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ryanjdonovan · 4 years ago

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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.

#oscars #oscarpredictions #oscarpredictions2021 #oscarprognostication2021 #donovansoscarprognostication2021 #oscars2021 #academyawards #academyaward

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addictedtostorytelling · 5 years ago

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Hello ! I just saw your reblog of a daredevil gif and, do you have an head canon on wether or not Matt and Karen would have been back together and how , if the show had been renewed ? Thx !

hey, anon!

i will admit that few things in television baffle me as much as the way the defendersverse powers that be approach romantic pairings.

don’t get me wrong: i generally like the love stories told in this fictional universe.

i just also don’t know exactly what to make of them.

usually, even without possessing any foreknowledge as to how each individual ship will pan out, i can still be relatively certain as to whether or not a given story world “believes in great loves.”

but with the defendersverse, i’m not quite sure.

that so, my short answer here is: i don’t know whether or not karedevil would have gotten back together, had daredevil been renewed. on the one hand, i feel like they were kind of set up to be endgame from the beginning. but on the other hand, i feel like as the wider defendersverse developed, there were also other viable options introduced for the both of them.

ultimately, i think it would have come down to how the powers that be conceived of the story universe overall—and whether they were interested in telling structured, trope-compliant love stories or not.

more discussion if you click the “keep reading.”

___________

a big part of my uncertainty regarding how the defendersverse treats romances stems from the fact that its shows end mid-story, skewing my perspective of what’s there.

none of the shows has more than three seasons to their names, and all were cancelled abruptly, without really affording the writers a chance to implement final conclusions. they all suffer for having loose strings, never to be tied.

consequently, it’s hard to tell which broken-up ships of the defendersverse were actually broken-up for good and which ones were just at a midgame impasse and might have later reconciled, had they only been given more time and narrative space in which to do so.

however, another obstacle to making this determination is not in the circumstances but in the storytelling itself, as the defendersverse powers that be tended to be fairly indiscriminate in how they used romantic devices surrounding their ships, which means that a lot of the usual “midgame” vs. “endgame” signposts in this story world are blurred.

in the first seasons of both dd and jj, the defendersverse powers create deep and compelling romantic relationships for their respective main characters, playing to all kinds of familiar “this relationship has long-term significance” tropes.

you want the jaded female superhero who’s given up on both love and the world, who then meets a guy who’s both so good and so good for her that she has to reevaluate her priorities? check.

you want the male superhero who rescues the girl-next-door in body, only to have her rescue him in soul? check again.

there’s all sorts of smiles, talk of “before you, i never allowed myself to think about this kind of stuff,” heartfelt sacrifices, expressed vulnerabilities, etc., etc., etc.

in a story world that “believed in great loves,” no one who watched these seasons could be faulted for thinking that jessica jones would be endgame with luke cage and that matt murdock would be endgame with karen page.

the question, however, is, “is the defendersverse actually a story world that believes in great loves?”

in my mind, the evidence is ambiguous.

at most, the defendersverse powers only allow these relationships to progress for one or two seasons before dismantling them��but whether they mean to dismantle them temporarily or permanently is difficult to say.

the characters lead such complicated, dangerous, and ethically fraught existences that whatever happiness they experience in love is generally and perhaps unavoidably short-lived.

as secret identities are revealed, moral stances compromised, trauma experienced and assessed, and heroic stakes raised, their relationships inevitably crumble under the pressure.

this crumbling could perhaps speak to this fictional universe being one in which all loves come with an expiration date printed on them, with none being given special narrative priority over any of the others.

however, the crumbling could also be a story component.

maybe the writers planned these breakups, knowing full-well they were temporary and that eventually the couples would get back together in the long term. maybe they’re just a midgame detour en route to the final endgame.

so cut to the next leg in defendersverse development, when tptb reshuffle the pairings between their main properties, sending character a from show 1 to be with character b from show 2. the process then continues and multiplies as more properties are added to the ‘verse, with characters spinning off into new shows and coupling in new and increasingly intricate permutations with one another.

of course, the truly interesting thing is that once these reshufflings take place, the new relationships created often prove just as deep and compelling as the relationships which preceded them and are marked by just as many typical endgame signposts.

matt murdock is willing to die for elektra and very nearly does so.

karen page repeatedly throws caution to the wind to choose frank castle over public opinion, common sense, and even her own well-being.

there are indicators to suggest that these new pairings could be endgame, just as there were with the ones before them. there’s deep connection. there’s ride-or-die stuff. there’s cuteness. there’s even potentially destiny.

so, as a trope-savvy fan, one is left thinking, “well, okay, if the first pairing wasn’t endgame, then maybe the second one will be,” but then by the next season, the second pairing has often been dismantled much in the same way that the first one was previously.

a salient example here would be claire temple’s various relationships: in s1 of dd, her involvement with matt murdock ends because his vigilantism and masochism drives a wedge between them. after their falling out, she eventually starts dating luke cage. while she and luke are devoted to each other through much of lc s1 and the defenders miniseries, their relationship crumbles at the end of lc s2, when luke’s attitude toward “justice” prompts claire to ask him for “a break.” her second relationship within the defendersverse thus ends much in the same way that her first one did: with claire stepping back from her man because she finds his intense approach to heroism unhealthy.

by the point of cancellation, the net effect is that because all of these relationships have in some ways been treated as “sacred,” none of them feels sacred overall, or at least not definitively.

i can’t really look at them and say, “karedevil is the endgame; mattlektra is the midgame”—and especially not when elektra keeps miraculously resurrecting after she’s killed—because both ships have been set up in ways which suggest lasting significance.

i also can’t look to the comics as a cheat sheet, because while most of the relationships depicted in the defendersverse do have some basis in comic lore, the shows themselves don’t strictly adhere to that canon—and, in some cases, actively go against it.

in the new avengers comics, jessica jones and luke cage get married and have a daughter, but in the defendersverse, their relationship is pretty thoroughly trashed in the aftermath of jj s1.

still, where things get truly complicated is in the way that these various relationships interact with one another within the wider defendersverse.

if luke cage is jessica jones’s great love, but he is also claire temple’s great love, then someone is bound to lose out, right? and since the audience should in theory be sympathetic to all three characters, who are we supposed to be rooting for? likewise, if matt murdock ends up with karen page, then she can’t be with frank castle, you know? so does that mean matt has to be with elektra? but what if elektra dies (and for once stays dead)? then what?

the writers are playing “musical chairs” with their ships, but, as per the game, it would seem that someone is going to be left standing at the end.

so.

all of this discussion is a very long way for me to say that i genuinely have no idea what the defendersverse powers intended for romantic karedevil.

they are initially set up using many of the same tropes and storytelling techniques that would be used for an endgame pairing—but that framing only matters if the defendersverse is one where “endgame” is actually a legitimate thing that the writers are actively working toward.

it could be that matt and karen were meant to be a slow burn endgame, but the writers got cut-off midway through telling their story, before they could be romantically reconciled after their midgame falling out.

however, it could also be that, whether they were initially interested in creating a karedevil endgame or not, by s3 of dd, the writers had moved on from the possibility of romantic karedevil altogether, being more enticed to pair karen off with frank due to deborah ann woll’s unexpectedly good chemistry with jon bernthal.

of course, maybe endgame karedevil was never even on the table at all, either because it was always meant to be a midgame ship OR because this isn’t a fictional universe that is geared toward endgames, period.

“endgame” is a concept somewhat antithetical to how comic books work, as there’s always going to be another iteration and another series and another run, and the details will change, depending on who’s doing the writing and which universe the story takes place in; maybe the defendersverse was working on a similar model, where while matt murdock has history with many women, including claire temple, karen page, and elektra, he’ll never be tied one woman forever; his love life will always be a revolving door, depending on what suits the purposes of the story.

or maybe nothing had been decided yet, one way or another.

maybe the powers were more writing from season to season, keeping their options open, seeing what was available to them.

after all, there were a lot of moving parts in play across the wider ‘verse.

who’s to say what might have happened had some of the defenders shows been cancelled but not others? who’s to say what might have happened due to the changing availability of various actors?

prior to the cancellations, rosario dawson had decided to step down from playing claire, a decision which would have undoubtedly sent ripples across the entire defendersverse, romance-wise.

up until the point when netflix pulled the plug, all sorts of possibilities were still open. there were still so many ways the writers could have chosen to swing things.

as for my personal headcanon (regardless of writer intention or what might have been), i should preface my thoughts by saying that while i enjoy karedevil, they’re not my number #1 preferred ship for either matt or karen, so i would have been perfectly happy with them as a midgame romantic ship that eventually reverted back to a platonic baseline, as per the end of dd s3.

that said, i can definitely see a road that leads to them getting together in the end.

my thoughts are these:

by the end of dd s3, matt and karen are back to being friends again after having been “fallen out” for a long time. since s2, karen has known matt’s secret identity, but now matt likewise knows about karen’s past, meaning that, in a way, the playing field is level between them.

still, their relationship is somewhat fragile.

for the first time in their history, they’ve been honest with each other, and now neither one of them can “hide” in the ways that they used to. they’re both highly aware of this new vulnerability, and neither one of them wants to screw things up. they’re still sussing out what it will mean for them to work together again.

they don’t want to leave foggy caught in the middle of things like before.

so with that in mind, i see their romantic reconciliation as a slow burn process.

of course, they’ve always had a palpable connection, and that connection would be there from the start, even when they were working hard at “just being friends.”

gradually, that connection would grow stronger and more impossible to ignore.

there would be moments when they were working late nights together (after foggy had gone home to marci) when they’d stumble on a lead in their case and start talking excitedly, finishing each other’s thoughts, drawing closer and closer together, until suddenly they realized that there was only an inch of space between their faces and had to pull back, awkward and businesslike once more.

there’d be times when their clients would mistake them for a couple, and they’d laugh and try to brush it off but both be blushing too much to truly convince anyone that they were unaffected by the suggestion.

eventually, they’d start testing the waters—matt purposefully saying flirtatious things, karen touching matt more than she had reason to.

at some point, they’d have to broach the subject.

maybe matt would have taken to walking karen home after work, and one night, after a lot of laughter and arm-holding, she’d stop on the top stair and turn back to him and say, in that breathless, incisive way of hers, “i know you can hear how fast my heart is beating. is yours beating fast, too?”

but, of course, since their relationship doesn’t exist in a vacuum, matt would probably be on the trail of bullseye or some other villain by this point, and, inevitably, these other story factors would come into play.

i don’t know exactly how everything would go down, but my sense as a storyteller is that something would have to impede karedevil’s relationship; the path to reconciliation would, by necessity, have to be a long and wending one for them.

maybe for whatever reason they’d decide not to risk their friendship by pursuing a romance.

or maybe they would pursue a romance, only to have that relationship endangered by whatever villain they’re up against OR to have some of their past interpersonal issues resurface.

(for example, maybe as matt gets deeper and deeper into whatever case he’s working, he starts to emotionally shut karen out again, or maybe karen starts to distrust matt because he’s being evasive; etc.)

hell, maybe elektra turns up in hell’s kitchen, flipping their dynamic on its head.

after all, elektra’s body was never found after the destruction of midland circle, and karen has never gotten to talk to matt about finding elektra in his bed in s2; the potential for angst would be huge.

in any case, i imagine that things would deteriorate for a while—maybe to the point where, if they were already together, karedevil might once again break up.

but, ultimately, something would happen that would remind them of the depth of their feelings for each other—one of them would be hurt or captured or undergo another near-death experience; matt might end up fighting elektra to save karen; or karen might do something to help matt, even though they’d been on shaky ground before.

i don’t think karen would ever make matt give daredevil up completely—because she understands his thirst for justice and even his recklessness, to some degree, and she doesn’t begrudge him those parts of himself—but i think that in the end, matt would have to change; he’d have to become less self-loathing and not compartmentalize his feelings to the extent he always had before. he’d have to start to care more about his own life and well-being than he had in the past so that karen didn’t have to worry about him committing passive suicide via superherodom.

dying for a cause is one thing; dying just because you can and because you don’t value your own life enough to take self preserving actions is another.

karen would also have to learn to trust that matt and not to hide things from him. she’d have to learn to be truly emotionally intimate with him, which would be difficult for her at first, considering that she’s spent her whole adult life holding back important parts of her person.

(one of the interesting things about karedevil is that even though they have this deep, implicit understanding of each other, for most of their relationship, they’ve not really known each other, as both of them have been hiding significant secrets.)

i can see an endgame for them where matt is daredevil with karen’s help and blessing, and she provides him grounding and solace, while he proves to her that, despite her prior experiences, not everyone in her life is going to reject her and send her away; he knows her, and he knows her past, and he’s staying for as long as she wants him.

of course, in all fairness, i can also see many endings for these characters that don’t involve them being in a romantic relationship with each other; this is just one of the possibilities.

anyway,sorry i can’t give a more definitive answer, anon! thanks for the question.

#answered #anon #**#let's talk shop #my meta #meta: daredevil #daredevil #matt murdock #karen page #asks: daredevil

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