene. People were charmed by the movie and by star Viggo Mortensen, and realized it was one of the best performances of his career… and they started thinking, hey, maybe Cooper isn't such a foregone conclusion after all. By the end of the festival circuit, Mortenson was a legitimate contender. I, for one, think he's outstanding in the film. He's hammy, but he makes it work, and he's surprisingly convincing. That said, there's a small part of me that can't help but think that other actors out there could have played the role just as convincingly. (This could have been Matt LeBlanc's shot at an Oscar, damn you!)

Willem Dafoe also popped up during festival season, for his role as Vincent Van Gogh in At Eternity's Gate. He mostly remained under the radar, but he always loomed as a threat. Didn't I just say last year that he only gets nominated once every 15 years? Well, this makes it two years in a row now. I guess that means we'll have to wait another 30 years for his next nomination.

Lo and behold, once people got a glimpse of Christian Bale, all doughy menace and jowly growling as Dick Cheney in Vice, he quickly eclipsed Cooper and Mortensen. (Mortensen didn't exactly do himself any favors with a critical publicity gaffe; I won't make the mistake of repeating it here.) As the bigger awards started rolling out, Bale was the one who couldn't lose. But then, when it really mattered, he DID start losing.

So what happened? Well, people made cases for each nominee to win: Cooper brings a rock star convincingly to life; Mortensen enthralls with charismatic bravado and a funny accent; Dafoe devastates as a tortured artist; Bale transforms completely and brings new depth to a real-life famous person. And as the major awards were finally handed out (Globes, SAGs, BAFTAs), voters realized, Let's vote for the guy who does ALL those things: Rami Malek, transformed as the rocking, charismatic, funny-accented, tortured, real-life musician Freddie Mercury in Bohemian Rhapsody. And that is how Malek came to win the Oscar.

It's not an easy choice, but I'm also rooting for Malek. More than any of the other roles, I think Malek's portrayal will be considered iconic in the long term, thanks in no small part to the global popularity of the film and the general happy vibes that people associate with the performance and the music. I mean, what's more fun, an outlandish, world-famous, glam rock star, or a stodgy former Vice President who didn't produce a documentary about global warming?

Dafoe's nomination makes me wonder: What if this was the Year of the Overdue? In theory, all of the following people in the major categories could win and end their career droughts: Willem Dafoe for Actor (4 nominations, the first in 1987), Glenn Close for Actress (7 nominations, the first in 1983), Sam Elliott for Supporting Actor (a career spanning 50+ years), Amy Adams for Supporting Actress (6 nominations), Spike Lee for Directing or Adapted Screenplay (5 nominations, the first in 1990), Paul Schrader for Original Screenplay (writer of some of the most revered films of all time). It would be nice, but for most, the suffering will continue.

It's a tough call for my Snubbed choice. I'm tempted to go with Ethan Hawke, for his pastor caught in an existential crisis in First Reformed. In spite of Oscar nominations for previous movies, THIS is the best role of his life. This is literally the first time I've seen him in a movie (including Training Day and Boyhood) and NOT immediately thought, "This character looks and sounds and acts just like Ethan Hawke." It's easily his most fully-formed, immersive role. Ordinarily, I would say he deserves a nomination, but he got two previous ones that he didn't deserve, so the hell with him. Instead, I'm naming John David Washington (whose father starred with Hawke in Training Day) for the mesmerizing lead in BlackkKlansman. It's a tightrope-walk performance that proves the newcomer can carry a film and is here to stay. The fact that he didn't get a nom for the film, but Adam Driver did, is a head-scratcher that future historians will puzzle over for eternity.

On the other hand, my Gloriously Omitted choice was an easy one: Ryan Gosling in First Man. Aren't we all just a little tired of Gosling? Don't we think he's overdue for a comeuppance? No? Just me? Okay.

BEST ACTRESS:

SHOULD WIN: Olivia Colman (The Favourite) WILL WIN: Glenn Close (The Wife) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Emily Blunt (Mary Poppins Returns) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Natalie Portman (Annihilation)

Glenn Close emerged as the first real Best Actress contender, when The Wife debuted in August. But she was always considered a dark horse, and as flashier performances bowed, they quickly passed Close on the pundit's lists. But much like the woman herself in her expansive career (and the character she plays in the movie), she hung in there, until the patina of the competition dulled. And now here she is, running the table at all the award ceremonies, unquestionably the front-runner, a heavy favorite to win the Oscar after six previous nominations. Her performance in The Wife feels in many ways like the culmination of all the characters she's played, employing subtlety with a skill honed over several decades. In a film brimming with dramatic conflict, her character seems to be playing chess, always two moves ahead of her opponents. To mix metaphors (and to steal from her real-life opponent Lady Gaga), she's always got a poker face - but she's not giving you a blank wall, she's giving you exactly the look that she wants you to see. She never just smiles. She never just frowns. Or laughs. Or sulks. Or scowls. There's always a twist, twinkle, or curl. It's all measured, calculated. She's superior to the other characters, and she knows it. Sometimes she lets her opponent win, or sometimes she opts not to play; but she always chooses exactly how much they believe they get away with.

That stands in stark contrast to one-time presumptive front-runner Lady Gaga in A Star Is Born. Where Close relies on introspection, Gaga seems to be fueled by pure passion and raw energy. Her performance has been called a tour de force, and I agree, it is. She's in your face, and she's powerful. And it feels authentic, thanks to parallels and inspirations from her real life. (If only her father in real life was Andrew Dice Clay.) Does her character make the best life choices? No. But who needs common sense when you've got pipes like that? When A Star Is Born burst onto the scene, everybody was pretty quick to anoint Gaga as the Oscar winner. But now that the fervor has died down a bit (and gullible moviegoers have finally stopped crying, ugh), critics are siding with Close's measured performance over Gaga's unbridled one. But those early prognosticators weren't wrong, Gaga will win an Oscar… for Best Song.

All that said, I actually think the award should go to Olivia Colman for The Favourite - which feels weird, because I believe she shouldn't even be nominated in this category. Determination of "Leading" versus "Supporting" has always been puzzling (it's a function of marketing, gamesmanship, coin flip, lunar phase, and how drunk the voters are), but I'm confident Colman's role is the supporting one here. (As the characters whose decisions drive the course of the story, both Rachel Weisz and Emma Stone - classified in the Supporting category - clearly play roles that are more "leading" than Colman's.) I can't help root for Colman's performance, which stands out from the pack as the most visceral, unhinged, playful, and downright fun. (Especially when I see her in interviews and get the sense that she's just as nutty in real life.) But most importantly, through it all, her portrayal is endearingly pathetic. She's like a terrified little girl, trapped in prisons of every imaginable kind (emotional, mental, physiological, metaphorical, governmental, physical, familial) except a literal one. So she acts like a terrified little girl: tempestuous, confused, irrational, looking for the slightest comfort anywhere. And we can't help but root for her when she finds something (or someone, or some part of someone's anatomy) that alleviates her feeling of being trapped… even when we know it's fleeting.

Hooray for Melissa McCarthy. Besides being one of the most likable actors out there, she seems to have no limit (or filter) on her range of comedic abilities, and she continues to impress with dramatic talents, like the ones on display in Can You Ever Forgive Me? She gave us a glimpse of those talents a few years ago (in St. Vincent, where she gave a fantastic performance in a decidedly less-than-fantastic movie), and steps up her game considerably here. She taps into a more serious, down-to-earth energy that comes through as completely authentic. In her unisex mop-top and shapeless outfits, do I buy her as a curmudgeonly woman who is a gifted writer, forges celebrity letters for a living, and has no idea that her apartment reeks of cat poop? Absolutely. What can't McCarthy do? She's done comedy, drama, sci-fi, biopic, action, mystery, adventure, romance, thriller, animation, puppets… Let's see if she can do mime!

Yalitza Aparicio was a pleasant and unexpected inclusion here, for her role in Roma. She wasn't a complete long-shot, but after getting passed over for a lot of other award nominations, it seemed likely that some other veteran actress would probably take the last spot. I'm glad the Academy made the right choice. She's not just the most important part of the movie, she IS the movie. If she's not perfect, even with all of Alfonso Cuarón's revered storytelling, direction, cinematography, and editing, the movie simply wouldn't work. Everything about her performance is subtle and natural. (Call her the anti-Olivia Colman.) And remarkably, this is her first acting job; then again, it's probably why her performance is so organic. Which is not to say that it's effortless, or that she isn't really acting. Just look at the lengthy delivery scene at the hospital - it's grueling, and if you don't feel what she's feeling, you're not human. And perhaps most impressively of all, she somehow managed to keep a straight face during the penis-pole-martial-arts scene. (If you haven't seen it, don't ask.)

Emily Blunt was expected to receive a nomination for Mary Poppins Returns, but was passed over. The lesson here? Don't f*** with Julie Andrews. (Audrey Hepburn learned that lesson 54 years ago.)

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR:

SHOULD WIN: Mahershala Ali (Green Book) WILL WIN: Mahershala Ali (Green Book) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Ben Mendelsohn (Ready Player One) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Tim Blake Nelson (The Ballad Of Buster Scruggs)

This category would appear to be a showdown between the two previous Supporting Actor winners: Mahershala Ali (two years ago for Moonlight) and Sam Rockwell (last year for Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri). Each won for their first career nomination; the others in this category have never even been nominated before. Does that mean one of them will get it; or will voters hesitate to have someone go two-for-two, and instead opt to spread the gold around and give it someone else?

I probably don't have to tell you, Ali will win his second trophy for his work in Green Book. He's got a lot in his favor: his role, arguably a leading one, is the largest of any in this category; he plays a magnetic character who stands with dignity in the face of adversity and bigotry; his film is a feel-good story that the audience naturally cheers for; and of course, he's one of the best actors working today. (And don’t forget the "True Detective Effect": the result of playing a critically acclaimed role on that show during an Oscar campaign. Another strong performance to remind voters that you are, in fact, talented beyond a single role is often a boon… just as a poorly-timed stinker can be a bust. Hey, it won Matthew McConaughey an Oscar, didn't it? Somewhere Colin Farrell is thinking, "Wait, what the hell??") Ali is captivating as a popular, highly-educated, genteel pianist traveling on tour through the South in the early 1960s -- a lonely man on the road who's isolated as a result of external factors and his own choices. While I'm rooting for Ali, I can't help but feel like his role leaves me… wanting. Despite the fact that his character's decisions largely drive Green Book's narrative, his arc is pretty minor (compared to Viggo Mortensen's), and he's (intentionally) a bit of a closed book. I might actually prefer a movie that centers on his character, so we could dig at elements that aren't really explored beyond the surface. The film spotlights the fact that the character doesn't feel like he belongs to ANY world at all (profession, culture, education, race, social preferences, or class). Yet he really only has one scene that brings his dilemma to the surface. And the only attempted explanation of his motives is awkwardly offered up by a minor character in a heavy Russian accent. So much more of his character remains unearthed. (My emails to DreamWorks pitching 'Green Book II: Autobahn Adventure' have gone unanswered.)

So, no, Rockwell will not pull off back-to-back wins for his role as President George W. Bush in Vice. Not only is Rockwell a poor choice for the Oscar, he was a poor choice for the role, period. I mean, how was Will Farrell NOT cast as W? I mean, the film was directed by his buddy, Adam McKay. And McKay produced Ferrell's Emmy-nominated Bush-skewering special, You're Welcome America. And the movie is essentially a long Saturday Night Live sketch anyway. I'm pretty sure there's a perfect alternate universe where Ferrell wins an Oscar for playing Bush and the world is spared from the catastrophe of Holmes & Watson.

Ali's strongest competition will come from Richard E. Grant, playing a kind of bon-vivant hobo in Can You Ever Forgive Me? It's funny, I never thought much of Grant until this film. When I saw him in previous films and shows (and if you look at his list of credits, that's damn near everything), I found him relatively forgettable. In fact, for several years, I thought he was the guy that played Data on Star Trek: The Next Generation. (Sorry, Brent Spiner.) Now, before the rabid fans of Withnail & I tear my head off, let me say that I'm changing my tune. He truly impresses as Melissa McCarthy's con-man confidant, an ascot-wearing street scamp who's been on the fringe so long that he can't really distinguish his marks from his friends. He's a gutter-dweller with the airs of an aristocrat and the aims of freeloader, who makes his identity (and his living) by defying definition. And as the best supporting characters do, he believes he's the star of his own movie.

Also in this race is Sam Exposition, I mean Sam Elliott, who pops up in A Star Is Born for the sole purpose of conveniently explaining Bradley Cooper's backstory to the audience. As soon as you start thinking, 'Gee, I wonder why Cooper's character has such a chip on his shoulder?', Elliott shows up to have a somewhat awkward chat about his demons. 'What on earth in Cooper's past could have possibly made him the way he is? Oh, here's Sam. I hope he has an inorganic and emotional conversation with Cooper about their childhood!' That said, I love the guy, and it's nice to see Elliott play something more than a parody of himself. In the hands of a lesser actor, the device would be much more transparent, but he handles it with grace and grit… all the way to an Oscar nomination.

I need someone to explain Adam Driver's nomination to me. On second thought, I need someone to explain Adam Driver to me, period. (Sam Exposition, you would come in really handy right about now.) In BlackkKlansman, he has one scene with fleeting poignancy; the rest of the time, he's just sort of… there. It feels like the dopey boyfriend from Girls just kinda wanders into the movie. I general, I think Spike Lee has a sharp eye for casting, so I kept waiting for Driver to bring something unique to the role, but it never happened. Literally anybody else in the role would have as good or better. I think of it in baseball terms: his Wins Above Replacement Player would have been exactly 0.0. (And of course, I spent the whole movie thinking, "He just CAN'T be Han Solo's son. He just CAN'T.")

There are plenty of other actors I would have preferred to see get nominated in place of Driver (and that's not even including Tim The Chalet or whatever the kid's name is.) Tim Blake Nelson is a hoot as a singin', strummin', sharp-shootin' outlaw in the otherwise dismissible The Ballad Of Buster Scruggs. Jonathan Pryce plays refreshingly against type as a bold, confident, selfish (and somewhat misunderstood) jerk in The Wife. Cedric Antonio Kyles (aka The Entertainer) is nearly unrecognizable as a serious and influential reverend in First Reformed. (Despite doing nothing to change his appearance, I had no idea it was him until long after I had seen the film.) And Jimmy O. Yang, one of the best parts of Silicon Valley, would have been an amazing Oscar nominee for stealing scenes as 'the a-hole you shouldn't have invited to the party' in Crazy Rich Asians. One guy I'm glad DIDN'T take Driver's nomination: Ben Mendelsohn in Ready Player One - fantastic actor, terrible part, laughable performance.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS:

SHOULD WIN: Rachel Weisz (The Favourite) WILL WIN: Regina King (If Beale Street Could Talk) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Natalie Portman (Vox Lux) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Gina Rodriguez (Annihilation)

Oh boy, the Screen Actors Guild Awards really threw a wrench into this one. They rewarded the ONE actress who isn't nominated (Emily Blunt, for A Quiet Place), and didn't even nominate the Oscar front-runner, Regina King, for If Beale Street Could Talk. And since the only reason the SAG Awards exist is to help ME make my Oscar predictions, they were totally worthless. So what does this mean? King is still a lock to win the Oscar, right? Not so fast. Usually I would tell you to ignore the BAFTAs (the British equivalent of the Academy Awards). But get this: The only real parallel to this situation is from 2015, when Sylvester Stallone was a heavy favorite to win the Oscar, but was completely snubbed by the SAGs (who crowned Idris Elba, who was not an Oscar nominee). And nobody worried when Stallone was also shut out from the BAFTAs ("They only pick Brits", pundits sniffed); he remained the popular Oscar pick. But then in a stunning upset, he lost the Oscar to Mark Rylance, who had won… you got it, the BAFTA. So who won this year's BAFTA, where Regina King was also shut out? Rachel Weisz, for The Favourite.

Following me? Great. So Weisz will win the Oscar, right? Not so fast. Like I said, I don't put a whole lot of stock in the BAFTAs when it comes to Oscar forecasting. I mean, Hugh Grant got a BAFTA nom last year for Paddington 2, which didn't exactly clean up at the Oscars. (And yes, they tend to pick Brits.) Weisz's BAFTA win was a bit of a make-up, after they denied her years ago for The Constant Gardener. She already has an Oscar (for, as you'd expect, The Constant Gardener), so voters won't be quick to hand her a second one (in only her second nomination, no less). And while Weisz had the home field (pitch?) advantage at the BAFTAs against castmate Emma Stone, you can count on Academy members who are fans of The Favourite splitting the votes between them. Others who can't decide among them will simply vote for someone else entirely. On the other hand, King, while not a big star internationally, has been a critical darling stateside. With a career of acclaimed work, several Golden Globe nominations, and three recent Emmy awards, she seems ripe for an Oscar win. And I mean, come on, she played Brenda on 227! Adorable little Brenda! But then again… this category is historically notorious for out-of-left-field upsets. Stone seems to charm every critic with a keyboard, certainly has an effect on Oscar voters (winning just a couple years ago for La La Land), and has earned plenty of glowing reviews for The Favourite. Or there's Marina de Tavira, the least-known of the bunch, for playing the tortured matriarch in Roma. Though I think her nomination is a reach, Roma could steamroll every category; besides, who would make a more shocking winner than the woman who was a shocking nominee?

With me? Okay, so de Tavira will win? No! Stone? No! Have you even been paying attention?! Why on earth would you ignore Amy Adams? With her role as Lynne Cheney in Vice, she should absolutely be the front-runner, having scored six nominations but never able to quite clutch the gold. Just about everyone agrees she's overdue. And what could be a more fitting way to win, in this politically-polarized world, than for a politically-polarizing movie?

Still following me? Didn't think so. Let's start over. Regina King will win the Oscar for If Beale Street Could Talk. Was that so hard?

King's win will make me happy. But I think I'm actually going confuse you again and name Weisz as my personal choice. If I had an ACTUAL vote, I might hesitate, because she's already got an Oscar and I would be more likely to reward a body of work. But in The Favourite in particular, which happens to be my favourite film overall, Weisz is fantastic and utterly magnetic. She's a fabulous insult machine with compassion for the only person she truly loves: herself. And when dueling against Olivia Colman and Stone and chewing scenery by the yard, she's a total blast. (Please don't dismiss me as always picking Brits.)

BEST DIRECTOR:

SHOULD WIN: Alfonso Cuarón (Roma) WILL WIN: Alfonso Cuarón (Roma) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Bradley Cooper (A Star Is Born) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: John Krasinski (A Quiet Place)

Alfonso Cuarón has won all the Directing awards this year. All of them. Nobody else is really in the conversation. The only intriguing thing about this category is what it will mean when Cuarón wins for Roma: He'll be the first director to win for a foreign language film. He'll be the fifth Mexican in six years to claim this award. Assuming he also wins Best Cinematography (he took up the camera himself, instead of teaming up with frequent partner and 3-time Oscar winner Emmanuel 'Chivo' Lubezki due to scheduling conflicts), he'll be the first person to win both categories in the same year. In fact, he'll be the only person to win the Cinematography award for a film they also directed. And if he wins Best Original Screenplay and sweeps his categories, he'll become the first person to win four Oscars for a single film; he'll tie Walt Disney for the only people to win four Oscars in one night (which he did in 1953, for four different films, three of which were shorts). And that's not even counting Best Foreign Language Film! Inexplicably, that award officially goes to the country, not the filmmaker - though you can bet Cuarón will be the one accepting the award (and in fact, his name will be engraved on the statuette). Had he managed to get a nomination for Best Editing, he'd pretty much be breaking every individual Oscar record there is.

Cuarón is getting the well-deserved raves for his uncommon technique on this film, eschewing traditional music and scenes (eg, cutting between masters / two-shots / close-ups) in favor of ambient sound and lingering wide shots. The result is voyeuristically effective: It feels like you're in the corner of the room or across the street, peeking in on the family and its environment. Personally, it resonates with me because I love black-and-white still photography, and it strikes me as a series of painstakingly composed photos. It's funny, it's what they teach you NOT to do in film school! You could almost call it lazy - it looks like what a lot of amateurs tend to do: stick the camera in one place without moving it and filming all the action in one shot. But for the story, it works; it somehow feels more immediate and immersive. He further deviates from tradition by incorporating unusual, incongruent sights and sounds, typically at the end of the scene. It seems like the intent is to give the viewer more of a sense of how the character feels in the moment, not necessarily to portray literal events (for example, the cacophonous marching band that randomly comes down the street and envelops the mother after her husband leaves her and the family). The effect is unnerving, but supports the specificity and overall "slightly faded memory" aesthetic of the film. Ultimately, the film combines elements that at face value seem unnatural, but come together to create a whole, without dramatic close-ups or perfectly-timed music cues; as a result, it feels more like real life than a movie.

Other directors deserve some recognition this year, too. I thoroughly enjoyed Yorgos Lanthimos's work on The Favourite. His trademark dry, acerbic wit and humor do wonders for this potentially dreary period piece, and frankly, they're right up my alley. (When you hear only one person laugh at an unusual moment in a crowded movie theater, it's probably me.) Where Cuarón strives for a stylized naturalness, Lanthimos wants nothing more than to remind you that you're watching a movie - specifically, his movie, filmed with his inimitable visual "voice". Lest you forget, the not-so-subtle fish-eye shots are there to remind you. It doesn't work for everyone, but it works for me. (Bonus: Believe it or not, he's not the only person named Yorgos that's nominated for an Oscar for this film - Yorgos "No, the Other One" Mavropsaridis is up for Best Editing).

And of course there's Spike Lee, nominated for BlackkKlansman. It's hard to believe that Lee hasn't been nominated for anything since Original Screenplay for Do The Right Thing in 1990 (his honorary Oscar in 2016 and his Best Documentary nomination from 1998 notwithstanding). Until now, he was arguably the most influential director working today without a Best Director nomination. He'll get a lot of votes here, but most people will save them for a different category. (Spoiler: He will win for Adapted Screenplay.)

Pawel Pawlikowski's nomination for Cold War is interesting for reasons beyond the film itself, alongside Cuarón's Roma. With Cold War in Polish and Roma in Spanish, it's only the third time that there have been two directors of non-English language films nominated in the same year. And it's the first time that the category includes two films that are also nominated for the Best Foreign Language Film Oscar. Of course, if Pawlikowski wins, he would become the first Best Director winner of a foreign language film (instead of Cuarón). On top of that, both films are in black and white; having two Director nominees in the same year is unheard of since color pictures took over decades ago. It actually wasn't so long ago that a black and white film won in this category (The Artist in 2012), but before that, you have to go back to Schindler's List in 1994, then to The Apartment in 1961.

Considering his films have historically gotten more attention from the MTV Movie Awards than the Oscars, Adam McKay is probably as surprised as anyone by all the prestige-award attention he has gotten for directing Vice. (He can primarily thank Christian Bale and Amy Adams for that.) He has a small, fervent fan base in the Academy, but it won't be enough to give him any serious momentum here.

Just a few short months ago, everyone thought someone was going to win four Oscars… not Cuarón, but rather Bradley Cooper. At the very least, he seemed a shoo-in to get four nominations for A Star Is Born. If he had, he would have joined Warren Beatty as the only two people in history to be nominated in all of the Big 4 categories: Picture, Acting, Directing, and Screenplay. (Beatty did it twice, and ultimately won one award, for directing Reds.) But Cooper was shut out in the Best Director category, which came as a shock to everyone, except one person. I'm guessing it was an extremely tight race, and it would not surprise me if he was literally one vote short because he was left off the ballot by… Warren Beatty. (I have a theory, which has yet to be disproven, that in his retirement, Beatty is really bored and just likes messing up the Oscar results. I posit that he's actually becoming Bulworth.)

While my Snubbed choice here is John Krasinski for A Quiet Place, the person I really wanted to see get a Best Director nom was Orson Welles. That's right, 33 years after his death, 78 years after Citizen Kane, Welles was actually eligible for an Oscar nomination, for his recently completed film The Other Side Of The Wind. I'm confident that had he won, a god-like voice would have boomed down from the heavens and shouted a one-word acceptance speech: "Rosebud!"

BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY:

SHOULD WIN: Deborah Davis, Tony McNamara (The Favourite) WILL WIN: Deborah Davis, Tony McNamara (The Favourite) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Drew Goddard (Bad Times At The El Royale) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Scott Beck, John Krasinski, Bryan Woods (A Quiet Place)

Determining the favorite in this category is a bit of process of elimination. Right off the bat, you can toss out Paul Schrader's clergyman think-piece, First Reformed, which is the most challenging and interpretive of the bunch. The nomination itself was a bit of a coup, and it's somehow, inexplicably, the 72-year-old filmmaker's first ever Oscar nomination. Other classic films that he wrote (Taxi Driver, Raging Bull, The Last Temptation Of Christ, Affliction) got noms and wins for others, but not for him. (Gee, his infamous Lindsay Lohan erotic thriller The Canyons was passed over by the Academy, too. Shocking.) This film, which he also directed, about a pastor at a crossroads, is probably his most personal film to date. If you've ever seen (or even heard of) any of Schrader's other films, you can probably guess that the story takes a dark turn (or 20) and doesn’t exactly end with rainbows. Though I was fully invested in the film and ultimately liked it, it lost me at a couple critical junctures where developments on screen don't feel fully earned. He intentionally tries to rattle the viewer (almost literally), using a technique that's been explained to me in terms of "Transcendental Style" (a phrase coined by Schrader, I think, but not a filmmaking style created by him) - which I don't fully understand, nor do I necessarily buy. And, of course, it comes with an ending that's up to interpretation. Does it represent redemptive love or destructive despair? Or both? Or neither? You can try to draw your own conclusion, but I suspect Schrader would tell you you're wrong no matter what… and he would use amazingly poetic dialogue while doing it.

Next, you can probably scratch off Vice, written by Adam McKay. He very recently won a Screenplay Oscar, for The Big Short, which was generally considered a sharper film. So nobody's exactly itching to give him another one. But more importantly, just as many people hate this film as love it - hey, you write a polarizing script, you get polarized responses.

Here's where it gets tricky… This is probably the category that Alfonso Cuarón is least likely to win, if for no other reason than Roma's achievements in the other categories seem more obvious than in the understated screenplay. Far from resembling a traditional script, he describes it like this: "I wasn’t concerned about narrative, I was concerned about memory. I was concerned about spaces, textures, and trusting that all of that together would interweave a narrative by itself… a cinematic narrative." Look for the Academy to reward a different film here, which won't win Picture or Director. (And you can be sure that future filmmakers will invoke Cuarón's term "cinematic narrative" when trying to pass off a lazy, meandering script as genius.) Also, points off for the movie not featuring Ricky Roma (Al Pacino's character from Glengarry Glen Ross) - seems like a missed opportunity.

So that will likely leave Green Book and The Favourite, the two Best Picture bridesmaids, to try to catch the bouquet here. They're both essentially fun movies; they both take a lighter approach to subjects that are typically treated with a heavy hand. With Green Book, Peter Farrelly's path to the Oscars was not unlike McKay's: Writer/director of silly low-brow comedies and creator of a lucrative 'brand' of humor gains critical praise when taking on a headier story based on historical events, demonstrating depth, wit, and drama. Green Book seemed to have the early edge, claiming Screenplay and Picture (Comedy) prizes at the Golden Globes along with a Writers Guild nomination. (Farrelly also made the film without his brother Bobby, a first, due to Bobby's family issues. If Green Book wins an Oscar, do you think that will come up at Thanksgiving?) But Farrelly's exclusion from (and The Favourite's surprise inclusion in) the Best Director Oscar category is telling. The Academy seems to be leaning away from Green Book. Both Green Book and The Favourite have been chided for historical inaccuracies; then again, they're not documentaries, and are ultimately more accurate than I would have believed. As screenplay categories often do, the Academy will reward the script that strives to be unique and feels brand new. While Green Book often falls back on convention (which is probably the right choice given the tightrope of subject matter and tone that it has to walk), The Favourite says to bloody hell with everything you've seen and know about British chamber pieces and serves up something that feels fresh, contemporary, and pioneering. In the end, the favorite here is… The Favourite.

The Favourite is also my personal favorite (though not by a lot). The Favourite and Green Book are both thoroughly enjoyable, but such different films. Green Book is angel food cake, The Favourite is devil's food cake. And be honest, if you could only have one, which would it be? The Favourite is a devious delight, a delicious game of one-upmanship for the trust and affections of a queen who cares more about her pet rabbits than settling Parliamentary disputes and ending wars. (The reason she does is just one of the fantastic elements of the script.) In order to draw us into its regal chess game, writers Deborah Davis and Tony McNamara surely knew that sticking to concrete facts would defeat the purpose of the film, so they didn't even try, and instead leaned into their liberties. Tawdry tales, illicit affairs, model good looks, vulgar language, and royal hysterics… can any of it be true? Who cares, when it's so much duplicitous fun?

The clear snub this year was A Quiet Place, written by Scott Beck, John Krasinski, and Bryan Woods. In fact, the entire Krasinski family got shut out this year: John for writing/directing/producing/acting in A Quiet Place, and his wife Emily Blunt for acting in Mary Poppins and A Quiet Place - all of which got plenty of attention from other awards bodies. (And let it be known that their kids didn't do anything particularly Oscar-worthy either, in my opinion.) I really thought A Quiet Place would get a screenplay nomination, for one of the most original story ideas of the year (but don't tell that to the writers of Bird Box).

BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY:

SHOULD WIN: Spike Lee, David Rabinowitz, Charlie Wachtel, Kevin Willmott (BlackkKlansman) WILL WIN: Spike Lee, David Rabinowitz, Charlie Wachtel, Kevin Willmott (BlackkKlansman) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Ernest Cline, Zak Penn (Ready Player One) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Alex Garland (Annihilation)

It's a pretty safe bet that Spike Lee will get his Oscar here, for BlackkKlansman. In my opinion, it's his best film of the decade, and probably his best film since Inside Man. With Picture and Director pretty much locked up by Alfonso Cuarón, voters will pile up their support for Lee in this category. Ultimately, voters are going to ask themselves, why SHOULDN'T I vote for Spike? Well, there are plenty of reasons why they probably WON'T vote for the other nominees…

A Star Is Born (written by Bradley Cooper, Will Fetters, and Eric Roth) would only stand a chance here if it was going to sweep all the categories, and I'm here to tell you, it won't. Is it sad when the only thing in the story that resonates with me is when Cooper's character complains about guys that don't wear socks? I nearly yelled out in the theater, "Right on, Coop!" Besides that, I spent so much time getting hung up on things that don't make any sense in the movie that I didn't get much else out of it. I could rant about any number of elements, but… man, I'm killed by the guys in Cooper's band (presumably called The Passive Diffidents). During the nonstop chaos driven by booze, irrational decisions, and petty arguments, all they ever do is stand around, without saying a word, and exchange dopey glances. Cooper keeps making drastic, last-minute changes to their live shows, going so far as to impulsively promote some random groupie as the #2 member of the band. Do they ever say, "Hey man, not to be rude or anything, but I don't know the chords to that song you just made up 10 seconds ago"? Nope. They literally have no dialogue in the movie. The only responses they can muster are sheepishly flashing semi-surprised looks, before dutifully playing their instruments. Nice to see an Oscar-nominated script with such strong characters.

Most of the hype around Can You Ever Forgive Me? has been for Melissa McCarthy, so victories in other categories are unlikely. Which is a bit of a shame - Richard E. Grant was particularly strong, and a nod for director Marielle Heller would have been a welcome surprise for handling such an odd but uncinematic story with a deft hand. While it won't get enough votes to win, it's nice to see the Screenplay nomination for Nicole Holofcener (along with Jeff Whitty); after nearly three decades on the indie film scene and behind acclaimed television shows, Holofcener is getting her due (for one of her few scripts that she didn't direct herself, as it happens). And she surprised prognosticators when this screenplay beat out BlackkKlansman for the Writers Guild Award, so that actually opens the door a crack for a shot at the Oscar.

Barry Jenkins just won a screenwriting award a couple years ago, for Moonlight, so If Beale Street Could Talk would need to be a strong Academy darling for it to claim this award. But it wasn't loved enough to get nominations for Best Picture or Best Director, so it's very improbable here. Voters will likely pour their love for the movie into Regina King's Best Supporting Actress bid.

With The Ballad Of Buster Scruggs, is it possible that the Coen Brothers got nominated for 1/5 of a movie script? Well, voters aren't going to give an Oscar for a fraction of a script, especially when the Coens have a few of these awards, for better films. They're not going to get one for a movie most of movie-going America has never heard of.

Ready Player One should have been soooooo good: exceptional book, solid casting, ample budget, 80s nostalgia, and Steven Freaking Spielberg! And the author of the book, Ernest Cline, also wrote the screenplay (along with the talented Zak Penn), which is typically a good sign - he's not going to butcher his own book… right? But somehow, the movie and the script come off as incredibly cartoonish, instead of capturing the cerebral marvel of virtual reality conjured by the book. (It probably doesn't help that Spielberg eliminated about half of the possible 1980s references by keeping out elements from his own films.) In short, the movie seems like it's trying to please every possible audience member, while the book feels like it was written directly for me. A perfect example of an aspect that comes off as generic instead of specific is the music. Contrast that with the music from my snubbed choice (and a far better cinematic experience), Alex Garland's Annihilation. Ready Player One opens with the crowd-pleaser "Panama", by Van Halen. And Annihilation features Crosby Stills and Nash's "Helplessly Hoping", a dreamy ditty from the late 60s that most viewers have never heard. I'll take Van Halen (hell yeah!) any day over CSN (snooze), but the use of "Panama" in Ready Player One is lazy and uninspired; it just feels like someone said, "What's a cool guitar-heavy 80s song that we could run over the opening credits?", without any regard for how it would complement the story. The moment is forgotten immediately. On the other hand, "Helplessly Hoping" was clearly chosen passionately and painstakingly for Annihilation. It augments the scenes in the film so well that it feels like it was actually written for the movie itself; the effect is haunting, stays with the viewer after the movie is over, and even contains additional subtext that is revealed upon repeat viewings. The difference between the films is night and day: a movie about virtual reality that feels disappointingly remote, and a movie about an unknowable phenomenon that feels refreshingly immersive.

[ryanjdonovan]

Donovan's Oscar Prognostication 2018

How bad did the Harvey Weinstein scandal get? Well, just wait until Paddington Bear comes forth with his exposé from the making of Paddington 2. (You won't be able to eat marmalade ever again.) So with Harvey out of the picture, what we can we expect at the Academy Awards this year? Read my 19th annual Oscar predictions and find out. And I promise: No Star Wars this year.

Okay, fine. Minimal Star Wars.

BEST PICTURE:

SHOULD WIN: Get Out WILL WIN: The Shape Of Water GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Beauty And The Beast

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: The Big Sick

I feel like I say this most years, but: Man, the Best Picture nominees are a bunch of bummers. How is it possible that the happiest one is Dunkirk, a movie where soldiers are getting violently killed in a seemingly hopeless situation for an hour and half?? The most "fun" thing we can hope for with this group of nominees is the wrong winner to be announced. Again. (Call me pathetic, but the Best Picture debacle at last year's ceremony was one of the best things that's ever happened to me. At least we can agree that it was way better than any of the actual movies.) Intriguingly, this category is the biggest enigma of them all. While the acting races were locked up weeks ago at the Screen Actors Guild Awards, this category is anyone's guess. Most pundits have The Shape Of Water and Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri in a dead heat, with room for Get Out, Lady Bird, or even Dunkirk to sneak in. Any "expert" who tells you they are confident in their prediction is lying. Except me. I'll confidently say that The Shape Of Water will win. Probably. I think.

Talk about a "fish story"… Writer/director Guillermo del Toro tells a tall tale (tail?) in his amazing fantasy-romance-slash-Cold-War-paranoia-thriller, The Shape Of Water. And he pulls out all the stops (as one does when making a fantasy-romance-slash-Cold-War-paranoia-thriller). In filmmaking, they say you can't have too much genre. del Toro certainly believes that; he also seems to believe you can't have too MANY genres, either. I'm not so sure I necessarily subscribe to either theory; I think there's something to be said for subtlety. But I can't deny that del Toro's approach ultimately pays off: He transports us to an alternate reality where anything is possible and everything is beautiful. And he amps up (or overturns) every conceivable element of the genres he's working in. The result is a gorgeous film and a zippy story, but also some thin characters and clunky clichés. And then, yeah, there's the element of physical love with a fish-dude. If you can get on board with that, you're probably willing to overlook everything else. For me, it all works. Bonus points to del Toro for the title - I realize it seems obtuse, without having much to do with the narrative… but anyone who's seen the film knows how well it ties into the climax. (By the way, is it me, or did the movie remind anyone else of the Kanye West "fish dicks" gag on South Park? Just me…?)

It's probably not going to win, but the best movie of the year is Get Out. It's the only movie where I immediately thought afterward, "I've gotta see that again!" The social aspect of it is sharp, novel, humorous, and accessible. But it's much more than that. I appreciate the fact that it's a horror movie that doesn't rely heavily on gore or gratuitous violence - it's more psychologically troubling than traditionally scary. The film is true to the genre without feeling tired or hackneyed. In particular, it excels at honing in on a legitimate anxiety - meeting your significant other's parents, for example - and plays it out as a terrifying worst-case-scenario. And that's just the tip of the iceberg (or the bottom of the sunken place, as it were.) It cleverly flips a few horror tropes on their heads, wink at the audience, and keep us guessing. The top-flight acting helped, of course. The only gripe: No cameo from Key?

Here's my experience watching Three Billboards in a nutshell: The movie started with Frances McDormand and I was happy, then almost immediately a knot formed in my stomach, and then the knot got worse, then worse, and worse, then there was a chuckle and a moment of relief, then the knot came back, then got agonizingly worse, then worse still, then the movie was over. Ugh. I'm generally up for a sardonic dark comedy, but this is not that; this is revenge porn. Here's what gets me (and I'll speak vaguely so as not to spoil plot points): It's clear (but curiously not really explored) that most of the characters in the fictional (thank god!) town of Ebbing are truly angry with themselves. But they choose to externalize everything (because it's a movie, I guess) and take it out on everyone within arm's reach - even their dearest loved ones. And instead of doing anything constructive or graceful or self-analytical, they make every destructive decision possible. It's like… instead of cutting off your nose to spite your face, you're cutting off the noses of a bunch of other people to spite their faces (or in this case, burning the nose on the face of another person), welcoming the fact that they're going cut off your nose in return… and your ears and eyes (plus the noses of some other people for good measure), so you wind up spiting your face anyway, and you've just pissed off a lot of people and refuse to admit that what you really wanted to do all along was cut off your own nose and spite your own face, so in the end you're left with a bunch of nose-less people who spite each other when they should be simply spiting themselves. (Sorry, this seemed like a good metaphor at one point, but it's quite gone off the rails.) What I'm trying to say is that the film might be a little more palatable if the characters were more… introspective. But as you can tell by the near-unanimous glowing reviews, almost nobody agrees with me. I just can't in good conscience predict this as the Best Picture winner. And the capper for me is the fact that it's not nominated for Best Director, and in 89 years, only 4 films in that situation have taken home the big prize. (Talk Argo all you want, I just don't see it happening again so soon.)

I love Dunkirk… but I WANT to love it more than I actually do. There's so much to admire: the realism, the palpable anxiety and claustrophobia, the exhausting sequences, the scope and precision of the cinematography, the tense score, and most of all, the legitimate feeling of being there - you can practically feel the salt in the air. I'm also impressed by the judicious use of dialogue - it's architected much like a silent film, which really adds to the sense of disorientation. Then there are the handful of things I don't exactly love about it. The storytelling: While I'm usually on board with Christopher Nolan's non-linear timelines, his approach to this seems unnecessary and makes it a little less accessible for me (though I understand why he plots the three stories in the way he did); storytelling is often his strongest suit, but this film tellingly didn't get nominating for Best Screenplay. Tom Hardy's flight mask: "I'm sorry Bane, could you speak up?" And Harry Styles: Enough said. All in all, it's fantastic, but it's not my favorite Nolan film. So when it doesn't win, I won't be too heartbroken.

I'm not quite sure how to feel about Lady Bird. It certainly feels personal, but not terribly personal to me. Surprise, surprise, based on misrepresentative marketing, I expected it to be more quirky-fun than quirky-sour. Even moments that play humorously in the trailer play more mutedly in the film. And I think that's fully intentional on the part of writer/director Greta Gerwig - she clearly has a vision, and it's not intended to give me warm-fuzzies. It's supposed to be bittersweet, sure; but in her story about a teenager breaching adulthood, bitterness is the overwhelming feeling while it's happening - the sweetness is only really in hindsight. That's fine, but if I’m going to go along for the movie version of it, I'd like it to be a little more… entertaining.

BEST ACTOR:

SHOULD WIN: Gary Oldman (Darkest Hour) WILL WIN: Gary Oldman (Darkest Hour) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Hugh Jackman (The Greatest Showman)

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Hugh Jackman (Logan)

This seemed inevitable, didn't it? After years (decades!) of chameleonic performances (and one measly nomination to show for it), Gary Oldman has finally found a role that is a slam dunk for an Oscar, in Darkest Hour. He's so overdue that ordinarily insurmountable obstacles are being rendered inconsequential: Daniel Day-Lewis is also in the race (he's usually - and correctly - the presumptive favorite when he decides to actually make a movie); Winston Churchill is a character that's been played ad nauseum (many revered actors have already portrayed him in award-winning performances, most recently Emmy recipient John Lithgow in The Crown); there's a young up-and-coming nominee grabbing a lot of attention for a star-making performance (though if you ask me, "Timothée Chalamet" sounds more like a vegan bistro in the French Alps than a person - I still can't believe he's American). While it's hard to believe that Oldman has never won an Academy Award, it's even harder to believe that after he wins this year, he'll STILL merely have the same Oscar resume as Casey "I'm not presenting at the ceremony this year because yeah maybe the allegations are true" Affleck.

Phantom Thread is rumored to be famously always-in-character Daniel Day-Lewis's last film ("Thank god!" his beleaguered wife is probably saying). And he's not going to score a record-breaking 4th Oscar for it. Most of his other roles are completely transformative, but in this film he just looks and sounds like… Daniel Day-Lewis. Maybe he should have gone out on top, after Lincoln. Then again, without Day-Lewis's nomination, we'd have to deal with James Franco in this category. So thanks, Daniel, for doing us a solid.

So without Day-Lewis hogging the top roles and collecting accolades for every film he makes, there will be a void in the cinematic landscape. Who should fill it? The mantle should be picked up by preferably a fellow Brit, I suppose, one whose career is just starting, but could be a top talent for years to come. Might I suggest… Daniel Day-Kaluuya? (There's nothing precluding him from changing his middle name to "Day-", is there?) And after arriving in Get Out, Daniel Kaluuya isn't going anywhere.

At this point, what else can be said about Denzel Washington? With Roman J. Israel, Esq., it's another year, and another iconic role. He'll get a 3rd Oscar at some point, but this won't be it.

Hugh Jackman managed to win both my Omitted and Snubbed awards in the same year. A dubious honor indeed. Congratulations, good sir!

BEST ACTRESS:

SHOULD WIN: Frances McDormand (Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri) WILL WIN: Frances McDormand (Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Emma Watson (The Circle / Beauty And The Beast)

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Zoe Kazan (The Big Sick)

Not much to debate here: Frances McDormand is (rightfully) running away in this race, for her role as a vengeful, grieving mother in Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri. In a word, she's a force. McDormand is a commanding actress, and you're willing to go along with her, even when you don't want to, even when you're practically yelling at her in opposition… and if you're not willing, by god, she's going to demand it. Her character is unflinching (except for a few fleeting moments of doubt or empathy), so blinded by sorrow that her only outlet is measured anger, resulting in increasingly calculated and unfocused revenge. The toll of her daughter's rape and unsolved murder has left her so corroded that she literally doesn't care about anyone else, much less herself. She's a stubborn, ornery cuss who's decided to use a sledgehammer on a nail, full well knowing it's going to break a couple of her fingers and really jack up the drywall, because a hammer isn't her style, and goddam it, she's going to drive that nail no matter what. It's a rare performance, one that instantly became the front-runner when it debuted to audiences. In real life, she comes off as awesome, impressive, intimidating, and of course, a total kook. At all the award shows, I've never seen someone look so put-out and irritated to be honored for their work. (Ditto her husband Joel Coen.) The only reason McDormand will lose some votes is because she's already won once (in 1997 for the magnificent Fargo), and a few voters may prefer someone who's been nominated before but never won. Which brings us to…

Saoirse. I dare you to pronounce her name correctly - I dare you! She's only 23, and somehow Saoirse Ronan is already on her third Oscar nomination, for Lady Bird. (Only Jennifer Lawrence has scored 3 noms at a younger age.) It's hard to claim that someone that young is due for a victory, but after she falls short this year, people will be saying that about her. (Except Amy Adams, who will be saying, "Get in line, B.") She's probably the second choice in this race for a lot of people, so some may vote for her to try to spread the gold around a little.

As good as Ronan was, the true runner-up in my book is Sally Hawkins, for The Shape Of Water. In fact, in a lot of other years she'd be my top choice. (And she was my top choice for Supporting Actress in 2015 for Blue Jasmine.) The Shape Of Water is a dazzling (if polarizing) film, and Hawkins is the lynchpin to the entire operation. If you're not willing to go along with her for the ride in the first half of the film (and that first scene in particular, where she, um, takes matters into her own hands), the second half is a total waste of time. It's a tall order (falling in love with a giant fish!), and she pulls it off remarkably. Even when the scenes get uncomfortable, unappealing, or flat-out anatomically impossible, she keeps the audience harnessed and invested. Her character seems invisible (or more literally, silent) to the world, but that masks her true self: assertive, calculating, willful, and sexually aggressive. In a film full of (intentionally, effectively) over-the-top characters and inconceivable happenstance, she manages to ground the film with her underplayed yet emboldened performance. She provides what the film needs most: the reassurance that it's okay to believe in fairy tales.

Are we sure Margot Robbie isn't Jaime Pressly? Frankly, Pressly would have been a more believable choice to play Tonya Harding. On second thought, are we sure Jaime Pressly ISN'T Tonya Harding? While a win would be surprising, it wouldn't be more surprising than Robbie's path to the nomination. If you told anyone a couple years ago that the annoyingly-accented wife in The Wolf Of Wall Street would get nominated for an Oscar for playing Tonya Harding, they would have said you were crazier than… Tonya Harding.

And finally… Let's face it, at this point Meryl Streep is just here for the appetizers.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR:

SHOULD WIN: Sam Rockwell (Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri) WILL WIN: Sam Rockwell (Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Harrison Ford (Blade Runner 2049)

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Patrick Stewart (Logan)

The only guy in this race without a previous nomination is the one who's clearly going to win it: Sam Rockwell. It's hard to root for a portrayal of such a wretched human being, but it hasn't stopped voters so far: Rockwell has won every significant award leading up to the Oscars, for his vile role in Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri. While he's great in this film (I don't think anyone else here is more deserving), he has the benefit of having a huge amount of screen time for a "supporting" role. But whether he wins the Oscar or not, this is still The Frances McDormand Show.

Christopher Plummer has a chance to break his own record for the oldest Oscar winner for acting, at the ripe young age of 88, for his role as J. Paul Getty in All The Money In The World. (He previously won at 82 for Beginners. And this year's nomination makes him the oldest nominee ever for acting.) Though he had a little help: This nomination is as much for director Ridley Scott (and his cojones) and his decision to excise frequent creep and occasional pedophile Kevin Spacey from the film. Nothing against Plummer, but I can't help but feel like the Academy would have nominated ANYBODY in the role, just to give Spacey the middle finger. Eric Roberts as J. Paul Getty? Sure! Give 'em an Oscar nomination! (Actually, the more I think about Eric Roberts as Getty, the awesomer it sounds.)

Woody Harrelson and Willem Dafoe are interesting inclusions in this race. They both became famous in the 80s for oddly iconic roles (Harrelson as a hayseed bartender, Dafoe as none other than Jesus Christ), have been incredibly prolific since then, have been somewhat typecast (as goofy and creepy, respectively), aren't generally considered "prestige role" actors, and somehow manage to pop up in the Oscar race once in a blue moon. This is the third nomination for each (Harrelson for Three Billboards and Dafoe for The Florida Project), and neither has a particularly strong chance of winning (again). The roles that manage to mix their strengths with something unexpected (and happen to be in critically acclaimed movies) seem to yield the magical golden formula. Though honestly, I'm not sure I'm on board with Harrelson's nomination this year, in this fairly tiny role, especially in light of the other fantastic actors that were passed over (to name a few: Rob Morgan in Mudbound, Bradley Whitford in Get Out, Ray Romano in The Big Sick, Mark Rylance in Dunkirk, Stephen Henderson in Lady Bird, and one more that I'll get to in a minute). He got a big boost from his dynamic chemistry with McDormand, which the film could have used a lot more of. I guess we'll wait and see Harrelson and Dafoe bring to the Oscar table next time, in 10 or 15 years.

Richard Jenkins is actually another guy you don't necessarily expect to show up here, probably because he's strictly considered a character actor, is mostly thought of as the straight man in lowbrow comedies, and wasn't really on the radar until he was in his 50s. He was able to channel those everyman characteristics into the figurative heart (and literal voice) of The Shape Of Water. While this role will forever be a highlight of his career, I'll always remember him for one of the funniest lines from There's Something About Mary: "Highway rest areas, they’re the bath houses of the 90s."

The guy I REALLY wanted to see nominated here was Patrick Stewart, for playing a world famous mutant octogenarian ("Actually, I'm a nonagenarian!"). In Logan, Stewart has an absolute blast as an ancient, senile, powerful X-Man - easily his best Professor X role. In fact, It's one of his best roles, period. He had a realistic shot at an Oscar nomination, raking in a bunch of film critic nominations this year. Unbelievably, it would have been the first Academy Award nom of his career. (A 50-year veteran of TV, stage, and screen, with an incomparable Shakespearean pedigree and a trademark commanding, aristocratic voice, he's scored nominations for just about every other kind of award there is, except the Nobel - and I bet he'll have a shot at that one at some point.) But alas. I guess we'll just have to wait for him to top this in his next role, hopefully as a world famous mutant centenarian.

I really, really want to, but I just can't even with Harrison Ford anymore. (Am I using that right, "just can't even"?)

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS:

SHOULD WIN: Allison Janney (I, Tonya) WILL WIN: Allison Janney (I, Tonya) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Allison Williams (Get Out)

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Catherine Keener (Get Out)

America may be divided right now, but that's nothing compared to the delicious divisiveness in this category. Never has a fiery chasm between two sworn enemies been so vast and irreparable as it is between Allison Janney and Laurie Metcalf. As everyone knows, they completely hate each other (that's not true, but let's pretend). Their mutual disdain has reached dizzying heights over the past few decades, having competed head-to-head on every smart, wisecracking, mother-figure role that's been cast for TV, cinema, and stage. So before debating the merits of their work (Janney in I, Tonya; Metcalf in Lady Bird), let's indulge in the depth of their bilious feud. Imagine the petty stakes between these two vindictive and venomous veterans (both playing opinionated doyennes whose daughters don't appreciate them): The victor will not only gain pride and satisfaction knowing the soul of the other has been crushed, but will become the clear first choice for every mouthy, meddling matriarch role that comes along for the next dozen or so years. Parallels between them abound: They're close in age, both rose to prominence in long-running critically-acclaimed network TV shows, both have extensive theater backgrounds (Janney has 2 Tony nominations; Metcalf has 4 noms and 1 win), both are award-circuit darlings at the Emmys (Janney: 13 nominations and 7 wins; Metcalf: 10 nominations and 3 wins) and Golden Globes (Janney: 6 nominations and 1 win; Metcalf: 3 nominations). However, the parallel they care about the most? Neither had an Oscar nomination until this year. And they would kill each other (I mean, 'pretend' kill each other) to take home the statuette, preferably while watching the other crumple in agonizing disappointment in the rear view mirror.

So who will emerge victorious, clutching the coveted prize with a heel firmly planted in the loser's windpipe? It's not a sure thing, but all the major precursor awards indicate that it will be Janney. She's a go-to for a lot of prestige films and has been a fixture in Oscar-bait for 20 years, so voters are probably astonished that she's never achieved a nomination before; she simply SEEMS like she's due for an Oscar. Metcalf, on the other hand, doesn't appear in films regularly (and Scream 2 didn't exactly wow the Academy), so voters may feel that her nomination is recognition enough. But a bigger factor will be the showier role: Janney hams it up as a downright diabolical eccentric, while Metcalf plays it straighter as a realistically concerned everywoman. (Ironically, Janney is the one playing a real-life person.) The clincher? The bird on the shoulder. For my pick, it's probably a coin-toss; while I’m ultimately picking Janney, I'm actually rooting for Metcalf. I've gotta be a homer, cheering on the local theater legend (she's a charter member of Chicago's Steppenwolf Theatre). It helps that Metcalf's husband in Lady Bird is played by Tracy Letts, another Chicago stalwart, Steppenwolf player, and Pulitzer Prize winner to boot. (And one more Lady Bird Chicago reference: The driving instructor is played by - hey! - a guy I saw in a Second City beginner class show about 15 years ago.)

There are, of course, other nominees in this category. Octavia Spencer is great as usual in The Shape Of Water, but she's been more impressive in other roles. Mary J. Blige is a pleasant revelation in Mudbound, but I'm not sure her performance is the one I would single out from that film; Rob Morgan, Jason Mitchell, and Carey Mulligan are all just as worthy. (Blige may take home an Oscar regardless - she's also nominated for Best Song from the film.) And Lesley Manville… well, she's also nominated. If any of these women somehow pull an upset and win, then the feud between Janney and Metcalf may finally be put on hold momentarily… so they can team up and bludgeon the winner.

BEST DIRECTOR:

SHOULD WIN: Christopher Nolan (Dunkirk) WILL WIN: Guillermo del Toro (The Shape of Water) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Martin McDonagh (Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri)

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Denis Villeneuve (Blade Runner 2049)

After a career of making fantastical cinematic spectacles, Guillermo del Toro is finally getting his due, with The Shape Of Water. It's a story only he could tell, and a story only he WOULD tell. He has a unique talent (among his many) to embrace the things that others would ordinarily ignore or discard. With his point of view, you almost get a sense of kinship, like he feels obligated to tell the (fictional) story as if it was about someone he loved. He unleashes a geyser of big ideas both real and implied, not the least of which is his love of movies. (In a lot of ways, I think this film is his love letter to cinema - where his masterful Pan's Labyrinth could be called a love letter to fairy tales - and all the things that made him want to be a filmmaker.) He likes his symbolism heavy, his production design opulent, his creatures extraordinary, and his protagonists… well, miserable. He works his themes into every scene and every aspect of the film experience: what it means to be whole, to be different, to be silent, and to make sound. And so del Toro will win Best Director, and it will be well deserved. When he wins, it'll be the 4th time in 5 years that this prize goes to a Mexican director (after Cuarón and Alejandro Iñárritu - twice); in fact, the only American-born director to win in the past 7 years was last year's Damien Chazelle for La La Land. (On a side note, speaking of foreign directors, the more of del Toro's films I see, the more he reminds me of Pedro Almodóvar. They seem to share many of the same sensibilities: strong, decisive women, sympathy for what others consider grotesque, a fun-house mirror reflection of the world, a matter-of-factness and tenderness with which they present the outlandish. Most of all, they dare you to believe when everything else tells you not to.)

In my head, I know this is true, but I'm still trying to fathom it: This is the first Best Director nomination for Christopher Nolan (for Dunkirk). After seeing Memento 19 years ago, I assumed by this time he'd have WON at least half a dozen Oscars for Directing and Writing. (I'm still pained by the Memento and Inception snubs.) When Dunkirk stormed into theaters last summer, victory seemed inevitable. But then erosion over time and a visionary fish story knocked him off the podium. So while he won't win, he's still hands-down my pick for Director this year. And let's be honest, my personal endorsement beats a clunky golden bookend any day.

The rest of the nominees are somewhat surprising, for different reasons. Comedian Jordan Peele shocked everyone (in more ways than one) with his horror/satire Get Out, as a first-time director. Similarly, prolific indie darling Greta Gerwig snuck up on Hollywood with her debut, Lady Bird. Both filmmakers clearly collaborate well with actors (both being primarily performers themselves). They are also undoubtedly self-assured, and not unnecessarily showy - they use the camera to tell the story without drawing much attention to the camera itself. While Peele manages to find laughs in the least likely of places, Gerwig reminds us that there is humor (and seriousness and sadness) in just about all places - it all depends on your perspective. The last nominee is Paul Thomas Anderson, for The Phantom Thread - the only one in the category with a previous Directing nomination. He was an afterthought during the entire awards season, and somehow squeezed in instead of folks like Steven Spielberg, Martin McDonagh, Dee Rees, Luca Guadagnino, Patty Jenkins, Ridley Scott, and Joe Wright. He should probably write Daniel Day-Lewis a nice thank-you note for this one.

Aside from Nolan, the person I most wanted to see get nominated was Denis Villeneuve, for Blade Runner 2049. His film is a luscious, consuming, worthy follow-up to the original Blade Runner. The visuals are both consistent with the original and refreshingly contemporary. Each scene isn't directed, it's composed. (Also credit the cinematographer: Roger Deakins is nominated for his 14th time, and he's astoundingly never won.) It's a slow burn, and complements the first film surprisingly well, expanding the story in an organic but unexpected way. And it's every bit as haunting as the first one. A lot of people were spooked by its nearly-three-hour running time, but the length feels earned. I can't say it doesn’t feel long, because it does, but it's enjoyably long (unlike The Lord Of The Rings or, ahem, The Last Jedi). You want to spend time in every scene. You want a master to take his time. Now, give this master the keys to the Star Wars franchise!

Don't feel too bad for Martin McDonagh for being passed over for Best Director for Three Billboards. He's actually already got an Oscar - for Best Short Film in 2006 for a film called Six Shooter. Gee, I wonder if there's any uncomfortable violence in a movie with that name?

BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY:

SHOULD WIN: Jordan Peele (Get Out) WILL WIN: Jordan Peele (Get Out) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Rian Johnson (Star Wars: The Last Jedi)

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Steven Rogers (I, Tonya)

What to make of the Original Screenplay category? It's just as befuddling as the Best Picture race. Get Out and Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri are neck and neck, with Lady Bird also in position for a possible steal. Usually the lead-up awards give an indication, but confoundingly, the script that won the Writers Guild Award (Get Out) wasn't even nominated for the Golden Globe. And the Golden Globe winner (Three Billboards) wasn't nominated for the WGA. (Though that's deceiving: Three Billboards was not eligible for the WGA because it didn't conform to all the Writers Guild standards; its omission probably won't impact its Oscar chances.) Who in the world will sort out this madness and provide a beacon of hope?? Thank goodness I'm here. Most people will tell you that Three Billboards will win. Most people are idiots. In an upset, it will be Get Out.

I also happen to think Get Out (by Jordan Peele) is the most deserving entry in this category. And frankly, this is the film's best shot at taking home a trophy. Despite all the buzz, it's still hard for people to believe that it's written by one of the minds behind the Key & Peele sketches, because the show wasn't exactly known for, you know, mind-bending horror-thrills. But it's not surprising that he brings a unique sense of humor and satire (not to mention social commentary) to it that, say, Eli Roth wouldn't. It's clear from his script that he has the point of view of someone who loves, and is probably a little tired of, horror movies. It's a sign of a clever and air-tight script that the film demands multiple viewings, and that the set-ups play and pay off in a completely different yet satisfying way the second time around.

I'm fairly conflicted about Martin McDonagh's screenplay for Three Billboards. While the film was grueling, I have to say, the man can write scenes. His background is in theater, and it shows. The screenplay stands apart in its excellent execution (pun sort-of intended), regardless of your opinion of the ending or the tone. He clearly understands that EVERY SINGLE SCENE in a drama should be all dramatic conflict and nothing else. It's a great example for novice screenwriters (and even some experienced ones). The scene starts when the conflict starts, and ends when the conflict ends… or often even before that. (And notice I said when the conflict "ends", not when the conflict "resolves"; the conflict "resolves" when the movie is over.) McDonagh even pulls this off when it's just Frances McDormand talking to a wandering deer, or alone imagining a conversation between her bunny slippers. As for theme? I'm not so sure I can commend him as much on that one. Thematic elements are obviously up to interpretation by the audience (that's kind of the point), but I don't really know what to take away from this. I have a few suspicions of what McDonagh was trying to say, but they're either muddy (to which he'd respond, "Good!") or they're enraging (to which he'd probably also respond, "Good!") or they're irredeemably charred, dredged from the depths of a soulless abyss (and frankly, I think he'd be okay with that as well).

Kumail Nanjiani and Emily V. Gordon's screenplay for The Big Sick is my second-favorite this year behind Get Out, so I was thrilled to see it get a nomination here. (I would have liked to see it get a Best Picture nod too, but I'll get over it.) This kind of film seems to be my style (these days, anyway, as I get older) - at least how to make tragedy palatable: with a healthy blend of humor. (50/50 is another recent example.) Maybe that means I've gotten soft, that I like my drama safe and my comedy harmless. Or maybe I just don't want to feel like I've been drinking warm sewage for two hours at the end of a movie.

I'll be honest, I didn't have a strong personal connection with Lady Bird, so I didn't come away with much from it. The screenplay feels true, and seems to be trying to say something without shouting a message, which I can appreciate. I probably see the film more from the parent's perspective than the teenager's perspective. So to me, it basically says that children never really know how much their parents love them, in part because parents aren't really able to articulate it in a way that children (especially teenagers) can truly understand. And frankly, it also says that children are eternally ungrateful to their parents… except when they make unexpected declarations at the end of Hollywood movies. Little brats.

Though it's got a strong shot to win two of the biggest awards, The Shape Of Water won't be a factor here. Of all its wonders, its screenplay is considered the least dazzling. It's meant to feel like a film from 50 years ago, so the screenplay is intentionally structured in a fairly simple way, with several one-dimensional characters and straightforward dialogue. It's a fable, really, so it's executed as such. It's got some significant plot holes (but in light of the fact that it's a "dating a fish" story, they're pretty minor), the creature gets very little backstory (which is just as well - any attempt to explain it would demystify the story and be a flat waste of time), and the lessons are heavy-handed. Everybody (good, evil, or otherwise) is "less than whole" in some way, whether it's in how they perceive themselves, or in how they are perceived by others. The one that can make them whole (physically or metaphorically) is the one who fits in the least: the fish-man, the proverbial "missing link". (Except for the poor cat. The fish-man makes the cat… decidedly less than whole.)

No, that's not a typo. I put Star Wars: The Last Jedi as my Gloriously Omitted choice. What was wrong with the Canto Bight detour? Well, how much time do you have? I could rant about it for 30 minutes, the same amount of time squandered on that throwaway sequence. What a waste of time. As for the rest of the screenplay… mostly, as a fan of Rian Johnson's other work (like Looper), I expected… more. I really thought he'd have something cool up his sleeve, whether it was a twist or an unexpected structure. New "magical" Force tricks didn't really cut it for me. Filmmaker Werner Herzog once said, "Manoeuvre and mislead, but always deliver." Johnson forgot to heed the second half of that advice. (I am willing, however, to give Johnson extra credit for his Hardware Wars reference - an Easter Egg intended for probably only 1% of even the biggest Start Wars fans.)

BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY:

SHOULD WIN: James Ivory (Call Me By Your Name) WILL WIN: James Ivory (Call Me By Your Name) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Stephen Chbosky, Evan Spiliotopoulos (Beauty And The Beast)

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Hampton Fancher, Michael Green (Blade Runner 2049)

The Adapted category takes a bit of a back seat to its Original counterpart this year. Only one of the nominees is in contention for Best Picture (as opposed to all 5 in the Original category), and none of the nominees got a Best Director nod (compared to 3 in the other category). The result is a somewhat surprising and unconventional (if arguably weaker) crop of nominees.

As the only Best Picture nominee and the winner of the Writers Guild Award, Call Me By Your Name is the clear front-runner. It's also the sentimental favorite: It's written by 89-year-old James Ivory (he of the esteemed Merchant-Ivory brand), who's been nominated for 3 previous Oscars but has never won. It would make him the oldest non-honorary winner ever. The films of Merchant-Ivory Productions, a period-piece powerhouse in the 80s and 90s, have achieved 6 Oscar wins and countless nominations (like A Room With A View, Howard's End, The Remains Of The Day, and a bunch of other films you've heard are good but have never seen… you heathen), typically directed by Ivory, and produced by Ismail Merchant. (The Wikipedia description of the company is both accurate and hilarious: "A typical 'Merchant-Ivory film' would be a period piece set in the early 20th century, usually in Edwardian England, featuring lavish sets and top British actors portraying genteel characters who suffer from disillusionment and tragic entanglements.") Merchant died in 2005, and Ivory has been mostly inactive since then. So a win here would be seen by many admiring voters as a fitting coda for one of the underappreciated auteurs of his generation.

I was thisclose to calling Logan my Should Win. For those of you who are not paying attention (or who are not as dorky as I am), it's another X-Men movie (astonishingly, the 10th in the franchise). Logan is Wolverine. Wolverine is Hugh Jackman. Hugh Jackman is… if you don't know, I guess I can't help you. The writers (including director James Mangold) took a risk and made a gritty, nihilistic, R-rated version of a comic book (yeah, it's a Marvel superhero movie - relax), and it paid off. The result is perhaps the best X-Men film yet, one that is faithful and irreverent at the same time, and feels more like a drama than a comic flick. It's redefined what's possible with these kind of films. Expect it a usher in a new era of superhero movies. (Except for D.C. You guys keep making absurd Batmans Vs. Supermans. Morons.)

Mudbound incorporates all the fun elements of a classic feel-good movie: Alcoholism, rape, miscarriage, murder, racism, hardship, violent war death, familial strife, affairs, incest, extreme PTSD, unexpected pregnancies, broken limbs, filth, domestic abuse, fist fights, flooding, loveless marriage, abject poverty, childhood illness, grave digging, animal slaughter, mutilation… and that's all before the KKK shows up! I'm not quite sure what to say about Mudbound, as a film overall, or as a screenplay nominee. To call the film "challenging" is an understatement. As an experience, it's downright punishing. It's also extraordinarily beautiful, especially considering the dismal, impoverished environment in which the film is set. Cinematography (by Rachel Morrison) is probably its most deserving nomination, and it may well beat out several renown DPs in that category. I'm impressed by the screenplay (by Dee Rees and Virgil Williams), even if I don't have the stomach for its subject matter. It's unflinching and elegiac, haunting and inspiring. It features dialogue and narration (which is usually a strike against in my book) that is poetic and mollifying. But unfortunately, it also features about 2 hours of misery and only about 10 seconds of happiness.

As you've probably heard by now, The Disaster Artist is the (realistic?) portrayal of the making of reputedly the worst movie of all time, The Room. I’m pretty sure James Franco, on the heels of his Golden Globe victory, was expecting 3 Oscar nominations for his triple-threat work on the film: Actor, Director, and Best Picture. But, poor chap, the one he ended up with was the one he doesn't actually get credit for: Screenplay. (It was written by Scott Neustadter and Michael H. Weber, the writing team behind seemingly every annoying, angsty teen coming-of-age movie from the past 5 years.) I can't decide if The Disaster Artist's endeavor is genius or crazy or simply overindulgent. (Franco himself is usually categorized as all three.) I mean, the original movie is not good. And it's not bad in an awesome way, either, despite its reputation to the contrary. If it hadn't become a cult classic among an influential clique of comedians and actors (i.e., Franco's pals - many of whom have small parts in the film), nobody would pay it a second's attention, the behind-the-scenes book would be a footnote, and this film would never have reason to exist. But it does. And now - good god - The Room is actually an Oscar nominee. I guess there's hope for us all.

[ryanjdonovan]

Donovan's Oscar Prognostication 2017

What can we expect at the Oscars this year?  I'm going to go out on a limb and say that you can expect a lot of sociopolitical commentary from underqualified celebrities.  If you want to know what else to expect (like who will win), read on for my 18th annual Oscar predictions.  

BEST PICTURE:

SHOULD WIN:  Hell Or High Water WILL WIN:  La La Land GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Sully INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  The Nice Guys

Do I think La La Land SHOULD win Best Picture?  Let me put it this way: It's a movie about idiots chasing idiot dreams for idiot reasons with idiot excuses, spending time with other like-minded idiots.  If I ran the marketing campaign, my tagline on the poster would be: "Everybody has dreams.  Nobody achieves them.  Grow up." I think the audience's opinions of the characters in the film can be categorized into 3 groups:  1) Struggling actors or musicians, who are gushing, "These people capture EXACTLY why I want to be an actor/musician, including all the passion and heartbreak!"  2) Actors or musicians who have actually made it, who are thinking, "These people are morons."  3) Adults with real responsibilities, who are like, "Are you f---ing kidding me with these people?"  I couldn't help but think of Judge Smails: "Well, the world needs ditch-diggers too."  Let's just say, I'm clearly not the target audience.  If you want a movie with a similar theme, stronger chemistry, and frankly, better music, watch 500 Days Of Summer.  So, the more appropriate question: Do I think La La Land WILL win Best Picture?  Almost undoubtedly.  Hollywood is practically falling all over itself to congratulate this film… which is, of course, essentially congratulating itself.  The fact that it tied the record for most Oscar nominations ever (14!) is absurd and obscene.  Between the critical praise, huge box office take, cleaning up precursor awards, and being one of the few nominees that's not cripplingly depressing, it's a pretty safe bet to win the big prize.  (Incidentally, the biggest question of all after seeing the film was: How old is Tom Everett Scott??)

Most people will tell you that there are two films with a (small) chance to knock out La La Land for Best Picture: Moonlight and Manchester By The Sea.  This is not true.  There is a film with a chance to pull an upset, but it's the underdog about underdogs: Hidden Figures.  How could this happen?  For starters, La La Land wasn't nominated for a Screen Actors Guild Best Cast award, and only one other film in that situation has ever gone on to win the Oscar for Best Picture (Braveheart, in 1995) - so history is not on its side.  And when there IS an upset for Best Picture, it's often the SAG Cast award that portends it (remember Spotlight, Crash, or Shakespeare In Love?).  And this year's SAG Cast winner?  Hidden Figures.  (On the other hand, the SAG Cast winner only goes on to win the Oscar about half the time.)  Most importantly, Hidden Figures is gaining steam at the right time: It's been universally praised by reviewers and audiences, it's the highest grossing of all the nominees, and it's a triumphant, crowd-pleasing story that stands out against most of the other films which are, put simply, huge bummers.  Detractors argue that it's a little predictable and safe, leans heavily on social context, borrows too liberally from the Apollo 13 playbook, and doesn't have a whole lot of bite to it.  But given the harshness of the competition, these may not be such negative things.  It's not a bad time for a feel-good, heroic, unifying, patriotic, adversity-conquering, well-crafted story based on true events.  It may just be enough to steal the Oscar.    

The most fashionable upset pick by the pundits is Moonlight.  In my opinion, it's a strong film, but it's too enigmatic to be a serious threat for Best Picture (I think it will have to settle for an Acting award and a Screenplay award).  It's an existential puzzle box - it poses a lot of questions, but doesn't necessarily answer many.  It gives us a sense of the main character, a hint, but leaves a lot up to possibility.  It ultimately leaves us wanting more - which is not necessarily a bad thing, but it doesn't help if we are looking for a sense of closure or finality to the story.  (It also doesn't help that the main boy in the story endures more horrible things than any child ever should.)  The main question the film poses to the boy (and to everyone) is: What makes a person who they are?  And beyond that, it asks: Is a person a product of their environment?  Their relationships?  What they say?  What they don't say?  Their actions?  If it's none of these things (or all of these things), then how is a person supposed to know who they truly are?  Is it one thing, or many things?  Does it evolve, or do they always have one constant true self?  Is it even possible to know?  Moonlight presents us with a main character who's trying to answer all these questions, but doesn't say much at all.  It's an interesting choice, and a maddening one.  We get a sense that maybe at the end he finally knows the answers to the questions, but he's not about to tell us.  (And if YOU can answer any of these big questions, then congratulations, you've solved humanity.)

The other film favored by a few critics is Manchester By The Sea - the one where the filmmaker decided, "I'm going to make a movie about the most depressing family ever."  While it's competent and convincingly acted, it's hard to get real enjoyment out of it. ��There are some moments of lightness and humor (which are dearly welcome), but it basically starts with melancholy, takes a couple dips, takes a huge dive in the middle, and then only mildly recovers.  What makes it worse is that you expect that the story will go in a fulfilling direction, but it never does.  There's a certain sense of 'Jeeezus, what now?' throughout the movie.  At a certain point, it's like, Are there any more terrible things that could possibly happen to this family?  Do they have a dog that will get mutilated by a coyote or something?  The 'Life is messy' rationale in movies only goes so far with me.  And more than that, I think there are a few cases where the script is overly-manipulative, and doesn't feel true to the story.  Ultimately, I came away thinking: I bet the town would be gorgeous if it wasn't in a Kenneth Lonergan movie, and apparently "F-ck you" is how you say "I'm so sorry for your loss" in Massachusetts.

My personal choice for Best Picture would be Hell Or High Water, the modern Western that came out of nowhere.  Most of the film's critical praise is for taking a tired, hackneyed genre and invigorating it in a slick new way.  I fully agree, but I'd take it a couple steps further.  It makes what is ostensibly a farcical adventure of epically bad decision-making seem sympathetic and understandable, if not downright inevitable.  Bottom line, it's a fun ride: good old-fashioned cops and robbers, where the bad guys are good and the good guys are interesting.  I'll get more into this film, and my other favorite, Arrival, in the other categories.  

Shane Black has mastered a lot of things, first as a screenwriter, now as a director: seedy faux-glam noir, slick one-liners, overconfident buffoons, the LA crime caper, idiot heroes and the straight players who balance them out, and most of all, fun movies.  His type of humor is literally one of the reasons why I watch movies.  In a perfect world, the release of each of his new movies would be a highly-anticipated event.  (We can probably leave Iron Man 3 out of this conversation; while it was a solid action pic and had some of Black's signature irreverence, it was squarely a studio-machine product, not an auteur piece.)  Unfortunately, Black has somehow been relegated to being an afterthought compared to mainstream Hollywood.  He's not a guy that fits the mainstream studio mold, he's too offbeat and puckish for mega-hits, and he's too "big idea" for the indie world.  In my aforementioned perfect world, Black's film The Nice Guys would have been nominated for Best Picture (among other categories).  The excellent comedy about a pair of mismatched, bumbling, low-rent private investigators tweaks convention, stereotypes, and tropes.  It generally eschews sentimentality, except for a few key moments (that feel earned).  Unfortunately, it got clobbered at the Box Office.  Maybe Black can boost his career by trimming budgets; The Nice Guys was a pricy $50 million, but it probably didn't have to cost that much.  (On the other hand, would it have been nearly as good for $2 million starring Mark Duplass and Jake Johnson?  Definitely not.)  So what can we expect the reception to be for his upcoming Predator film?  In this imperfect world, probably indifference.

Surprised not to see Star Wars in my Best Picture conversation?  Oh, just wait.  I was sooooo tempted.  I kept it confined to the Adapted Screenplay category, since it was such a surprisingly strong story.  But don't worry, there's going to be a new Star Wars movie literally every year for the rest of eternity, so I'm sure it will make it back into this category in future articles.  

For my Gloriously Omitted choice, I've gotta pick on Sully, Clint Eastwood's latest.  Eastwood is operating at a level where every film he releases in the fall gets serious Oscar consideration.  Sully is no exception, but it turned out to be a bit of a clunker, story-wise.  It's thrilling, to be sure, but it simply isn't enough to carry a complete movie (especially considering the real 'Miracle on the Hudson' events just took place a mere 8 years ago).  It should have been a 1-hour TV special (even allowing for 15 minutes of commercials).  An attempt at a narrative is framed around the investigation by the National Transportation Safety Board - manufactured drama for the sake of the movie.  The problem is that there is no real opposition - the investigation into the pilot's decision-making is illogical and unrealistic, and we know how it's going to play out - so the film forces some ordinarily talented actors to ham it up as 'villains'.  (By comparison, the movie Flight used a similar construct, but was much more effective.  This is partly because it was completely fiction - we didn't know how things would turn out - and partly because the protagonist was hiding something critical from investigators - creating dramatic tension and conflict… things missing from Sully that are, you know, essential to a movie).  On the plus side, I will give Eastwood a lot of credit for his staging the water landing itself - that is the part of the movie worth watching.  The splashdown is an absolute dynamo.  The sequence is completely riveting, and emotional in a way I was not expecting.  We know exactly how the events will turn out, but by putting us right in the action - giving us the perspectives of the people involved and on the periphery - the stakes become huge.  That's a really difficult thing to pull off.  (Eastwood also borrowed from the Apollo 13 playbook - a common theme this year.  Maybe that's why he cast Tom Hanks?)  Unfortunately, I only have one takeaway from the film: Landing an airplane on the water doesn't look that hard.  

BEST ACTOR:

SHOULD WIN:  Denzel Washington (Fences) WILL WIN:  Denzel Washington (Fences) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Tom Hanks (Sully) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Ryan Gosling (The Nice Guys)

This category promises to be the most dramatic of the evening.  It could come down to a coin flip between Denzel Washington (for Fences) and Casey Affleck (for Manchester By The Sea).  They've pretty much split the run-up awards, with Washington claiming the most important - the Screen Actors Guild award - and Affleck making off with secondary prizes like the Golden Globe, Critics' Choice and BAFTA.  As a performer and as a person, Affleck is polarizing, while Washington is dependable.  Comparatively, fewer people absolutely love Washington's performance; but also, fewer people loathe it.  Smaller camps of passionate fans (think: a few 1st place votes) tend to beat out the larger warm-ish ones (think: a bunch of 2nd place votes) during the nomination process due to Academy rules, but it tips the other way when it comes to the actual winners.  (That's how Viggo Mortensen snuck into this race with Captain Fantastic, but he has no shot at winning.)

So how much of the vote will they get?  With Affleck, one challenge will be to decide how much of his performance is "acting", and how much is coincidence that he plays a character with the same mush-mouthed, dopey, mopey aloofness that he has.  Personally, I don't think it's the best performance of the year, but I'll concede it's a good one - it may not be riveting, but it feels authentic and earned.  The other (and possibly bigger) challenge is if voters decide to judge Affleck the man.  In the film, his character says that he's "just the backup"; funny, that's exactly how the world feels about Ben Affleck's little brother in real life.  More importantly to his voting peers, there are the harassment allegations from his train wreck of a project with Joaquin Phoenix, I'm Still Here.  (By the way, how did Phoenix manage to emerge from that catastrophe with his reputation unscathed?)  So how did I reconcile seeing (and supporting) Affleck's film in light of the accusations against him?  Well, I watched it… but I didn't pay for it.  

With Washington, there really are no challenges.  He is, predictably, fantastic.  But that's the catch: "predictably".  With his reputation and resume, nobody is surprised (like they are with Affleck) that he hits a home run.  And more than that, he's ALREADY been great in this role - on Broadway, where he won a Tony a few years ago.  Voters will consider if there's a need to reward him for more of the same.  Putting the voting into larger context, a win for Washington would put him in the exclusive 3-Oscars Club - becoming the 7th actor, joining recent inductees Meryl Streep and Daniel-Day Lewis.  Many voters will agree that it would be a fitting honor for one of the finest actors of our time.  On top of that, Washington also directed and produced Fences.  The Academy loves a multi-hyphenate, and members that think he deserved a nomination for Best Director won't hesitate to vote for him here.  

So for my prediction of who Will Win, I think the SAG win tips the scales slightly in Washington's favor.  It shows he has the support of actors - it's the biggest branch of the Academy, and the one that will probably judge Affleck's accusations most harshly.  And for my Should Win, I'm also going with Washington, because I can't bear to imagine a world where Affleck has an Oscar and Gary Oldman doesn't.  (And not for nothing, but have you seen Affleck recently?  He actually LOOKS like Joaquin Phoenix in I'm Still Here.  Maybe… a sequel?  One can dream.)

Ryan Gosling deserves to be nominated in this category… but for The Nice Guys, not La La Land.  (If you're only going to see one of those movies, do yourself a favor and skip La La Land.  If you're going to see both of those movies… watch The Nice Guys twice.)  You would think that in a musical, the male lead should be able to, you know, sing.  The song 'City Of Stars' may well win Best Song, but criminy, couldn't they get Marni Nixon to dub his vocals?  "I thought he sounded pretty good," sniffed Russell Crowe, still believing his agent's high praise of his singing in Les Miserables.  (Come to think of it, Crowe and Gosling really should have had a duet in The Nice Guys.)  And while we're being honest, I think the best music in La La Land is the cheesy 80s music that's meant to represent the antithesis of the goodness and purity of jazz.  After sitting through some snoozy musical numbers, I perked up when Emma Stone's character jokingly requested that Gosling's band play 'I Ran (So Far Away)' by Flock Of Seagulls: "Aw, hell yeah!  Here's where the movie gets good!"

Andrew Garfield is an intriguing inclusion in this category, scoring his first nomination for Hacksaw Ridge.  After emerging about 10 years ago, I figured he'd be an award-season candidate, but he's taken a more circuitous route than I expected.  I thought he'd be a bit more independent-minded, eschewing quantity for quality and aiming for smaller and smarter films… but hey, I suppose money is nice, too.  With Hacksaw Ridge (and the less-admired but no less prestigious Silence from Martin Scorsese) he at least seems to be half-way headed in that direction, following a natural trajectory from other winning films like The Social Network and 99 Homes.  Just please, no more franchises.  (And if you want to see a film that foretold Garfield's Oscar-caliber abilities, skip the Spider-Man movies and watch Boy A - in short, he's remarkable.)

For my Omitted choice… Playing the titular role in Sully, Tom Hanks is in a familiar bind: He's excellent, but not excellent by Tom Hanks' standards.  To his credit, he plays Captain Sullenberger (he of the heroic airplane landing on the Hudson River) in a fairly realistic, understated way.  Unfortunately, the performance underwhelms, and doesn't seem terribly different from Hanks himself.  The film tries to play up some of his inner turmoil - grappling with fame and family troubles - but ultimately he's a character that doesn't say much, has almost no dynamism or magnetism, and reacts to his own heroism with a shrug.   Scenery, un-chewed.  (By the way, the film was much more enjoyable when I imagined Sully played by Will Ferrell as Ron Burgundy.  I'm getting a Kickstarter campaign to make it happen.  Who's in?)

BEST ACTRESS:

SHOULD WIN:  Natalie Portman (Jackie) WILL WIN:  Emma Stone (La La Land) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Marion Cotillard (Allied) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Amy Adams (Arrival)

If only the Best Actress race was as unpredictable as the Actor race.  While it's not a lock, Emma Stone appears to be pulling away.  If there was a still a chance for Natalie Portman or Isabelle Huppert to surpass Stone, Stone's victory at the SAG Awards pretty much ended it.  It doesn't hurt that Stone's personality is custom-made for the Oscar press circuit.  Much like Jennifer Lawrence, she comes off as talented, confident, intelligent, and beautiful, but also disarming, funny, self-deprecating, and most importantly, cool - to both women and men.  In short, she's easy to root for.  (Lip Sync Battle, anyone?)  Hollywood voters lap up her role as an earnest actress struggling to make it while remaining true to herself.  Female voters can relate to Stone's character much more than they can to Jackie Kennedy.  And male voters can imagine her as the fun, unpretentious girlfriend or the easy-going, sarcastic friend.  (Portman is insanely talented, but nobody would ever believe her being amused by Jonah Hill's dick jokes.)

Not to be dismissive of Stone's performance in La La Land (don't worry, I'm plenty dismissive of the film itself), but her triumph here will be in part due to fortuitous circumstances.  She can thank her lucky City Of Stars that Amy Adams (Arrival) or Annette Bening (20th Century Women) aren't nominated - either one of them would have been a clear sentimental favorite.  With 5 previous nominations for Adams and 4 for Bening (and probably a bunch of 2nd-place finishes), voters would be anxious to reward either of them.  

Stone's slate of competitors bode well for her, too.  Her presumptive biggest threat, Portman (for Jackie), already won an Oscar while pregnant , like she is now.  Doesn't it seem like accepting an Oscar in a maternity gown is probably a once-in-a-lifetime thing?   Huppert (the Meryl Streep of the French Cesar awards) scored her first Oscar nomination this year for Elle, and like Charlotte Rampling last year, it feels like the nomination was a lifetime achievement nod of sorts for decades of admired work in foreign films.  (I give Huppert extra credit for starring in the underappreciated I <HEART> Huckabees.)  Ruth Negga, starring in Loving, is a relative unknown (outside of the big Preacher fans out there), and her nomination in itself was a bit of a surprise.  

And then there's Meryl herself.  Does anybody care less about Meryl Streep winning than Meryl Streep?  In her 20th (!) trip to the Oscars, she's probably bored, especially because she knows she's going to lose.  (I mean, despite being so celebrated, she actually LOSES at an astonishing rate: 84% of the time!  And she's by far the best thing in Florence Foster Jenkins; without her performance elevating the film, it would be a trifle.)  After 3 victories, she doesn't care about winning, either.  Or does she?  While she holds the unbreakable record for most acting nominations, she's 1 behind Katharine Hepburn for acting wins.  And I'm sure Hepburn would be quick to point out that she won all of her Oscars in the Lead category, while Streep slummed it in the Supporting category for one of hers (kidding… Hepburn didn't even care enough to attend the ceremonies to accept any of her statuettes).  In a quest for a legacy that only Tom Brady would understand (damn him), Streep needs 5 Oscars (2 more) to achieve the undisputed title of Greatest of All Time.  Think she doesn't want the Oscar this year?  Then you don't know Meryl.  I'm just hoping she follows Florence Foster Jenkins with Florence Griffith Joyner.  Streep in a tale of triumph, controversy, and mortality, as the 1988 Olympic sprinter, 100m/200m world record holder, and one-legged-track-suit fashion icon?  Now THAT would get her one of those elusive Oscars.  

My vote?  It would probably go to Portman, with less enthusiasm than I had for her Black Swan performance.  Frankly, a good portion of the time it looks like she's doing Jackie Kennedy as a high-society spoof of Black Swan: paranoid, isolated, terrified, duplicitous, unreliable.  Other times it comes off as more of a boozy, breathy Marilyn Monroe (another one of JFK's lady friends).  But for the sake of posterity, the real question is, after dozens (hundreds?) of Jackie portrayals, does she bring anything new or novel to the character?  I mean, how can she possibly plumb new depths unexplored by Minka Kelly, Sarah Michelle Gellar, and Katie Holmes?  My biggest disappointment with the film is that Big Edie and Little Edie (the Beales of Grey Gardens) don't show up, along with their live-in raccoons.  That's the movie I want to see.  (Totally random side-note worth mentioning: In German, Jackie is titled "Die First Lady".  I'm not kidding.)

My Gloriously Omitted choice is, of course, Marion Cotillard, for her role as The Villainess in The Curious Marriage Of Bradley Pitt.  Team Angelina!

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR:

SHOULD WIN:  Mahershala Ali (Moonlight) WILL WIN:  Mahershala Ali (Moonlight) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Aaron Eckhart's mustache (Sully) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Chris Pine and Ben Foster (Hell Or High Water), Tom Bennett (Love & Friendship)

When most of America watches the Oscars on TV, this will be the "Guy From" category, where nobody actually knows the names of the nominees.  The bad guy from Man Of Steel.  The military guy from The Hunger Games.  The kid from Slumdog Millionaire.  The kid from… I don't know who that kid is.  And the guy from all the Jeff Bridges movies.

One thing's for sure, one of the guys from this category won't be the "Guy From" much longer.  In case you haven't been paying attention, Mahershala Ali is going to be a gigantic movie star.  After he wins the Oscar for Moonlight, he's going to be at the top of the list for any franchise looking for an anchor, regardless of the tone or genre.  In 2016 alone, he managed to star in 4 feature films (2 of which were nominated for Best Picture: Moonlight and Hidden Figures) and 2 hit shows (House Of Cards and Luke Cage).  He's not a shoo-in to win the Oscar, but he's clearly the best bet, and in my not-so-humble opinion, the most deserving.  The biggest knock against him is that his screen time is relatively limited in Moonlight.  After he disappears at the end of Act I, I think everybody wants the story to follow him - his character Juan deserves his own film.  His portion of the film builds to such a compelling moment - the only moment of true dramatic conflict between him and the main boy, Chiron - that it's shame that it ends.  It's meant to be a turning point for little Chiron, but it appears to be just as big a turning point for Juan, someone who supposedly "knows who he is" (the key theme in the film).  The child deftly turns the tables on Juan, and challenges him to define who is really is - and in that moment we see Juan realize that he really doesn't know at all.  And then, unfortunately, he's gone.  While it's ultimately a minor role, I think Academy members will be impressed by his character's grace and contradictory nature.  It certainly doesn't hurt that Ali also does charismatic work in crowd-pleaser Hidden Figures, and impressed voters at the SAG awards with his inspiring, humble speech and impeccable pearl-white tux.  

The next most popular choice will be Jeff Bridges, for Hell Or High Water.  If he hadn't won recently (for Crazy Heart), he'd probably be the front-runner.  He has the benefit of being essentially the second main character in the film - one with his own story, his own decisions, his own spotlight.  The portrayal itself is just good ol' boy fun - Bridges looks like he's having a blast, with a guttural, fricasseed voice and a Texas swagger that invokes the late Richard Farnsworth and his own Rooster Cogburn.  Though I have to say, as Bridges ages, it seems he's getting more and more like that in real life.  I think he liked this character so much, that he's decided to stay in it.  

Speaking of Hell Or High Water, I'd like to mention both Chris Pine and Ben Foster for my Snubbed spot, for delivering surprisingly strong performances as ill-prepared bank-robbing brothers.  (Particularly Pine, whose surname is an apt description of his typical on-screen personality.)  Both Pine and Foster are generally unlikeable actors, but they both summon something I've never seen before, and create an impressively magnetic duo together.  It's possible I actually cared about their characters (but still wanted to see Jeff Bridges shoot them).  Most critics are calling Pine's performance the best of his career - which isn't saying much - and I agree.  

Is there a chance for Dev Patel or Michael Shannon to sneak in here?  They're both possibilities, but probably not.  For his lauded role in Lion, Patel won the BAFTA, which bolsters his chances… but then again, he's a Brit, so that doesn't count.  Shannon snuck into this category by somehow supplanting his Nocturnal Animals co-star Aaron Taylor-Johnson, who managed to win the Golden Globe but then got passed over for the Oscars.  (Christmas cards should be awkward this year.)  Shannon is the only actor to make Ali look lazy in 2016, with a whopping 10 feature films, plus a starring role on Broadway.  I'd be happy to see him win; he's a Chicago theater actor whose unique look and style have enabled him to methodically carve out a niche career, score kudos (including 2 Oscar nominations) for pretty much every one of his movies that's not about Superman, and somehow stay relatively anonymous and tabloid-free despite having about a zillion screen credits.  His agent must hate him, because every project that seems to attract him (or he attracts) is low-budget and, for lack of a better word, weird.  A small sampling: Elvis & Nixon; Midnight Special; Take Shelter; My Son, My Son, What Have Ye Done; Let's Go To Prison; The Broken Tower; Bug; and of course, Kangaroo Jack.  (And yes, that's him at the diner as a teenager in Groundhog Day.)

I'm a little puzzled by the nomination for Lucas Hedges in Manchester By The Sea.  (But given how puzzled I am by the movie itself, I guess that shouldn't be a surprise.)  I just don't know what's so impressive about his performance.  To me, he just seems like a smart-assed, foul-mouthed, horny 16-year old; in other words, every 16-year old.  For all we know, that's what he's like in real life - so is it great acting?  For a character whose father has just died and whose mother abandoned him years earlier, his performance just doesn't feel that authentic to me.  There are interesting flashes of denial, but it seems like the film mostly glazes over that element, instead of using it to elevate the character.  More than anything, I'm struck by how much he seems like a teenage version of Matt Damon - voice, accent, posture, performance.  It's no accident that Damon is a producer on the film - he probably held New England-wide auditions to find his mini-me, to star alongside Ben Affleck's mini-me.  In terms of advice, I'm guessing Damon just handed Hedges a VHS tape of Good Will Hunting and said, "Hey Lil' Matt, watch this movie, because I think I'm amazing."  For my money, I would have preferred to see any of a number of actors take Hedges' place in this category: Pine or Foster (see above), Tom Bennett (a hilarious Victorian moron in Love & Friendship), Hugh Grant (playing his weaknesses as strengths in Florence Foster Jenkins), or even Robert Downey Jr. (in a tiny, magnificent cameo as the corpse of a porno director in The Nice Guys).

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS:

SHOULD WIN:  Viola Davis (Fences) WILL WIN:  Viola Davis (Fences) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Anna Gunn (Sully) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Kathryn Hahn (Bad Moms)

This is the biggest lock of the night: Viola Davis will win for Fences.  She's winning everything.  Literally everything.  She's even winning awards that have nothing to do with this movie.  I'm pretty sure she just beat out Beyonce for a Grammy.  If she would have announced her candidacy for President the day before the election, she would have won that, too.  And it's overdue: I'm in the camp that thinks she should have won the Oscar for The Help.  She's been the prohibitive favorite here since the movie adaptation of August Wilson's play was announced; after all, she won a Tony for the same role on Broadway.  And the critical consensus is that she's even better in the film than she was on stage.  Even her nostrils give an award-winning performance during her crying scene.  (Oh my, that's a runny nose.  Which brings up a lot of practical considerations: Did director Denzel Washington call for the amount of snot in each take?  Did he ask for a variety, so he had snot options in the editing room?  Do they have continuity checks for snot?  Did the script specify the viscosity and texture of snot?  Do close-ups require 'hero' snot?  Can Davis snot on cue?  Is there fake snot for the days she can't get the nose-works going?  Does that fall under the Makeup department, or is a there a specialized Snot Wrangler?  Is there a separate casting call for snot, and if so, which agents specialize in it?  So many questions.)  If Davis is emotional during her acceptance speech, let's hope they hand her a kleenex - or five - along with the Oscar.

Nicole Kidman has said she felt a strong bond with her character in Lion, as they're both adoptive mothers.  Many credit that real-life connection and perspective with propelling Kidman to her 4th Oscar nomination.  In order to secure a nomination in her next film, she's planning to play a woman who marries a celebrity in order to conceal his closeted sexuality.  "I could play that role in my sleep," she said.  "Come to think of it, I've played that role twice."  Does she have a chance to win this year?  She already has an Oscar.  Next.  

Octavia Spencer gives a strong performance in Hidden Figures, but it seems that she's something of a surrogate for the entire SAG-winning cast, a way to recognize all of them.  (They could have easily nominated Janelle Monae, who infused Figures, as well as Moonlight, with a welcome burst of energy.  Pretty impressive for a singer in her first acting roles ever.)  While Spencer is steady throughout, her portrayal is fairly businesslike; she doesn't have many showy scenes that would stand out to Oscar voters.  So does she have a chance to win this year?  She ALSO already has an Oscar.  (And even she is rooting for Viola Davis.)  Next.

Perhaps the biggest revelation of all this year's nominees is Naomie Harris, for her role as a struggling drug-addict mother in Moonlight.  She's been recognizable in a variety of roles over the past decade and a half, but she hasn't shown anything like what she does with this role.  But does she… I think you know where this is going.  Next.

That brings us to Michelle Williams, for her role in Manchester By The Sea.  She's quietly racked up 4 career Oscar nominations without a win - she's venturing into Amy Adams territory.  She's been consistently strong since the day she paddled out of Dawson's Creek, so a lot of voters WANT to pencil her in.  But with such a tiny role in this film, there's simply no compelling reason to do so this year.  Frankly, I'm not even so sure she deserves one of these slots. ��She only pops up in a handful of scenes, mostly to fill in emotional backstory for Casey Affleck and to make us feel terrible about life in general.  (And gahwd, that accent.)  So… no.  

BEST DIRECTOR:

SHOULD WIN:  Denis Villeneuve (Arrival) WILL WIN:  Damien Chazelle (La La Land) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Stephen Frears (Florence Foster Jenkins) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  David Mackenzie (Hell Or High Water)

This category, a collection of refreshing, talented directors with unique voices, probably represents the future of cinema.  (And that's including Mel Gibson - there will always be at least one racist old coot in the establishment.  I guess if the Academy forgave Roman Polanski, they'll forgive anybody.)  There's very little doubt here that Damien Chazelle will prevail for La La Land.  I'm more okay with the film scoring the Director prize than Picture, due to the daunting technical nature of the film, but I would still choose someone else.  I was frankly more impressed with Chazelle's previous (and more poignantly intimate) film, Whiplash.  After all the hullabaloo surrounding La La Land, I kept waiting for it to transform into a unique, original take on the musical romance genre… but it never does.  I don't think the opening freeway musical number is as much of a dazzler as everyone else seems to.  And the dancing… Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone don't look like naturals, they look like contestants on Dancing With The Stars, going through the paces after a couple weeks of rehearsals.  To Chazelle's credit, there are a lot of nice touches in the film, and the final sequence is outright fantastic (more on that in the Original Screenplay category).  I just expected more to justify the hype… and the slew of Oscars it will win.

I'm much more impressed with Denis Villeneuve's vision in Arrival.  Besides crafting a film that's visually stunning, narratively captivating, and intellectually stimulating, he managed to make a deeply personal film about what's effectively a silly sci-fi alien invasion.  (Though the title is inauspicious: Dithering voters might confuse it with that other alien invasion movie called The Arrival, the 1996 masterpiece starring critical darling and Hollywood treasure Charlie Sheen as a - wait for it - brilliant astronomer with a goatee.)  This year's hipster nomination, Villeneuve may appear to be a newcomer, but he's been a darling on the French-Canadian art-house scene (Is that a thing?) for two decades.  (Credit where credit's due: I predicted he would be the next big thing back in 2000 at the Toronto Film Festival; it just took 16 years, that's all.  Next up for him?  The SLIGHTY high-profile Blade Runner sequel.)  If you want to impress your film-snob friends, check out his French-language film Maelstrom, a twisty, dark thriller / love story with bits of absurdist humor thrown in for good measure.  (Oh, and it's narrated by a fish.  In a butcher shop.  Being chopped up into pieces.  I’m telling you, the French-Canadian art-house scene.)

It's a real longshot, but a win here for Barry Jenkins (director of Moonlight) would be a pleasant surprise.  Jenkins took a tiny, potentially difficult, urban art film and turned it into a true sensation.  The feat is even more astounding considering it's only his second feature, his main actors are mostly inexperienced, and he tells a story about the internal conflicts of an introvert who barely speaks.  To top it all off, he chooses to split the story into 3 pieces, spread out over 15 years. As narratives go, it's about as tough as it gets.  Moonlight is not going to be everybody's favorite film, but it's a marvel, and Jenkins is someone we'll be hearing plenty more about.

It's actually been 10 years since Mel Gibon's drunken, expletive-ridden, anti-Semitic rant during his DUI arrest.  Just long enough for Mel Gibson jokes to be funny again - and since Jimmy Kimmel is hosting the Oscars, I think you can expect one or two (or twenty).  How to explain Gibson's nomination for Best Director for Hacksaw Ridge?  I think an old episode of South Park featuring a loony Gibson put it best: "Say what you want about Mel Gibson, but the sonuvabitch knows story structure."  Want to know a totally, completely true fact?  Gibson fought hard for a couple of titles to his World War II drama, before the studio forced him to change it to Hacksaw Ridge: "Guess Who's Responsible For WWII (And All The Wars In The World)" and "Sugar Tits".

While I respect Kenneth Lonergan as a filmmaker, I haven't been overly impressed with any of his films.  I mean, I WANT to like his movies.  They're just… tough to digest.  I know that, above all, he strives for realism.  Referring to typical Hollywood movies, he recently said in an interview, "I see them sugarcoat and pass over experiences everybody in the world has had.  It annoys me, because it seems like a lie."  He certainly doesn't sugarcoat anything in Manchester By The Sea, where Lonergan's form of realism is exceptionally harsh.  And maybe that's my problem - when I watch a movie, realism isn't always exactly what I want to see, especially when it puts me in a depressed mood for a couple days.  Aside from the tone and story, I actually have problems with the awkward editing and incongruous musical choices.  They make the film seem unpolished, beyond the point of realism.  It feels, I don't know, almost lazy.  I'm sure it's all intentional, but I just don't understand why.  When it comes to Lonergan, I guess there's a lot I don't understand.  

David Mackenzie got passed over for an Oscar nomination for Hell Or High Water, but he may still win a Nobel Prize… for coaxing an actual lifelike performance out of Chris Pine.  I was hoping Mackenzie would sneak into this race.  The Scottish director filmed in New Mexico with a West Coast actor and somehow managed make a film that feels authentically like West Texas - without casting Tommy Lee Jones.  (I damn near had to turn on the subtitles to understand those accents.)  His wide lens captures something both intoxicating and toxic about the region.  How do you make geography look so beautiful and so crappy at the same time?  There are plenty of postcard-worth landscapes in Odessa, but Mackenzie will be damned if he'll use those.  But instead, here's an extra helping of rural decay!  The West Texas office of tourism has to absolutely hate it every time a new movie is set in the area.  Based on what we see in movies, we assume it's depressive, repressive, oppressive, backwards, racist, redneck, violent, callous, dead-end, dying, undereducated, sweltering, and corrupt.  Maybe that's why they filmed Hell Or High Water in New Mexico: they weren't allowed in Texas.  "If you're not going to film La La Land 2 here, then git the hell out!"  

BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY:

SHOULD WIN:  Taylor Sheridan (Hell Or High Water) WILL WIN:  Kenneth Lonergan (Manchester By The Sea) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  A million people (Zootopia) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Anthony Bagarozzi, Shane Black (The Nice Guys)

It's not uncommon for one of the screenplay awards to serve as a runner-up for the Best Picture race, particularly when there's a chance to reward a writer-director.  This year, probably both screenplay categories will serve this purpose, which is unfortunate.  While La La Land certainly could sweep every category and claim this prize, it's more likely that Manchester By The Sea will take it.  Personally, I'd rather see it go to a more enthralling piece of writing, Hell Or High Water.  

As movie writers go, Kenneth Lonergan is about as unassailable as they come.  No stranger to accolades, Manchester By The Sea is his 3rd screenplay nomination (following You Can Count On Me and Gangs Of New York), and he's got a pile of other film and playwrighting awards (including a Pulitzer nomination).   I would be an idiot to criticize his writing, but I’m going to do it anyway.  (I think I've proven that I’m an idiot in the past, so I might as well embrace it.)  Simply put, I don't think Manchester has a strong story.  I won't go so far as to claim that the emperor has no clothes, but if you spent 20 seconds on the Internet, you'll find tons of people who feel that way about Mr. Lonergan.  I suppose I would categorize this script as a tragedy (in the ancient dramatic sense), but there isn't really anywhere for the main character to fall from.  It strikes me as more of a portrait (admittedly, a rich, vivid one); it seems to take more cues from the stage world than screen.  I don't want to say too much to spoil anything (but just in case you're going to see this movie, skip this paragraph to avoid spoilers).  Probably my biggest complaint (other than the fact that it's a serious downer) is that the story is set up as a classic redemption story, and then… there's no redemption.  Instead, the main character resigns himself to failure.  (And please, I'm not saying "I wish it had a Hollywood ending.")  There's a clear crossroads in the movie where, after the 'Lost Point' (the main character's lowest point in the story, about 3/4 of the way through), the character would choose a redemptive path (through an epiphany, an active decision, drastic measures, etc.).  But he simply doesn't.  And then the rest of the story just peters out from there.  The frustrating thing is that the character recognizes the opportunity for redemption (taking responsibility for his deceased brother's teenage son), but he refuses it.  Lonergan clearly sets this situation up, tempts us to follow him, gives us a head-fake, and runs off in the other direction.  (In his defense, there is an intriguing - and potentially heartening - hint of self-sacrifice on the part of the main character, but I think it's too faint to truly pay off.)  This is a long way of saying that after a 2-hour journey of unrelenting grief, I wanted more of a reason for the journey to be worthwhile.  

As I mentioned, there's a good chance that La La Land will win Best Original Screenplay instead of Manchester, but brother, I hope it doesn't.  I'm not even sure why it's nominated here in the first place.  The genre and music notwithstanding, there isn't much motor in the story.  I find no compelling reason to be invested in the romance between the drippy, selfish faux-idealists.   There are no real obstacles.  There is no conflict other than superficial conflict for its own sake - internally fabricated by the characters to get in their own way.  It's like they're trying to make their lives harder for no particular reason.  How do these wistful whiners get past practical inconveniences, like filing their income taxes?  (I'm sure their 1040s are met with an abundance of longing sighs.)  But believe it or not, I have to say, I think the ending is superb.  It almost redeems the movie… almost.  (It's the one part that I like, and not surprisingly, the one part that my wife hates.)  I can't say much without ruining the movie (and trust me, I REALLY do want to ruin the movie for you), but it effectively turns the entirety of the movie into a fairly poignant metaphor.  It gives weight to many of the themes that were, up to that point, trite, and adds legitimacy to some of the lazy aspects of the screenplay.  It attempts to answer the question (with some success, I admit) of what it means to dream - with all the perks and perils that come along with it - and whether a dream can ever truly become a reality.  I'm certain there are different interpretations of the ending; I prefer a cynical one.  What if you achieve your dream - is that even a good thing?  I guess my primary lament about the script is: If writer-director Damien Chazelle had such a cool trick up his sleeve for the finale, why did he drown the rest of the movie with such lifeless material?  

I'm rooting for Hell Or High Water, written by Taylor Sheridan.  Besides what I previously mentioned, probably its biggest strength is that it wisely does not dwell on backstory.  It doesn't spend time in the beginning "setting up" who the bank-robbing main characters are, or shoehorn in flashbacks to fill in the gaps (ahem, Manchester By The Sea).  It jumps right into the story in the opening scene and never looks back, giving us just enough of a sense of the characters' backgrounds and motivations to keep us on track - without EXPLAINING it all to us.   (The price of that is a few clunky expositional lines of dialogue, but in general it's handled pretty well.)  Credit the director and editor on that front as well: knowing that anything that is NOT part of the story does NOT belong in the movie.  The message of the script, a clear allegory, is an admirable - if damning - one.  Besides condemning the evils of greed and "the bank", it hammers home a theme about the sins of fathers (biological and generational) and redemption of (or rejection by) sons.  Unfortunately it teeters into preachy, heavy-handed territory occasionally.  (There's an awkward, unintentionally funny scene where Jeff Bridges' lawman stops his truck to allow a ranch hand to corral his cattle across the road.  As he's struggling to herd the cattle away from a blazing prairie fire - clearly a life and death situation - the rancher pauses to casually deliver an absurdly jarring, unprovoked, preachy, expository speech.  Given the circumstances, I don't think I'd be up for much conversation with a random driver, other than, "Watch out for my cows, a--hole!")  Unlike many of the nominees this year, the film delivers with a resonant, satisfying ending.  The only detriment is that the final scene (which had the potential to be understated, sly, and truly great) is a little on-the-nose.  I have a feeling the studio gave a note… that should have been ignored.  

It seems that whenever Mike Mills writes a script about his family, it gets nominated for Oscars.  A few years ago, he wrote Beginners about his father, and Christopher Plummer won Best Supporting Actor.  Now 20th Century Women, written about his mother, is nominated for Best Original Screenplay.  I can't wait for the script about his goldfish.

Ah, The Lobster.  This is the most intriguing and refreshing nominee in either screenplay category.  It's as strange as you would expect from a filmmaker named Yorgos Lanthimos.  After seeing it, the only thing I know about it for sure is that the story can't be taken at face value.  It's clearly a satire, with subtext serving as the point of the film.  (Some would argue that subtext ALWAYS serves as the point of any film, and that a film should never be taken at face value.)  At its most obvious, it's a send-up of the absurdity of the "rules" and social norms around being a romantic couple and being single.  However, I'd argue that it better serves as an allegory for pretty much any arbitrary dichotomy, with 2 diametrically opposed sides or points of view.  It applies in particular to any situation where the line between the 2 sides is essentially fabricated, and people are forced to choose a side.  It applies well to important things like war, religion, and political parties, as well as more trivial concepts like cola wars, sports fans, and late-night talk show rivalries.   The film poses the questions that should be obvious: Why can't there be a 3rd point of view?  Or even infinite points of view?  Why are there any sides period?  Why do we have to choose?  I wish all this meant that it was a great movie.  The premise and the absurdity, especially in the first half of the film, are a strong draw (dialogue like: "Do you have any pets?" "Yes: my brother."), but the harshness is a little too sobering.  The story is whimsical, but in a rigid way: there are rules in the world of The Lobster, and they are relentlessly, brutally severe.  Going into it, I thought it might be quirky-fun (in the vein of Michel Gondry, Charlie Kaufman, or Wes Anderson), but it's quirky-disturbing.  There's a sensibility to The Lobster that's almost masochistic, which is belied by the comically flat and simple dialogue.  (All the characters deliver their lines like Europeans with 3rd grade English skills - appropriate, considering it was written by Greek men with 3rd grade English skills.)  It's more akin to A Clockwork Orange or Brazil, in terms of the skewed definitions of "normal", and the frightening prices people pay for not being "normal".  But unfortunately it's not nearly as good nor as enduring as those films.  

I know it's not fair to pick on a kids' movie like Zootopia, but am I the only one who thought the sloths-working-at-the-DMV gag was unfunny and unoriginal?  I guess so.  

BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY:

SHOULD WIN:  Eric Heisserer (Arrival) WILL WIN:  Barry Jenkins, Tarell Alvin McCraney (Moonlight) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Todd Komarnicki (Sully) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Tony Gilroy, Chris Weitz (Rogue One: A Star Wars Story), Whit Stillman (Love & Friendship)

Ever since Moonlight was shifted from the Original to the Adapted Screenplay category, it's been the favorite, not having to compete against Manchester By The Sea and La La Land.  And once it beat both of those scripts at the Writers Guild Awards, it became a virtual lock for the Oscar.  Anyone that considers voting for it as Best Picture or Director will almost surely vote for it here.  But truthfully, I think the screenplay is one of Moonlight's weaker elements.  It's probably because I'm an advocate of a strong narrative.  And while there is a narrative thread across the film's 3 segments, I think other elements orchestrated by writer/director Barry Jenkins are what make Moonlight such a triumph.  So I'd probably vote for it for Director or Picture before Screenplay.  But to be fair, the script has many unique elements rarely seen in cinema, and people are clearly responding to it.  Whether it was the story, theme, production, direction, or acting, I found the film to be entrancing in a way I didn't expect.  

On the other hand, I love the script for Arrival (by Eric Heisserer), which has a very strong narrative.  In fact, it toys with narrative by dismantling what we've come to expect from flashbacks.  Flashbacks are often derided as a screenwriter's crutch, so Heisserer preys on that notion, then manipulates it into something new.  The story even takes a novel approach to the Alien Invasion genre: What if the aliens aren't the most important thing in the story?  

So, Moonlight will win, and if there's an upset, most people expect that it will come from Arrival.  But not so fast.  As I mentioned earlier, it's possible that a groundswell for Hidden Figures could conceivably propel it to a Best Picture victory.  And if that happens, look out, because it could well carry over into this category as well.  Never count out a story that people absolutely love.  (That said, the film's lack of nomination for Best Director makes this scenario much less plausible.)

I expect Fences will also get its share of votes, from a small group of passionate devotees.  It would be a way to honor the late August Wilson (who adapted his own Pulitzer Prize-winning play into a screenplay years ago).  But since Wilson had no active involvement in this incarnation of his story (he died in 2005), it won't approach the support that Moonlight is getting.  

Of course, we can't forget about Star Wars.  I really would vote for Rogue One: A Star Wars Story for Best Screenplay.  While the film on a whole was excellent, Screenplay is where it truly excelled.  Imagine the audacity of it: It takes a few throwaway lines from the opening crawl of the first Star Wars movie, and turns them into a clever thriller that culminates in a breathless firestorm leading smack into the first scene from the original masterpiece.  I expected cool action and mythology; I did not expect such an emotional story about characters that have never before even been mentioned in the series.  While I would also give full credit to director Gareth Edwards and the entire production, screenwriters Tony Gilroy and Chris Weitz (leveraging a story from John Knoll and Gary Whitta) are the MVPs.  By comparison, the story is unquestionably superior to The Force Awakens.  (Why, you ask, is my wife such a fan of Gilroy?  Because she's a bigger Star Wars geek than I am?  Because he was nominated for Screenplay and Director Oscars for Michael Clayton?  Because he was the mastermind behind all the Jason Bourne movies?  No.  Because he wrote The Cutting Edge.  That guy could cure cancer, and he would still be best remembered for the words "toe pick".)

[ryanjdonovan]

Donovan's Oscar Prognostication 2016

I'll be tuning into the Academy Awards this year to follow the controversy that NOBODY is talking about: The fact that all the nominees are… orange. Spray-tanning for awards shows seems to be at an all-time high, with total disregard for natural pigmentation and high-definition televisions. The Golden Globes ceremony might as well have been called Orange Is The New White. Will any stylists step in to stop this madness? #OscarsSoOrange anyone? As for the movies themselves… Violence, espionage, captivity, abandonment, discrimination, revenge, greed, pedophilia - the Oscar crop this year are a grim bunch. It's saying something when Mad Max: Fury Road is the "feel-good" movie in the group. The presidential candidates look downright valiant by comparison. Read on for my 17th annual Oscar predictions. And be prepared: There will be Star Wars. BEST PICTURE: SHOULD WIN: The Big Short WILL WIN: The Big Short GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Jurassic World INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Star Wars: The Force Awakens With no film sweeping the critics' awards and different films winning the major press and guild prizes, the Best Picture race is completely up in the air. How can I forecast who will win? It's anyone's guess. There are so many factors to consider, that it would practically take the intellect of Vizzini from The Princess Bride to predict. In fact… [In my best Wallace Shawn voice:] The battle of wits has begun. It's so simple. All I have to do is divine from what I know of Oscar history. Only four films have ever won Best Picture without a Best Director nomination, so I can clearly not choose Bridge Of Spies, Brooklyn, and The Martian. And only one film in the last 50 years has won Best Picture without a Best Screenplay nomination; I am not a great fool, so I can clearly not choose The Revenant and Mad Max: Fury Road. I've made my decision then? Not remotely. The Martian and The Revenant won the Golden Globes, so I can clearly not choose The Big Short and Spotlight. Truly, I have a dizzying intellect. Wait 'til I get going! Now, where was I? Yes. Only three films have ever won Best Picture without having also won either a Golden Globe, Producers Guild, or Screen Actors Guild Cast award, as everyone knows, so I can clearly not choose Room and Mad Max: Fury Road. Am I just stalling now? You'd like to think that, wouldn't you? Spotlight won the SAG Cast award, so I can clearly not choose The Big Short and The Revenant. But, different films won the Producers Guild, SAG Cast, and Golden Globe awards; the only other time in history that happened, the SAG and Globe winners did not win the Oscar, so I can clearly not choose The Revenant, Spotlight, and The Martian. The Oscars have given everything away! I know who the winner will be! I choose… WHAT IN THE WORLD CAN THAT BE? Well, I could have sworn I saw something. No matter. I choose The Big Short. Think I guessed wrong? You fool! You fell victim to one of the classic blunders - the most famous of which is "Never get involved in an eating war with Harvey Weinstein" - but only slightly less well-known is this: "Never go in against an Irish-German when Oscars are on the line"! Hahahahaha! Hahahahaha-- (And I keel over.) Could I be wrong? Inconceivable! Let me put it this way: I think the Big Short will win. But if it doesn't, The Revenant will win. But if it doesn't, Spotlight will win. Anything else would be a gigantic upset. The big arguments for The Big Short are that it won the Producers Guild Award in a year where the major awards were spread out, and it got better reviews than The Revenant. What might make the difference for The Revenant is that it was way more popular - it's made more than double The Big Short and quadruple Spotlight. The outside chance for Spotlight hangs on the fact that it is the best-reviewed of the bunch - it literally didn't get a single bad review. As you can see, trying to predict what will win at the Oscars is like choosing to drink from two poisoned cups. Fortunately, I've spent the last 17 years building up an immunity to prognostication embarrassment. Perhaps a better (and certainly more debatable) endeavor is choosing who SHOULD win. I'm also going to go with The Big Short as my pick, but again, it's close. What seals it for me is that the filmmakers take a story that nobody knows, involving people that nobody cares about, in a situation that nobody understands, with an outcome that nobody is surprised by - and they make it into a fiercely entertaining and compelling movie. (I'll get into more detail in the Adapted Screenplay section.) Predictably, producer/co-star Brad Pitt gives himself the most gratuitously righteous part in the movie, just like he did in 12 Years A Slave. Good for him. Why not The Revenant? I think it's because I've literally never heard that word before, "revenant". How can you vote for a word you don't even know? I'm pretty sure most Academy members think they're voting for "The Reverend", a 2011 flick starring Rutger Hauer. (Not surprisingly, non-native speakers know English better than I do. Damn you, public schools!) It's really hard for me to pick Spotlight. It's not a bad choice, with its workmanlike style, authentic settings, resonant characters, and chilling true story. But honestly, if the story wasn't so incredible, this film probably wouldn't even be in this category - the subject matter is probably what wowed voters the most. There are just not enough superlatives for me. On the other end of the spectrum - all conflagration, turbulence, and utter fantasy - and just as hard to pick, is Mad Max: Fury Road. Frankly, I'm still in a bit of disbelief: A Mad Max movie is nominated for Best Picture. And I confess, I might be a bit of a dissenter. As the film's Oscar campaign gained steam like the dragsters it depicts, I couldn't help but feel that the Best Picture nomination was a little… arbitrary. Not necessarily undeserved, but what makes it so much better than other well-regarded action movies? Or the previous Mad Max flicks? Or Star Wars: The Force Awakens (hint, hint)? You can't tell me it's the story; it's thin and bland - Best Screenplay is one nomination that it didn't get. Don't get me wrong - I really like it, and I'm rooting for it. I mean, I should be championing this - spitting some vinegar into a typically stodgy collection of period dramas! To partially answer my own question, it goes a bit beyond "action film"; it's a cool twist on the road/revenge genre, yet it's an unapologetic B-movie. I feel trepidation picking at the story, because nobody else is; but based on the hype, I expected more from the script. You say The Force Awakens was a retread of a previous Star Wars movie? How about this plot summary: Max reluctantly aids in the escape of a group of innocent and helpless naïfs from a post-apocalyptic city run by psychotic tyrants, resulting in an epic, gory, high-octane, cross-dessert chase-cum-battle. Fury Road? Yes, but also the 2nd half of Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome (when Max saves the pack of feral children). And that film's storyline has been roundly drubbed over the years (I actually loved it - then again, I was 10). Is Fury Road this century's Grapes Of Wrath... or Cannonball Run II? 2016 is ready to proclaim the former, maybe even as Best Picture. We'll see what posterity says. The Martian is a lot of fun, blends a bunch of genres and tropes, toys with its inevitable predictability, packs an abundance thrills, and manages to convince us that it is scientifically sound. But it's ultimately more summer joy-ride than important picture. (Can you just see the pretense dripping off the page?) On to my Snubbed choice. If I'm voting with my head, then Ex Machina. (More on that later.) But since I'm voting with my heart... Star Wars: The Force Awakens. Of course. You had to see this coming. I've been writing this article for 17 years - even the casual skimmers should know there was no way I was going to NOT argue Star Wars for Best Picture. It's STAR WARS. I mean, I declared that one of the PREQUELS should have been nominated for Best Picture. I shouldn’t even have to explain. The Force Awakens was, quite simply, the most excited I've been at a movie in a long time. Full credit goes to J.J. Abrams, of course. Well, make that most credit. Not surprisingly, in lionizing Abrams as a savoir, the masses also denounced George Lucas for the state he left the franchise in. As someone who has probably put one of Lucas's kids through college with all the Star Wars stuff I've purchased in my lifetime, I think the criticisms of him have been unfair. Compare him to, say Woody Allen and his New York movies; nobody is vilifying Allen (at least, not for his movies; his, uh, romantic choices are another matter). Allen keeps making New York films; some are great, some are not. But nobody accuses him of ruining New York, or starts petitions requesting that he stop desecrating New York, or claims that he's robbing them of their New York childhood memories, or prays that he sells his New York films to a media conglomerate. And certainly nobody dedicates their existence to lambasting his annoying characters with irritating accents, like they do with Jar Jar Binks (in fact, they instead gave Mira Sorvino an Oscar for Mighty Aphrodite). The people congratulate Allen on his work, quietly skip the movies that don't like, and generally leave him alone on the internet. I think Lucas at least deserves the same courtesy. (Then again, Allen didn't insert digital Rontos into edited re-release versions of Manhattan.) So Star Wars is my favorite movie of the year… but I'm still going to nit-pick it. (I mean, I'm not just going to sit back and simply enjoy a movie - that would be silly.) Much ado has been made of the plot - it's basically the same storyline as the original Star Wars. Agreed. No need to belabor that. Abrams played a safe hand with this one, and it paid off in every possible way. I suspect the next two films will be a little more unique and take more chances. If I really wanted to pick the movie apart, I could do it all day. For example: After the fateful Starkiller Base mission, why does Leia console Rey - who she just met - after walking RIGHT PAST AND IGNORING Chewbacca, Han's best friend and Leia's protector?? Inexplicable. But it doesn't mean I didn't like the movie. I do it with the originals, too. Like in Return Of The Jedi, why do the rebels agree to put Luke on the shield generator team, and not the Death Star strike team? Think about it: When they are planning out the attack, they know there is literally ONE person in the entire galaxy that has already single-handedly destroyed a Death Star… and they choose not to use him! Instead, Luke saunters into the meeting (late, by the way; why wouldn't Mon Mothma have said, "Hey, why don't we wait a few minutes for the ONLY LIVING JEDI to start this mission?") and casually announces that he's NOT going to attack the Death Star, but instead is joining Han's shield generator team. If I was Admiral Ackbar, I would have said, "The hell you are! Otherwise we have to use stupid Nien Nunb and his 20 freaking lips! You're going to get your ass in a goddam X-Wing and use the Force or whatever to blow up the Death Star - JUST LIKE LAST TIME!" Many are asking: Is The Force Awakens the best Star Wars movie of all? No, silly, that distinction still clearly goes to the original, A New Hope. Most "true" fans argue that The Empire Strikes Back is the best of the series - but they are fools. A close second, to be sure, but the original is the most complete story, the one that stands alone, a nearly perfect film. Empire is basically a chess match, with neither side gaining much ground; it's essentially a zero-sum game, with no resolution. What I do love about Empire, though, is that Darth Vader, not Luke, is the main character. It becomes his story, his quest to find and convert the young Jedi. Luke is basically just running away or doing what other people tell him to do. Vader is the active character, he's the one that makes the decisions that dictate the narrative, and he gets one of the most important arcs in cinema history. We take it for granted, but making the bad guy the main character is an incredibly bold move, especially for the second installment in a nascent franchise. What if Voldemort was the main character in the 2nd Harry Potter movie? Or President Snow was the main character in the 2nd Hunger Games movie? It's something you may never see again in such a large film. BEST ACTOR: SHOULD WIN: Michael Fassbender (Steve Jobs) WILL WIN: Leonardo DiCaprio (The Revenant) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Ryan Reynolds (Woman In Gold) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Oscar Isaac (Ex Machina) The question everybody is asking is "After five nominations, isn't it time for Leo to win?" While the real question should be: "Did he even deserve any of the nominations in the first place?" The answer, of course, is no. (Shocker, for those of you who have read my Oscar articles before.) The Revenant is, admittedly, probably the best work of Leonardo DiCaprio's career (and to be fair, he's starred in dozens of films over three decades, directed by many of the all-time greats). And even if I feel he does deserve it, I'm sure as hell not going to admit it. I have begrudgingly conceded in the past that Leo's real talent is elevating the performances around him (e.g., Cate Blanchett's Oscar-winning turn in The Aviator). But this movie is decidedly the Leo Show, and that I cannot endorse. I can endorse, however, Leo getting attacked by a bear and being left for dead. (So then maybe The Revenant is the feel-good movie of the year after all.) It was audacious and reckless, daring and doomed, a fool's errand for Michael Fassbender. No, not choosing to play revered tech icon and prickly visionary Steve Jobs while looking and sounding absolutely nothing like him. Trying to out-perform Ashton Kutcher, who played Jobs two short years earlier. Let's face it, any role that Kutcher plays is definitive, the unattainable gold standard. I mean, have you seen anybody try to top his celebrated performances as luminaries Jesse Montgomery III, Jack Fuller, or Kevin Federline? (Okay, his K-Fed on SNL was actually spectacular.) How can you possibly follow in Kutcher's footsteps? (That's also a pretty good question for Demi Moore's future boyfriends.) Well, Fassbender tries. Whether it was the specter of Kutcher, the film's abysmal box office, or the publicity machine of Leo, his chances of victory faded quickly, which is a shame. He seems primed for future awards, so voters are in no rush to anoint him just yet. But if he does win the Oscar, I'm guessing he won't accept it because he'll be too busy prepping his next role: Method-channeling the all-too-enigmatic Kelso. Practically unknown two years ago, Eddie Redmayne has exploded on the Oscar scene, landing a nomination for The Danish Girl a year after winning for The Theory Of Everything. Talented as he may be, last year's win effectively eliminates him from this year's race. You, sir, are no Tom Hanks. In 20 years, he'll either be sitting on a pile of Oscars, or wondering how he could have had such a meteoric rise only to squander it all. My prediction? Hint: I always lean in favor of schadenfreude. (Sorry Eddie.) The more interesting question is whether his Stephen Hawking portrayal would have beaten Leo this year. Voters would have had a dilemma, but I wager Redmayne would have blown Leo out of the water. Matt Damon's nomination for The Martian is a little puzzling. His character is affable, charming, witty, rakish, humorous, rascally, polished, and relatable… just like the Matt Damon on talk shows. So why the fuss over the performance? (His peers certainly didn't make a fuss - SAG passed him over in favor of Johnny Depp). The main argument I keep hearing is that he has to capture our attention by himself and have us root for him in order to keep us engaged in his character's journey for 2+ hours. Wait, what?? That just means he's a movie star, not that he gives a spectacular performance. I mean, Ben Affleck could have pulled that off. Don't be deceived by the showy dialogue about botany and thermodynamics. I could name half a dozen movies where Damon was better without getting nominated (for films with a similar dramedy tone, The Informant! comes to mind.) He's probably the least likely to win here. BEST ACTRESS: SHOULD WIN: Brie Larson (Room) WILL WIN: Brie Larson (Room) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Bryce Dallas Howard (Jurassic World) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Madison Davenport (A Light Beneath Their Feet) If there was any doubt, winning the SAG award pretty much locked up this award for Brie Larson, for her role in Room. Her case is not as strong as Leo's, since this is her first nomination, but anybody else winning would be a shock. While she's clearly this category's "discovery", she's no novice either. At age 26, Larson is an 18-year acting veteran, and is somehow not the youngest or even the second-youngest Best Actress nominee this year (and the younger ones - Jennifer Lawrence and Saoirse Ronan - even have previous Oscar nominations). It would seem like Cate Blanchett and Lawrence (for Joy), both previous winners, would factor heavily into this year's race, right? Wrong. Blanchett (for Carol) is the likelier upset, but she already has two Oscars, winning as recently as two years ago for Blue Jasmine. And let's face it, she's not Meryl Streep, so she's not getting a third Oscar this year. Lawrence (in Joy) seemed like an early front-runner (based solely on her name, it now seems), but then tepid reviews and a lack of SAG nomination almost booted her out of the race completely. Her saving grace was the fact that Rooney Mara and Alicia Vikander successfully lobbied to get themselves into the Supporting category (despite playing true "leading" roles), where the competition was less fierce (read: no Brie Larson). The kicker: Blanchett and Lawrence both play the title role in movies with a single-name title. Coincidence… or conspiracy? I think we know better than to ignore patterns when it comes to the Oscars. Perhaps the most intriguing woman in this category is first-time nominee Charlotte Rampling, for 45 Years. Age 70 is a surprising time to have a career breakthrough. In the US, she's hardly famous, mostly known for small roles in big films and esoteric art-house fare. But in Europe, she's ubiquitous, a timeless icon, with a Cesar award (French Oscar) and five nominations. In the 1960s and 1970s, she was an undeniable bombshell. She started as a model, and was a fixture in French and Italian art-house films to start her film career. It seems odd to say about a grandmother, but she's been known for unabashed nudity throughout her career; even outside of films, she posed for Playboy at age 29 and nude in front of the Mona Lisa at age 63 (the resulting photos were displayed in a London art museum). She'll be a sentimental favorite with some of the old guard who remember her heyday (clothed and otherwise). More importantly, while almost nobody has seen her film, those who have are calling her performance the best in this category. So do those factors give her a chance as a dark horse? No (especially after some controversial remarks about Oscar boycotts), but she'll get more votes than you would guess. BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR: SHOULD WIN: Mark Rylance (Bridge Of Spies) WILL WIN: Sylvester Stallone (Creed) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Adam Driver (Star Wars: The Force Awakens) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Idris Elba (Beasts Of No Nation) Let's work backwards on this one. So who WON'T win? Tom Hardy for The Revenant - yet another role where he uses a silly, nearly incomprehensible voice; he rode the "It Actor" wave (barely) into this race, but the film is ultimately the Leo Show. Anybody named Mark R. So, Mark Rylance in Bridge of Spies. Who? Exactly. And Mark Ruffalo in Spotlight. With nomination #3, he seems primed to win sometime, but not yet. And finally Christian Bale for The Big Short, who already won in this category recently, for a much showier role. Bale and Ruffalo both managed to get nominations for playing real-life non-celebrities with personalities, attitudes, idiosyncrasies, quirks, and individual tics - in other words, regular people. What a… stretch? Basically, they play nice, brainy, but moderately annoying guys who sit near you at work (and since I work in I.T., they play pretty much everybody in my department, including me). In their defense, they both play "regular" well enough that I forgot (momentarily) that they were Batman and The Hulk. Why are these regular-person performances so rare, to the point that we feel compelled to reward them with trophies? Stupid question. We go to the movies to pay to see extraordinary people, not normal people; we go to the EVERYWHERE ELSE to see normal people - for free. So that leaves… Sly. Even after winning the Golden Globe, which smelled suspiciously like a sentimental publicity stunt, I really didn't think Sylvester Stallone was going to be nominated for Creed. He was left off the SAG shortlist and ignored by many other critics' groups; it seemed almost silly to nominate him again for a role (an astonishing 39 years after the first one), after the Rocky series had dipped into ridiculousness over seven installments. And yet here he is - fill in your own boxing underdog cliché here - poised to become the third person to ever win an Oscar after missing a SAG nomination altogether (the other two: Marcia Gay Harden and Christoph Waltz). Had Idris Elba or Michael Keaton been in the mix, or had there be stronger competitors, I think Stallone would have been in trouble. But as it stands, there's enough old blood in the Academy that Stallone's victory seems inevitable. (That said, this category is ripe for an upset, with everyone a possibility.) Speaking of Creed, with its success, it's not surprising that a sequel is in the works (which would make it "Creed 2: Rocky VIII"??). In fact, I've learned that there are a slew of planned sequels: You've of course heard of next year's "Assassin's Creed", which will star Scott Stapp of the band Creed as Adonis's adopted brother Assassin, fighting for the title of World's Wussiest Rocker. Then there will be "Apostle's Creed", with Robert Duvall reprising his character from The Apostle, who's revealed to be Apollo's long-lost friend, part-time lover… and maybe Adonis's mother. It will be followed by "Apollo Creed 13", which will not be the 13th film in the series, but will resurrect Apollo Creed as a biogenetically engineered clone, who joins Bill Paxton and Kevin Bacon on a NASA trip to Mercury… until things go horribly wrong (Tom Hanks's agent has not returned calls; Carl Weathers signed on before he even heard the end of the title). The next installment, "Captain Apollo", will serve as another Battlestar Galactica re-boot, with Apollo Creed's clone as the titular captain, and Apollo Creed's clone's clone playing all the Cylons. Finally, we can look forward to "Apollo, Oh No!", where Apollo Creed's clone is coached by now-retired Adonis to compete in the Olympics… in speed skating, taking on his nemesis Apolo Ohno (played by Dolph Lundgren). It's comforting to know that the Rocky franchise will continue to be handled with the dignity it deserves. As much as I loved Star Wars: The Force Awakens, I have to give my Gloriously Omitted slot to Adam Driver - he plays Kylo Ren as a sulky, blow-dried, bratty teenage hipster whose daddy wouldn't buy him a unicycle. On the Snubbed side, I mentioned Idris Elba (Beasts Of No Nation) earlier, who unfortunately became the first-ever SAG winner to get passed over for an Oscar nomination. Honorable Mentions go to the Mad Max Fire Guitar Guy, and to Daniel Craig, in perhaps the greatest uncredited cameo ever, as a random stormtrooper in Star Wars. It would be foolish not to mention the passing of Alan Rickman, member of the Snubbed Hall of Fame, never getting an Oscar nod. Most egregious of all snubs, of course, was his lack of nomination in the greatest Christmas movie of all time, Die Hard, playing the greatest villain of all time, Hans Gruber. That role was, astonishingly, his first movie (!). Rest in peace, good sir. BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS: SHOULD WIN: Alicia Vikander (The Danish Girl) WILL WIN: Alicia Vikander (The Danish Girl) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Kristen Wiig (The Martian) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Taryn Manning (A Light Beneath Their Feet) When this race started, Alicia Vikander seemed like the long shot, her campaign downgraded from Lead Actress to Supporting Actress, and too fresh-faced to compete with award-circuit veterans Kate Winslet, Jennifer Jason Leigh, and Rooney Mara. But then people actually saw The Danish Girl, where she holds her own as a co-lead against Eddie Redmayne, and she started winning precursory awards (SAG and Critics' Choice). Add the "It Girl" votes she'll get for Ex Machina (but probably not any for Man From U.N.C.L.E.), and suddenly she's the front-runner. (And let's face it: being hot never hurt.) But realistically, this race is tighter than most "experts" would lead you to believe. The award could easily go to Winslet for Steve Jobs or Mara for Carol. I could even see it going to Leigh, despite her lack of SAG nomination - there will be a small but convicted group of voters who want to honor Quentin Tarantino and The Hateful Eight (which will already be a shoo-in for Original Score). (I don't think we have to worry about Rachel McAdams factoring in here. I have no idea why she's nominated. I guess for starring in something other than a bad romantic comedy?) The Supporting categories are often the most volatile, and this year is a prime example. The only thing I feel confident about is that I'll get at least one of these categories wrong. If Winslet does in fact win, I guarantee it will be painful to watch. Ugh. She was ALMOST back in my good graces, making the rounds with charming, gracious, grounded, and surprisingly sane interviews and talk show appearances. Then came her Golden Globe acceptance speech last month. Good god. It was a night-terror flashback of 2009 all over again, when she cleaned house at all the award shows. The insincerity, the faux-surprise, the manufactured emotion, the transparent "modesty". And the hyperventilating! I've never seen so much fake hyperventilating on so many different occasions from one person. Let's hope we don't get another repeat performance. (But as it happens, her performance in Steve Jobs is excellent.) Why, you ask, would I single out Kristen Wiig with my Gloriously Omitted spot? Quite simply, she is bafflingly miscast in The Martian. This complaint isn't really aimed at her, since I think the film completely wastes her enormous talent. This complaint is about the casting of the film - so I guess I blame director Ridley Scott. Wiig has shown considerable dramatic range to complement her impeccable comedy chops, but this role calls for neither. I realize the film has a quirky comedy-ish vibe, but she's relegated to being a space-filler in surprised-face reactions shots. (It seems like at least an opportunity for her to do some mugging - which she excels at - but she doesn't even do that.) Next time, let her be the Martian. My Snubbed choice goes to Taryn Manning for A Light Beneath Their Feet, an underseen indie that showcases her best work ever. I give an Honorable Mention to Tilda Swinton in Trainwreck… for actually looking like a woman. (She gets extra credit for the 180-degree turn from her androgynous and eminently quotable role in Snowpiercer: "Know your place. Keep your place. Be a shoe.") BEST DIRECTOR: SHOULD WIN: Alejandro González Iñárritu (The Revenant) WILL WIN: Alejandro González Iñárritu (The Revenant) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Doug Ellin (Entourage) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Alex Garland (Ex Machina) This category is surprisingly tough, and far from locked up. So let's begin with what we know. Well, you can start with the original presumptive favorite, Ridley Scott for The Martian. With three previous nominations and decades of classic movies under his belt, it seemed that people would fall all over themselves casting a ballot for him. But then he shockingly was not nominated. So scratch him off. The annual hipster nomination went to Lenny Abrahamson for Room, swiping a slot from boldface names like Spielberg, Russell, and Tarantino. Psst, the hipster nominee never wins. Next. Then there's Adam McKay, for directing The Big Short. To clarify, this is the same Adam McKay who directed Anchorman. The same Adam McKay who's best known to many as the father of Pearl the Landlord (the foulmouthed toddler berating Will Ferrell in the FunnyOrDie video - which, by the way, is actually featured in The Big Short). The same Adam McKay who was described by Ferrell as "just dumb". He's also randomly Jeremy Piven's brother-in-law. It's very cool to see him nominated (he's long been a titan in the comedy world, and he makes inventive use of simple images and sounds to convey his story), but he's the next guy you can X out. How about Tom McCarthy? His film, Spotlight, is one of the favorites for Picture and Original Screenplay, so why not Director? McCarthy is an interesting case: He's seemingly unknown (he's Tom McCarthy number "XXII" on IMDB!), but he's actually fairly recognizable as an actor (for things like the Meet The Parents movies and The Wire), and already has an Oscar nomination as a writer, for Up. He's also an accomplished filmmaker, gaining a fervent fan base and generally cleaning up at the Independent Spirit Awards with his small, quiet films like The Station Agent, The Visitor, and Win Win. (For the moment, out of politeness, let's ignore - since paying audiences did - his other award contender this year, the Adam-Sandler-starring and Razzie-nominated The Cobbler.) Spotlight is a commercial and critical breakthrough for McCarthy, but it's still seen more as a writing and character piece. Part of its strength is that it that it's not visibly technical, over-choreographed or overtly showy; to put it condescendingly: McCarthy doesn't let the directing get in the way of the story. His claim on Best Director will have to wait. Incongruously, I am very much in favor of George Miller's nomination for Best Director, despite my misgivings about Mad Max: Fury Road's Best Picture nod. It's a technical marvel. And its strength is in its execution. The film is visually arresting, almost to the point of being difficult to digest: an operatic, jarring, grotesque, homoerotic, noble, gonzo, luscious fever dream. Ordinarily that would not be enough to win in this category, but with Ridley Scott shockingly absent, Miller is the de facto elder statesman, revered and overdue. And he's a bit of a Renaissance man, netting a career total of six nominations in surprisingly (and refreshingly) varied disciplines (writing, directing, and producing), formats (live-action, animation, and talking-animal), genres (drama, action, kiddie, and comedy), and ratings (G, PG, PG-13, and R). His previous nominations were for Lorenzo's Oil, Babe, and Happy Feet, if you can believe it - the last of which landed him an Oscar for Best Animated Feature. (Yet he still gets confused with the George Miller who directed the movie Andre - yes, the girl-and-her-seal movie.) He may not be prolific (directing only 9 features over 45 years), but he sure isn't pigeon-holed either. It's pretty clear he controls his destiny. And with Fury Road, he's made a statement: "I can do as I please. You can ignore me, but you won't. Two unrelenting hours of maximized carnage, combustion, and cacophony? Red-carpet beauty Charlize Theron with a shaved head, amputated arm, and violent disposition? Our hero Max speared to the front of a tank, in an S&M mask, being used as a human blood bank for the entire first act? A fire-shooting guitar player bungee-strapped to a speeding war machine? A villain driving a dune buggy 100 MPH in a clown mask, fright wig, iron lung, and Speedo? Yes, all of the above. Now where's my Oscar?" It appears he could get it. Last but not least: Alejandro González Iñárritu, for The Revenant. Hot off last year's win in this category, with a shoo-in for Best Actor and a strong case for Best Picture, boasting the grittiest and most ambitious of all the nominated films, he's got to be the undisputed favorite, right? Wrong. Last year's win actually hurts him; plenty of directors have been nominated the year after winning, but the Academy seems to want to spread the love around a bit in this category. There have only been two back-to-back Director winners in history (the esteemed John Ford and Joseph Mankiewicz) - and NONE since 1950. So, history is against him. So it comes down to Miller and Iñárritu. The scales seemed tipped in Miller's favor, until Iñárritu won the Directors Guild Award. A typical guild award doesn't necessarily guarantee an Oscar, but the DGA is special: it's the most accurate, predicting the Oscar 84% of the time. I can't say I'm completely confident, but I'm putting my chips on Iñárritu. Thought I was going to name J.J. Abrams for my Snubbed spot? Well, I was tempted. But for the most fascinating and inventive film I saw this year, it rightfully goes to Alex Garland for Ex Machina. In such a crowded year, it's not surprising that he was passed over here. But with a nomination in the Original Screenplay category and a DGA for First-Time Director, it's good to see him getting recognition that he deserves. (Apologies to Doug Ellin for calling him out in my Gloriously Omitted slot for Entourage, because I loved the show… but the film is unnecessary and unsatisfying.) BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY: SHOULD WIN: Alex Garland (Ex Machina) WILL WIN: Tom McCarthy, Josh Singer (Spotlight) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Too many writers to name (Jurassic World) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Amy Schumer (Trainwreck) Ah, the consolation prize. At least one of the Best Picture and Best Director losers will take home a Screenplay statuette as a parting gift. Since it's going to lose in every other category (after being an early front-runner), a win here for Spotlight is a pretty safe bet (especially since Tom McCarthy both wrote and directed). Is there a chance for Bridge Of Spies to steal it? Seems impossible, until you realize the script is co-written by the Coen brothers. Commence Academy drooling. Ultimately, it just doesn't have enough momentum in any category to make it a real threat here. While I was hoping for a Best Picture nomination (and Best Director as a reach), I was happy to see that Ex Machina at least scored a screenplay nomination. One of the most original films I've seen in years, it could have gone any number of sci-fi/thriller/psycho directions, but it stays relatively grounded, considering its central question: Can you really be seduced by a robot? Apparently if the robot is Alicia Vikander, then the answer is yes. (Cast Tilda Swinton as the robot and I think we'd get a different outcome.) While it ultimately wouldn't get my vote, I have to make a strong case for Inside Out (which I think deserved a Best Picture nomination in addition to this one). It's being lauded for capturing the mentality and complex feelings of a child, but as a parent, I was more affected by the examination of how parents try to understand children. It had the emotional impact on me that Boyhood had intended (and lacked), which I did not expect. Cleverly, the screenwriters achieve this not through the characters of the parents, but through Joy. She is our window into the mind of the child, reacting with surprise (as parents do) to every one of the child's emotional outbursts. What Joy uncovers is almost a horror story for parents: most of the things that we cherish about our children are the things that they naturally grow out of and forget. Your favorite memories of your toddler, that seem to shape the little person they are becoming, filled with excitement, learning, and awe? Those memories will be forgotten by your child, slowly withering and dying in the recesses of her subconscious. Replaced by goddam One Direction. Deal with it. Straight Outta Compton has four credited writers (and who knows how many uncredited ones). Screenplay by committee = tough luck at the Oscars. BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY: SHOULD WIN: Adam McKay, Charles Randolph (The Big Short) WILL WIN: Adam McKay, Charles Randolph (The Big Short) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Nico Lathouris, Brendan McCarthy, George Miller (Mad Max: Fury Road) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Aaron Sorkin (Steve Jobs) It's refreshing to see a number of women crack the boys' club of the writers' room in both screenplay categories this year. But it appears the winners will probably all be the male writer/directors. It's looking pretty clear that The Big Short will take home the gold here, and I think it's the right choice. I'm fascinated by the way the story is told by Adam McKay and Charles Randolph. And I don't mean how the book was adapted, which is what most people are marveling at. And I don't mean the focus on the wacky nerds who saw the economic collapse coming. And I don't mean the way the confusing market concepts and financial terminology are explained to the audience (ahem, Margot Robbie's memorable cameo). Though those things are all great. I mean the way the traditional Hero's Tale is turned on its head. Of course, we know the ending going into it: the housing market (and the economy) collapses, and the nerds are proven correct. McKay takes these unknown dorky characters, makes them the heroes of the story, and casts big likable movie stars in the roles (Christian Bale, Steve Carrell, Ryan Gosling, Brad Pitt). He sets them up as the underdogs, getting laughed at by all the cocky bankers who think the system can't fail. Since we know the system will fail, we are waiting for our traditional movie-star heroes to prevail, to bask in victory, and for the financial evil-doers to get their comeuppance. But then… that doesn't happen. Without a doubt, the collapse happens, and the heroes are proven right. But there's no victory. There's no celebration. There's barely even recognition that they were right all along. The horribleness of the situation consumes any sense of triumph, happiness, or pride. And yes, they profit - thematically speaking, that's exactly the point: they realize the sad truth that the money they made was taken from the savings of millions of average people, not from the bad guys. The last act of the film almost feels like a war film - in a conflict where there are countless casualties on all sides, nobody really wins. And the guiltiest parties walk away unscathed. Part of me is disappointed that Aaron Sorkin's script for Steve Jobs was not nominated, and part of me understands why it wasn't. For somebody that loves movies and appreciates screenwriting, I found it to be a fairly inventive way to deliver a biopic, which by its very nature tends to be unwieldy. I also appreciate the so-sharp-it's-impossible dialogue, which I find thoroughly entertaining. On the other hand, for casual filmgoers, I can see why the film would seem flat and inaccessible. There is literally no action; it's two hours of static conversations and arguments that take place improbably in the minutes before Jobs unveils new computers at three different launch events. Only once do the characters actually step outdoors. And the dialogue, which is forced to be expository due to the script's structure, tends to sound more like Sorkin's unique language than real-life characters. We know nobody talks like that; whether or not you think it's fun probably determines whether you liked the movie. The final factor that probably pushes viewers one way or the other is the decision to distill the source of Jobs's motivation to a Rosebud-like nucleus. Is it brilliant, or painfully oversimplified? Academy voters evidently felt the latter. P.S. William Goldman, you have my sincerest apologies.

[ryanjdonovan]

Donovan's Oscar Prognostication 2015

I’m looking forward to this year’s Academy Awards, not to see who wins Best Picture or for Neil Patrick Harris’Broadway-style showmanship, but for a new award: Former Sony Pictures boss Amy Pascal will be handing out the Honorary Bottomless Pit Of Need award.  Everyone in Hollywood is nominated.  I’m also looking forward to watching the telecast with my 4-year-old son, who actually reminds me of most blonde red-carpet starlets: the same air of entitlement (the demand every 10 minutes is “Do everything for me, and do it now”) and frankly about the same amount of sense (the answer to every question is “I don’t know”).  

If you’re looking forward to knowing who’s going to win and who should win, then read on for my 16th  annual Oscar predictions.

BEST PICTURE:

SHOULD WIN:  The Grand Budapest Hotel

WILL WIN:  Birdman

GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  St. Vincent

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Gone Girl, The Lego Movie

Flip a coin.  Birdman or Boyhood.  I honestly have no idea who’s going to win.  Nobody does.  The “experts” are generally divided, and the two films have split a lot of the major precursory awards.  The tipping factor for me is the fact that Birdman won the Producers Guild Awards (which has matched Best Picture seven years running)… and the fact that I liked Birdman more.  

Birdman is a wondrous film… but what is it about? Sure, it’s about a once-famous guy trying to put on a Broadway play.  But, what’s it really ABOUT?  Coming to terms with mortality?  The pursuit of redemption?  Analysis of the creation of art?  The key to happiness?  Extinguishing regret?  A man’s descent into madness?  A man’s ascent out of madness?  The universality and inevitability of existential trauma (a pretty good and appropriately ambiguous catch-all)?  All of these? None of these?  The film’s seldom-noticed Joseph-Conrad-ish subtitle goes a long way: “The Unexpected Virtue Of Ignorance”.  Or maybe the best description is the simplest, the one that star Michael Keaton offered: “a look at human nature”.  (But I think we can all agree on what it’s REALLY about: a reminder of why Edward Norton is considered such an asshole.)  I guess the array of possibilities is a big part of what makes the film so fantastic – or so maddening, depending on your point of view – and big part of why I think it will win Best Picture.  It’s times like these that a small part of me wants M. Night Shyamalan to re-write movie endings so there can be a big reveal explaining everything.  “Oh, so Birdman was actually just Bruce Willis all along.”  

It’s a little hard to describe how I feel about Boyhood.  It’s even harder to evaluate it without bias.  It’s almost impossible to ignore all the praise, publicity, awards (and backlash); my judgment is further clouded by the fact that I have three boys myself.  But what if I had seen it at a festival, before all the hype and attention?  Would I regard it as one of the Best Films of the Year?  My biggest struggle is the fact that there is no narrative to speak of; instead, it’s series of disconnected little scenes in the titular boy’s life, each disappearing like a puff of smoke, giving way to the next unrelated vignette – preventing any dramatic tension from building up.  And that’s completely purposeful, intending not to draw solid lines, but to paint a portrait on a 12-year-wide canvass – cinematic pointillism, if you will (and if you like mixed metaphors).  Linklater has said that life is really the collection of tiny moments in between the big moments, and that is what he wanted to portray. (As the grown boy says in the film, in an awkwardly faux-introspective moment of thematic exposition: “It’s, like, always right now.”  Deep. Then again, in that scene, he’s stoned out of his mind.)  I get Linklater’s point, and agree with it, but I’m not sure that it makes for a particularly compelling movie.  It would be one thing if this was a documentary, and the little moments were completely genuine.  But this isn’t, and they aren’t.  They may be true to life in nature (at least, if you grow up around underachieving hippie-artistic influences, with multiple alcoholic step-dads, where everybody is baked, in seemingly-consequence-less Texas), but they are not true to life in reality.  (And from a practical perspective, I can only imagine the producers who were handing over money annually, reviewing the footage as it was taken: “Four years, and the most interesting thing you’ve got is the kid getting a goddam haircut?!”)

Another thing I struggle with is Boyhood’s style. Linklater interestingly (wisely? foolishly?) presents each scene in a casual-observational, semi-improvisational style, which has become his trademark (see The ‘Before’ Trilogy, Slacker, Dazed And Confused, Waking Life, et al.).  He shrugs off showier techniques, eschewing dramatic push-ins, emotional reaction shots, and musical score.  On the plus side, he isn’t trying to reel in the audience in an emotionally manipulative way; he’s simply presenting the events as they are.  On the other hand, those elements are part of what engrosses the audience and makes them care about the characters.  To put it bluntly, if you don’t want to be manipulated, don’t watch movies.  

When it comes down to it, in general, I am a big proponent of structure when it comes to film (in fact, my wife would argue, when it comes to EVERYTHING).  I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.  And I realize that Linklater intentionally breaks every structural rule in order to create a certain kind of movie, to tell a specific type of story, to let the characters breathe, and most of all, to make a point.  I respect that immensely, despite what my comments in this article lead you to believe.  So I’m trying to reconcile my thirst for structure (and narrative and plot and objective and acts and drama and conflict and payoff and arc) with Linklater’s intentions, and simply determine if he made one of the Best Films of the Year.  My personal feeling is, probably not.  

So why does Boyhood have such a strong chance to win?  Its greatest strength is that every voter who has a child, any age, legitimate or otherwise, can’t help but have a reaction the film.  It doesn’t even matter if they are good parents or not.  Every parent watching sees their own children in this movie (which elicits a stronger emotion than a film where people see themselves, like Birdman).  Rightly or not, this is what voters will respond to, more so than to any time-manipulation stunt/technique.  Remember, the Academy members aren’t the 20-something CW crowd without kids, they are the middle-aged-and-older CBS crowd with kids and grandkids.  The only thing more potent with this crowd would be a movie about juggling a trophy wife, ex-wives, and mistresses.  

If you’ve ever read my annual Oscar predictions article before, you know what a little schoolgirl I am for Wes Anderson. (The line from the Saturday Night Live spoof ‘The Midnight Coterie of Sinister Intruders’ is aimed squarely at me: “The New York Times calls it, ‘You had me at Wes Anderson.’”)  So imagine my giddy excitement to see Anderson earn his first (and long overdue) Best Picture and Best Director nominations.  Not only that, he managed to haul in a clean sweep of nominations: Directing, Writing, and Best Picture.  You can probably guess who I think deserves to win.

American Sniper has become quite the Oscar tidal wave, washing out box office records and creating turbulent water in several categories.  Some think it could even have enough late-season momentum to carry it all the way to the podium for Best Picture – a feat director Clint Eastwood is practically known for.  Personally, I don’t think it will happen. One, it’s gotten the weakest reviews of all the nominees by far – a paltry 73% by aggregator Rotten Tomatoes.  Two, THE FAKE BABY.  And three, I think it’s a little, well, boring.  Don’t get me wrong, I like it – it’s interesting and visually impressive, captures an intriguing portrayal of modern warfare heroics, and features some extremely intense battle sequences (like the rooftop firefight as the sandstorm rolls in – nearly breathtaking).  But – here I go again about structure – it lacks the story arc to bring all the scenes together in a compelling manner.  It’s told as a biopic with a series of standalone events, as opposed to a narrative with an objective driving through each scene – so I feel it just sags at every transition.  In storytelling, the main character’s objective, and the conflict created by the opposition to that objective, is what creates drama.  Pretty simple.  That is what propels a story from scene to scene.  Each scene sets up the next one, so you are thinking (even if you don’t realize it), “Based on that new piece of dramatic conflict, what happens next?”  I don’t get that with American Sniper.  I can’t help but compare it to Zero Dark Thirty, a film with a similar theme, that I think was executed in a much more compelling fashion.  The big difference is that ZDT has an extremely strong and concrete objective: Get Osama bin Laden.  The movie starts with the main character starting her hunt for bin Laden; every scene in the middle is about chasing him; when she gets him, the movie ends. What is the protagonist’s objective in American Sniper?  To serve his country as a Navy SEAL?  Sure, but he accomplishes that in the first 15 minutes.  Fight bad guys?  Not really. (There’s an attempt to give a face to the opposition, the shadowy sniper that becomes the main character’s nemesis, but that is fleeting, and never his primary goal.)  Get home to his family?  No (which the story makes very clear).  Protect his fellow countrymen?  Arguably yes – that’s the closest I can come – but that’s a pretty vague and reactive objective to carry a two-hour movie, and not enough for me. On the other hand, the film will make over $300 million domestically, and may win the Oscar… so I’m sure Clint would say that MY objective should be to go f--- myself.  

I’m proud to say, that for the first time (and probably the last), my son and I agree on one of the best movies of the year: The Lego Movie.  An unfortunate snub in multiple categories.

BEST ACTOR:

SHOULD WIN: Eddie Redmayne (The Theory Of Everything)

WILL WIN:  Eddie Redmayne (The Theory Of Everything)

GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Bill Murray (St. Vincent)

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Ralph Fiennes (The Grand Budapest Hotel)

I’ve become the kind of voter that I despise: I recognize that one person was the best, but I want someone else to win.  If I actually had a vote, what would I do?  I clearly recognize that Eddie Redmayne gave the better performance and is, by definition, the Best Actor.  But I would be extremely tempted (along with the vox populi) to vote for Michael Keaton because I’m a much bigger fan of his.  And I hate when voters do that.  I’d like to think I’d stick to my guns and vote for Redmayne… but wouldn’t it be so much more rewarding to see Keaton up at the podium? This is the kind of race that makes me a little disappointed that they actually have to anoint a winner at all. I almost want to side with the drippy actors (sorry, “artists”) who whine and lament making it a competition. I agree that it’s just a soulless marketing game, that it’s barbaric and unenlightened to crown a king of something so subjective, and that we should celebrate the craft as a whole so that everybody can be a winner.  Actually, that’s a lie.  Who am I kidding?  I like the fact that one person wins… but more than that, I LOVE the fact that everybody else loses.  

So in that spirit of ultimate wiki-Darwinism, here’s my decision: Redmayne deserves the Oscar.  Keaton is note-perfect in Birdman; nobody could have played the part better.  But Redmayne’s virtuoso performance is beyond Oscar winner – it was transcendent.  It’s one of those rare performances that you see and immediately know that it’s incomparable; it belongs in a space with an elite few: Marlon Brando in The Godfather, Meryl Streep in Sophie’s Choice, Dustin Hoffman in Rain Main, Daniel Day-Lewis in Lincoln (or frankly anything).  You can’t even compare Keaton’s performance to it: The ceiling on Redmayne’s character (which he reached) is simply so much higher than Keaton’s.  Simply put, there is no objective justification for Keaton to win the award over Redmayne.

Okay, great, but my vote means nothing.  So who will actually win?  This will be one of the closest races of the night, nearly impossible to predict. Anybody that purports to have a strong idea of who will win is lying.  If you’re in a pool, you might as well pick a name out of a hat.  Keaton seemed to have the lead early on (mostly on the merit of his work, partly on sentiment).  The assumption was that Keaton’s strongest support would come from his fellow actors – but then Redmayne won the Screen Actors Guild award, it was clear that he had the actors’ vote.  And since actors make up most of the Academy voters (and since the SAG is historically one of the most reliable predictors – each of the last 10 years), it’s impossible not to give Redmayne the slight edge.  

There has been a lot of hype for a long time around Keaton’s performance.  We’ve were hearing about it for so long that I think he’s making a comeback from the backlash from his comeback.  Well, I’m here to say that the hype is warranted.  The role isn’t flashy; it’s grounded (not literally – I mean, he’s Birdman) and naturalistic, but that doesn’t make it any less remarkable.  It’s technically difficult and exceedingly delicate – it’s like walking a balance beam in a hurricane.  Keaton proves what a pro he is with his underappreciated experience and legendary timing.  

Bradley Cooper. Ugh.  So now that he’s been nominated each of the last three years, and is getting the best reviews of his career for American Sniper, do we finally have to consider him a good actor?  The first two nominations (for Silver Linings Playbook and American Hustle) can be dismissed, because basically everybody except the extras gets nominated in David O. Russell films.  But this one’s a little harder to wave off.  Straight drama.  Different director.  No star-studded ensemble.  In fact, could he pull off a latecomer upset, like occasionally happens in these races? His film was so late to the game that he missed out on the Screen Actors Guild and Golden Globe nominations, which seemed to nudge him off the Oscar radar.  He was considered a bit of a surprise nominee over Ralph Fiennes and Jake Gyllenhaal, but there’s something to be said for peaking at the right time. During “Phase Two” (the post-nomination, pre-vote circuit), his support (like the film’s monster box office) has been swelling.  It is conceivable that he could steal this award from Keaton and Redmayne.  So, do we finally have to consider him a good actor? In a word: Nope.  

Steve Carrell goes to famously great lengths to create his unusual and unexpected character for Foxcatcher.  Or does he?  Doesn’t it seem oddly familiar?  The accent, the schnozz, the dour demeanor, the fatherhood issues, the desperate and ridiculous quest for fame and power – where have we seen those before?  Oh yeah: Despicable Me.  I keep waiting for Carrell to admit:  “You know Gru?  I basically just did that again.”  Throw in a boppy Pharrell song and they would practically be the same movie.

Benedict Cumberbatch won’t win for The Imitation Game (and I only recently learned that it’s not “CumberPatch”, which to me makes a lot more sense).  But he also played Stephen Hawking – in a 2004 TV movie.  Doesn’t that count for something?  It’s safe to say that Redmayne bears a stronger resemblance in his film.  The only better possible choice to play Hawking?  Patrick Carney of The Black Keys – have you seen that guy?  It’s uncanny.  

It pains me to do it, but I’m compelled to give the Gloriously Omitted slot to the legendary Bill Murray.  His film, St. Vincent, is ostensibly a comedy, but I think I only laughed three times the entire time – and only once because of Murray. Okay, so then it’s a drama – that’s fine, right?  Well, Murray struggles with the drama as well.  I can only deduce that the confounding critical praise he’s received is for a single predictable, trite, sugary – yet still touching – climactic scene… but I say he’s just standing on the right mark at the right time. So no points for that.  And negative points for his terrible, lazy, grating, occasional Brooklyn (or is it Long Island?  Rhode Island?  Boston? Chicago?) accent.

I don’t disagree with the arguments for David Oyelowo in Selma, but my overwhelming Ingloriously Snubbed pick is Ralph Fiennes in The Grand Budapest Hotel.  A newcomer to director Wes Anderson’s world, all facades of his character fit in perfectly: charming cad, witty hustler, noble bon vivant, devilish imp.  He embodies Anderson’s unique sensibilities perfectly (as well as any other player’s in the auteur’s films), yet stands on his own as sui generis.  It’s almost astounding to believe that he hasn’t been nominated for an Oscar since The English Patient – that’s 18 years… and counting.  Honorable Mention goes to Chris Evans, for the best acting of his life (I realize that’s not saying much) in Snowpiercer.  

BEST ACTRESS:

SHOULD WIN:  Julianne Moore (Still Alice)

WILL WIN:  Julianne Moore (Still Alice)

GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Jennifer Aniston (Cake)

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Kristen Wiig (The Skelton Twins)

In the year’s most lopsided race, Julianne Moore will run away with the award for her role in Still Alice, as a woman with early-onset Alzheimer’s.  Moore has been overwhelming critics with her portrayal of the effects of the terrible degenerative disease (albeit one with fringe benefits – I mean, if my daughter was insufferably sulky Kristen Stewart, I’d be praying for memory loss too.) Frankly, it’s a little hard to take this weighty, dramatic movie seriously because I can’t disassociate Moore and onscreen husband Alec Baldwin from their silly, hilarious roles on 30 Rock – I keep expecting Moore to break into the blue-collar Bahston accent. (Come to think of it, re-cast Tina Fey in the role and call it “Still Liz” – two hours of forgetful Liz Lemon constantly surprised by the inane antics of forgotten Tracy, Jenna, and Jack – that would get my Oscar vote.)  Moore has no real competition here.  Reese Witherspoon (Wild) and Marion Cotillard (Two Days, One Night) have already won (for Walk The Line and La Vie En Rose, respectively).  And Felicity Jones and Rosamund Pike are names most people had never heard of six months ago.  

The only real threat would have been if Amy Adams had been nominated for Big Eyes.  Of all working actresses today (aside from Glenn Close), Moore and Adams are the most-nominated ladies never to have won, with five nominations apiece.  Both have careers and resumes befitting Oscar winners – Academy members are just itching to reward both of them.  But I think the outcome would have been the same. Moore’s performance speaks for itself, but aside from that, I think on-the-fence voters may have factored in age (ahem, sorry – experience) and longevity… leading to a victory for Moore just about any way you look at it.  But crisis has been avoided (thank goodness!), and Moore will be the uncontested victor.  

I would be happy to see Gone Girl’s Rosamund Pike win for playing Amy, the wife who’s not quite the sweetheart she seems – because it’s such a terrifyingly amusing (or amusingly terrifying) role.  There’s an unnerving yet undeniable allure to a woman who is both that gorgeous and that crazy.  A lot of women were stunned by her performance because she played an usually psychotic female character.  But frankly, men weren’t that shocked.  That’s how men view most women – especially exes: unhinged and ready to exact revenge at any time.  While most women left the movie in horrified disbelief, most men left thinking, “Been there.”  Men generally live in fear of women, and Pike is a perfect example of why.  

Gloriously Omitted goes to Jennifer Aniston, just because I think it’s funny.  All of the raves for her performance seem to revolve around the fact that she gained 10 whole pounds and wore very little makeup.  So in other words, she looked the way most women look on their very best days.  Brava!

Once again, I’m naming Kristen Wiig as my snubbed choice, for The Skeleton Twins.  She is, not surprisingly, the best thing about this very “meh” movie.  We know she was fantastic in Bridesmaids and Saturday Night Live, but this role is more serious than comedic, and she proves she can pull it off with the best of them.  Somehow, she was only recognized by the Critics’ Choice Awards for this film.  I want to see her do more drama, but at the same time, that would mean taking her away from comedy, which is her true gift. 2014 showed that one of the funniest women on the planet is also an incredibly talented dramatic actress.  

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR:

SHOULD WIN:  J.K. Simmons (Whiplash)

WILL WIN:  J.K. Simmons (Whiplash)

GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Channing Tatum (Foxcatcher)

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Jaeden Lieberher (St. Vincent)

Another race that will have a wide margin of victory is Best Supporting Actor.  J.K. Simmons has been the wire-to-wire favorite since Whiplash debuted at Sundance last January.  After a recent history of playing mild-mannered folk (not including Oz, obviously), audiences have been blown back by his role as an abusive and manipulative (but possibly genius) music teacher.  While most moviegoers are thinking, “What a monster!”, I’ve been thinking, “That’s the kind of teacher my four-year old needs.”  Could you imagine?  You can bet your ass he would eat his vegetables.  And potty training would have been a snap.  “Were you pooping or were you tinkling?”  “I don’t know.”  SLAP. “Pooping or tinkling?!” “Tinkling!”  “So you do know the difference!”  

Edward Norton, playing an actor (meta!) in Birdman, seems to be Simmons’ closest competition – and it’s not that close.  Of his three career Oscar nominations (Primal Fear and American History X), I feel like this is the least award-worthy, and I think the voters agree. He plays an irrational, pervy, manipulative, egomaniacal, prima donna, asshole-ish, yet occasionally brilliant thespian – in other words, himself.  For all the people who wonder why he has had a falling out with nearly every director he’s worked with, this is basically the personification of why.  And, ironically, it’s also the reason why other directors are STILL willing to work with him: that occasional brilliance – the glimmering hope that if you can steer the ship through the tempest, you may find treasure.

I’ve gotta stop being shocked every time Ethan Hawke gets an Oscar nomination.  (This one, for playing the divorced dad in Boyhood, is – did I mention I’m shocked? – his fourth!)  Hawke pops up in the movie every now and then to spout well-intentioned but overdue and ultimately useless pseudo-philosophy to his biological kids.  It feels a lot like his character Jesse from the ‘Before’ Trilogy, if Jesse hadn’t been accidentally successful and instead been more of a badlands drifter with zero sense of responsibility.  The fact that he isn’t in the movie very much probably helped his Oscar chances, honestly.  It begs a philosophical question that the character himself might proffer: Is less of a bad thing the same as more of a good thing?

These days, I guess growling passes as acting for Robert Duvall.  But in his defense, is there anybody better at growling?  All in a day’s work, and in an Oscar nomination, for his role as Robert Downey, Jr.’s grumpy father in The Judge.  I say they cast him as Downey’s dad again – in Iron Man 4.  “Dad, I can fly!”  “You’re an idiot.”  

The most satisfying thing about Mark Ruffalo’s inclusion in this category (you know, besides rewarding his good acting in Foxcatcher)?  He’s the one that took over the role of the Hulk from Norton. (Remember those falling-outs I mentioned earlier?)  It’s now Ruffalo, not Norton, who is along for the ride in the Avengers mega-franchise. Will there be any awkwardness between them at the Oscar ceremony?  Let’s hope so.  The only thing that would make it more intriguing is if they had both dated Pamela Anderson.  

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS:

SHOULD WIN:  Patricia Arquette (Boyhood)

WILL WIN:  Patricia Arquette (Boyhood)

GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Naomi Watts (St. Vincent)

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Kim Dickens (Gone Girl), Lindsay Duncan (Birdman)

How pissed is Julie Delpy?  Delpy has appeared (along with Ethan Hawke) in just about every dramatic movie that Richard Linklater has made – EXCEPT for Boyhood.  Instead, Patricia Arquette was cast, and will likely win the Oscar.  I’m guessing that’s one vote that Arquette won’t get.  It seems that almost all other Academy voters are pulling for Arquette, however – she’s the favorite, winning pretty much every other award.  But if there were any strong nominees in the Supporting Actress category, Arquette would be in trouble.  It’s a fine performance, but not really deserving of an Oscar in my (judgmental, unforgiving, and authoritative) book.  To her credit, much of the performance feels real (even if the words and decisions don’t).  And it’s somewhat refreshing that her character often reacts in ways that movie moms almost never do (which actually makes her character harder to like).  That aspect is probably what’s impressing voters.  I can’t give a strong endorsement, but I also can’t suggest a better choice.  This is all bad news for me, since it will cost me money: Years ago, I bet heavily that the first Arquette to win an Oscar would be David.  He seemed like such a lock after Scream…

In a stronger year, most of the candidates in this category would probably not have been nominated (I’m looking at you, Emma Stone).  Stone plays her role well, and she certainly looks the part of a reluctantly-sober former addict: emaciated frame, dishwater blonde hair, I-don’t-care-but really-I-do outfits, accusatory eyes, artless tattoos, pouty mouth used exclusively for hurtling insults / performing unsavory acts.  But I don’t see anything that sets it apart from any of dozens of other supporting performances this year.  Keira Knightly may be good in The Imitation Game, but I can’t focus on her performance because I keep thinking that she’s slowly becoming Helena Bonham Carter.  Meryl Streep’s nomination for Into The Woods feels wholly unnecessary.  What’s she playing for, anyway?  She just keeps needlessly adding to her unbreakable record of Oscar nominations (19 and counting – that means that since 1979 she has been nominated MORE THAN HALF of the years).  With three statuettes at home, the only goal left is to catch Katherine Hepburn’s record of four acting Oscars, and everybody agrees this is not her year.

My Gloriously Omitted pick is Naomi Watts, a walking calamity of stereotypes in St. Vincent.  She was somehow nominated for a SAG award, but for the life of me I can’t figure out why.  To sum it up, she plays an aging pregnant Russian stripper with an accent that REAL aging pregnant Russian strippers make fun of.  

For my Snubbed choices, I would much rather see recognition for other actresses in smaller roles, namely Kim Dickens in Gone Girl and Lindsay Duncan in Birdman.  Dickens brings a subtle slyness to her missing-person detective, giving a fresh take on a role that’s been played out six ways to Sunday. Her shifting poker face and steely relentlessness keep Ben Affleck’s character – and us – on constant edge. Duncan would be a better choice than Stone from Birdman, playing a fictional (but probably realistic) theater critic in a handful of scenes.  Her venomous dressing down of Michael Keaton, while hyperbolic, is captivating.  And her response to his equally brutal barrage is almost chilling.  In the script, her character’s speech probably seems like a toss-off, but her performance transforms it into a turning point for the movie, where the apparent futility of Keaton’s quest becomes palpable.  But alas, the role is tiny: she didn’t even get included in the Screen Actors Guild award for Best Cast when Birdman won.  

BEST DIRECTOR:

SHOULD WIN:  Alejandro González Iñárritu (Birdman)

WILL WIN:  Alejandro González Iñárritu (Birdman)

GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Theodore Melfi (St. Vincent)

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  James Marsh (The Theory Of Everything)

As much as I recognize Wes Anderson’s achievements on The Grand Budapest Hotel and would love to see him win, I would be inclined to give the award to Alejandro González Iñárritu for Birdman.  Like with his countryman Alfonso Cuarón and Gravity last year, the technical difficulty alone of Birdman almost merits the award. Call it a novelty if you want, but the effect of his seemingly continuous shot, handheld cinematography, and jerky drum score is a constant feeling of kinetic energy.  For those of us unfamiliar with the environment, it captures the backstage spirit of the theater (especially when everything goes to hell) and the protagonist’s state of mind (especially when it goes to hell).

So who will actually win? After splitting all the other awards, it comes down to Iñárritu and Richard Linklater (Boyhood).  (Anderson will be a distant third.)  Linklater seemed like the early favorite, winning the Golden Globe, but Iñárritu has pulled ahead after winning the Directors Guild award.  The Globe voters are not members of the Academy; the DGA members are.  So not surprisingly, when there are different winners of the Globe and the DGA, the DGA winner triumphs at the Oscars almost every time.  I predict this year will be no different, with Iñárritu victorious.  (Incidentally, he’s the only contender with a previous nomination in this category, for Babel.)

Obviously, all the talk around Boyhood is how Linklater filmed the movie for a few days each year over the course of 12 years, and what an astounding feat that is.  If you ask me, that’s not impressive, it’s lazy.  (Keep in mind, Linklater is from Austin, Texas.  A busy day in Austin is putting on clean skivvies and drinking a Shiner.)  Wouldn’t we all love an extra DECADE to get our current goals at work accomplished?  “I know that we need the implementation done this fiscal year in order to turn a profit, but I’m just going to work on it for one week this year.  It should be done in 2025.”  I’m guessing he was forced to do it that way because it’s about as much as concentration as he could get out of the kid at one time. Actually, I take the same approach with parenting.  That is basically the story of our family portrait sessions: “OH MY GOD, I’ve been trying to get you to sit still and smile for three hours… How about we try again next year?"

Boyhood taking 12 years to make is actually not as astounding as the publicity machine makes it sound.  In fact, there are plenty of independent films that take forever to make, not because of “daring” artistic choices, but because the filmmakers only shoot whenever they can scratch together enough nickels to pay people. They save for a while, shoot a couple days, save some more, shoot a little more, etc. – which can take many, many years.  So what Linklater achieved is – in the no-budget indie world – simply called “typical filmmaking”.  Now, if he had shot Boyhood out of sequence, THEN I would have been impressed.

For the first time since the Best Picture field expanded to more than five nominees in 2010, we have a Best Director nominee whose film didn’t make the Best Picture cut.  So don’t bet on Foxcatcher’s Bennett Miller.

While the majority of the raves for The Theory Of Everything rightly belong to Eddie Redmayne, director James Marsh deserves some credit too – therefore earning a spot on my Ingloriously Snubbed list.  He really wasn’t on anyone’s Oscar Watch, but he should have been.  He does a remarkable job of pulling the viewer into Hawking’s worldview with subtlety instead of gimmicks, deftly using composition and space.  Filmmakers (especially those of award-baiting biopics and epics) tend to leverage the filming environments as broadly as possible, with wide, sweeping, expansive shots; Marsh and cinematographer Benoît Delhomme choose to do the opposite.  Many of the shots are in unusually small, uncomfortable settings, giving the viewer a sense of claustrophobia and lack of physical freedom. This is particularly effective in the first half of the film, as Hawking’s muscles are failing, and he is having an increasingly hard time coping.  Even the corners of the screen become a bit dim, as Hawking’s world essentially shrinks before our eyes.  The approach may not make for as impressive an IMAX experience, but it gives the viewer a much better sense of the character’s state of mind.  To borrow a line from Hawking’s mentor in the film: “All there is to say is, well done.”

BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY:

SHOULD WIN:  Wes Anderson, Hugo Guinness (The Grand Budapest Hotel)

WILL WIN:  Wes Anderson, Hugo Guinness (The Grand Budapest Hotel)

GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Craig Johnson, Mark Heyman (The Skeleton Twins)

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Phil Lord, Christopher Miller (The Lego Movie)

Finally, a category where I think the Academy actually agrees with me about Wes Anderson. This award could go a few different ways, but I think they will most likely give it to Anderson, for his genre-mashing, generations-spanning, whimsical caper-buddy-road-epic-action-drama-comedy, The Grand Budapest Hotel.  It would be a crowning that, it will surprise no one, I think is long overdue.  But the prize could also easily go to Birdman – also a fantastic choice – particularly if it’s on its way to picking up many of the other biggest awards (in other words, if it wins this, it’s a good bet for Actor, Director, and Picture).  Or it could go to Boyhood, but as the races wear on and other awards are handed out, it seems the least likely of the three.  

Feeling like an idiot for not understanding the last scene of Birdman?  You should. Idiot.  

Kidding.  Don’t even try to comprehend it.  After all, the writers don’t.  (Seriously. One of them, Nicolas Giacobone, somewhat alarmingly quipped, “I’m still trying to figure it out.”)  How can we be expected to understand it when even the people that wrote it don’t?  They had better hope that for the voters, “ambiguous ending” translates to “philosophical enlightenment” and not “pretentious cop-out”.  (Incidentally, I have my own rogue theory about the ending, but I don’t want to spoil anything for those who haven’t seen it.  I’ll just say that I think the real ending of the story is Michael Keaton’s last appearance on stage.)

Boyhood winning this screenplay award will depend mostly on whether voters buy it as a fully-conceived story, or if they feel the script is more of a by-product of the overall technique that Richard Linklater employs.  They also have to buy into the characters, which may be trickier.  For me, it’s hard to be invested in the movie when the characters are roundly unlikeable.  Or, as my wife put it: “The mom is a fool, the dad is a deadbeat, the daughter is a pill, and the son is a mope.”  Going into it, I had assumed that since I have boys, I would get sucked in, and be an emotional wreck throughout, seeing reflections of my sons in every scene. But really, the opposite happened. In every sequence, I can’t help but judge the terribleness of the parenting and the unfamiliar personality of the kid.  These people are nothing like my family.  Thank god. (But one thing it does get right: Parenting is 90% yelling.)  

Perhaps more interesting is who will win the savage Austin-centric rivalry (which probably only exists in my head) between Linklater and Anderson.  The two tried-and-true Texans, while both appealing to left-of-center audiences and being endlessly described as “offbeat”, couldn’t be more different.  I like to assume that they hate each other’s movies with a passion; that watching the other accept an award really ruffles their (casually unkempt or meticulously arranged) feathers.  It makes me smile to think Linklater watches an Anderson scene with intricate production design, lavish costumes, and an elaborate tracking shot across a hotel lobby choreographing a hundred actors, gunplay, and synchronized music, requiring days of setup, and thinks, “Why didn’t you just get Ethan Hawke to smoke a cigarette and ramble about random stuff?”  And it brings me true joy to imagine that Anderson views a Linklater scene, which looks like it was shot in 30 seconds, in his friend’s backyard, using props found on the ground and t-shirts from Linklater’s closet, and thinks, “You lazy f---ing bastard.”  Please let it be true.

BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY:

SHOULD WIN:  Anthony McCarten (The Theory of Everything)

WILL WIN:  Graham Moore (The Imitation Game)

GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  James Lapine (Into The Woods)

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Gillian Flynn (Gone Girl)

What makes this category interesting is Whiplash’s surprise move from Original to Adapted Screenplay.  (It has been considered “Original” for most other awards, but since it was initially made as a short film, the Academy considers it an adaptation.)  This was an already-weak category, and the omission of Gone Girl left it wide open. The general feeling was that pretty much anything in the Original category would have beaten every movie in the Adapted category.  And Whiplash may prove that to be true: Considered to have no chance for Original Screenplay, it immediately became one of the favorites for Adapted Screenplay.  

But while it will be close, and could go either way, I think the Academy will give the award to The Imitation Game over Whiplash – especially after the victory at the Writers Guild Awards.  With The Imitation Game, writer Graham Moore and director Morten Tyldum deserve a lot of credit for taking what is essentially a boring story (smart, stuffy British guys – and a gal – do a lot of math and invent a computer to decode messages) and presenting it like a thriller.  Not unlike Lincoln a couple years ago, it’s a war movie that shows none of the war.  So how do you make a film interesting where everything happens as conversations behind closed doors and everyone essentially already knows the ending? That’s where dramatic conflict, instead of physical conflict, wisely comes into play – and this film makes tremendous use of it.  The script is far from perfect (it has its share of convenient timing and contrivances for the sake of the narrative/timeframe), but its place among the nominees is well-earned.  

My preferred choice (by only a hair over The Imitation Game and Whiplash) is The Theory Of Everything.  It got a spot here for its refreshing take on a “famous person” biopic: by telling the story through the eyes of Stephen Hawking’s wife, Jane.  (It’s an adaptation of her memoir.)  Making her character a lead, and incorporating her point of view, struggles, and conflict raises the stakes in what could have been a fairly standard story.  

Don’t count out American Sniper.  Since the nominations, it has become a behemoth, giving it a real chance to pick up this award.  I just think it’s going to run out of steam.  

Inherent Vice is not a player in any other race (except Costume Design), so don’t expect anything from it here.  Consider it simply another writing token for Academy fave Paul Thomas Anderson. They’ll give him the award at some point, but it will be for a better movie.  

 I might argue that more interesting than any of these awards is the establishment of two new acting achievements: the Triple Trilogy Club (Sylvester Stallone – for Rocky, Rambo, and Expendables) and the improbable Double Pentalogy Club (Ian McKellen – for X-Men and Lord Of The Rings/Hobbit).  Congrats to the founding members.

 Finally, a quick prediction for next year: In the Best Live Action Short Film category, watch out for Through the Trees – I hear it’s pretty good.

[ryanjdonovan]

Donovan’s Oscar Prognostication 2014

What's longer, more convoluted, and less entertaining than a Matthew McConaughey acceptance speech?  My 15th annual Oscar predictions.  Read on…

  BEST PICTURE:

SHOULD WIN:  12 Years A Slave

WILL WIN:  12 Years A Slave

GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Blue Jasmine

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  None

  Best Picture is probably the closest race this year, with the favorite seemingly changing weekly, adding some unexpected but welcome spice to the event.  The contenders have come down to 12 Years A Slave and Gravity.  Stirring the pot is American Hustle, the Ralph Nader of the Oscar race: no threat to win, but will get a significant amount of votes that could affect the outcome.  Being the least serious movie, Hustle's votes will come at the expense of the lighter of the two contenders - which is Gravity.  Will it rob enough votes to cost Gravity the victory?  I believe it will.  When the dust finally settles, I think 12 Years A Slave will emerge with the Oscar. 

  I'm also choosing 12 Years A Slave as the film that deserves to win the Oscar.  But part of me is already regretting it.  I mean, it's an easy choice: 12 Years is riveting and affecting in a way that few films are.  "Powerful" is a word that gets thrown around a lot when describing movies, but it's hard to imagine a more "powerful" film than this one.  However, when I think ahead to five or ten years from now, and what film I'll have seen more often, what film I will remember more affectionately, and what film will seem more relevant, I'm fairly confident in my answer to all of those: Her.  Maybe it's the simple fact that 12 Years looks to the past, while Her looks toward the future; maybe it's that Her is more fun and personally engaging; or maybe it's the fact that 12 Years is so brutal and agonizing to watch that I will probably never willingly see it again.  But I can't help but think of the 2000 Oscars, where American Beauty was my clear favorite for this award, but Spike Jonze's Being John Malkovich (which was not actually nominated for Best Picture) later became a superior film in my mind.  But hindsight is for later, when time and bourbon put things in perspective.  In 2014, while I’m sober, my Oscar pick is 12 Years A Slave.

  Jonze's incredible film Her boasts a fascinating and absurd premise: What if, one day in the not-so-hard-to-imagine future, people fell in love with their computers?  (One of those people is played, not surprisingly, by Joaquin Phoenix, and the computer's voice is played, very surprisingly, by Scarlett Johansson.)  The story works on its own, as a legitimate man-in-love-with-Siri dramedy - in a way that it only could as a Jonze production.  But it also works as a shuffled deck of metaphors for just about everything intangible, including: interpersonal communication, loneliness, friendship, salvation, interconnectedness, normalcy, individuality, and healing.  But probably the most interesting for me are the metaphors for the perceived absurdity of love (at least to those not in the relationships), and the cruel absurdity of breaking up (at least to those getting dumped).  The film treats the wacky setup seriously, but not too seriously, which to anyone who's been in love, is sort of the point.  My only disappointment with the film is that "Choke me with the dead cat!" hasn't become a popular catchphrase.

  Since I once made a promise to take my wife to a romance movie every year (and I've been a little lax the past decade), I suggested we see... Gravity.   I pitched her the plot of the Sandy Bullock / George Clooney screwball romantic comedy: She's a serious, determined, no-frills scientist and he's a rakish, cocky, fun-loving astronaut.  They meet-cute on a space shuttle, but she's too busy with her work to notice his beautiful blue eyes.  She has no patience for his games, flirtatious charm, or noisy country music (but she's more than happy to float around in the spacecraft in her underwear).  We learn that she's lost someone, and doesn't know if she can ever love again.  Throw in Ed Harris as their no-nonsense boss and a wacky ethnic neighbor with a yappy dog for comic relief, and you've got surefire rom-com perfection.  Wow!  That sounded like her kind of movie!  My wife couldn't wait to find out what would melt first: Sandy's heart, or her spacecraft upon re-entry into Earth's atmosphere.  As the movie started, I whispered, "I may have left out a few details…"

  About a week after Gravity, I tried to make it up to my wife by taking her to see 12 Years A Slave.  Knowing the title didn't leave me any options for rom-com deceit, I was upfront about the subject matter.  But neither of us was prepared for how utterly brutal it would be.  Did I mention my wife was extremely pregnant and disproportionately emotional?   There's a scene in the very beginning, before the protagonist gets captured and forced into slavery, where everything is cheerful, and he is with his happy family and tucking his kids into bed… and my wife started sobbing uncontrollably.  In the first five minutes.  I knew we were in for a long night.  As the credits rolled over two hours later, I'm happy to say, I no longer have to worry about taking her to romantic movies - because she screamed to everyone in the theater that she would never go to a movie with me again.

  American Hustle is a wildcard in every category this year, not just Best Picture.  Like director David O. Russell's Silver Linings Playbook last year, it's nominated in the "Big Five" categories (Picture, Director, Actor, Actress, Screenplay).  Only three films have won in all five categories: It Happened One Night, One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest, and Silence Of The Lambs.  It's not going to happen this year; in fact, I don't think it will win any of them.  But each nominee will get strong support, enough to shake up the voting and possibly steal a couple of the awards.  It's hard to compare this film to 12 Years A Slave because it's such a different movie: It's thrilling, it's sexy, it's fun.  And it was more clever than I was expecting.  Like in all effective con movies, it runs a bit of a con on the audience - so you're not quite sure who you're supposed to be rooting for.  It's also drawn a lot of comparisons to Goodfellas (period crime story, the mafia, East Coast crooks, gaudy outfits and characters, trashy women, mouthy wives, and, of course, Robert De Niro as a wise guy).  Now, let's be clear: This is no Goodfellas.  (To be fair, it's more of an homage.)  But one thing it replicates successfully is the sense of urgency and anxiety, as if you're right there with the characters.  As the schemes get more and more elaborate, you feel like the whole operation is going to come crashing down at a moment's notice.  And you don't mind getting conned because it's such a blast.

  Captain Phillips is generally a crowd-pleaser, but one group that is decidedly disappointed is Caribbean people: "Those guys are terrible pirates.  And Johnny Depp does not look well."  (And I'm sure the nation of Somalia is grateful to the filmmakers for confirming every negative stereotype and ugly preconceived notion that the rest of the world has about Somalis.  "Tourism should be fantastic this year, thanks!" said the one guy who is not a pirate or warlord.)  The film is no threat for Best Picture, especially after being surprisingly shut out of the Actor and Director races.  But it's an unexpected thrill nonetheless.  It reminds me of Zero Dark Thirty, where the filmmakers deftly revisit a recent event that the entire country is familiar with (including the outcome), and dramatize it so we experience it unfold, making it every bit as gripping as if it was an original story.

  The real question for Matthew McConaughey and Jennifer Garner is not whether their film Dallas Buyers Club will win the Oscar, but whether it's funnier than their previous movie together, Ghosts Of Girlfriends Past.  I think we can all agree the answer is a resounding yes. 

  BEST ACTOR: 

SHOULD WIN:  Chiwetel Ejiofor (12 Years A Slave)

WILL WIN:  Matthew McConaughey (Dallas Buyers Club)

GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Leonardo DiCaprio (The Great Gatsby)

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Joaquin Phoenix (Her)

  As we've been told by everyone, Matthew McConaughey is having a career renaissance - or as he's called it, a "McConaissance".  (But in order to have a "renaissance", don't you have to have been a good actor sometime in the past?  I digress.)  Respected critics and movie rags alike have been trumpeting all year how McConaughey has matured and become professionally wise and wily, after taking a hiatus from films and wandering the wilderness.  (I mean that literally, not figuratively - I've have it on good authority he spent a few years on a mushroom and moonshine walkabout through Longhorn Cavern State Park.)  Gone are the days of the fluff flicks and the stoner persona, they say.  This is the new, serious, coherent McConaughey.  But throughout his recent media parade, I'm not seeing it.  To me, he's the same dippy, listless, unintelligible teenager he always has been, now just pathetically middle-aged and unnaturally orange.  Put simply, he's a nincompoop.  I could not imagine interacting with him professionally on a daily basis, as say, a producer, director, costar, or - god forbid - his agent.  Honestly, how does he manage to do anything that requires more than five seconds of concentration?  Never mind complicated real-life tasks; I'm talking about the simple things: I have a very hard time picturing him successfully tying his shoes.  ("Flip-flops, bare feet, and Zips - all-right-all-right!")  He was a strong contender for Best Actor before his recent award sweep and zany, Neptune-and-sprocket-filled speeches.  But now I think they will undoubtedly give him the Oscar, just to hear what kind of nonsense spills out of his mouth out at the podium.  I guess the real consideration should be whether he was good in Dallas Buyers Club.  I'm sure he was, but who cares?

  My pick for Best Actor would be Chiwetel Ejiofor for playing the titular tormented soul in 12 Years A Slave.  I just don't see how you could vote for somebody else.  His portrayal of living through the horrors of slavery, and the stages he passes through (shock, confusion, defiance, coping, and acceptance) are incredibly vivid, moving, and crushing.  I've seen him in a lot of other movies, but his face has never been so expressive.  In particular, watching him react to another freed slave leaving him behind, and then later, leaving others behind himself, he wordlessly conveys the boiling anguish coursing through him.  In all, it's the role and performance of a lifetime. 

  I would also be happy with Christian Bale winning for American Hustle.  The guy is just an absolute maniac when it comes to tackling unique roles.  Once again, the stories about his dedication to stay in character are legendary, including weight gain, herniated discs, and Robert DeNiro not recognizing him on set.  It got to be so extreme that even director David O. Russell (not exactly known for his sanity) thought he was taking it too far.  It's like Lady Gaga calling you flamboyant - when Russell calls you crazy, then you know you've gone off the deep end.  Bale's performance causes the audience to change their views about his character completely.  He practically dares us to root for him or against him, and then challenges us to hold our ground, which inevitably we don't.  He's pathetic and noble, grotesque and cool, buffoonish and smooth, manipulative and caring.  But above all, a marvel to watch. 

  Probably my favorite ignorant Oscar quote of the year comes courtesy of Mensa member Kelly Ripa, in response to Forest Whitaker's lack of Best Actor nomination for The Butler: "It just doesn't feel like the Oscars without Forest Whitaker."  For the record, Whitaker has exactly one career nomination.  Not exactly a perennial fixture at the award show.  Stick to the teleprompter, my dear. 

  BEST ACTRESS:

SHOULD WIN:  Cate Blanchett (Blue Jasmine)

WILL WIN:  Cate Blanchett (Blue Jasmine)

GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Julie Delpy (Before Midnight)

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Emma Thompson (Saving Mr. Banks)

  Woody Allen has a history eliciting excellent performances from his actresses and actors - his films have landed 18 acting nominations and six victories.  But in Blue Jasmine, Cate Blanchett may be one of the best.  The film is a showcase for her talents, playing a modern-day Blanche DuBois, and she knocks it out of the park.  She clobbers every color in the spectrum of emotion, and does it with a realism that's both natural and unsettling.  It's the kind of range and vigor that award-givers eat up with a spoon.  Nobody roots for her character, but there will be more than enough people rooting for Blanchett in the Academy.  I don't see a scenario where she loses this race. 

  People are heralding Sandra Bullock's performance in Gravity as "brave" - and not for her emotionally raw performance or physically exhausting execution, but rather for agreeing to so many close-ups of her caboose in panties in IMAX 3-D.  You won't find many actresses her age willing to do that.  "I'll stick to throwing plates of fish, thanks," said Julia Roberts.  Honestly, this is probably the first time I've been legitimately impressed by a Sandra Bullock performance.  Her bottled grieving and kinetic frustration feel real, but almost more impressive is the technical performance.  A large part of acting is technical execution - it's the part that audiences tend to take for granted, and not every actor does it well - and this role is probably as technically complicated as it gets.  But will voters go for it?  They'll ask themselves: Is she really a two-time Oscar winner?  (And with only two nominations, that would put her in the same company as Vivien Leigh, Luise Rainer, and Hilary Swank.)  Probably not.  But in her favor is the fact that EVERYBODY saw Gravity, and relatively few saw Blue Jasmine, so it’s possible.

  Perennial bridesmaid Amy Adams has scored her fifth nomination (first in a leading role) for American Hustle.  I think the Academy is ready to give her an Oscar.  Could it be this year, as a dark horse?  Since Blanchett has already won (for The Aviator), will voters be willing to look elsewhere?  Will Adams' combination of cunningness, duplicity, vulnerability, wiles, magnetism, endless cleavage, and a bad perm in Hustle draw enough votes?  With Blanchett's career-topping performance this year, the answer is no.  But Adams' time is coming soon. 

  I'm giving the Omitted spot to Julie Delpy for Before Midnight, not for a poor performance, but for what she turns the character into.  A woman that was once so charismatic, alluring, and interesting in the previous films, is rendered utterly mean and repellant.  (On the other hand, to Delpy's credit, she is quite convincing.)  Her performance has been commended by many for being so "real"; if your wife has suddenly turned into a judgmental, humorless, irritable shrew, then yes, I suppose it's real.

  BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR:

SHOULD WIN:  Michael Fassbender (12 Years A Slave)

WILL WIN:  Jared Leto (Dallas Buyers Club)

GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Brad Pitt (12 Years A Slave)

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Robert Patrick (Identity Thief)

  If Jared Leto wins the Oscar, it might ALMOST make up for wasting the last 12 years of his life on his crappy emo band, Thirty Seconds To Mars.  Leto has wowed critics with his turn as a transvestite in Dallas Buyers Club - but frankly, I don’t think it was much of a stretch; if you're familiar with his singing career, you know you know it's not the first time he's looked or sounded like a woman.  Based on his cleanup at all the previous awards like the Screen Actors Guild and Golden Globes, Leto is a heavy favorite here.  And history is on his side: Only once has a Supporting Actor won both the SAG and the Globe, but failed to win the Oscar (sorry, Eddie Murphy); and since Leto didn’t star in Pluto Nash, he should be feeling pretty confident.

  For the best performance, I would lean toward Michael Fassbender, as an evil plantation owner in 12 Years A Slave.  But playing such an irredeemable, putrid, soulless role will make votes a bit hard to come by.  Fassbender's triumph lies not in the terror he brings to the picture, but in the legitimacy with which he does it.  He convincingly infuses his character with schizophrenia, alcoholism, blind jealousy, violent impulses, irrational convictions, raving insanity, and silly outfits… basically what Joaquin Phoenix is like in real life. 

  The role of Muse, the Somali pirate, as played by first-time actor Barkhad Abdi in Captain Phillips, is a unique one.  He's the antagonist, but he isn't physically intimidating, loud, explosive, charming, vengeful, smarmy, brilliant, slick, or any of the other typical things that movie villains are.  And that's probably what makes it so great - Abdi pulls it off without relying on any of those traits.  What he is, above all, is determined.  We get a very real sense that his character has been oppressed and has lived through enough pain and squalor that he's going to pull off the hijacking, no matter what.  He is a man who sees no other options.  That resilience, that makes the audience feel like he cannot be defeated, is what makes him a believable antagonist.

  12 Years A Slave has a ton of great performances by supporting players (Fassbender, Sarah Paulson, Paul Giamatti, Paul Dano, Benedict Cumberbatch, Alfre Woodard, and most surprisingly, Saturday Night Live's Taran Killam as one of Northup's kidnappers).  Brad Pitt, however, in a minor role as a kindly day-worker, is not one of them.  Pitt is a producer on the film, so he had a say in casting… and of course he gave himself the role of the only righteous white person in the film.  And frankly it's the least believable.  The film would have been better served by a satirical impression of Pitt… done by Taran Killam.

  Kudos to Robert Patrick, my Snubbed choice, for being scarier in Identity Thief than he was in Terminator 2.  John Connor wouldn’t have stood a chance against this guy. 

  A few words about Philip Seymour Hoffman, an actor who probably belonged on this Snubbed list for most of the roles in his career… The circumstances of his death notwithstanding, I was very unsettled to hear of his recent passing.  I usually don't have much personal investment in celebrities (especially when they make poor/illegal choices), but it's truly a shame that Hoffman won't be treating us to any more captivating performances.  He was a guy that I and many others were rooting for early in his career as seldom-seen but always-memorable character actor.  By the time he did a virtuoso fly-by cameo in Almost Famous, he had become increasingly ubiquitous and almost famous, which I was happy to see.  After several years of being made fun of for saying, after every movie, "And here's where he'll finally get his first Oscar nomination," I was vindicated: He was nominated - and won - for his astonishing performance in Capote.  I felt - despite the fact that he was a celebrity that I had never met - proud.  I think what set him apart from other actors for me was that he appeared to genuinely put performances and love of cinema first.  He had a distinctive physical appearance, but it didn't matter - his performances were so different in each role that he actually looked different every time.  My only personal encounter with him was at the 2000 Toronto Film Festival.  I saw him at a movie screening - not as a participant or celebrity, but simply as an audience member (while in town supporting a couple different films that he was in).  This wasn't some big premiere or splashy screening; it was a late-evening, unimportant showing of an unremarkable film - and he was a plain old movie-goer, just like me.  After attending film festivals for years, I can tell you, actors simply don't do that.  That sums up what I liked about him the most - he loved cinema.  And now cinema will miss him dearly. 

  BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS:

SHOULD WIN:  Sally Hawkins (Blue Jasmine)

WILL WIN:  Lupita Nyong'o (12 Years A Slave)

GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Jennifer Garner (Dallas Buyers Club)

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Sarah Paulson (12 Years A Slave)

  This is a category where just about anybody could win.  As the ceremony approaches, newcomer Lupita Nyong'o is looking like the strongest nominee, having won most of the other awards, including the SAG and Critics' Choice.  In 12 Years A Slave, she plays Patsey, a girl born into slavery.  She is in many ways a mirror to the main character, Solomon Northup - in some aspects the same, in some aspects opposite.  One of the important contrasts is that she has never known freedom like Northup has - she is, for better or worse, unaware of what she's been denied.  As such, Nyong'o plays her as a symbol of innocence, naiveté, and tragedy - the embodiment of hope in a hopeless situation.

  After winning the Golden Globe and the BAFTA, Jennifer Lawrence is a very possible spoiler.  In American Hustle, the reigning Best Actress was once again, not surprisingly, fantastic in every scene she was in.  As Christian Bale's moll, Lawrence has a very minor role, but her volatility practically ignites the screen every time she shows up and has a tantrum.  She’s a bit of a send-up of every over-coifed, under-employed, loose-lipped criminal wife in the movies, but she makes the role her own.  Bale's character has to deal with con artists, scum-bags, mobsters, and FBI agents all day, but that’s nothing compared to what he has to come home to.  After dealing with her, facing prison wouldn’t seem so bad. 

  A child-molestation allegation isn’t the only thing being overlooked when it comes to Woody Allen this awards season: After being passed over for SAG and Critics' Choice nominations, not many people expected Sally Hawkins to get an Oscar nod for her portrayal of Ginger in Allen's film Blue Jasmine.  Even now, she's getting the lowest odds, even though she is, in my opinion, the best performer in the group.  She may play second fiddle to Cate Blanchett's Jasmine, but her character is the one we truly care about.  In fact, we care more about her than her own sister does in the movie.  Jasmine's plummeting descent does not cause us to worry (if anything, we're probably rooting for it), but Ginger's issues and poor choices cause us to worry a great deal (I'm thinking about a heartbreaking phone conversation scene in particular).  She isn't always likable, but she's endlessly pitiable; all the way to the end, we're hoping for her to be triumphant.  When it comes down to it, Hawkins' chances are diminished because she is overshadowed by Blanchett, who resoundingly owns the movie and all her scenes.  I'm just hoping Hawkins gets her share of the credit. 

  My clear Snubbed choice is Sarah Paulson in 12 Years A Slave, for being overlooked in a small but captivating role.  She brings an interesting element of terror and unpredictability to the film.  As the wife of Michael Fassbender's plantation owner, she isn't simply cruel to her slaves; she's cruel in order to get even with her husband.  As their unhappiness and fights escalate, they take their frustrations with each other out on the slaves - pawns in their sick bouts of jealousy and marital treason.  If Fassbender's Mr. Epps is the devil, Paulson's Mrs. Epps is definitely the kind of woman the devil would marry.

  BEST DIRECTOR:

SHOULD WIN:  Alfonso Cuaron (Gravity)

WILL WIN:  Alfonso Cuaron (Gravity)

GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Ethan Coen & Joel Coen (Inside Llewyn Davis)

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Spike Jonze (Her)

  I can only imagine the initial meeting with the marketing department for Gravity.  I'm sure they were salivating over the prospect of an easy ad campaign for a tent-pole movie starring Sandra Bullock and George Clooney… until they heard "...and written and directed by Alfonso Cuaron."  Not exactly known for upbeat, mainstream fare (Children Of Men and Y Tu Mama Tambien, for example), Cuaron certainly gave the ad men strokes when he told the them, "It will be like any other Sandy Bullock movie, but with no love interest, set in outer space, and with a thematic focus on death and loneliness."  While the film will probably lose Best Picture, Cuaron is an exceedingly strong bet to win Best Director.  If there's any doubt, look no further than the film's trailer (it's enough to give you a heart attack, even without 3-D or IMAX), or the film's astonishing, insanely intricate 17-minute opening shot.  I'll say that again: 17-minute opening shot.  When asked why he would attempt such an ambitious and foolhardy endeavor, Cuaron told the New York Times, "We wanted to slowly immerse audiences into the environment and the action, and the ultimate goal of this whole experiment was for the audiences to feel as if they are a third character who is floating in space.  And I wanted to win a f---ing Oscar."

  If Gravity wasn't in the mix this year, Steve McQueen would probably be a slam dunk for directing 12 Years A Slave.  In his films, he has a tendency to linger on unsettling images and draw out disturbing scenes, to heighten the impact and the viewer's emotional reaction.  In 12 Years A Slave, he does this to astonishingly great effect, to the point of nearly punishing the audience.  It is almost impossible to sit back and be a passive observer on this film; McQueen demands that we be a part of the experience.  Assuming he loses here, I don't expect he'll go home empty-handed: As a producer on the film, McQueen will probably get to the podium for Best Picture.

  There's a reason actors are dying to work with American Hustle's David O. Russell, and it's not his warm, kind demeanor.  His recent track record for actors during award season is astonishing: Two years in a row, his films have scored nominations in all four acting categories (he's the only director ever to achieve that twice); each of the four nominees from Hustle have been nominated for previous films also directed by Russell; and two of the nominees previously won Oscars for Russell films (Christian Bale for The Fighter and Jennifer Lawrence for Silver Linings Playbook).  Is a shot at an Oscar nomination worth months of verbal abuse and being treated like a misbehaving child?  Obviously!

  BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY:

SHOULD WIN:  Spike Jonze (Her)

WILL WIN:  Spike Jonze (Her)

GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Alfonso Cuaron & Jonas Cuaron (Gravity)

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  None

  The Oscar here should undoubtedly go to Spike Jonze, for Her.  Given the exceptional quality of his work, the infrequency with which he makes films is almost maddening (four films in 15 years).  With this picture (his first solo screenplay), he proves that he's not just a masterful director or a cinematic visionary, but a consummate storyteller.  (As I noted above, he was robbed of a Best Director nomination.)  His films aren't for everyone (his pitches to four-quadrant-craving, franchise-minded studio execs must be disasters), but I've always been impressed with how he brings relevancy to something completely absurd.  He fashions his stories like boomerangs: They go way out there, but ultimately return to our grasp.  For me personally, they've always felt oddly relatable in a way that truly mainstream stories do not.  In many other movies, I find certain things unintentionally funny, and I'm the only one in the theater laughing.  But with Jonze's films, I feel like he is laughing with me.  (Some bonus intrigue for this script: Jonze cast Scarlett Johansson as the voice of the computer in this human-machine love story.  Interestingly, his ex-wife, Sofia Coppola, used Johansson as the lead in Lost In Translation, which is widely regarded as Coppola’s thinly-veiled criticism of Jonze in their marriage.  Is Her his rebuttal, with the computer/Johansson standing in for Coppola?  That’s a topic for another time.)

  As for who will actually take the prize, it appears to be a dead heat between Her and American Hustle.  Hustle has gotten all the spoils (in terms of box office returns and media attention) of a bona fide blockbuster.  Will voters lean toward Hustle's slick and fun caper script by David O. Russell and Eric Warren Singer?  Or will they be moved (if they’ve even seen it) by the lower-grossing Her's utterly unique, alternate-universe alternate-love story?  Based on the precursory awards, I think Her will take it.

  Having just won in this category two years ago for Midnight In Paris, Woody Allen is probably a long-shot for Blue Jasmine.  It is up against other excellent nominees that are frankly better stories.  What's astounding is that this is Allen's 16th Best Screenplay nomination (including three wins).  How is that possible?  For me, Blue Jasmine is a lot like many of Allen's other acclaimed films: It's not that it's great, it's that it's fascinating.  This particular story examines what circumstances are enough to drive a seemingly normal person into mental illness.  But what I find more intriguing is one of the themes that Allen explores in this film: What constitutes a person's "true self"?  In typical Woody fashion, he tells a story that is extreme (often comically so), but he builds it on a theme that is universal.  So while not many of us can say we've suffered a nervous breakdown or a mental schism from reality, we've all thought about our "true selves" versus how we're perceived.  Cate Blanchett's character hits it squarely on the head when she argues, "I may have dressed up a few facts, and omitted a few unpleasant details, but... my feelings, my ideas, my humor... Isn't that who I am?"  That's the question that we're prompted to answer.  What defines us?  Is it how we act?  Or what we aspire to?  Or what we say in public?  Or what we think in private?  Or all of the above?  And of course, Woody turns a mirror back to the viewer: He uses the specific story, some sly flashbacks, and Blanchett's wonderfully layered performance to teeter us back and forth in our judgment on the protagonist and the people around her.  What causes us to change our opinion about a person?  When do they go from being a good person to a bad person, or vice versa?  And how large and grey is the area in between?  Maybe it's all grey?  Whether or not there are easy answers largely depends on the viewer, and potentially what kind of person the viewer is.  Now, of course, not much of that is explicitly in the film.  But I believe Woody has been doing this long enough to know that universal themes naturally extend themselves to the audience and carry the story past the final credits, and I know he can employ those themes effortlessly.  I think that's a big reason why they throw Oscar nominations at him like confetti: He tells stories about what everybody's already thinking. 

  I have to give the Gloriously Omitted spot to Gravity.  There are a lot of aspects of the film that are fantastic, but the story itself is, should I say, light-weight (get it?).  The script isn't bad, and it serves its purpose, but there's no denying that it's relatively step-by-step thriller material: A series of increasingly harrowing yet fairly unrelated obstacles are relentlessly thrown at the heroine until she finally completes the journey.  Before she can catch her breath after cheating death at each turn, she's thrust into the next life-threatening situation.  It's effective as hell, but by the end, it's almost silly.  At one point near the finale, my exasperated wife literally said, "What's next, an alligator?!"

   BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY:

SHOULD WIN:  John Ridley (12 Years A Slave)

WILL WIN:  John Ridley (12 Years A Slave)

GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Baz Luhrmann & Craig Pearce (The Great Gatsby)

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Tracy Letts (August: Osage County)

  The heavy favorite for Adapted Screenplay, and rightly so, is John Ridley's 12 Years A Slave.  Believe it or not, the script was heavily rewritten from the first draft, when it was called 12 Years A Slav.  Not quite the Oscar bait that the later drafts turned out to be, it was initially the story of a free Italian man in 1980 named Giorgetto Giugiaro, an automobile designer who gets drunk while partying with a couple of Bosnians, and gets abducted to Sarajevo and forced to work in a Yugo factory.  After toiling away for a dozen years in dehumanizing servitude, building cheap disposable cars (which Time magazine described as having "the distinct feeling of something assembled at gunpoint"), he's finally liberated when the factory is bombed during the Yugoslav wars, and triumphantly carries the last surviving Yugo car back to Italy.  The premise was reworked when focus groups found it "accidentally hilarious".  (Good news: The original idea is currently being developed for Michael Keaton and George Wendt as Gung Ho 2.)

  Billy Ray's script for Captain Phillips (the Writers Guild winner) does many things well, but one thing it truly excels at - that many don't - is that it treats the villain just like the main character.  Many filmmakers seem to forget that the bad guy should think the movie is about him, not the good guy.  In fact, the bad guy shouldn't even know he's the bad guy.  He should be as well-drawn as the protagonist.  He should have an objective, opposition, arc, and character beats, just like the main character (and those elements should be just as strong as they are for the main character).  And this is absolutely the case for the desperate and determined pirate Muse.  The film could have just as easily been called "Captain Muse". 

  For the record, after co-writing the script for Before Midnight (along with Richard Linklater and Julie Delpy), Ethan Hawke (Ethan Hawke!) now has three (three!) career Oscar (Oscar!) nominations.  Looking at all the men nominated for Actor or Supporting Actor this year, only Leonardo DiCaprio has more than two career nominations.  Next time you're wondering if life is fair, think about that. 

  Prior to seeing Before Midnight, I told my wife that she didn't need to see the first two installments of the series (Before Sunrise and Before Sunset) beforehand.  I was wrong.  The immediate reaction for the uninitiated is: "Why the hell do I care about these people?  They are bickering, immature idiots who don't even belong together to begin with.  I hope the movie ends with them getting divorced."  Well, okay, the assessment is fair enough if you haven't seen the first two movies, where star-crossed Celine and Jesse oozed charm, ignited sparks, and were actually, you know, in love.  And even for those of us who have seen and enjoyed the originals, it's a bit difficult to stomach what the lovebirds have become.  While the film leaves me feeling a bit empty, I do commend the script for not wimping out with a fantasy Happily Ever After ending.  Maybe it's cynical, maybe it's inevitable: At the end of the each of the first two movies, we can easily imagine that the pair lived Happily Ever After; the latest installment, however, vanquishes any possibility of that.  I guess the best we can imagine for the two hopeless romantics (and I do mean hopeless) is Marginally Satisfied And Too Unmotivated To Move On Ever After.

  I was rooting for Tracy Letts to score a nomination, for adapting his play August: Osage County, which originated at Chicago's Steppenwolf theater, and went on to win Tonys and the Pulitzer.  But I'm sure he would much rather get my Ingloriously Snubbed award over an Oscar any day.  

[ryanjdonovan]

Donovan's Oscar Prognostication 2013

Looking to lose your Oscar pool?  Then pick somebody other than Daniel Day-Lewis to win Best Actor.  But if you want to win, peruse my 14th annual predictions and follow them precisely. 

Speaking of Day-Lewis, one of the reasons to tune into the big show will be to watch him make history: He'll be the first male to win three Lead Actor statuettes (Jack Nicholson and Walter Brennan also own three Oscars, but they include Best Supporting Actor; on the ladies' side, Ingrid Bergman and Meryl Streep also have three Oscars, while Katherine Hepburn took home four; he's got a ways to go before he catches Walt Disney, who collected a whopping 22 Oscars).  One person, however, will be unimpressed:  "Big deal," said the guy who played Honest Abe in Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure.

BEST PICTURE:

SHOULD WIN:  Zero Dark Thirty

WILL WIN:  Argo

GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  The Hunger Games

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  The Avengers

There's an interesting theme with many of the Oscar nominees this year: they are based on events and stories where we already know the outcome ahead of time, but the films are still enthralling wire to wire (for example, Argo, Lincoln, Zero Dark Thirty, and Life Of Pi).  The Best Picture race itself has managed to mirror that: one film has established itself as the clear leader, but there's been an unusual amount of drama along the way. 

I'm still pretty surprised, but it looks like Argo is going to win Best Picture.  That's at least what the run-up awards and pundits are pointing to.  On the day of the nominations, I would have said that the race was between Lincoln and Zero Dark Thirty, with Argo somewhere in the middle of the pack.  While it's not my pick, I don't begrudge it; it's a tense, intriguing, exciting, slick, emotional, nerve-wracking thrill, with the added heft of being more-or-less true.  What does bother me is that its increasing support seems to be due to voters overcompensating to make up for Ben Affleck's snub for Best Director (if it wins Best Picture, he'll get a trophy as producer after all).  I understand the temptation to do that, but it's a bad reason to vote for a film; on the other hand, it's not at all surprising in Hollywood.  I'll hand it to him, it's probably the shrewdest accidental Oscar strategy ever.  How is Harvey Weinstein not involved?

In my opinion, the best film of the year is Zero Dark Thirty.  Powerful, moving, unsettling, nail-biting… it hits every note with perfection.  My only knock, and this is a subjective one, is that it takes the film a little while to get going.  Much of that is because it is trying to be faithful to the investigative process that transpired, so the first half of the story plays out like a procedural.  Also, we know the film will culminate with the siege on Bin Laden's compound, and we are anxious to get there.  At the same time, the buildup is exciting - discovering exactly how the characters will connect the dots that bring them to Abbottabad; as they draw near, the tension is palpable.  The film has faced some criticism over the depiction of torture, its use in the hunt for Bin Laden, and whether the torture actually led to useful information.  The whole situation could have been avoided if they had followed my wife's advice: "If they wanted to deprive those people of sleep, subject them to constant loud noise, and break them mentally, they should have just handed them an infant." 

Daniel Day-Lewis' performance aside, here is the true genius of Lincoln: The filmmakers (director Steven Spielberg and writer Tony Kushner) take what was essentially a nigh-three-hour boring tale of a string of political maneuverings, and make it thrilling.  Think about this: they set the film during the Civil War, and do not include one battle scene.  Instead, most of the "action" takes place in the House of Representatives, where generally speaking, the only real-life action involves the interns.  Moreover, the film chooses not to depict many of the seminal events of the war, favoring instead the intimate conversations that took place behind closed doors - the mental conflict, not the physical conflict.  And that is fine, as we've seen those famous events depicted many times before, and probably wouldn’t get anything new out of Spielberg's version.  And frankly, the movie doesn't need to be any longer: the audience was tearing up at the end, but not because the Thirteenth Amendment had valiantly passed; but rather because after 2 hours and 45 minutes, they really had to go to the bathroom.  The general feeling in the theater after that scene was, "Good stuff, but let's shoot this guy so we can get out of here."

Silver Linings Playbook puts a microscope on the lives of people with personality disorders.  The relationship between a bipolar man (Bradley Cooper) and his father (Robert De Niro) is particularly interesting because it examines whether the apple falls far from the tree.  In a post-show Q&A session at the Chicago Film Festival, writer/director David O. Russell spoke of how his own son is bipolar, so it's reasonable to think that the way he portrays De Niro in the film suggests something about himself.  Notably, in the film, Cooper's character flies off the handle for no apparent reason and speaks his mind even when it is knowingly hurtful.  Any doubts about parallels to Russell's own mental condition were put to rest in the Q&A session, when he irrationally insulted and embarrassed a fan of the film in front of hundreds of people, for asking what he considered to be a stupid question.  (For whatever it's worth, I thought the question was actually a good one.) 

Nominees Life Of Pi and Beasts Of The Southern Wild make for an intriguing duo, as they both deal with fantastical survival tales in similar yet different ways.  Both take advantage of dream-like storytelling, which gives the films a fairytale quality.  They explore the ways in which we perceive life-and-death events, how we choose to deal with those events, and how they can make us stronger.  Each is somewhat horrifying, but is ultimately life-affirming.  Both have many layers that the audience can choose to delve into as deeply as they like.  They are visual marvels; Pi uses computer-generated means, for which it has been recognized in many technical categories; Beasts relies on organic methods, but has been surprisingly shut out of categories like Production Design.  (I actually think the production design in Beasts is more deserving than Pi, for incredible creations like Hushpuppy's "house" and "boat" - it's like Mad Max was born on the bayou.)  I don't want to say much about how the films differ, so as not to spoil anything, but Pi is ultimately more tangible - no surprise, I suppose, considering it's a commercial film.  In turn, I find Pi to be more accessible; Beasts almost defies conclusions (again, that is surely by design).  Two different animals (sorry, bad pun), but if one has a chance at an upset victory, it's Life Of Pi. 

Amour is the nominee in this category that voters are least likely to have seen.  It's depressing, it's arty, it's in French, and it stars two old people nobody's ever heard of - the kind movie that tends to perpetually slide down your Netflix queue.  The film tells the story of a husband watching as his wife slowly dies from an incurable condition.  John Edwards, of course, called it "the feel-good movie of the year."  

I don't have much to say about Les Miserables, other than I assume the title loosely translates to "Poor French Bastards". 

The Snubbed and Omitted picks are a lot harder to make for Best Picture now, with such a large group of nominees.  Complaining about a film that got passed over for five slots is a lot easier to find than one that got passed over for nine.  This year, pretty much every film that aficionados are passionate about made the cut.  I wouldn't call it an actual snub, but I would say the best movie I saw that didn't make the Best Picture roster was The Avengers.  Despite the more-than-capable Joss Whedon taking the reigns,  I was pretty sour on the prospects of the Marvel team-up flick.  Iron Man had been the only real standout in the preceding films, and 2011's Thor seemed to steer the franchise's plausibility off a cliff.  Upon learning that story for The Avengers would revolve around characters (aliens, in fact) from Thor's universe, I was prepared to skip the flick altogether.  But in appropriate fashion, Whedon swooped in and saved the day, delivering a film that surpassed all expectations.  If only he could go back in time and write/direct Thor…  (And while he's at it, Captain America, The Incredible Hulk, Iron Man 2…)

As for the film that I was glad to see omitted from Best Picture: The Hunger Games isn't bad, but as someone who didn't read the book, I can't help but wonder, "What was all the hype about?"

BEST ACTOR: 

SHOULD WIN:  Daniel Day-Lewis (Lincoln)

WILL WIN:  Daniel Day-Lewis (Lincoln)

GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Ben Affleck (Argo)

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  John Hawkes (The Sessions)

Let's not talk about IF Daniel Day-Lewis wins, let's talk about WHEN he wins.  Face it: despite their outstanding performances, nobody else even deserves to be nominated alongside Day-Lewis this year.  In fact, this will mark the first year when an actor wins the Oscar solely based on the movie poster.  So WHEN he wins his third Oscar, there will be no doubt that he is the greatest actor of his generation.  (Apologies to Tom Hanks, Denzel Washington, and Sean Penn, but Day-Lewis doesn't have a Turner & Hooch, Virtuosity, or Shanghai Surprise on his resume).  The real question: Is he the greatest actor of all time?  Clearly, nobody in a younger generation comes close.  (Calm down, Edward Norton.)  Part of what makes the assessment difficult is that he rarely works - he's made eight films in the past 20 years; however, he earned nominations for four of those films.  But greatest of all time?  Better than  Pacino, De Niro, Nicholson, Hoffman, Cooper, Tracy, Stewart, Burton, Lemmon, Newman, O'Toole, or Olivier?  I don't think I would consider his previous roles truly timeless or iconic, having life beyond the one he gave it.  Say what you will about the genius of My Left Foot or There Will Be Blood, but in 25 years will they stand alongside films like The Godfather or Lawrence Of Arabia or Some Like It Hot, or compare to characters like George Bailey or Hamlet or Butch Cassidy?  Debate.

Furthermore, with yet another never-break-character-even-off-set performance, Day-Lewis establishes that he is, first and foremost, a stark raving lunatic.  When told of his antics, Gary Busey said, "Well, he's just crazy."  After scoring a nomination in her first ever movie (Beasts Of The Southern Wild), little Quvenzhané Wallis advised him, "Acting isn't very hard."  Knowing co-star Tommy Lee Jones' no-nonsense personality and general lack of patience for foolishness, I can only imagine the conversation when he met Day-Lewis on-set.  "I would appreciate it if you address me as Mr. President."  "No."

Bradley Cooper stands out in this category as The Guy You Never Thought Would Be Nominated For An Oscar.  I mean, he's been extremely convincing while playing douchebags, but the presumption was that it wasn't really acting.  I'll give him credit, he's still decidedly unlikeable in Silver Linings Playbook, but he's really good at it.  He also shows range that I would not have guessed he had.  He handles the absurdities and incongruities in the story and the tone very well - and had he not gotten those right, the film would have collapsed.  He plays a man with bipolar disorder who's been institutionalized for a violent outburst, and is trying to make up for it.  But for those who have seen the movie, I've gotta say - his violent reaction is not exactly unwarranted, given the situation.  Let's just hope he's not still in character at the ceremony when he loses. 

It's hard for me to take Joaquin Phoenix seriously (or even take notice of him) after the whole experiment/hoax/waste of time that was his rap career (by the way, Casey "The Lesser" Affleck: you are wholly complicit in that).  And in the Best Actor ballot against Daniel Day-Lewis (for his role in The Master), voters are not going to take him seriously either.  

If Day-Lewis wasn't in this race, I might have something to say about Denzel Washington and Hugh Jackman, for their performances in Flight and Les Miserables, respectively.  But he is, so I don't. 

After being passed over for a Best Director nomination, Ben Affleck has gotten nothing but kudos from his Hollywood peers (not to mention the Producers Guild, Directors Guild, Screen Actors Guild, and Golden Globes).  So I'm going to try to counterbalance that sentiment, by slamming his acting in Argo (and back when the film came out, there was serious talk of an acting nomination for him - he even got a BAFTA nomination).  He carries the narrative well enough, but with very little personality.  The flinty, squinty, all-in-a-day's-work expression that he employs to greet every character and situation gets a little old.  Sorry, Mr. Affleck, but that's the reality of being you: praise always arrives in lockstep with equal or greater backlash.  At least the acting is a step up from Pearl Harbor.  

My snubbed pick is John Hawkes for The Sessions.  If he was new to the Oscar game, his omission would be less of a surprise.  He's not an A-List household name like the rest of the men in this category.  But as a former nominee (two years ago for Winter's Bone), and after getting mentions from SAG and the Globes (a combo that usually guarantees an Oscar nom), he should have been on everybody's radar.  Before the nominations were announced, I was sure he would be the runner-up behind Day-Lewis.  That he didn't even make the top five is a real head-scratcher.

BEST ACTRESS:

SHOULD WIN:  Jessica Chastain (Zero Dark Thirty)

WILL WIN:  Jennifer Lawrence (Silver Linings Playbook)

GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Nicole Kidman (The Paperboy)

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Marion Cotillard (Rust And Bone)

This category is filled with relative newcomers to the Oscar race: none of the nominees have more than one previous nomination.  The five ladies have a total of only three prior nominations; heck, the Best Supporting Actor nominees have twice that many VICTORIES.  This looks to be one of the tightest races, with Jennifer Lawrence, Jessica Chastain, and Emmanuelle Riva all within striking distance. 

21-year-old Lawrence is a veritable veteran in this category, having been previously nominated for Best Actress (in Winter's Bone).  She is excellent in Silver Linings Playbook, not an easy feat considering her character's mental state is intentionally ambiguous.  While Bradley Cooper's character is definitively bipolar, Lawrence's widow is just plain "crazy" (not to mention angry, manipulative, promiscuous, anti-social, provocative, venomous - a real cupcake).   Her performance is even more impressive considering she holds her own against a much older Cooper (which makes their gaping age difference much less creepy than it should be) and a cranky Robert De Niro (their rat-a-tat tete-a-tete is scripted, of course, but plausibly dominating him on-screen requires a unique talent).  She may not take home a statuette this year, but there is little doubt that one is in her future. 

I have a very hard time deciding who deserves to win, Chastain or Lawrence.  Chastain has the more subtle, nuanced performance of the two.  I find it interesting to see the parallels between the torture that she supervises and her state of mind.  It's as if she subjects herself to a kind of torture through her decade of hunting for Bin Laden: sleep deprivation, starvation, and psychological duress.  Is it penance of some kind?  Does she feel she has to suffer for the cause, as others have?  Is she taking personal responsibility for the failure to find Bin Laden?  Whatever it is, it drives her to find him.  A minor detraction: While Chastain nails the mental aspect of chasing Moby Dick for 10-plus years, I think her physical appearance could reflect the fatigue more convincingly.  I mean,  I know Chastain's character is based on a real woman, but I think we can guarantee that she isn't a smokin' hot redhead.  In scenes where characters go out of their way to tell her how run-down and sickly she looks, she actually appears fresh-faced, wears professionally applied makeup, and sports perfectly tousled tresses.  I would think searching tirelessly for the world's most feared terrorist for years on end might give her bags under her eyes.  So whom do I side with between the nominees?  I choose Chastain by a (well-coiffed) hair.

More forecasters have been betting on Riva of late, for her wrenching performance in Amour.  I still think it's between Lawrence and Chastain, but many feel she could take it, if enough votes are split between the other two.  At the very least, she'll play the Ralph Nader role and get enough support to make the winner unpredictable. 

In a different year, Naomi Watts could probably prevail for her work in The Impossible, but this year she's realistically in fourth place.  The rash of raw and emotionally bare performances this season makes it hard for any actress to stick out.  Watts is hoping for weaker competition when she reprises her role in the sequel, The Impossible 2: Even Tsunamier. 

What to make of Quvenzhané Wallis in Beasts Of The Southern Wild, who was six years old at the time of filming?  Nobody is denying that she's an impressive force on-screen.  But is she deserving of a nomination?  There are plenty of pundits who feel she does not merit one, because she is so young, and arguably a non-actor (it is indeed her first role).  I don't feel as strongly as that, but there is some validity to the argument that without any kind of acting training (or even ability to make mature decisions), she may have been predominantly responding to Benh Zeitlin giving her direction.  But it's hard to devalue an acting performance for purely subjective reasons; I tend to think it's either good or it's not.  (Then again, judging an acting performance is purely subjective to begin with.)  Ultimately, I feel she's deserving of the nomination, but not of a victory. 

I assumed Marion Cotillard was a lock for a spot here for Rust And Bone.  While the film itself is drawing jeers and yawns, her performance has been fairly universally praised.  She seems to have Oscar bait in spades: she plays an amputee, her character overcomes tragedy, she is a previous winner, and she's French.  It's a credit to the other strong nominees that she didn't make the cut . 

After her SAG and Golden Globe nominations, I thought Nicole Kidman was a decent bet for The Paperboy.  Apparently the Academy thought better of it.  Maybe it was the subject matter; here is an unfabricated description of her character: Kidman plays a trashy, horny, backwater lunatic with a penchant for falling in love with death-row inmates who urinates on Zac Efron.  ("Should've been me," sighed Vanessa Hudgens.)

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR:

SHOULD WIN:  Philip Seymour Hoffman (The Master)

WILL WIN:  Tommy Lee Jones (Lincoln)

GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Leonardo DiCaprio (Django Unchained)

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Dwight Henry (Beasts Of The Southern Wild)

This category, more than any other, is anyone's guess.  Frankly, I wouldn't be surprised by any one of them winning.  The "experts" are all over the board, with Robert De Niro slightly leading the pack over Tommy Lee Jones, followed by Christoph Waltz.  But regardless of who wins, don't feel bad for the losers: all of the nominees have already won an Oscar - and it's the first time that's happened in an acting category. 

On a coin flip more than anything else, I'm predicting Jones will win, for his role in Lincoln.  Frankly, I think his work here is markedly thinner than that of his previous Oscar winner, for the Fugitive; but on the other hand, you could argue the same point about all of his fellow nominees.  As abolitionist Thaddeus Stevens, Jones is strong and commanding (and he's a spitting image for the dog on the handle of his cane - a nice touch), but I feel a lot of the credit for his character should go to screenwriter Tony Kushner.  It seems like the strength of Jones' performance is his verbal artillery, the words of which were written by Kushner; it just seems like spectacular dialogue delivered in a Tommy-Lee-Jones-like manner.  Make no mistake, it's wonderful, but it doesn't seem to require any stretch by Jones (the wig notwithstanding).  It's an unfair comparison, but one I'll make anyway: Put Jones' performance up next to Daniel Day-Lewis'.  To me, it's the difference between delivery and performance - almost no comparison at all.  Though I will say, I would have enjoyed more scenes between Jones and Day-Lewis.  They really only have one scene together, and it is electric.  They are both portrayed as the two intellectual superiors, with differing viewpoints.  It would have been interesting to see more interplay between them, if for no other reason to fill the conversation with eloquent insults. 

I'm casting my vote for Hoffman in The Master.  I hate to say it, but it's partly because I can't find a better candidate.  It's surprising to me that nobody's been talking about him since the nominations were announced - he had been an early front-runner.  He seems to have just slipped off the radar as newer movies have made the box office rounds.  Hoffman might have a slight advantage in that his role is probably more of a lead than supporting, but such is life on the Oscar campaign trail.  It could snare him the victory, but I doubt it. 

Welcome back, Mr. De Niro.  After an absence of 21 years from the Oscar race, the revered actor scored a nomination for Silver Linings Playbook.  He has said that he has a very personal connection to the role of a man with a bipolar son (people have speculated that it's because of his relationship with his real-life son).  It's not surprising - it's the first role in ages that he appears fully invested in.  Is it as good as the roles that he has been previously nominated for?  No.  But is it better than anything he's done in a decade?  Yes. 

After winning the Golden Globe and the BAFTA, Christoph Waltz could sneak in for Django Unchained.  But I don't see it, after he won so recently for Inglourious Basterds (a role that was universally considered superior), especially against such heavyweights.  Not to trivialize the achievement, but he's essentially holding the spot that everyone knew would go to somebody from Django Unchained, it was just a matter of who.

Alan Arkin's performance in Argo is thoroughly enjoyable, but not terribly surprising.  He plays his character in exactly the way you would expect him to; fortunately, it suits the character very well.  If he happens to win (probably the longest-shot of the bunch), it will be on the strength of a single well-delivered catchphrase. 

There are a number of unrecognized men who would have been reasonable choices for Supporting Actor this year: John Goodman in Argo (the welcome square peg in the round hole of 70s Hollywood), Jason Clark in Zero Dark Thirty (the window into a "good guy" who inflicts torture for a living), and almost anyone from the ensemble of Lincoln (James Spader, Jackie Earle Haley, and Peter McRobbie come to mind).  But my snubbed award goes to Dwight Henry, playing the troubled father in Beasts Of The Southern Wild.  Like Quvenzhané Wallis, Henry was a non-actor when he was discovered for the film.  In fact, he was found because he owned the local bakery that the director and crew frequented.  I can only imagine how the conversation went: "We are looking for a foolish, borderline-abusive, undereducated, unsophisticated, yet slightly tender bastard.  We think you'd be perfect."

Special shout-out to Irrfan Khan for appearing in TWO films this year where he referenced a character named Richard Parker (the tiger in Life Of Pi, and Peter Parker's father in The Amazing Spider-Man). 

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS:

SHOULD WIN: Anne Hathaway (Les Miserables)

WILL WIN:  Anne Hathaway (Les Miserables)

GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Maggie Smith (The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel)

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Rosemarie DeWitt (Your Sister's Sister)

I hereby anoint Anne Hathaway the New Kate Winslet.  And that's not a compliment.  Hathaway is a fine and deserving actress, but she's becoming like Kate in a different way: her gratingly annoying acceptance "performances".  She nearly drove her Golden Globe speech off the rails by pretending to appear nervous, flustered, breathless, and surprised (oh, so surprised).  Think she's being genuine?  She's an ACTRESS (you never see a costume designer or cinematographer pulling that kind of nonsense).  And remember, she hosted the Academy Awards two years ago, so she's no stranger to that spotlight.  I guarantee that every single moment she spends on any awards stage is 100% choreographed and rehearsed.  (By the way, she's nearly a lock to win for Les Miserables.) 

Co-starring in the most popular movie of all the nominees, Sally Field will certainly get her share of votes for Lincoln.  As the campaign season has progressed (and Daniel Day-Lewis has strengthened his stranglehold on the Best Actor race), Field seems to have adopted her co-star's tactic by saying she ALSO stayed in character the whole time.  But since, as Mrs. Lincoln, that amounted to being irritable and loony… apparently nobody noticed any difference.

With her fourth nomination since 2006, Amy Adams is due for a victory… just not yet.  Based on her track record and her age, there's little doubt that she's a future winner, and probably sooner than later (frankly, she should have won for Junebug).  Her career choices have been impeccable, to say nothing of her performances.  She pretty much hasn't appeared in a clunker since she was starting her career, way back in 2000, with Cruel Intentions 2 (you mean there was a sequel?).  Maybe her upcoming Janis Joplin biopic will be the role that finally clinches it... 

Helen Hunt garnered a nomination for her career-reviving turn as a sex surrogate in The Sessions.  Despite critical raves, the film has gone mostly unseen, and her role seems to be best remembered for the massive amounts of nudity.  "Seriously, you couldn't do that in Twister?" lamented Bill Paxton. 

Jacki Weaver's nomination is probably more interesting as a historical footnote than it is as a personal achievement: her film, Silver Linings Playbook, scored nominations in all four acting categories, a rare feat that hasn't been accomplished since Reds, 31 years ago.  The performance itself is good, but is seemingly pedestrian when compared to the other scenery-chewers in the film.  Her character is an interesting contrast though: she's set up as the "normal" one, but as the story progresses, and it becomes clear that she's an enabler (under the earnest guise of being a peacemaker), I feel she's revealed to be no more sane than the rest of the bunch.  But still not nearly as wacky as Anne Hathaway will be when accepting the Oscar. 

Is it possible that at age 78, Maggie Smith is suffering from overexposure?  With recent nominations and awards from other groups (Golden Globes, SAG, Emmys, BAFTAs) for Downton Abbey, The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel, and Quartet, it's been a little hard to escape the crotchety dame.  I, for one, am content to see her left off the Oscar ballot.  In response, I'm sure she would put me in my place by serving up some witty, hyper-articulate, cutting bon mot of an insult - without me understanding a word of it. 

BEST DIRECTOR:

SHOULD WIN:  Ang Lee (Life Of Pi)

WILL WIN:  Steven Spielberg (Lincoln)

GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Ridley Scott (Prometheus)

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Kathryn Bigelow (Zero Dark Thirty)

Are we done feeling sorry for Ben Affleck yet?  Everybody seems to be so concerned about his Best Director snub for Argo, after being a presumed Oscar front-runner.  Admittedly, winning the Directors Guild, BAFTA, Critics Choice, and Golden Globe awards, as Affleck did, should practically guarantee winning the Oscar; failing to get even a nomination is unprecedented.  (It's the first time in 25 years that the Globe winner didn't get an Oscar nomination.)  But it's getting to be a bit much, all the outpouring of woe across the industry for Affleck (who's even grown a serious "director beard" for the awards season - honestly?) .  Two people who surely DON'T feel bad for Affleck are Jennifer Lopez (for obvious reasons) and Christopher Nolan (after being snubbed by Oscar several times - and I think we can agree that Argo was no Inception).  "How does it feel, pretty boy?" Nolan recently tweeted.  And I'm sure Affleck himself is not expecting anybody to shed a tear for him: he's still married to Jennifer Garner, he's still an award-winning writer, director, producer, and - yes - actor, and he's still f---ing Jimmy Kimmel.

The true unjust snub here is Kathryn Bigelow for Zero Dark Thirty.  Sentiment may not be as strong for her as it is for Affleck, since she won this category three years ago for The Hurt Locker (and because she is not chummy with every actor in L.A. like Affleck is).  But when you compare the directing of Zero Dark Thirty to Argo… Argo looks like child's play.  I don't know how you can watch the last half hour of Zero Dark Thirty and not be blown away (another terrible pun).  Filming an extremely complicated situation, incorporating a helicopter crash, using no light, while paying meticulous attention to the non-fictional details, all in an adverse environment (in every sense) - I still don't know how she pulled it off.  When I think of what she accomplished compared to Steven Spielberg with Lincoln, it's even more impressive.  Spielberg is a master of grand scale, but he also has all the clout and resources of the industry at his fingertips, without having to breaking a sweat.  Bigelow is now a serious Hollywood player, but nowhere near Spielberg - it's safe to say that she had to fight for every inch of film in Zero Dark Thirty.  If she was a nominee, she would get my vote. 

Of the directors that actually received nominations, Spielberg is the likely favorite, for Lincoln.  If he does win, he'll be the only living director with three Oscars (late greats William Wyler and Frank Capra also won three, and John Ford scored four).  However, he's not a lock; many Academy voters will be more impressed by somebody else.  He has created something of a disadvantage for himself: he is such a consistent master of the craft that people expect nothing short greatness from him.  To set himself apart (from himself), voters will need to see something that is absolutely awe-striking.  And for many, Lincoln isn't it.  While it's clearly a well-directed film, it doesn't have many of the imprints that Spielberg often leaves on his films, and it doesn’t boast many qualities that call excessive attention to the "direction".  His previous Oscar winners (Schindler's List and Saving Private Ryan) were overtly "directed", and were clearly directed by Spielberg.  We'll see if the Academy puts Lincoln on the same level. 

So if Spielberg doesn't win, who else will the Academy voters be impressed by?  I, for one, am most impressed with Ang Lee's Life Of Pi.  Nearly every critic agrees that it's the most visually stunning film of the year.  The 3D, special effects, and scale are remarkable, especially when they highlight the gravity and scope of what the main character is dealing with.  When Pi watches the gigantic ocean liner sink while underwater, it literally sucks the air out of your lungs - it's as close as it gets to being underwater yourself.  Interestingly, Lee has been in a situation similar to Affleck's - he won the Globe, DGA, and BAFTA for Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, but failed to win the Oscar (but at least he was nominated).  Of the nominees, Lee gets my vote (and not just because we both attended the University of Illinois).  I would say there's a fair chance Lee will in fact take it instead of Spielberg. 

Some voters will also be impressed by David O. Russell, as evinced by Silver Linings Playbook's slew of acting nominations.  Kudos to him for making the impossible possible: he turned a dark story about mental illness into a comedy, he made the 16-year age difference between a pair almost romantically plausible, he finished a movie without getting into a single fistfight, and he molded Bradley Cooper into an adequate actor.  And I have to admire the fact that he openly despises actors, yet every actor wants to work with him.  Then, on set, they have to deal with his "directing style": standing just off-camera and shouting at them about all the things they're doing wrong, until they finally get a take that's mildly acceptable. 

Michael Haneke is a surprise nominee in this category for Amour.  Not a surprise because he's untalented, but because he's so bizarre.  He's an art-house auteur that other art-house auteurs tend to find a bit absurd.  Even David Lynch thinks he's strange.  In fact, he goes so far that his movies tend to look like spoofs of art-house films.  (Watch the trailer for the original Funny Games and try not to laugh.)  After a history of polarizing critics, I think voters were pleasantly surprised to see Amour tell such a (relatively) conventional story.  The film is still artsy, but when Haneke applies his style to a coherent and realistic narrative, it can have a wonderful and powerful effect.  Amour will take the Best Foreign Language prize, so it won't win here.  Actually, Haneke has a much better chance at winning in the Best Original Screenplay category than he does here.

Benh Zeitlin, director of Beasts Of The Southern Wild, and this year's hipster nominee, is undoubtedly panicking.  Panicking?  After scoring an Oscar nod for his first feature film, a micro-budget indie lark that overcame the longest of odds, doesn't he feel on top of the world?  Nope.  Instead, he's wondering how in god's name he's going to follow it up.  "What the hell do I do now?"  Almost certainly, the answer is: fail.  There is practically no way he can top this.  Having reached such a zenith with his first film, he can, at best, expect a series of experiences less fulfilling than what he's experienced so far.  He will face a string of projects that are generally considered inferior.  He will spend every day feeling worse than he does today.  And that's just with a nomination.  What if he actually wins?

I'm calling out Ridley Scott's Prometheus, as it was one of the most anticipated movies of the year, and it fails on many levels.  Scott basically sends a cadre of disagreeable nimrods to an alien planet, lets them wander around and ask, "Hey, what's that?", has them make a bunch of terrible decisions, then arbitrarily chooses which characters would make it out alive.  I'm told the original working title of the movie was "Don't Touch That, You Idiot".  For example, the characters learn the hard way that in outer space, you do not touch: alien rattlesnakes, living black goo, decapitated heads, bodies that appear to be dead, and Noomi Rapace's lady-parts.

BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY:

SHOULD WIN:  Mark Boal (Zero Dark Thirty)

WILL WIN:  Quentin Tarantino (Django Unchained)

GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Lynn Shelton (Your Sister's Sister)

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Christopher Nolan, Jonathan Nolan (The Dark Knight Rises)

Three years ago, I predicted Quentin Tarantino would beat Mark Boal (with Inglourious Basterds and The Hurt Locker, respectively) in this category, and I was proven wrong.  Will the same thing happen this year, with their entries for Django Unchained and Zero Dark Thirty?  The circumstances are nearly identical, so why would I put my chips on Tarantino again?  In 2010, The Hurt Locker was a favorite (and eventual winner) for Picture and Director, and very often Screenplay aligns with those.  But this year, neither Boal's nor Tarantino's films are contenders for either category (all the strongest Best Picture candidates are in the Adapted Screenplay category).  And Boal just won an Oscar recently.  So I think the table is tilted in Tarantino's favor this year.

But it doesn't mean Tarantino SHOULD win.  I suppose I forfeit any shred of film-geek cred when I say that Tarantino doesn't merit the prize.  (Cue the loud gasp from the 1990s version of myself.)  But I think Boal deserves it anyway. 

Voters nominated the screenplay for Amour (somewhat uncommon for a foreign language film), recognizing that it is a touching and heartfelt story.  Or at the very least, they recognized that the story makes more sense than that of another acclaimed Haneke film, the overrated, illogical, and manipulative Cache.  I think one of the reasons Amour resonates with all audiences (and not just elderly French ones) is that the theme - losing something important, and not being able to do anything but watch helplessly - is universal.  (Unlike the theme of Cache - watching your childhood friend slit his own throat just to spite you, and not being able to do anything but watch helplessly - which is pretty specific).  There are several worldly cinema elitists who are certain Amour will win this award, but I don't see it. 

I'm always happy to see Wes Anderson get a writing nomination, but I'm puzzled by which of his films receive them.  Moonrise Kingdom and The Royal Tenenbaums got nominated, but Rushmore and The Darjeeling Limited did not?  I like Moonrise Kingdom, but… I fear Anderson is in jeopardy of slipping into inadvertent self-parody.  I know this is more of a directing criticism, but in Kingdom, his trademark highly stylized scenes are at times a bit over the top.  I realize he's going for a certain tone, mood, and I suppose symbolism.  But while his stamp is usually charming, everything in the film, from sets to acting to dialogue to action to cinematography - even the title! - feels manipulated.  It's all a bit too "Wes Anderson".  I feel like if a foolishly ambitious film student with an unlimited budget set out to imitate (or send up) Anderson, Kingdom is what he/she would create.  And frankly, the subject matter isn't even fresh: Anderson explored misunderstood youth much better in his unparalleled masterpiece Rushmore.  I don't mean to be harsh (and lord knows I've been accused of over-praising Anderson in the past); after all, it's a good film with plenty of merit.  It's just not my favorite.  I hope it's a misstep, and not that his vision is wearing thin on me. 

The Dark Knight Rises was obviously a gigantic box office success, but I was disappointed that it didn't get lauded more for its screenplay.  Maybe it's not Oscar fare, but I give the writers credit for tying up the trilogy in a satisfying way, considering the astronomical expectations.  The script meshes very well thematically, especially with the first installment.  In fact, it's impressive to watch Batman Begins and The Dark Knight Rises successively (while skipping The Dark Knight) - many of the themes set up in the first one (especially in the teachings of Ra's Al Ghul) are paid off cleverly yet organically in the third.  There are also blueprints in Batman Begins that lay out and justify the ending of The Dark Knight Rises, and suggest how the Batman story could potentially continue into the future (I'm being intentionally vague for the two of you who haven't seen it).  At this point, I don't think it's hyperbole to say that Christopher Nolan is a cinematic genius.

In the Best Supporting Actress category, I chose Rosemarie DeWitt as my Snub for her impressive work in Your Sister's Sister.  It's just a shame that the film itself isn't as strong - the screenplay gets my Gloriously Omitted slot.  The movie has all the hallmarks of an over-praised Sundance darling: disheveled charm, overcast natural environs, ramshackle coziness, overlong montages substituting for actual story, morons who need love, and most importantly, the ambiguous ending.  It aims to be earnest, absurd, and heartwarming; there is no doubt it's earnestly absurd, but whether it's heartwarming probably depends on your mood.  It's the kind of quippy, romantic-ish, comedic-ish, intimate, occasionally hilarious, unconventional film that I would have absolutely loved 10 years ago.  Now, I tend to think, "Grow up, people."

   BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY:

SHOULD WIN:  Tony Kushner (Lincoln)

WILL WIN:  Tony Kushner (Lincoln)

GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  William Nicholson, Alain Boublil, Claude-Michel Schönberg, Herbert Kretzmer (Les Miserables)

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  None

In Lincoln's opening scene, I feared that the film would suffer from self-importance, sagging under the weight of the hefty subject matter.  But it doesn't, and I credit screenwriter Tony Kushner.  Sure, there is grandstanding, self-righteousness, and speechifying, but this is a Hollywood movie, and it's an incredibly important series of events in U.S. history.  Did each of the historical figures actually give gut-wrenching, tear-jerking, award-worthy speeches in every conversation they participated in?  Presumably not, but I think that can be forgiven.  In fact, that's a major aspect of what makes the film so riveting.  It's a dull concept, told as a thriller.  Kushner accomplishes this with true "drama" in the storytelling sense: fighting with words, not guns (ironic, considering the tale takes place during wartime).  It's no surprise that much of the film feels like a stage play, considering Kushner's theater background (he wrote Angels In America, among other things).  This will probably take the Oscar, and rightfully so. 

Depending on how much of a groundswell rises for Argo, it could end up taking this prize.  As it seems more and more likely that it will win Best Picture, the odds also increase in this category - no doubt, it will be close.  I was dumping on Ben Affleck earlier, but his film and Chris Terrio's script are outstanding.  Credit them with not over-glamorizing the story's CIA operation of rescuing Americans trapped in Iran (which would be only slightly better than being trapped in Canada).  It's not a snappy joy ride like Mission: Impossible; it's treated like an actual impossible mission.  For the characters, it's not fun, it's not a rush, it's not thrilling; nobody caps a harrowing action sequence with a witty line of ironic dialogue.  Those choices go a long way in elevating the script from popcorn flick to Oscar contender. 

For years, the book Life Of Pi was considered unfilmable.  Most of the credit goes to Ang Lee for willing the film into existence, spending many frustrating years on an endeavor that even Sisyphus would have found punishing.  But the first step was for David Magee to write a coherent script.  As someone who didn't read the book, I was not expecting a spiritual film.  But it is spiritual, in a non-denominational way.  Detractors of the script argue that it's a safe cop-out, but others find it refreshing and reassuring.  I feel the point of the story is affirmation of spirituality, which can't help but make you feel good. 

David O. Russell is best known as a director, but he's also an interesting screenwriter.  Specifically, I've been fascinated by the tone of several of his scripts (which he also directed).  They're hard to categorize: they're not dramas, but they're not necessarily comedies either.  I suppose they're as varied and inconsistent as real life (or movie versions thereof).  His latest example is Silver Linings Playbook.  For a film that deals with serious personality disorders, the tone is surprisingly playful, closer to I <Heart> Huckabees (still his best film) than The Fighter.  At times, the film comes off as a bit "Hey, aren't we all at least a little bit crazy?"  But ultimately, I think it plays on the fact that maybe some forms of "crazy" are more socially acceptable than others.  And if you don't believe that, then you've clearly never dealt with humans before. 

Beasts Of The Southern Wild is probably the most polarizing nominee in the writing categories.  It's intentionally confounding, which some people dismiss, and others revel in.  Is it real?  Is it fantasy?  Is it literal?  Is it metaphorical?  Is it simply the imagination of child?  Frankly, I had no idea, since I'm not well-versed in Greek mythology, bionomics, hoodoo culture, paleontology, or bayou urban legend - each of which seem to be a prerequisite to interpreting the film properly. 

One quick comment about another category… I can't believe this wasn't nominated for Best Short Film: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u1kw3lTva7U

[ryanjdonovan]

Donovan's Oscar Prognostication 2012

I am good at exactly two things.  One of them is pouring liquids from one receptacle into another without spilling a drop.  The other?  Recognizing celebrity voices in commercials.  One thing I'm decidedly NOT good at is predicting Oscar winners.  So why this article?  Because in 2012, we staunchly believe in celebrating mediocrity, broadcasting personal information that nobody cares about, and assuming that everybody is dying to hear our unqualified opinions.  In fact, I’m confident you all will retweet this entire article sentence-by-sentence.

  BEST PICTURE:

SHOULD WIN:  The Artist

WILL WIN:  The Artist

GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  The Hangover Part II

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  50/50

  This is what it’s come to: they have beaten us at our own game.  The best mainstream Hollywood movie in 2011 was made by a group of effete, bicycle-riding, baguette-carrying, slim-cigarette-smoking dandies wearing black-and-white horizontally-striped shirts, whose dogs jump off the Eiffel Tower trying to catch Rusty Griswold’s beret.  The French.  The creators of The Artist have taken a quintessentially American story, which takes place in America, in English (on title cards), with the great American treasure John Goodman, in an era when Hollywood was king, in an art form dominated by Americans, and have told it better than we could have.  It’s akin to going to the Baseball Hall of Fame… in Paris.    

  The Artist’s writer/director Michel Hazanavicius made a brilliant silent film about silent films, and did it in the purest way, without the winking irony or meta nonsense that would have been so easy (and trendy).  It reaffirms that movies really are supposed to be “motion pictures”.  A truly great story told visually requires very little dialogue; you should be able to watch it on mute and still follow it.  As Alfred Hitchcock said, “Dialogue should simply be a sound among other sounds, just something that comes out of the mouths of people whose eyes tell the story in visual terms.”  I saw the film a full month after its theatrical debut, and it elicited atypical audible reactions, like gasps and sighs, plus rousing applause at the end – I can’t think of the last time that happened at a movie I attended, other than on opening weekend.  When it rightly wins Best Picture, it will be only the second silent film ever to claim the top prize (following Wings, at the very first Academy Awards in 1929).

  So what is the impact of the big rule change for this category?  For those who don’t follow Oscar shenanigans on a daily basis like I do, here’s a primer: After expanding from 5 Best Picture nominees to 10 a few years ago, the Academy amended the rules again so that the number of nominees are determined by the voting results.  There could be anywhere between 5 and 10, depending on how many get at least 5% of the first-place votes.  The idea is that all nominees should be films that are the favorite of at least a few people (and therefore have a chance at winning); there shouldn’t be any that everybody feels are “just okay”.  So, films that get a lot of moderate support, but very few first-place votes (ahem, The Blind Side in 2010), would no longer make the field.  On the other hand, a film that doesn’t have a ton of fans, but those it does have are fervent and voting it #1, would now make the cut (for example, possibly 2008’s The Diving Bell And The Butterfly). 

  A film that epitomizes the effects of the changes this year is The Tree Of Life.  By all accounts, it is polarizing, with most people hating it, but a fair percent declaring it genius (a classic cult following).  And as it happens, the cult percent is at least 5%, therefore landing an Oscar spot.  But a cult following won’t be enough to bring home the trophy. 

  How do you make a film about brutal race relations in the Deep South in the 60s without making it 120 minutes of queasiness?  That was the question facing The Help, and I say it meets the task quite well.  It manages to be poignant yet entertaining, heavy yet spirited.  At times it gets overly melodramatic, but given the subject matter, subtlety is not really called for.  The film is anchored by an incredible cast.  I realize not everyone agrees with my overall assessment, as everybody has such a different personal experience. 

  One person who does not agree with me about The Help is Spike Lee.  I saw the filmmaker speak earlier this month, and he had some not-so-nice things to say about the film.  While he praised the acting by Viola Davis and Octavia Spencer, he lamented the fact that the best roles available to black actresses this year were those of maids.  He went as far as to (playfully) suggest a lack of progress by drawing a parallel between the first Oscar won by a black actor (Hattie McDaniel in Gone With The Wind), for the role of a maid, and this year’s nominees 70 years later, playing the roles of maids.  (He then joked that the progress was two maids this year, not just one.)  Point taken, but he didn’t mention the fact that Viola Davis was the lead role in The Help, and that she sought out the rights to book, in order to produce it herself (but they were already taken); and as producer, she still would have chosen to play the same role in the film.  (By the way, Lee was a very dynamic, engaging, and entertaining speaker.  I was hoping to hear more Hollywood dirt/opinions, but he did express some understandable lack of faith in the Academy.  He still harbors a grudge for Denzel Washington’s loss for Malcolm X, and called the actor’s Oscar win for the less-than-astonishing Training Day a “make-up call” – which I agree with.)

  With Owen Wilson and Rachel McAdams in the leads, Midnight In Paris is not, in fact, a sequel to Wedding Crashers, as I had expected.  (But it certainly could use Vince Vaughn as a snooty waiter.)  I’m not a huge fan of Woody Allen, and I have little patience for his trademark nattering, nebbishy main character, played by either himself or his surrogate (in this case Wilson).  In typical fashion, Allen gives the illusion of saying a lot without really saying much at all (which is in itself a bit ironic, because his characters never shut the hell up).  Not surprisingly, the ensemble is well-cast (standouts include Adrien Brody as Dali and Corey Stoll as Hemingway), with the exception of Wilson (more on him later).  I really enjoyed the film, but ultimately feel it’s a bit slight for the top prize.  And then there are the practical concerns: Wilson’s character questions his relationship with his fiancée, who is constantly mean and belittling to him.  Despite being engaged to him, she clearly doesn't believe in him, and we know she is not truly in love with him.  It’s an empty relationship and she will never respect him.  But frankly, if she’s Rachel McAdams, I think you get over all that pretty quickly.  Then there is the question of whether Wilson’s time traveling is real, or just in his head.  When my wife asked my interpretation, I condescendingly explained, “Like with Black Swan, it does not matter whether it is real or hallucinated.  The entire movie is a metaphor for the artistic process, the internalized machinations in one’s head turned into visual symbols that depict how one man unearths his inspiration, lassos his motivation, and conjures his art.  It is not meant to suggest that Wilson’s character actually meets Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Picasso, et cetera.  To surmise otherwise would be foolish.”  To which she replied, “Then how do you explain the missing detective?”  “Well, um…”

  I had been expecting to really like The Descendants, as I have pretty much been wowed by Alexander Payne’s previous films.  But I was extremely disappointed – I don’t even think it deserves a Best Picture nomination.  And, I suppose it shouldn’t be a surprise that the storyline about a wife in a coma is grindingly depressing.  Of course, Bill Clinton called it “the feel-good movie of the year.” 

  The best movie I saw all year was 50/50.  I knew it didn’t have a chance for a Best Picture nomination, but I really thought it would get one for Best Original Screenplay.  One disclaimer: it is hardly a half-comedy, as it’s being promoted.  It probably should have been called 75/25. 

  Honorable Mention goes to Mission: Impossible – Ghost Protocol, for making the fourth installment of a tired series one of the best action pics in a long time.  Tom Cruise may be a detestable pipsqueak, but I will admit that when makes a movie that is in the zone, it’s pretty goddam incredible.

  Quick shout-out to The Hangover Part II, the most disappointing movie of the year.  If you loved the first one, it’s the same story, but with none of the humor!

  BEST ACTOR: 

SHOULD WIN:  Demian Bichir (A Better Life)

WILL WIN:  George Clooney (The Descendants)

GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Owen Wilson (Midnight in Paris), Leonardo DiCaprio (J. Edgar)

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Paul Giamatti (Win Win), Joseph Gordon Levitt (50/50)

George Clooney is going to run away with this award, right?  Well, it might not be quite that simple.  He was unofficially coronated early in the season, but the Artist juggernaut is catching up to him.  Jean Dujardin’s upset at the Screen Actors Guild awards turned this race on its head, as it aligns with the Oscar in this category over 80% of the time (including the last seven years).  Then again, SAG denied Clooney for Best Supporting Actor for Syriana, but he won the Oscar anyway.  In similar fashion, Clooney’s chumminess with the Academy will pay off, and he will narrowly eke out the victory. 

But I won’t be happy about it.  In fact, I think Clooney might be the least worthy of all the nominees.  The critics who have been raving about his performance in The Descendants must have seen something that I didn’t.  To me, he doesn’t really inhabit the character (or more accurately, he doesn’t let the character inhabit him).  He never ceases being George Clooney, with all his familiar expressions, tics, inflections, and ‘isms’ crowding the screen.  If by “great acting” you mean “not smiling”, then sure, it’s great acting. 

Does that mean that Dujardin deserves the award instead for The Artist?  His worthiness is a bit hard to judge for three reasons: 1) He’s unknown to most Americans, so we don’t know if he’s acting or being himself, 2) He’s in a silent film, and 3) He’s French.  Well, I say there is no way the guy is just being himself, because the film requires such a unique performance and style.  And that style demands a very delicate balance, so as not to veer into hamminess, parody, or hyper-realism, which he executes perfectly.  As for the film being silent, Dujardin has arguably a tougher job, because he has to tell his story and convey his thoughts and emotions without using the crutch of dialogue.  And as for his nationality... there is nothing I can say to defend his being French.

  Demian Bichir’s nomination for A Better Life was a surprise to everyone… everyone who hadn’t seen the film, anyway.  While I’ll take Dujardin over Clooney, I’ll take Bichir over all of them.  Playing an illegal immigrant in Los Angeles trying to make an honest living and keep his son away from the allures of gang life, he quietly yet demonstratively gives the performance of the year. 

  Initially after seeing Moneyball, I was unimpressed by Brad Pitt.  He just seemed like the same Pitt you routinely see in interviews and other movies, alternately affable, charming, and stubborn, as the scene required.  But after the film had sunk in for a few days (and after seeing the decidedly unimpressive Clooney), nuances in the performance became much more apparent, and much more appreciated.  He plays a desperate man truly at wit’s end, but he cannot admit it to anyone, including himself, or it will mean the end of his career.  He puts himself in a position where he glad-handles and lies to everyone (his staff, his players, his ex-wife, his boss, his manager, his rival general managers).  And he does it with varying degrees of screw-you grins, confident sarcasm, and transparent bravado.  At first, it all felt a little forced to me, like he was just laying on the “Brad”.  But I slowly realized he actually performs with three different faces at all times: the one for the other characters in the scene, the one for the audience, and the one for his character's true self.  The scenes that finally got me were the ones with his daughter.  Those are the only scenes where his character isn’t putting on an act.  His smiles are genuine, his intentions are honest, his expressions are true.  Interestingly, he still sometimes lies to his daughter.  But he does it for other reasons, not to shut her out, but to protect her.  He isn’t always truthful with her, but he isn’t giving her a line, like with everyone else – and there is definitely a difference.  Credit Pitt the actor for recognizing that difference, and layering it into his performance without going over the top.  All that said, to hell with him.  I hope he doesn't win.

I was happy to see the surprise nomination for Gary Oldman (a.k.a. the best actor never to have been nominated for an Oscar).  It’s a little hard to believe that for all his amazing work, the relatively vanilla role in Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy is the one that finally got him nominated.  After receiving the news, Oldman released the following statement: “Seriously?”  I’d be clamoring harder for him this year if I thought this was his crowning performance, or if this was his only chance (then again, at this rate, maybe it will be).  One accolade he is guaranteed to collect this year is induction into the elusive Double Trilogy club (appearing in three different movies in two different series), when The Dark Knight Rises opens.  But for his Oscar chances, I’m thinking: Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy… Loser. 

Owen Wilson was nominated for Best Actor (Comedy/Musical) at the Golden Globes for Midnight In Paris, and I’m still baffled.  To me, he is the weak link in an otherwise strong film.  Wilson said that director Woody Allen gave him the freedom to experiment with the role and invent his own character.  So he made the character… exactly like Owen Wilson.  The audience needs to believe that the character will achieve something great, to validate his grand artistic journey.  But while Wilson is at ease with Woody’s trademark neurotic, eternal-skeptic dialogue, it’s impossible to believe in him achieving anything worthwhile, ever.  We are required to believe that he could exist as a peer among the great early-twentieth-century intellectuals, but when we think he’d have a hard time keeping up with Kardashians, there’s a problem. 

BEST ACTRESS:

SHOULD WIN:  Viola Davis (The Help)

WILL WIN:  Viola Davis (The Help)

GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Kate Winslet (Carnage)

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Kristen Wiig (Bridesmaids)

  Without a doubt, the Best Actress performances this year trump the Actor counterparts handily.  The male nominees don’t feature any that scream “role of a lifetime” (though some are saying that for Clooney and Pitt, which is a back-handed compliment, when you think about it).  But the Actresses feature nothing BUT roles of a lifetime, with the possible exception of Meryl Streep (I mean, she had Sophie’s Choice).  There were other actresses that failed to score nominations that also had roles of a lifetime (Tilda Swinton and Kirsten Dunst come to mind).  In fact, if Best Acting was a category for both genders, men might not even get one of the nominations this year.  Of the year’s top 10 leading performances, 7 or 8 were probably women.  

  With all these standout performances, who will win?  If Streep loses, it’s her own damn fault.  Movie to movie, she’s just too good.  What does she have to do to win another Oscar?  She’s set the bar so high for herself that nobody is surprised when she delivers a phenomenal performance.  If any other actress gave the equivalent of her Margaret Thatcher in The Iron Lady, a trophy would be more or less assured.  But from The Meryl Streep, Greatest Actress Alive?  It’s about as impressive as seeing her wash dishes.  And it doesn’t help that almost nobody saw the film.  Her supporters swear that if voters actually watch The Iron Lady in its entirety, they would see that Streep’s performance is worlds more deserving than Viola Davis’ in The Help.  But how many of them actually sat through it, as compared to The Help?  Consider the domestic box office: $17M for The Iron Lady versus $170M for The Help.  So if only a fraction of the voters saw Streep’s performance, even if they all vote for her, will that be enough?

Which is not to say that Davis doesn’t deserve to win.  She is completely transformed (most of it non-physically) into her character in The Help.  Many will see it as exactly on par with Streep’s performance.  Throw in (whether they are legit criteria or not) the gravity of the role, the emotional impact of her victory, and the underdog factor, and I think the scales tip in Davis’s favor.  Unlike at the Golden Globes, I don’t think Streep will need her reading glasses.

I’ll now reduce each of the other nominated performances to a single sentence.  Rooney Mara in The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo: How do you say “Not as good as Noomi Rapace” in Swedish?  Michelle Williams in My Weekend With Marilyn: Marilyn Monroe didn’t win any Oscars either.  Glenn Close in Albert Nobbs: Excellent, but looks a little too much like a late-career Red Buttons. 

  It seems like a lot of the focus about Bridesmaids has been about Melissa McCarthy.  But if anyone should have gotten an acting nomination for the film, it’s Kristen Wiig.  She is a genius, plain and simple.  She should be in every single skit on Saturday Night Live; anything less is a disgrace. 

  Perennial award-show fave Kate Winslet was passed over for Carnage… and hasn’t life been more pleasant without her faux gratitude, manufactured hyperventilating, and insincere humility? 

  BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR:

SHOULD WIN:  Christopher Plummer (Beginners)

WILL WIN:  Christopher Plummer (Beginners)

GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Brad Pitt (The Tree Of Life)

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Alex Shaffer (Win Win)

  No real mystery here, Christopher Plummer should bring home his first Oscar, for Beginners.  Interestingly, he and Max Von Sydow (nominated for Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close) are in a strikingly similar situation: Both have had long and illustrious careers, both were immortalized in monumentally iconic roles decades ago, both are foreign, both are 82 years old, and shockingly, both have had only a single previous nomination.  Really, is that possible?  Plummer was nominated a couple years ago for The Last Station, but not for The Sound Of Music, The Man Who Would Be King, The Insider, A Beautiful Mind, Syriana, The New World, Inside Man, or most shamefully, Dragnet.  Von Sydow got his first nom years ago for Pelle The Conqueror, but was passed over for The Exorcist, The Greatest Story Ever Told, The Seventh Seal, Three Days Of The Condor, Hannah And Her Sisters, and disgracefully, Judge Dredd.  (If you want to see an awesome film with both of them in it, check out the trippy 80s-time-capsule thriller Dreamscape.)  Fans of cinema history would be thrilled to see either of them win the Oscar. 

  The difference is the perception of the performances.  Plummer’s film debuted early and with huge buzz, and it’s been loud ever since.  Even before other potential nominees surfaced, critics generally agreed that this would be his crowning role.  Von Sydow’s performance appeared very late in the season, and was a surprise gem hidden behind underwhelming outings from Tom Hanks and Sandra Bullock.  And despite Incredibly Loud’s Best Picture nomination, Beginners has been much better received with the masses.  Von Sydow is gaining favor, but he simply doesn’t deliver enough wallop to make voters forget about Plummer.  Expect Plummer to win in a landslide, with the only dissenters being women of a certain age that can’t handle Captain Von Trapp kissing another man. 

  Another person in the category who is a revered actor with an impressive oeuvre, yet scoring only his second nod, is Kenneth Branagh for My Weekend With Marilyn (of course, he is not as old as Plummer and Von Sydow, and he has 3 other Oscar nominations for writing and directing).  I’m sure it just frosts his cupcake that he scored this nomination for playing his idol and fantasy subject Laurence Olivier.  He says he’s been preparing to play Olivier his whole life, which might explain why he’s such an arrogant, pretentious asshole.

  Nick Nolte let the world see him as a growling, mumbling, ex-alcoholic hard-ass with a checkered past and a chip on his shoulder.  He was also in the movie Warrior.  I think the Academy members nominated Nolte just so they could see what the hell he does at the show.  It’s not a question of IF he’ll get arrested, but WHEN.  Bookies are currently taking bets on before the ceremony, during the ceremony, and after the ceremony.  

  I'm not going to enter into any gauche debates about whether Jonah Hill is funnier when he’s fat or thin (besides, we all know the answer).  However, I will congratulate him on assuaging my early skepticism and say that he is a revelation in Moneyball.  The nomination is well-deserved, but voters won’t see him in the same class as the other contenders.  One of my own reservations is that, by many accounts, his understated portrayal in this film is not far off from his real personality.  Am I falling into the trap that an Oscar-winning role must be showy?  Maybe, but so be it. 

  BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS:

SHOULD WIN:  Octavia Spencer (The Help)

WILL WIN:  Octavia Spencer (The Help)

GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Sandra Bullock (Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close)

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Shailene Woodley (The Descendants)

  Octavia Spencer is the clear favorite here.  I don’t see any scenario where she doesn’t win.  The only criticism I’ve heard is that she doesn’t quite embody the same flair that people envisioned from the book (even though the personality of the character in the book was actually based on her in real life).  And since she’s such a new face (as are most of the nominees in this category), it’s a little hard to tell how much is “acting”, without many other memorable roles to compare it to.  But no matter, what is on screen is more than enough to win her the award. 

  Jessica Chastain might have scored a nomination for any one of her seven film roles this year, as she was widely considered the “breakout actress” of the year.  To me, it’s a little surprising to single her out in the cast of The Help, especially alongside Viola Davis and Spencer, when you could easily tip your hat to Sissy Spacek, Cicely Tyson, or Bryce Dallas Howard instead.  (Speaking of Howard, she might not have scored an Oscar nomination, but between The Help and 50/50, she was easily Bitch Of The Year.)  Chastain’s recognition might have more to do with the role than the performance: the fact that she is the comic relief, the sympathetic outcast, and the morally balanced member of the clique helps a great deal.  And her kooky delight in shaking the bag of chicken certainly doesn’t hurt. 

  Janet McTeer is an interesting wildcard here.  The only previous nominee in the group (Best Actress for Tumbleweeds), her contribution to Albert Nobbs is (not surprisingly) overshadowed by Glenn Close, but she is every bit as transformative as her co-star.  She has her fans, and will get some votes. 

Berenice Bejo’s expressive eyes and the charm of black and white make for a magnetic performance in The Artist.  She is an excellent foil/complement to Jean Dujardin, but she’s no real contender here.  The tide for The Artist might start rolling on Oscar Day, but I don’t think it will carry her to victory. 

I loved Bridesmaids, but I’m not sold on Melissa McCarthy’s nomination.  She was funny and endearing, but I hardly think she steals the movie (Kristen Wiig owns it).  It was fun to see her as the underdog getting her day for a while (e.g., winning an Emmy), but at this point, she’s no longer an underdog.

I chose Shailene Woodley for my snubbed pick because, simply put, she gives a better performance than George Clooney in The Descendants. 

Sandra Bullock was not considered for Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close.  Thank Christ.

BEST DIRECTOR:

SHOULD WIN:  Michel Hazanavicius (The Artist)

WILL WIN:  Michel Hazanavicius (The Artist)

GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Kenneth Branagh (Thor)

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  J.J. Abrams (Super 8)

Since Michel Hazanavicius is nominated for both Director and Original Screenplay for The Artist, I think there is a strong chance he will not win both.  Voters will feel one Oscar is enough for his contribution.  And since the film has been heralded more for its trademark visual (and lack of audio) style than, say, original storyline, it will be seen as a Director’s achievement.  He already has the backing of his peers, having won the Directors Guild Award.  The DGA is easily the most accurate of any of the pre-Oscar prizes (86% correct since 1990, including the past 8 in a row).  So despite Martin Scorsese’s Golden Globe victory and perceived recent surge, Hazanavicius is the favorite.

  I’m not trying to dismiss Hugo, but I can’t help but feel that some organizations (especially the Globes) have been rewarding Scorsese for simply stretching out of his comfort zone.  A movie about kids?  Rated PG?  And in 3D?  He’s never done any of that before, so let’s give him some awards!  Are they going to give him an Oscar nomination the first time he plays golf too? 

It seemed like Alexander Payne started the season as the favorite here for directing The Descendants.  But while people keep talking about George Clooney (and I’m not sure why), they seem to have stopped talking about Payne.  The eye candy in The Artist and Hugo have eclipsed the intentionally dank and subdued Descendants in conversations about visuals.  And it’s not helping that Payne’s film is DEPRESSING AS ALL HOLY HELL. 

Then there is the notoriously press-shy director, who is adored by all actors, but is extremely overrated, patently crazy, and probably won’t even show up to the Oscar ceremony.  I have to be more specific?  Ah, yes, I could be talking about either of the remaining nominees, Terrence Malick or Woody Allen.  Crazy, there’s no argument there… but overrated?  Yes.  Malick’s The Thin Red Line was an extremely meticulous and exhaustive exercise in wasting my goddam time.  And Allen’s Annie Hall is one of the most over-praised films ever.  Best Picture and Best Director over Star Wars?  Go to hell, Academy! 

Special commendation goes to J.J. Abrams for his sci-fi thriller Super 8.  His script isn’t exactly profound, but the finished product and the direction are downright riveting.  A few of the scenes are among the most jaw-dropping of the year.  I wasn’t sure what to expect, after Alias (never watched it), Mission: Impossible 3 (underwhelming), and the Star Trek reboot (a dilapidated mess).  But what Abrams does with Super 8 is nothing short of spectacular.  It’s like he’s saying to the film’s producer, Steven Spielberg, “Hey Stevie, remember how you USED to be good at making action movies?”  My wife (and mother of our young boy) had a different reaction to the film than I did: “Why did they have to take the f---ing locket?!” 

I might as well use this category to take another jab at Kenneth Branagh.  Having Thor on your resume as a director should be embarrassment enough.  But I think it’s worth taking a moment to further shame Shakespeare’s least favorite interpreter (“Thanks for taking a break from ruining my plays,” said the Bard on Thor’s opening weekend.)  It is a horrible movie, even by Bruckheimer-era standards.  Easily the worst Marvel film ever, it casts serious doubt over the viability of next summer’s Avengers.  I can’t figure out how nobody noticed, throughout writing, pre-production, filming, editing, and marketing, that the flick looks like a silly 90-minute Capital One Viking commercial.  “What’s in your wallet?”  Somehow, $450 million, thanks to me and a lot of other idiots.  

An interesting footnote to this year’s awards is that while Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close was nominated for Best Picture, its director, Stephen Daldry, was passed over for Best Director.  That breaks his perfect record of Oscar nominations (he was previously 3 for 3).  I blame Tom Hanks. 

BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY:

SHOULD WIN:  Michel Hazanavicius (The Artist)

WILL WIN:  Woody Allen (Midnight In Paris)

GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Terrence Malick (The Tree Of Life)

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Will Reiser (50/50), Tom McCarthy & Joe Tiboni (Win Win)

  I know I cited 50/50 as my Best Picture snub, but the real crime is its lack of Original Screenplay nomination.  While it was never a realistic contender for Picture, most oddsmakers deemed it a solid bet for Screenplay.  Not only is it probably the best script of the year, it has the added dimension of being based on the writer’s actual experiences.  The fact that Will Reiser lived to write the movie should be reason enough for accolades.  I was also rooting for Win Win, which is one of the finer stories this year. 

  This is an interesting category.  Only two of the films are nominated for Best Picture (The Artist and Midnight In Paris).  The Writers Guild Awards don’t give any insight, because The Artist was not eligible for WGA consideration, and therefore wasn’t nominated.  The Artist will win Best Picture, and therefore Screenplay, right?  Well… The Artist has been received as an incredibly original idea (at least, an original take on an old idea).  As I mentioned earlier, it’s seen as an overall achievement, particularly in acting and directing.  But the story itself, about one’s rise and fall, changing with the times, and romance against the test of time, is nothing new.  (That said, writing a script with almost no dialogue would be exceedingly difficult.)  On the other hand, Midnight In Paris has been heralded as a very novel story, especially for the famously grounded Woody Allen.  It’s the highest-grossing film of Allen’s career, and considered (at least across the masses) as one of his finest.  It’s a long shot for Best Director, and longer shot for Best Picture.  But voters will want to reward Allen for something, and with The Artist unlikely to take both Director and Screenplay, they will bestow this trophy on Allen (which is exactly what happened at the Golden Globes). 

  So Midnight In Paris will win, but does it deserve to win?  Like any Woody Allen protagonist, I am conflicted.  The film is whimsical in the best and worst ways.  It's candy-colored, it's trite, it's predictable, it's implausible.  The plants are clichéd and the payoffs are obvious.  But it's also introspective and satirical, and cleverly so.  There is the illusion of depth due to the subject matter – a somewhat lazy but not entirely unwise maneuver by Allen.  The main character asks himself all kinds of questions about what he's doing with his life (both professionally and romantically), universal questions that just about anybody with an ounce of rational thought has asked themselves at some point.  So it's very easy for the viewer to extrapolate all sorts of meaning from the scenes and witty interplay, which is not necessarily there.  The viewer can see reflections of himself onscreen (because everybody is introspective and self-doubtful), so when he walks away asking himself all kinds of meaning-of-life questions, he attributes the ensuing self-analysis to Woody.  For example, you (and I mean YOU, reading this) left the film thinking that, like the main character, you are unfulfilled, working a hack job, with potential to do something meaningful and important.  (Spoiler alert: You ARE unfulfilled, you ARE working a hack job, but you will NOT do anything meaningful and important.  As Judge Smails once said, “The world needs ditch-diggers, too.”)  But all Woody does is put a doofus onscreen who says “Am I really fulfilling my potential?”  All the rest of the intelligent thought is done by the viewer, not Woody.  But the viewer thinks Woody is a genius.  Pretty genius, huh?  Woody's no dummy. 

  So what does that all mean?  I like the movie, and I appreciate that it explores the creative process while inspiring the audience, but the more I think about the screenplay, the more I feel like it was a bit of a parlor trick.  I didn’t pull for Allen’s Match Point in this category in 2006, and that was a superior script, so I have a hard time choosing Paris now.  My vote goes to The Artist. 

  Have I mentioned Kristen Wiig?  Bridesmaids is the fan favorite here, of course, and a welcome nominee, especially in that it recognizes the multi-faceted talent of Wiig (and her writing partner, Annie Mumolo).  It has no chance of winning, but the recognition for broad comedy (no pun intended) is refreshing.  What’s even more impressive is that Wiig co-wrote the script on an effortless whim, without any training.  Bitch. 

  While it’s unlikely to win this category, the presence of A Separation is yet another indication that it will win Best Foreign Language Film.  Similar to when an animated film makes the screenplay shortlist and is a shoo-in for Best Animated Film, the rare foreign film in this race is a no-brainer for Foreign Language prize.  If A Separation had been seen by more people, it would have a fair upset chance, if enough voters were split between The Artist and Midnight In Paris. 

  The nominee nobody saw coming was Margin Call, by J.C. Chandor.  If Will Reiser is looking for somebody to punch in the face over his stolen spot, look no further. 

  BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY:

SHOULD WIN:  Stan Chervin, Aaron Sorkin, Steven Zaillian (Moneyball)

WILL WIN:  Nat Faxon, Alexander Payne, Jim Rash (The Descendants)

GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Cameron Crowe, Aline Brosh McKenna (We Bought A Zoo)

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Tate Taylor (The Help)

  There are two reasons I’d like to see The Descendants win Best Adapted Screenplay.  One, so I can see co-writer (and Community actor) Jim Rash start his speech with “Hi diddily-dean!”  Two, it’s unclear who exactly wrote the film, and therefore who will be accepting the award.  Rash and Nat Faxon, by all accounts, wrote several drafts as a team, based on the original book.  However, according to director Alexander Payne, “They did some wonderful drafts that I chose ultimately not to use; I started from scratch.”  However, the official credits (and nominations) were given to all three.  Here’s hoping for a wonderfully awkward moment at the podium.

  On the other hand, there are many reasons I’d like to see The Descendants lose.  Fundamentally, I think it’s missing some key structural components (and if you think I’m complaining that it’s not “formulaic”, then you should stop reading this, because you will hurt yourself thinking).  George Clooney, the main character, has no objective (or at best, a weak objective).  As a result, there is no resolution, rendering any possible theme thin and generic.  Clooney is passive through most of the movie, just dealing with events as they happen, making only a simple decision (one that I might argue is inconsequential to the story) at the end.  Does he become a better man?  Is he wiser?  Does he have a new outlook on life?  Does he improve as a father?  I can’t really answer any of these.  This much is certain: his kids are still idiots when the film ends.  You could argue that he comes to terms with his situation, but that hardly makes for a satisfying resolution.  I want to see a character that drives the story, not one who goes for along for the (slow) ride.  If you say, “That’s real life,” then I say, “Guess what, it’s not a documentary.”  There is a clear start point and end point, but where are all the story beats in between?  The lack (or at the very least, flatness) of those beats makes the beginning and ending seem almost arbitrary.  I don’t demand a film to be showy in order to like it (case in point: Win Win), but I demand more than this.  When the credits on The Descendants rolled, I just couldn’t help but feel I had only seen part of the movie. 

This is pretty strong criticism coming from a casual audience member.  He is Alexander Payne, and who the hell am I?  Touché.  I’m not suggesting that Payne is a bad writer, or that he doesn’t know what he’s doing.  Quite the opposite; I think his screenplays for Election, Sideways, and About Schmidt are nothing short of excellent, and don’t have the “problems” that I’m citing.  (On the other hand, I won’t bother mentioning his script for I Now Pronounce You Chuck And Larry.)  The man knows what he’s doing; I fully believe that he made these choices conscientiously.  I’m simply saying that I don’t like all the choices, and I don’t think they make for a compelling film.

  The Moneyball writing duo of Aaron Sorkin (um, The Social Network) and Steve Zaillian (uh, Schindler’s List) is pretty much no fair.  One of the benefits of being a pro of their caliber is knowing the rules so well that you know when to break them.  The Moneyball script does this to achieve desired effects, and without drawing too much attention itself.  For example, by nearly every standard, many scenes are too long, and should be boring and painful.  But in their hands, the scenes are deliciously long, with deluges of dialogue that ricochet and burrow, and ebbs of silence that envelop and fester.  Another benefit of being a scribe of their ilk is making the boring compelling to everyone.  After watching the baseball season play out in the film and enjoying every minute of it, my wife asked me, “Is that how it really happened?”  “Yes,” I replied, “but it wasn’t that interesting in real life.” 

One of the most bittersweet stories of the Oscars this year was the surprise nomination for Bridget O’Connor and Peter Straughan for Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy.  It’s not a story that’s being widely publicized, but they were a husband and wife writing team, and they wrote the script while O’Connor was battling cancer.  Shortly before filming started, she succumbed.  Their nomination was a wonderful moment; their victory at the BAFTAs in their native England was even more so.  If you’re looking for something to truly root for at the Oscars, you’ve found it.

Hugo seems to be everyone’s second-favorite film in every category.  Unless it gains some momentum and takes either Best Picture or Best Director, I don’t see it taking home the screenplay prize (if people want to reward the film for something, it will be Martin Scorsese for Director).  Conversely, if John Logan wins here for Hugo, watch for upsets for Director and possibly Picture. 

Clooney himself is nominated in this category, along with Grant Heslov and Beau Willimon, for The Ides of March.  As an Academy member, who will Clooney vote for, his own screenplay, or the one that got him a Best Actor nomination?  Pompous ass, he’ll probably vote twice.