It's the most wonderful time of the year! Oscar Sunday, a hallowed and holy time in this household, is upon us. And our most fabulous patron saint of hosting, Neil Patrick Harris, is probably only half as excited as I am for the big night! (It is not
will he dance, but how often? It is not
will Franco and I re-watch said dance numbers, but how many times in a row? The mysteries abound.)
Because I am always super prepared for any event that is not really all that important in the grand scheme of life, I have seen all eight nominated Best Picture films and a vast majority of nominated performances. I will now grace you with a brief synopsis of my thoughts on the impending matter at hand:
American Sniper: Let me just put out there that I watched this film before the internet firmly instructed me how to feel about it. I really like it in a
The Hurt Locker kind of way -- a movie about a man in the war, not a war movie. However, it has a very un-
The Hurt Locker-ish ending, which I understand is out of Clint's control. But geez louise. I don't think it is the best film (more on that in a minute) but it's worthy nonetheless.
Birdman:
This is the best film, hands down, the end. I love it in a way I have not loved a movie in a few years. Consequently, and this is a scientific fact, it now has zero chance of winning the big prize, as I have bestowed upon it my Oscar curse of doom. (See:
Black Swan, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button, Into the Wild, Pulp Fiction, Moulin Rouge, et. al. At least the film will tomorrow be in the good company of these other masterpieces.)
Birdman is a movie apparently made just for me, in the vein of movies I adore, to haunt me into a state of obsession. And so I say: Thank you, Mr. Inarritu, a million times over! (And, again, I'm really sorry about that whole curse of doom thing…)
Boyhood: Love. I want to give that little kid and his grown-up kid self and all his developmental stages in between a great big hug. It's pure genius and forward-thinking outside of the creative box, so it's precisely the opposite of anything the Academy will reward. But, I have already watched it twice and will likely come back to it many times in the future. It's a keeper.
The Grand Budapest Hotel: The least Wes Anderson-y of all the Wes Anderson movies, and, for me, that is a good thing. It's just a fun romp with a fantastic finale. And at the end, I did not feel the need to take the bridge or protest injustices or feel bad about the human race. So, good job.
The Imitation Game: That Cumberbatch kid could really make something of himself. I am a sucker for biopics anyway, and this is a very good one. I quite enjoyed this movie while simultaneously hating a good deal of history and society at large, so there's that.
Selma: White people suck, 2015 edition. Also..and how can I put this nicely…Alabama is quite unpleasant at times. Plus, Oprah.
The Theory of Everything: Gorgeous, stimulating, full of interesting ideas, thought-provoking, and simply lovely. Eddie Redmayne doesn't sing, but he is still terribly good in a brilliant English way. I adore it.
Whiplash: Golly. Who would have predicted a movie about drums could make us all so anxious? Apparently, there are now no activities in which kids can participate without abuse from troubled adults riddled with serious issues. And Juno's dad is a straight-up dick with no redeeming qualities. Yay for people.
It is a strong year, and I am happy for that. Still, the Academy already has made glaring errors. I am as upset as every other red-blooded American about
The Lego Movie's snub. (Darn darn darny darn darn!!) And Julianne Moore as the only nominee from
Still Alice? Travesty. Though if she does not win tonight, then there really should just be no more Oscars for anyone ever. She is just beyond.
The anticipation is almost too much. But, somehow, we will last another ten or so hours until showtime. And then tomorrow I can grumble about all the things the Academy got wrong, again. It 's fabulous.
Cheers!
