A Personal Journey with Martin Scorsese Through American Movies (1995)

Premise: Legendary filmmaker Martin Scorsese shares his personal view and knowledge of the films, directors and actors that have shaped the world's most popular art form.

I stole that from Zip, but it was close enough for me.

It's hard to say exactly when Scorsese transitioned from known to me to my favourite director - just like it's hard to say if Pacino or Lemmon will win the grand battle for Best Actor at the Elfin April Oscars.

There's a reason that something like this seems perfect to me. A few reasons, I suppose. For one, its simplicity. Scorsese sits in a director's chair and talks to you about a movie. Then you see a clip from the movie, perhaps with some Scorsese voiceover. Then, if available and relevant, maybe a bit of an interview with the director* or an actor from the picture. Then back to Scorsese, sitting there in his little suit jacket and tie, legs crossed, bushy eyebrows waggling - a bit like my grandfather that way. And then he moves on to the next picture, the next idea, the next section. All smoothly and beautifully done.

Another, perhaps the most important reason, is how truly personal it is. Scorsese isn't going to comment on the big movies - there's no talk about Gone with the Wind or Ben Hur. He opens with Duel in the Sun, a picture his mom took him see when he was four years old. He talks about Cat People. And he stops talking when the movies catch up with him. He has to then.

But it's more than that. It's not a laundry list of movies that he viewed in his formative years; it's a look back on them through the director's lens. When I hear him talk about his pictures now, when I watch them, I see all these little nods to those he feels to indebted to. It's one of those rare instances where filmmaking comes across as a craft passed down instead of the money-grubbing mediocrity that poses in its place. Scorsese invites you to sit at his feet as he tells you all the secrets that make up the difference.

*Seriously, guys, three of them have eye patches. One has an eye patch and a monocle. It's awesome.

The documentary's divided up into three parts, each a little over an hour long. You can watch it all in one sitting or pace yourself, as I did. On the other hand, I probably would have watched it all in one go if I had been able to. And that's when I thought it was six hours long.

As for my new blog description, I quoted it directly from the last two sentences of Scorsese's closing monologue, which, I admit, moved me to tears. I have more of it written down somewhere else, just for me. It's an elegy, a lament, a praise, and a hope for the future. It's why I go to the movies, and why those who care take the time to craft them. A+

V for Vendetta (2005)

Premise: Out one night past curfew, Evey Hammond (Natalie Portman) is accosted by government henchmen that have a far more sinister plot in mind for her than a fine. Rescued by a man in a Guy Fawkes mask who introduces himself as V (Hugo Weaving), he invites Evey to witness a sensational performance: the bombing of Old Bailey. Through a series of events, Evey becomes embroiled in V's plot to pick up where the real Guy Fawkes left off to put a stop to England's totalitarian regime.

Oh, dear. Oh dear oh dear oh dear.

The Wachowski brothers produced a script that they cowrote and had it directed by their protégé, James McTeigue. That doesn't exactly sound like the recipe for a film I would like, does it? They made those other movies together that didn't work for me; movies, in fact, that I have spoken out against. And, see, the secret truth is that I kind of like the first movie. The second is so awful that I never saw the third, but that's neither here nor there. The first movie? Was a pretty okay action flick with a nice dose of serious subtext. It was everyone's obsession with it that made me, well, hate it. I used to like to watch it from time to time, say of a lazy Saturday afternoon on TBS or the like. But all that bother about its religious underpinnings? No, thanks, folks.

All of which is to say that it makes it seem like I wouldn't want to walk down another similar road with the Wachowskis. Except for the fact that I did. Unlike Sars, it wasn't a love of Weaving that drew me in. As much as I adore Portman, I'm skilled at avoiding the unfortunate tripe she all-too-frequently appears in.

It is an adaptation of a graphic novel, which like their "lowbrow" counterparts, are turned into movies I generally enjoy. Yet writer Alan Moore deliberately had his name removed from the project, which doesn't speak well of it.

Also, the original V, James Purefoy, stepped out of the role, and Weaving had to step in.

Why am I telling you all of this? Because I knew it before I saw the movie, and the knowledge may have skewed my expectations. Maybe I'm trying to do the same for you. Because, really, this movie has no business being as good as it is.

The reviews so far have hovered around the good to very good zone, but I tell you that those all understate what I saw. There are a million things to put my finger on to point out what made this movie above and beyond my expectations, but I'll just try to give you the highlights.

First and foremost, Weaving and Portman. I get why Purefoy would want to walk away - acting behind a complete mask (not even the eyes show) can't be easy. Entirely encased in an elaborate costume, V's manner and attitude come across as a little artificial at first, but his beautiful baritone seduces the viewer. With a penchant for theatricality (V likes to quote Shakespeare while dispensing of his enemies), his ostentatious style comes across not as camp but as a vaudevillian indictment of his government's puppeteering. Over the course of the film, even the mask seems to disappear. Though it never leaves Weaving's face and though it is itself a fixed entity, through lighting and camera angles and imagination the mask seems to emote. Sometimes the smirk looks, well, smirkier. Sometimes it seems as though the jolly little eye slits start to turn down. It is as though V's humanity, not his ideals, begin to possess the mask and contort it.

Which is how, I suppose, Weaving manages to create such a sweet chemistry with Portman. I'd be surprised if even she could see his eyes, but the two of them manage to catch fire anyway. Portman could have easily made Evey a somnambulist and gotten away with it, but she didn't. She lets all of Evey's vulnerability show how beautiful her weakness and, later, her strength made her. She makes all of her varied feelings about a person that she never sees completely plausible. Hell, even I was starting to feel as she did in the end.

Moore may have intended his graphic novel as an incrimination of where he felt Thatcherism was leading his nation, but it seems more powerfully relevant today. The brothers and McTeigue call up Abu Ghraib, the Gulf Wars, and Nazism as part of their own incrimination, and all of it feels just as important as anything George Clooney did last year (which is not to denigrate Clooney. Cloons, love ya!). Plus, they throw in a slick action flick for your viewing pleasure.

Sure, I freely admit that the quickly paced and tightly drawn first act is followed up by a somewhat turgid second one that dives perhaps a bit too deeply into V's hazy backstory, but, what're ya gonna do? Sometimes people think you need a whackload of backstory. McTeigue ratches it back into high gear by the end anyway. You sort of put it behind you.

I also enjoyed the supporting cast, from Stephen Rea, whose name I always remember and whose face I always forget, to Stephen Fry, who I am starting to associate with a certain kind of character, to Sinéad Cusack, who played a remorseful doctor. What? I didn't have anything special for her, okay?

Wonder of wonders, I really liked this movie. My chin was quivering by the film's final breaths, and I must confess that it was a struggle to keep from crying. I kind of love Hugo Weaving now. I'm excited about Portman's post-Lucas career. And, if I could have more of what I got Friday night, I'd take it. A-

P.S. But what in the world was the song in the end credits? Crazy, that's what.

Flight of Fancy (2008)

Obviously I put the specific links on the side for one reason or another. Mostly I look for funny, well written, and informative stuff.

Every one in a while, however, these sites exceed my expectations. And what Heather wrote here about Leafquin is on of the funniest damn things I have read in quite some time. Because, well, it sounds kind of likely, doesn't it?

If Lucy Fell (1996)

Summary: Two friends (Sarah Jessica Parker, Eric Schaeffer) make a pact to kill themselves by the time they're 30 if their love lives don't pick up before then.

Naturally, that's also in month's time.

I think it happens to every actor. You're not getting call backs, not getting auditions even for the worst scripts that your agent passes along. Your agent threatens to drop you. Maybe he even does. It happens. It's not nice, but it happens.

So you set out to rectify what you assume is this terrible wrong. You write a script, direct it, and cast yourself in the lead to showcase your talents, your leading man allure, your charm and good looks. It certainly seems like a sensible path, especially if you can get someone to produce and agree to leave you in all three roles.

Unfortunately for Schaeffer, this little plan of his backfired. Instead of writing the kind of characters that capture the hearts and minds of his audience, he created self-centered childish brats who lacked anything approaching a sense of humour or warmth and who refused to behave in ways that were sensible or in keeping with their characters, never mind rational.

Plus, he's unattractive and only minimally talented.

So you combine a plot involving features as poorly explained and developed as a "hug test" and is still completely obvious at the same time, and highlights really bad hair styles and fashion choices while you're at it. Makes viewers want to beat their own heads in with their remotes. F

While we're here, I might as well tell you about another crap movie I watched recently.

I Shot Andy Warhol (1996)

Summary: Occasional prostitute and playwright Valerie Jean Solanas (Lili Taylor) enlists the aid of Andy Warhol (Jared Harris) in her quest to produce the accompanying play to her feminist manifesto but shoots Warhol in the end when she decides that he has "too much control over [her] life."'

Sad but true story.

I'm not terribly surprised that these two movies are from the same year. Makes sense to me.

Listen, Taylor, as much as I love you, and you know I do, this movie was painful to watch. It only had two rewards, and neither of them involved your character. I should probably think it was bold of you to play her amoral antics without a hint of judgment or remorse, but, well, I didn't. I just thought it was crap. Not you, per se, but your character. Mostly because she preached a helluva lot more than she ever practiced.

No, those rewards were Reg Rogers - who rocks - as Warhol's nebbish director and Jill Hennessey as a CBC reporter. She's got a husky voice like Taylor, and I dig.

As for the rest of it, though, not so much. Maybe it would mean more to me if I read Solanas' manifesto, but this movie kind of put me off of the idea. F

Batman Begins (2005)

There's nothing like a little RE-view action to get you through your days, is there?

I did not give Bale the mad props he deserved last time around. Bale is one of those actors that just makes everything so completely believable. I very much believed that Bruce loved Rachel, although I really have no idea why. His loyalties, loves, and losses were all so present, even if some of them had to remain under the surface. That's my boy.

Speaking of the evil one, Holmes is even more annoying this time around. What is it, exactly, that Rachel wants from Bruce? She acts like a crazy bitch to him instead of being glad that he's alive after all this time, and, when she discovers that he's gone to incredible lengths to do exactly what she's always telling him to do, she tells him that's why they can't be together? What the shit? Stupid, stupid, made up, not from any of the source material character. I personally believe that there is absolutely no reason for you to be in the sequel, so you just better not show up.

Also, Neeson is a giant. There's only a three, four inch height difference between him and Bale, but he absolutely towered over him. Towered. I don't know if it was camera angles or other trickery (Bogart had to stand on a milk crate to achieve the same advantage over Becall), but it really added to how intimidating Ducard was.

Also also, special thanks to Sarah for fan wanking a bit for us last night. Indeed, a little reading around has born her theory out. Good thinking, Sars.

May I just say that that was a bit of a waste of Ken Watanabe? Just a little bit. Sadly, more of him is not to be had. Ah, well. Sacrifice and all that.

Did anyone else sense a vibe between Lucius Fox and Alfred? No? Just me?

Mad props also go out to Murphy. Em was right: Dr. Crane is all the more frightening because of the way Murphy overarticulates. That's exactly what makes English villains seem so extra-creepy to American audiences, and he brought that to his American accent. Smart move, Cillian. The fact that they've yet to find you means you could still pop up, which would be delightful. Besides, the fact that the mask is so basic is what makes it so harrowing. Those peeps over at Supernatural totally ripped off the whole idea.

Finally, I said it once, and I'm about to say it again: If I had my druthers, I would take that perfect shot of Bruce coming down the stairs of Wayne Manor (at left, although it's a wide angle shot in the film) and mate it with the shot in The Count of Monte Cristo where the Count walks down the steps to his gala after he arrives is a hot air balloon, switching his walking stick in front of him and his coat blowing in the wind behind him?* Anyway, I'd mate them and have perfect shot babies.

*I'd show you, but I can't seem to find the image anywhere.

Kung Fu Hustle (2004)

Outline: A gang tries to take over a small town, and they are resoundly defeated by three kung fu masters. So the gang calls in some masters of their own. So the town antes up with more masters. And so on and so on.

Trust me, it's not really about the plot. Or, really, the kung fu.

I'm going to go out on a limb and say that any movie can be improved by dance fighting. Dance fighting is so much better than ordinary fighting. And what does this movie have? Tons of dancing and fighting, of course.

In the above picture, the leader of the axe gang, Brother Sum (Kwok Kuen Chan) is leading all his members in a nice little dance sequence. He may be the bad guy, but I can assure you he's also my favourite character. Because of the dancing, really. He does it 'cause he cares, you know.

I know, this isn't much of a review, but I just wanted to tell you that I watched this movie and it was funny and you should watch it, too. It's not particularly violent if violence isn't your thing, and it's not particularly dance-y, if the dancing is going to turn you off. It's just a terrific spoof of traditional kung fu movies with their hidden masters and balletic sequences (not that this movie doesn't deliver both in spades).

At the end of the day, all the movie tries to be is funny about kung fu, and it succeeds. That's enough for me. A

I also took in Elia Kazan's On the Waterfront (1954), which is everything they say it is and more. For someone known for all this methody brooding and screaming in the street, it's astonishing how understated Marlon Brando could be. Of course, I recently discovered that I might just be a sucker for union movies. Nonetheless, this is one of the best movies ever made.

One thing, though: how is it that Eva Marie Sant's voice could contain so much emotion while her face remained blank? Did anyone else notice that?

Top 10 of 2005 (2006)

As promised, here is my top ten list of the 37 movies I saw that were distributed last year. As always, some were better than others, some more personal to me than others, and some were so great that it really doesn't matter who watches them or when.

They are in a particular order, but perhaps not in the way you think. I've kind of alphabetized them and kind of rank ordered them at the same time.

1. Brokeback Mountain

2. Capote
3. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
4. Good Night, and Good Luck.
5. Frank Miller's Sin City
6. Munich
7. Mysterious Skin
8. Serenity
9. Walk the Line
10.5 Batman Begins

10.5 Match Point

Kind of blows your mind, doesn't it? I've got a tie and a Woody Allen movie up there. I've got a movie from 2004 that wasn't distributed until 2005. I've got all sorts of serious, dark, dispassionate films, and I've got a crazed children's movie. If you think about it, I've got something for everyone. 2005 may have been no 2004, but, heck, it wasn't half bad, was it?

Oscar Wrap-up (2006)

All in all, it seemed like my night. Not my dear Jon Stewart's night. Not Cloons' night, although those camera people certainly thought it was. No, it seemed like my night. The night for Elfin April to shine.

First, George Clooney stepped up to the podium to collect his conciliation Oscar since he sure as hell wasn't going to pick up anything else that night (that is, aside from a willing female companion, unless he really is dating Teri Hatcher. Heck, even then). He, as is his wont, looked dapper and sexy and basically maintained his duties as the Platonic Ideal of Movie Stars even though he's never so much as attended the Academy Awards before. Then he gave a speech that both nodded to the fact that the Oscars are stupid and acknowledged his (mostly) worthy peers. Elfin April was one for one and feeling fine.

Rachel Weisz ascended the stage next and rattled off rote little speech that I had no real problems with because I was much, much too distracted by those little rectangles of fabric that had been stitched over her shoulders at the last minute to cover up her gang tats. So distracted, in fact, that I couldn't marvel over how well disguised the seven month old baby living in her belly was. Elfin April: two for two.

By the time Hoffman ascended the stage for his expected speech, all quivering hands and forehead rubbing, I was charmed enough to think that the love of his single mom and the complete lack of thank yous to anyone else in the cast seemed logical enough. I mean, he's either a credible enough actor to convince us that he was surprised by his win or he was genuinely surprised. Plus, he's won so many of these things by now, in addition to giving such a moving speech about the cast working together at the SAG Awards, that I don't really know who else he could have to thank (besides me, of course, tireless champion of the Hoff for some time now). Elfin April: three for three.

I had to steel myself for best actress for I had considered a Huffman upset remotely possible. But, huzzah, all my steeling was unnecessary as Witherspoon collected her due, gave the only speech of the evening to move me to tears, thanking both the real life inspirations behind the roles in Walk the Line, her wonderful costar, Joaquin, and never mentioning her obviously addicted husband by name. At four for four, I assumed I was a lock.

So much so, I'll have you know, that I started throwing up predictions on the fly and getting them right: both screenplay categories and foreign film. I've not seen a single foreign film nominee, and I still called that one. Because that's my job people. That's my job.

When they handed over Lee's supremely earned Oscar, Elfin April was flying high. Everything was turning out exactly the way I said it would, and I had no cause for complaints. Well, at least not about anything I had predicted. I mean, Dolly Parton owned that stage, and she sure as shootin' didn't have dumb ass "interpretative" dancers behind for the sole purpose of annoying me.

And, then, Jack Nicholson appeared for the top of the show. He already knew he was going to be tapping Keira Knightley that night (why else would they have been sitting together?), and now all he had to do was crack the seal on the final envelop. So he did. And he announced. And then he said, "Whoa."

Warning: This is the point in the show where Elfin April looses all senses of decency and sanity. Cover your virgin ears, or eyes, as the case may be.

WHAT THE FUCK?! Crash? Crash?! Are you fucking kidding me with this shit? Never mind the fact that it wasn't even the same league as the other four nominees, it wasn't even in the top 10! Or the top 25! I mean, people, this is the year that I submitted to Constantine, Aeon Flux, and Fantastic Four. I'd still rather see any of them again than have to suffer through Crash again. I mean, I know Paul Haggis' previous work, Million Dollar Baby, has its detractors, but, really, this movie wasn't even in the same league as that one. It doesn't even come close. I'm pretty sure that it could eclipse Crash, stereotypical subplot included.

Sure, I probably should have calmed down by now. On the grand scale, you could say, it's not like they elected Bush for a third term or anything as painful as that. Except for one thing, hunny: you've come to the wrong blog. It is that bad. In fact, I'm sitting here, and I'm starting to see similarities between the two. And, frankly, to enumerate them would be insulting to Bush.

Nonetheless, allow me to share my ire for a few seconds more.

Among my numerous pet peeves are people who talk during lectures. Whatever it is you have to say isn't important on any level. One of the things I am hearing could help me get an A, and one will surely drive me to a homicidal rage. Guess which category the stupid bitches sitting behind me this afternoon fall into? They buzzed, buzzed, buzzed all through class because they are illiterate and therefore cannot manage to write notes back and forth like normal people. Class ends, and they continue talking. I overhear this conversation as I pack up:

1: Did you watch the Oscars last night?
2: Yeah. They were really long, though.
Me: Shut the fuck up. They moved along at an extraordinarily good clip, especially when you consider the 4 hour plus crap fest Gil Cates submitted us to last year. It's pretty clear that neither one of you peroxided idiots have watched the program before.
1: Yeah, I was really glad that Crash won, though.
Me: Fuck off.
2: Yeah, me, too. I mean, I liked Brokeback Mountain and all, but Crash was just so . . . (she completely trails off, at a loss for words to describe how much of whatever it was to her. I had her back)
Me: Asinine? Infantile? Narrow-minded? Smug? Unnecessary? Poorly casted?

Sadly, number two just went on and on about how "people" were "divided" about Brokeback and how her mom liked Crash better. Thanks for that, number 2.

I don't care about how Crash had been "building" "momentum" for the last two weeks. I really, really don't. It takes a truly arrogant writer to attempt to boil down all the problems in Los Angeles on any given day to one single issue, try to prove that by creating any number of improbable situations, and then finally weigh the whole thing down with impossible dialogue. Or, as I have said before, any movie that pretends that the only problem in the world today is racism is just as stupid as one that pretends racism doesn't exist.

Or, as I said last night, "Fuck you, Crash." Same goes for the Academy right about now. Now I'm stuck at my last year's average, which is 5/6.

Okay, moving right along in this already lengthy post. Props to Jon. The opening monologue was a little shaky, but you brought it back. You made us laugh but not too hard, suggesting that you could only get better at the gig with time. Plus, you know, that little dance you did right at the end of the intro sequence? Priceless. Still sexy, baby.

Dressing room: Jake needs to shave, thank goodness Philip S. did, Michelle's lipstick clashed with her dress, Ziyi looked lovely, Naomi/Charlize offended my eyes, Nicole was as beautiful as ever, Judi totally punched Jon in the nads after the show. Oh, and Lily and Meryl rocked even if I didn't entirely understand all of Robert's speech (no, seriously, why are you telling us about some dead woman?).

Most importantly, someone, for the love of peace, tell me who Joaquin loves. WHO DID HE SAY I LOVE YOU TO?! Because it, unfortunately, did not look like Elfin April.

P.S. I know now is the time for the annual top ten list, and I have one, but this post is already so damn long that it will have to wait. Plus, I'm needed for a game of Minesweeper Flags.

Oscar Round-Up (2006)

'Bout that time, eh, chaps? Right-o.

To review the rules, click here.

To review the nominees in all categories (as Elfin April will only be concerning herself with six), click here.

Alright, kiddies, I'm just gonna call 'em like I see 'em. And, when it comes right down to it, you know I see a lot more of 'em than you do.

2005 was no 2004 in a lot of ways, including box office receipts. It was, however, better in at least one way: movies decided to mean something this year. They decided to have messages, morals, and values. To stand for something. To believe in something. To fight.

Don't get me wrong, I know that the Academy Awards are nothing more than a legitimizing exercise that celebrates a handful of truly worthwhile movies in a given year, so that Hollywood can get away with churning out hundreds of crappy movies that make money. I'm okay with that.

And so, without further ado, get out your pens and get ready to start handicapping the odds of your office Oscar pool:

Performance by an actor in a leading role:

Nominees: Philip Seymour Hoffman as Truman Capote in Capote; Terrence Howard as Djay in Hustle & Flow; Heath Ledger as Ennis Del Mar in Brokeback Mountain; Joaquin Phoenix as Johnny Cash in Walk the Line; and David Strathairn as Edward R. Murrow in Good Night, and Good Luck.

Were these movies spread out over five years, everyone one of these men would be walking away with a golden statuette in their hands. Unfortunately, that is not the case. And, really, it's such an one man race it's silly. Okay, maybe a two man race.

Those men, by the way, would be Hoffman and Ledger. Ledger mined depths of the soul previously unseen for his performance as a lover so tortured that he had nothing and was nothing, and you're lying if you tell me that the bottom doesn't fall out of your stomach during the last 45 seconds of that film. The heart aches just thinking about it.

But, really, does anything compare to the chameleon that is Hoffman? Can anything approach his pitch perfect performance that could have slid so easily into caricature? Does anyone still doubt this man's masterful control of the screen? I didn't think so.

Who will win: Hoffman. Who should win: Hoffman. Or any of them, really. I'll gladly offer up a snuggling service for any of these gentlemen after they get passed over (and I'm really just talking to you, Phoenix).

Performance by an actor in a supporting role:

Nominees: George Clooney as Bob Barnes in Syriana; Matt Dillon as Officer Ryan in Crash; Paul Giamatti as Joe Gould in Cinderella Man; Jake Gyllenhaal as Jack Twist in Brokeback Mountain; and William Hurt as Richie Cusack in A History of Violence.

Well, I can certainly tell you that Hurt isn't going to be picking up any consolation prizes for what A.V. Club readers deemed the best movie of the year. Sure, Dame Judi gets an award for eight minutes of screen time, but you did 10, sir, which is two too many. (I hold it distinctly possible that I will never get over the 1999 Academy awards. I'm just leveling with ya).

Baring a Brokeback sweep (odds: highly unlikely), Gyllenhaal will be heading home empty handed as well, although probably not by his lonesome. What, you think men who look like that go home alone if they don't want to? Neither do I.

I just don't want Dillon to win. I don't want Crash to win anything, ever, even though I acknowledge that it will pick up at least one statuette tomorrow evening. Just not this one. Pinning all of the acting hopes of an ensemble cast on, well, what wasn't the best performance of the lot is just plain dumb. Here's what I think should have happened: break-out star Howard should have pulled a reverse Jamie Foxx from last year: nominated in both categories and goes home with the Supporting award.

So, let's see. Will the Academy acknowledge their offensively poor treatment Giamatti in the past with a win this time around*, or will they hand it off to Clooney as a conciliation for the awards he certainly won't be hoisting in the same night**?

Who will win: Clooney. No one saw Cinderella Man last summer, after all. Who should win: Giamatti. Or Terrence Howard. Just sayin'.

*Although, really, how funny is it that what must have seemed like a surefire Oscar juggernaut about a year ago gets only three nods and only one of those is for acting? The acting, that is, of the lead that doesn't already have an Academy award?

** There is the off chance he could walk away with Original Screenplay, but I doubt it.

Performance by an actress in a leading role:

Nominees: Judi Dench as Mrs. Laura Henderson (durr) in Mrs. Henderson Presents; Felicity Huffman as Bree in Transamerica; Keira Knightley as Elizabeth Bennet in Pride & Prejudice; Charlize Theron as Josey Aimes in North Country; and Reese Witherspoon as June Carter in Walk the Line.

Man, women just don't get their fair share, do they? I mean, look at these nods. Two of them, tops, should even be nominated. The rest are just filler. Offensive filler.

So let's just skip ahead to those two ladies, shall we? Huffman, you and I know both know that prosthetics are usually a surefire way to walk away with an award, but, well, Witherspoon's got ya beat. I don't know if it's the autoharp, but her sass, spunk, and unconditional love are going to lock this one up.

Who will win: Witherspoon. Who should win: Witherspoon. Don't get on Tracey Flick's bad side.

Performance by an actress in a supporting role:

Nominees: Amy Adams as Ashley in Junebug; Catherine Keener as Harper Lee in Capote; Frances McDormand as Glory in North Country; Rachel Weisz as Tessa Quayle in The Constant Gardener; and Michelle Williams as Alma Del Mar in Brokeback Mountain.

Before I get into this, let me just say one quick thing: Anne Hathaway, in your last scene in Brokeback, you were stunning. You deserve at least some consideration for those two minutes alone. All that silent, glorious work, and people aren't even paying attention. Life isn't fair.

The most volatile category of the year in any given year, and this year seems even more difficult than the last. So it is.

Adams may be the critical darling of this category, but the chances of the Academy picking her as well are slim to none. Keener might just as well wrap herself up in one of Nell's cardigans because she's getting left out in the cold as well (yes, I did just make that bad of a pun. What's it to you?). McDormand - it isn't going to happen.

The question is: will they pick the hot, older pregnant lady or the hot, younger one? Again, barring a Brokeback sweep, they'll go with the English. The Academy loves an accent, after all.

Who will win: Weisz. Who should win: Adams.

Achievement in Directing/Best Motion Picture of the Year

Nominees: Ang Lee, Brokeback Mountain; Bennett Miller, Capote; Paul Haggis, Crash; George Clooney, Good Night, and Good Luck; Steven Spielberg, Munich.

On the plus side, I've seen all the nominees this year. On the negative side, the fact that each corresponding director and picture has been nominated means that I can't just eliminate nominees from each race for that very reason. They like to keep me on my toes, I guess.

Neither Haggis nor his monstrosity will pick up either award, but he will walk away with Original Screenplay. Good enough for me, in the sense that this movie deserves no awards consideration.

I've already said that I think Cloons is out of the running, and his beautifully crafted and shot picture, natch, is out with him.

With no acting nods to accompany it, Spielberg and Munich don't have much of a chance either. Too bad, really. It was a wonderfully suspenseful drama-thriller.

When it comes right down to it, will the Oscar go to the the guy nobody's heard of or the guy we already know the Academy likes?

Who will win: Ang Lee/Brokeback Mountain. Who should win: Ang Lee/Brokeback Mountain.

Gentle reader, we will talk again Monday about my accuracy or lack thereof, who wore what, and whether his performance has caused my love of Jon Stewart to grow or diminish.

Appetizer (okay, I'll give you a little review, too)

Listen, it's not like I've not been watching movies. I don't want you to think that. But, well, I think the last whole movie I watched was Lord of War (2005), and I'm definitely going to need to see that again before I can form anything approaching an opinion about it. I can tell you that the stellar opening sequence (set to the perennial fav protest song, Buffalo Springfield's "For What It's Worth") was almost diminished by the by-the-numbers plot writer/director Andrew Niccol churned out. When some people fall, they hit the ground pretty damn hard. Sure, he managed to subdue Nicholas Cage's schtick (for, I tell you truly, that man gives schtick. Schtick is not acting. Mind you, there is a great place in this world for schtick. Beloved Jimmy Stewart was generally a purveyor of the finest quality schtick available), so I'll grant him that.

As pretty as Jared Leto is, I found myself distracted by Ethan Hawke. I know! So soon after I swore him off! But, and just think about this, has anyone else noticed how foxy he's become in the last two years or so? I would have been the first to publicly declare my love for him at the top of his Gen-X, greasy haired slacker days. But, now, it's likely he's magically developed this raw animal magnetism. Like he's suddenly remembered his own sexuality, even if his lovely wife did dump his ass. Oh, Ethan, why must you toy with me this way?

But that stupid, stupid plot. It had all the makings of a wonderful little amoral thriller, only it had to stop full stop and start proselytizing on me. Niccol, I used to think you could be subtle when you were moralizing. If you keep this up, I'm going to have to stop getting excited about your movies and instead look on the ads with disdain. Also, if you must have one character deliver the stupid "voice of audience" speeches, try not to have Bridget Moynahan do it. Nonetheless, you did give Ian Holm the best line of the night, and those Sutherlands do give great voice over.

Oh, but how do I feel? I feel pretty B, maybe even B- right about now. I'll give ya another chance, though. I'm feeling generous.

And now onto the only reason I was going to post before all that crazed stream of consciousness stuff came out. Two videos for ya, kids, because I care. Here's something funny. Here's something funny in the creepy could be true kind of way.