Christian Bale Reacts to the Charlie Sheen Situation

"You think you're a fucking badass, Charlie? You're a small-screen trained monkey whose audience is far from discerning. They're gonna replace you with John Stamos, for Pete's sake. I'm Batman, Patrick Bateman, John Rolfe, John Connor, and a boxer from Boston.

"I grew up in Wales and even though you're nine years older than me I was chewing kids' ears off in the park for no reason at all ever since you were in short pants. I beat-up every single person I see, just so they know not to fuck with me. Your Dad is Martin Sheen and mine was a pilot (who later married Gloria Steinem). My Mom was a circus performer. I had to be exponentially more crazy than you could ever imagine in order to escape my humble beginnings and beat you out for all the good roles and all the good girls (the kind you don't have to pay for).

"I think we all know it's been a long time since Platoon + Men at Work, but still you were the highest-paid actor in television history until the other day and I guess that is a commendable accomplishment for somebody in your field. It takes dedication to put up with the grueling schedule of a television show. I know I would never want to do it, that's for sure. I prefer to do my work in intense chunks, in exotic locations, and then take several months off to drink vintage wine and fornicate with native women on a white-sand beach somewhere warm while the footage is edited in preparation for a lavish premiere and I marinate in Cuban rum, fresh pineapple, and rare orchids.

"But I no longer need to fake my respect for your humble dedication because you were fired by your boss--an ugly guy who made even more money than you, had more than enough of your annoying bullshit, and put you in your place on the world stage.

"How does a man respond to this? There isn't one good answer, granted, but surely none of the answers are 'doing the talk show bitch circuit and proclaiming yourself a warlock who's "tired of pretending like [he's] not bitchin."'

"Boy, that must be fun. Can't wait to watch you get shot-down by Barbara Walters on The View before your on-air pedicure even begins to dry.

"Oh! You think you got a comeback for that one? You don't. You never will. You're a puff pastry at heart. You'll never have the fire your dad has and it kills you. Even with a full arsenal of Hollywood stylists at your disposal you look about as bad-ass as an Olsen twin. Proof:

"In conclusion, shut up and go to bed, Charlie Sheen. You're wearing out the world's patience. You're tired. You're broke in every manner of speaking other than financially. Make sure you get a good long sleep by finishing the entire bottle of pills and I promise everything will be better in the morning. The whole world will be a safer, happier place for everyone--especially those closest to you--and it will help set-up another Oscar win for my 'vicious,' 'lifelike' portrayal of you in the made-for-TV movie of your pitiful life."

- Christian Bale

[Disclaimer: Nothing in this post was written or spoken by Christian Bale although he may have thought it at some point and nobody can prove he didn't. -Ed.]

_

My Favorite Movie of 2010

Although Black Swan was a fantastic cinematic experience--the best ending since There Will Be Blood?--and a just-in-time tour-de-force effort from Darren Aronofsky (I also loved Requiem for a Dream, but that's about it), after watching the vast majority of the movies I wanted to watch from this past year I can confidently state Blue Valentine was my favorite.

Sorry, Clash of the Titans, but I don't need to see you to know you suck and that says a lot about what you are!

Much like the equally-brilliant A Prophet (2009, France), Blue Valentine is gritty, real, and uncompromising. The actors are allowed to breathe in the frame, the camera records the action free of any agenda, the audience feels like intimate participants in a drama with limitless possibilities. There are tears-of-joy-inducing moments of beauty and there are moments that hurt your soul a little bit, irreparably. In short, it is a lot like real life--which is astonishingly difficult to recreate onscreen even when that is your goal.

Ryan Gosling and Michelle Williams are both reliably-talented actors, but there is something particularly engaging about their performances in this movie, something about the air that exists on-screen between these two fictional lovers that is truly something special.

How was this delicate feat accomplished? Well, an insightful piece from HuffPo Entertainment Editor Katy Hall today--reprinted in its entirety--explains a lot about the method behind such success:

A Donkey for Best Supporting Actor?

The Oscars are not that far away, guys. What I'm trying to say here is that before all you nerds go home to fill out your Oscar pools this weekend while laying low with mud facials, martinis, and pre-awards-season bacne treatments, I think you should keep in mind this hot little tip: a donkey should have at least been nominated for a Best Supporting Actor Award in 1966, but tragically was not even credited in the film.

The performance in question was written and directed by Robert Bresson, and the uncredited role of Donkey Saint was portrayed flawlessly by the brilliant but chronically unappreciated Balthazar.

Was dear Balthazar's performance too realistically donkey-like to be considered acting? Was he too method for the voting audience? Were all the other actors jealous enough to blackball him? Did he run away with beautiful Marie and just not give a donkey's cuss about getting his name out there?

We may never know--just like with the Oscars this year. Somebody will win the awards and some people will think other people (or donkeys) should have won them instead. Sigh. What can you do, right?

Ladies and gentlemen of taste, I'll tell you what you should do-- make Au Hasard Balthazar the extremely slow but clever and memorable movie you watch this weekend while most people in this country satisfy their baser urges with fast food, fake butter, and the nonagenarian antics of Robert De Niro and Ben Stiller.

You deserve a treat, after all, in these tough times. And so does Balthazar.

Paid for by the Campaign to Posthumously Nominate Balthazar the Donkey for a Best Supporting Actor Oscar (CPNBDBSAC)


[Incidentally, 1966 was a rich year for movies--The Blow Up, Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf?, Alfie... -Ed]

_

The Final Word on Sandra Bullock

How far does one need to bend down while wearing naught save a camisole,
so as to show some cleavage? Must be before the boob-job...

I can't even believe I'm talking about her, but I guess one man can only take so much fucking mindless bullshit from the blaring media before he has to silence the crowd, down a thirsty throat-full of Pellegrino, belch in the satisfied manner of a man of the world, and speak his mind, once and for all, so here goes:

Sandra Bullock is not worth a damn.

The evidence:

1. She has never been, nor will ever be, a credible actor, despite a recent Oscar win for her performance as a skinny white woman with breasts and a questionable accent in 'Precious for the Suburbs.'

2. She was stupid enough to marry Jesse James, a white-trash custom motorcycle dawg with a penchant for porn stars, despite the fact that she had her pick of the litter, and expected it to turn out well.

3. She counts George Fucking Lopez among her closest friends, which is proof that she has absolutely no taste whatsoever, since that guy is a comedian who has yet to realize the only joke he has given the world is himself.

4. She thinks the world cares whether or not she has a sex tape.

No talent, no taste, no clue. And she wants my sympathy?

I say, "Fuck that bitch."

I said it once, I'll say it again. Either raise your glass or begin the slow but fruitful process of learning how to finally accept the truth--anything else is just unnecessarily self-destructive.

_

Review in Brief: 'Moon'

[Fair warning--spoilers abound]

Alright, so all those people bitching about how the Sam Rockwell indie movie Moon was ignored at the Oscars need to shut the fuck up right now, because that movie was a piece of worthless shit.

Not that it didn't have potential--a man all by himself on the dark side of the moon for a three-year jag has all the makings of a fantastic character study.

First mistake: They chose Sam Rockwell to play the lead (only) role and he has absolutely no charisma or depth. They needed Jack Nicholson, they got a pet rock.

Second mistake: They forgot to make the story compelling, letting the air out at all wrong moments--which completely removed any tension--and never building toward anything to root for or against.


Major spoiler here, but Sam Rockwell is a clone. In real life. Ha! (I think he is a clone of the world's first semi-socialized douchebag, actually. -Ed.)

Luckily for you, this revelation doesn't actually ruin too much of the movie because a big part of the problem with it is the fact that this is revealed way too soon. Not only that, but it is revealed by a recently "woken-up" clone, who should be the most innocent character, but is instead inexplicably more savvy than all the other identical 'people' that came before him. I say inexplicable because this incongruous situation is never explained, a reasoning never even hinted at.



Basically, this movie was somebody's ill-advised, wet-dream cocktail of The Shining, Multiplicity, and 2001: A Space Odyssey. The twist here, stay with me now, is that Jack Nicholson is completely alone with no personality, there are only three clones instead of four, the original isn't around anymore, and HAL (aka GERTY) is inexplicably pathologically devoted to the nearest human, rather than the mission.

There is never any explanation as to why GERTY (admirably voiced by Kevin Spacey, albeit as an Admiral going down with the ship) was programmed to do whatever the human told it to do, which seems like uncharacteristically bad business-sense for a corporation that thought far enough ahead to build an array of remote-activated signal scramblers and stock the moon base with 200 clones to run it for the next 600 years with minimal trouble/expense.

I know somebody thought it would be 'awesome' to have Sam Rockwell play two versions of the same person (the third one never really participates), but they forgot that he is not Michael Keaton, that he is not a good actor. Sam Rockwell is good at playing a dimwitted rogue and that's about it. You know why? Because that is exactly what he is like in real life.



Quite a few popular actors, quite a few fringe actors even--Mr. Rockwell being a prime example--make a good living playing a barely-clothed cinematic version of themselves. This is not to say that they are completely without talent--since it takes a certain amount of talent to not shit yourself on camera, remember all your lines, draw a gaze, etc--but it is worth pointing out that there is a deep divide between a Sam Rockwell and a Daniel Day-Lewis.

There is a reason why range is such a coveted talent among actors--it implies that the person can actually act. This skill is the main reason actors get nominated for awards (most of the time) and also why Sam Rockwell was deservedly not nominated for Moon.


Aside from that, can we get into the issue with cryonic freezing? Who the hell would ever think there is a need to be in cryonic suspension for a mere three-day trip back to Earth?

I mean...the concept of freezing people for space travel exists as part of a theory of how to get the human race to other solar systems that are light-years away, so as not to require generations of space travelers to get shit done--not to go to the fucking moon.

Yet we are supposed to be affected by the fact that the clones in Moon are vaporized in a faux cryogenic chamber, killed just as they think they are going home? Spare me--ignorance is bliss...

"Oh, you're going to Africa? Well, step right into the cryogenic chamber and you'll be there before you know it!"

"Okay!"

Mind you, this might have worked if the clones were proven to be extremely stupid, but come on--they had to be programmed with a certain level of intelligence to operate an entire space station by themselves. This intelligence precludes the notion that they would be so ignorant as to blithely go along with the cryonics ruse simply because a some dude smiling on a video screen tells them it's cool.

On a related note, if the clones have an average life expectancy of three years and there are ample stocks below, why wouldn't the powers-that-be not just let them peter out and then replace them as needed? What need is there for the cryonics ruse in the first place? Based on the evidence presented, it all seems too forced.


One of the more interesting ideas in the movie--and, sadly, one that was never fully explored--is the notion that people in solitary confinement on the moon appear to have an average life expectancy of only three years, which is potentially based on the life-span of the initial, fully-human Sam Rockwell, or on the lifespan of an engineered clone...we never know.

Which means we never get to know exactly what Sam Rockwell #1 is struggling against--is he fighting a man-made life expectancy or a psychological life expectancy? If we don't know, we can't really care that much. Apparently the filmmaker didn't care about this either...in a movie about the psychology of being alone on the moon...huh.

Come to think of it, what exactly were we supposed to care about in this movie? The fate of a dying robot? I could never really climb aboard that notion, since there was nothing about Sam Rockwell that seemed endearing, relatable, or significant. He and the director seemed more concerned with the detail of the experience--the model of the town, the exercise, the programmed video messages, the sleeping--than the emotions of the affair, which is certain death for a movie that depends entirely on emotional thrust. After all, this is not an action movie--it cannot rely on explosions, danger, bravado, and tits--it needs to mine the depths of the human psyche and in that task this movie fails miserably.


If the whole point of the movie is for Sam Rockwell to escape the lunar hellhole and get back to Earth, back to loved ones, why is it that it took Sam Rockwell #2 to make Sam Rockwell #1 even think about getting home early, even think about the fact that maybe his superiors have been lying to him?

Why is it that Sam Rockwell #2 is apparnetly the first of many clones to suggest that he is a clone, only minutes after being 'born?' Why is Sam Rockwell #2 immediately savvy to everything, full of ideas, hopes and dream, etc?

Shouldn't it be the case that Sam Rockwell #2 benefits from the well-earned wisdom of a dying Sam Rockwell #1 and is ultimately able to escape and lead the rewarding life Sam Rockwell #1 desired for most of his brief life? That would seem to make sense...


Minus the whole 'life and death' element, think back to the plot of Indian Jones and the Temple of Doom right now and now imagine if Short Round had to tell Indiana Jones what to do at every step of the way, had to let Indy know what was going on, and then Indiana dies and Short Round escapes.

Huh?

I know, but that is sort-of what happens in this movie. The only thing epic about this movie is its disappointment.


Dessert:

- Does it even take 3 days to get to the moon now? Wouldn't they find a way to do it even faster 200 years from now, or whatever vague futuristic period in which this movie took place?

- Why did Sam need further proof that he is a clone (ie, driving outside the scramble zone to call Earth and discover his 'daughter' is 12 years older than he thought) after he finds an entire secret room full of hundreds of clones that look exactly like him?

- Wouldn't the rescue team see the four sets of footprints in the moon-dirt (that never blows away, since there is no wind, mind you) leading to-and-from/to-and-from the crashed rover and know something was up, and then maybe check the clone inventory, realize something was up, and send a warning to Earth to be on the lookout for a clone in the fuel launch? Just sayin'...

- Note to the Director Dude: What the fuck was with that lame ending audio? You should have chosen one great, emphatic soundbite and gone with it. Let the point soak in, let the audience slowly realize/confirm what you are saying with this movie. As is, it just comes off like a bad sci-fi movie with no purpose, which in this case seems sadly appropriate...

-

The Oscars are Nearly Upon Us...

...and it's time to get ready!

(Come on--you know how long it takes those stars to primp!!! LOL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!)

Anyway, here are my picks for who brings home the hardware this year:


Best Picture - Avatar
Let's be honest--everybody is going to vote for this movie. That is all I want to say about it.


Best Director - Kathryn Bigelow, The Hurt Locker
This is certainly an upset, but if accomplished directors of animated movies get snubbed year after year, then so should Cameron. After all, his story is heavy-handed and trite, while Bigelow made a compelling, nuanced, pants-peeing-tense movie with a few characters out in the middle of a desert. I still think Jeremy Renner's trip home to his wife could have been more effective, but that's a small complaint when considered alongside the failings of Avatar. Besides, I feel like it's time a woman gets this award and what better time than when she deserves it?


Best Actor - Jeremy Renner
Jeff Bridges seems to be a lock for this award, sadly, since Crazy Heart was atrocious, but I think a lot of people who voted for him at the Golden Globes hadn't even seen the movie yet. I think they will have seen it by now and they will give the award to Jeremy Renner because he's better. If Bridges gets it, obviously it is for The Big Lebowski, and that just isn't fair...


Best Actress - Meryl Streep, Julie & Julia
I wish I could give this award to Gabourey Sidibe, but I think a nomination is the rookie's reward here. She peaked too soon and Mo'Nique stole all her thunder. Meryl is just too good, too popular, and (I hear) too amazing as Julia Child--not to mention the fact that way more people saw her movie. Unfortunately, Sandra Bullock has a chance here, for her turn in Precious for the Suburbs, but I can't imagine her actually winning.


Best Supporting Actor - Cristoph Waltz, Inglorious Basterds
This is an easy choice. Waltz was the best part of the movie (which, as others have pointed out, was actually a weakness of the movie, since he was a supporting villain). Overall, I liked the movie more than I thought I would, but it started to lose me as soon as the Basterds turned out to be totally incompetent, in order to put their mission in jeopardy and the audience on the edge of their collective seat, drowning in tension that wasn't really there. Despite the fact that I loved the revisionist ending, by that point I was watching from afar, no longer passionately entangled in the movie.

By the way, since Tarantino refuses to tell anybody why he spelled 'bastards' incorrectly, hoping we will wonder about it forever and think him brilliantly coy for not telling us, I will tell you. It's because, despite the fact that most of what he does is blatantly rip off other writers/directors and combine things in a new and interesting way, he wants to be known as a totally unique cultural force. Using the same title as another movie does not help his case, so he took advantage of the technicality of spelling it incorrectly, hoping you will think this was an intentional stylistic choice, refusing to explain it because his explanation would sound stupid and make him seem pretentious and hypocritical, and, most importantly, guaranteeing his movie its own imdb entry. When I searched imdb for 'Inglorious Bastards' not too long before the movie came out, the Italian movie came up first, under its English-language title; now, imdb only refers to that movie under its original Italian name and Tarantino's baby pops up first. Hmmm...you know that ain't no accident...


Best Supporting Actress - Mo'Nique, Precious
She would also be a lock for Best Ill-Advised Body Hair, but that is sadly not a category yet. As Precious' derelict mother, Mo'Nique is pure coiled terror, filthy, revolting, self-loathing, violent, childish, authoritative, unpredictable...a complicated woman, to be sure. In terms of her unnecessary persecution of an innocent adversary, is she the peacetime version of Christoph Waltz's Hans Landa? Hmm...regardless, it's worth mentioning that the supporting statues both go to villains this year. How will this affect my stocks?


Best Adapted Screenplay - Up in the Air
The screenplays are the toughest categories this year. Of those that are nominated, I would probably choose Precious--even though it's hardly a screenwriting gem--but I think the people gotta give the populist Up in the Air something, despite the fact that the movie is supremely overrated and poorly, obtrusively directed by the spoiled-rotten, second-generation Jason Reitman. His nomination as Best Director is an embarrassment on par with the nomination of The Blind Side and An Education for Best Picture, but without the excuse of 'well, there are ten this year, so...'

Q: How would the same screenplay have fared in the hands of a more talented auteur (like P.T. Anderson or David Fincher)?

A: Probably a lot better, due to the deliciously dark themes running throughout, so perhaps this is a case of a good script (adapted from a book) being twisted around by a brat director (who also tried to deprive the original screenwriter of his credit)? Who knows. Luckily for Sheldon and Reitman, it was a weak year for screenplays and this is their award to lose.



Speaking of the Reitmans, the "long-awaited" Ghostbusters 3 is currently in development, so there should be enough money piling up for Jason to direct not-horrible-but-just-not-very-good-because-of-the-director movies for the rest of his life...


Best Original Screenplay - The Hurt Locker
I haven't seen The Messenger, but I don't know that anybody else has either; I liked A Serious Man more than I thought I would, but it's no sparkler and the Coens have enough hardware already; no animated movie has ever won best screenplay, so Up is probably up a creek; Basterds just wasn't good enough...gotta go with The Hurt Locker on this one, even though I would never in a million years have touted its writing...


Best Foreign Language Film - The White Ribbon
Yeah, it's black and white--but that's a good thing! I wasn't the biggest fan of Funny Games, but I did like what it was going for and I do love Naomi Watts' naked body. Where was I? Oh, yeah--Haneke is a pro and this movie deserves some recognition. More than the others? Who knows. Has anybody actually seen all of the nominated movies?


Best Animated Film - Up
Coraline was slow; Fantastic Mr. Fox was disappointingly pointless; Princess and the Frog is from another era and not in a good way; The Secret of Kells is probably great but nobody will be able to see it in time. Up wins, despite it not being up to snuff as far as Pixar releases go; that being said, my opinion of it did improve upon a second viewing...


Best Art Direction - Sherlock Holmes
This is a tough category this year, on par with the screenplays, if for a different reason (art direction is generally top-notch in every big release, since accountants and businessmen luckily fail to micromanage and fuck up props/sets/etc, which sadly cannot be said for screenplays). So, anyway, ummm...maybe Terry Gilliam will dark-horse it because he always focuses more on art direction than plot, character, or dialogue, and he has a great rep despite never impressing me post-Python? Otherwise, I see this going to either Avatar or Sherlock Holmes, which I hear had pretty great set design/set decoration (haven't seen it yet, waiting for DVD because we all should have). While I'm talking about it, I might as well say it: I'm disappointed that Holmes ignores Sherlock's addiction to opium, since this one occasionally-crippling weakness rounded out his otherwise-perfect character nicely. Why must we slave for a PG-13 rating at the expense of character depth and realism? Well, I say 'we' when I am not in the mix at all...so, let me rephrase that--why must 'they' do this?


Best Cinematography - The Hurt Locker
I can't imagine Avatar will get this, although one can never count out the juggernaut. Never saw Harry Potter, but I don't think Bruno Delbonnel has a chance. The White Ribbon looks beautiful...but I have to give the nod to The Hurt Locker because it's a critical darling with a great visual style.


Best Costume Design - Who Cares
I didn't see any of the nominated movies and doubt I ever will. In case I need a tie-breaker in my office pool, I'll take a stab: Coco Before Chanel. Although Terry Gilliam's clusterfuck could be a dark horse here...


Best Documentary Feature - Whichever One is About the Holocaust
Or The Cove, because it's about a dolphin holocaust and it looks good.


Best Documentary Short - Don't Care
Is there even any way to see these movies? Would I even want to? Generally, no. My shot in the dark: Rabbit a la Berlin, because it has an interesting subject matter that also happens to be cute and fluffy and kind of relates to the Holocaust.


Best Editing - The Hurt Locker
What can I say? It was well-edited. So were most of the others, but, you know, whatever.


Best Make-Up - Star Trek
The entrants look weak this year. Il Divo has a man aging several decades; Star Trek has aliens; The Young Victoria is a British period piece that doesn't cover much of a time span. Hmmm...I'll vote with aliens in the most popular movie nominated.


Best Original Score - Up
Why not?


Best Original Song - "The Weary Kind" from Crazy Heart
The song isn't that good. Or maybe it is--but it doesn't really play any part in the movie. We see Jeff Bridges sing a few words and say "I just wrote a hit song!" but we don't really get to hear it. Then it comes in again toward the very end, but before it gets going they cut it off and go to the credits, over which they replay the song with a different singer. In other words, the song is hardly used as a powerful punctuation mark to whatever it was this movie was trying to say, so how can it really be called 'the theme to Crazy Heart?' Who cares...it will win.


Best Sound Editing - The Hurt Locker
The sound awards are always a bit suspicious. I know why they separate the two categories, but when the Legion of Bitter Nerdy Sound Guys decide to give the award to the same movie and when they split it up seems somewhat random. So I'm voting The Hurt Locker for editing, since they had to work in all the explosions and silence and dialogue and did it well.


Best Sound Mixing - Avatar
Avatar gets it because their soundscape was a lot more complicated and, I have to assume, well-mixed. If not, the sound guys should have to refund their salaries, since they had forever to do the job and as much money as they wanted.


Best Visual Effects - Avatar
Does anybody in the world have a different pick for this one?


What I Can't Believe - That A Single Man was not nominated for Best Picture, Best Art Direction, Best Cinematography, or Best Costume Design

One of the best-reviewed films of the year--a beautifully-shot, lush, period drama about life for a British ex-pat in 1960s LA, directed by a top fashion designer with an eye for detail--gets only one nomination (Colin Firth's hopeless Best Actor nod) in a lukewarm year? Something doesn't smell quite right here...

I can see snubbing him for Best Director, since that was a strong category this year and he's a rookie, but is Tom Ford really so universally loathed that they would snub the movie so severely?

Only one way to find out..."Go-Go-Gadget Microphone! Into every Hollywood heavyweight's house at once!"


_

Review In Brief: Crazy Heart

Crazy Heart? Not that crazy.

Some dude named Bad Blake (Jeff Bridges) is a touring musician who has a house, a car, a couple of good friends, an agent who returns his calls...he gets laid every night, never has to do an honest day's work...

I had to roll a joint and pour a stiff drink just to get past the first twenty minutes, in a failed attempt to imbue this movie with with some actual rollicking substance abuse. Watching Crazy Heart was kind of like listening to an acquaintance telling me about his 'wild night' in Mexico and remembering why he is merely an acquaintance.

If I were in charge--and I should have been, let's be clear about that--the movie would have opened with the vomiting scene in Houston, then introduced Robert Duvall as his hardscrabble manager (instead of his bartender/AA buddy), and gone from there, as Bad Blake slowly descended into a pit of madness, brought down to his knees by bottles of bourbon finished in one sitting, sordid sex with people's mothers and wives, and a bloodletting fistfight with Duvall that temporarily ended Bad's career.

Bad's 'feud of honor' with a miscast Colin Farrell? I didn't get it--they seemed totally fine. He offered to let Bad play with him, asked him to come on tour with him, and recorded a song of his that made Bad a heap of money. Where is the tension here?

Maggie Gyllenhaal? Awful. I loved her, once. Now she's 2 for 2, shit-wise, considering The Dark Knight's turdish performance, which I initially blamed more on the script, but now fear the blame is shared more than I would like to admit...

And not only should Not-So-Bad Blake have had to actually win her affections somehow (charm?), as opposed to merely receiving them with a humble smile as he scratches his junk and farts, but he should have died in the end, either just before or just after winning her over.

And he should have done it in an awesome way--the ink barely dry on the Last Will & Testament in the glovebox, sober, he drops a cigarette between his legs and accidentally drives off a bridge in West Virginia, isn't discovered for days.


Basically, what this movie was missing was tension. Everything was too easy, nothing was dark enough, I felt no sense of desperation, no craziness.

The writing and directing were horrendous; no surprise they were by the same dude, whose name I won't mention, who also produced. Despite Roger Ebert's assertion that this was 'an astonishing debut,' the only thing astonishing around here is that what's-his-name was able to convince T.Bone Burnett to come aboard and convince Jeff Bridges (who already passed on the script) and Robert Duvall to take part in the production of this turd.

Well, on second thought, it's not that amazing: Bridges received Executive-Producer credit, Duvall got Producer. Rest assured that both men did nothing for those titles/paychecks, so I think we all know what's going on here--they figured it would be a hit whether it deserved to be or not and they did it for the money, not the script, with Bridges assuming an Oscar nod was pretty much a lock. T.Bone not only got his own producer credit, but also made millions on album sales and nabbed himself an Oscar.

Note to the director, since I'm sure he'll be allowed to make movies in the future:

At least try to make Jeff Bridges charming if he's supposed to bed a 24 year-old who doesn't seem to care much for country music! And when country musicians have a feud, it should be some down-home, drunken, bar-brawling bullshit, okay? Or there should at least be some insults traded and maybe even some practical jokes played. The bottom line: something should happen.

'Bad Blake?' Not that bad. He didn't break a glass, punch a guy in the face, get his ass kicked, show up late...and he didn't even drink that much. Hell, I've had more than half a bottle of whiskey in a sitting and I didn't slur my speech and need to vomit. If this guy is as Bad as he should have been, he'd be putting away a bottle by the end of lunch. And he'd be getting slapped and slapping--what, is this rock-bottom for a Sunday-School crowd or is this rock-fucking-bottom?

And don't call Maggie Gyllenhaal ever again--you two are bad news.



Verdict? No Oscars, unless we're counting the one Mr. Bridges will be receiving shortly for his work as The Dude.

_

If 'Slumdog' Wins Ten Oscars...Will Anyone Care?

The Oscars are on this evening and I don't even think I will watch them. I just don't see how anything good can come from it.

How sad is that?

Hugh Jackman will be gay as the wind (but closeted, with children), Kate Winslet will finally receive her Oscar for Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind / Little Children, Slumdog Millionaire will win a bunch of awards, Heath Ledger's daughter will receive a statuette in trust, five excruciatingly shitty song and dance numbers will happen every now and then, and this fucking fat ugly asshole's failed attempts at humor will stun the global audience silent for 4 hours straight.

Spare me!

_

Oscar Quandary

2009 Oscar Nominations were released today. Unsurprisingly, I have a few things to say about it.


- Slumdog Millionaire is the favorite for more big awards than any other movie (Best Picture, Best Director, Best Adapted Screenplay), as well as a host of others for which it is in the running (Best Original Song, Best Original Score, Best Editing, Best Sound Mixing, and Best Sound Editing). Yet...none of the actors were nominated. None of them were even bandied about as potential nominees. The telltale sign of a movie that isn't that great, but which strikes a chord with people because it is 'heartwarming' and 'different' and chatted about by fat women around watercoolers. Or is the academy just afraid of giving out awards to Indians? Even Little Miss Sunshine, Juno, and Sideways got actor noms.
I can hear the justification right now, reverberating among the Hollywood Hills: "Well, the script was amazing, the directing of the actors was amazing...but those people speaking the lines and being directed were not very good--but I loved the movie. Best of the year for sure."


- Josh Brolin in Milk....over James Franco in Milk? Are you GAY?!?! Franco played a much tougher role, did it much better, and was in many respects the emotional core of the movie. Hmmm...but we remember Josh Brolin from No Country for Old Men and Franco from Spiderman...hmmm... Let's see--are you more impressed by an actor who can believably play Spiderman's arch nemesis, a funny and charming sweetheart of a pot dealer stuck in an action comedy, and Harvey Milk's lover (all in the last year alone), or Josh Brolin, who pretty much plays the same guy every time (even in W, oddly)--a reticent, pretty-boy tough guy with a soft side? Can you imagine Josh Brolin playing gay? Can you imagine him playing a pot dealer? Can you imagine him playing a superhero villain? Come to think of it, I think I'd rather see Franco as W. Who knew I was so in love? I guess you learn something new about yourself every day.


- Surprisingly, the three animated features nominated this year were...the three animated features released this year.


- Has Ron Howard made a movie that he was not nominated for as Best Director? Is this the first time Clint Eastwood was not nominated? Is it only because he split the old person votes for Changeling and Gran Torino?


- Can't we just give the cast of Doubt an ensemble Tony Award? There needs to be a special category for "filmed theater that puts me to sleep."


- Why is there never a frontrunner in the Best Actress race, but always in the Best Actor race? It's Mickey Rourke's award to lose, but a free-for-all once again among the Best Broads.


- If Penelope Cruz doesn't win Best Supporting Actress for Vicky Cristina Barcelona (based on the competition) then I will fucking quit my job and run away with her. If that doesn't motivate her PR team to light a fucking fire, I don't know what will.


- Best Picture category is the weakest I can remember. I hope Milk wins and I can't believe I'm saying that. I hate Sean Penn!


- Robert Downey, Jr for Tropic Thunder? Huh? I mean, he was the only thing worth watching in that movie, but if we are going to start rewarding supporting comedy roles (which we should), then we need to take a fucking time machine back to 1998 and give Matt Dillon the first one for There's Something About Mary.


That is all for now. I haven't begun to sift through the scientific achievement nominations...

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