#assuming the academy gets it right and nominates any of these in the first place | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

stokan · 2 months

Text

Every Film Nominated for a 2023 Oscar Ranked

37. Golda - A homeless man’s Rustin in the sense that it exists solely as a vehicle for an actor to give a performance, only in this case a bad one. Leaving the deeply problematic political angle of this film aside, WHICH IS HARD TO DO, someone really should have stopped Guy Nattiv to say, “hey, I’m not sure if the average movie-goer is as well-versed in the minutia of the Yom Kippur War as you think they are, maybe you should at some point attempt to explain what’s going on and why it matters”. But then, of course, there’s also the fact that this is a movie that just assumes the audience would of course be rooting for Israel to win a war being fought over land that they stole from Egypt. It’s so epically the worst possible movie at the worst possible time that it almost feels like a prank.

36. Indiana Jones and the Dial Of Destiny - It’s honestly impressive to be able to make an Indiana Jones movie that’s this dull and this stupid. It’s like getting a pitch right down the heart of the plate and instead of an easy double, James Mangold and company swung and missed so badly their bat went flying and they fell down face first into a pile of mud. Thats something, right?

35. American Symphony - I came into this movie knowing almost nothing about Jon Batiste and left it somehow feeling like I knew even less. Some people just aren’t good documentary subjects, and on top of that this movie never makes any sort of real case for why it needs to exist in the first place.

34. El Conde - A+ premise, D- script. Looks absolutely amazing, but makes absolutely no sense. Seriously, try explaining the character motivations and plot points of this movie to someone and you will somehow become actively dumber. A real shame.

33. Elemental - Thank god I never got that #TeamPixar tattoo back in 2010.

32. Rustin - Maybe not an all-time Performance-In-Search-Of-A-Movie film, but it’s in the conversation. Colman Domingo is wonderful as always, but everything around him ranges from pedestrian to outright bad. And visually the movie looks truly awful. Bayard Rustin deserved so much better.

31. Flamin’ Hot - If I was going to make a movie “based on a true story” I might double check to make sure literally any part of the story was actually true. And if I was going to get someone to write the theme song for a movie with a primarily Latino cast, thats telling the story of a Mexican-American family, I might not pick Diane Warren, one of the world’s whitest people, to do so. But hey, what do I know? Great to see Latino actors and Mexican culture be the basis of a mainstream big studio film for all audiences. Thats, sadly, progress. Just wish progress was better than this mess.

30. 20 Days in Mariupol - This exact documentary gets nominated every single year, the only thing that changes is the location. This year’s edition is of course from Ukraine. Horrifying and powerful footage as always, but with no real skill in its construction it simply blends into every other edition of this exact film. It’s unfortunate that the Academy’s Documentary branch nominates at least one of these “here’s a bunch of thrown together war footage I shot” docs every year, but of course much more unfortunate for the world that there’s always a new place to film them in.

29. The Creator - Pretty wild to create a movie that looks this incredible, and build a world this detailed and fully realized, and then just straight up forget to write a script. Truly revolutionary lipstick on a below average pig.

28. Perfect Days - Koji Yakusho gives a beautiful, subtle, heartbreaking performance in a movie where literally no one else seems like a real person exhibiting real human behavior or making actual believable human choices. That being said, of all the German-directed Japanese language Oscar nominated films that began their life as spon-con for public toilets, this is probably one of the best.

27. Napoleon - A 200 million dollar film where it somehow feels like everyone except the costume designer was just going thru the motions. Love LOVE Joaquin Phoenix, he might be our best currently active actor, but it seems like the first time he found out he was making this movie was 5 minutes before that cameras started rolling. This really could be the movie that ends the era of streaming services giving blank checks to big name directors for good. And if so, just like Napoleon himself and his namesake movie, it ends not with a bang, but with a pretty boring whimper.

26. The Color Purple -

Me when the musical numbers are happening: “Weird to make this material a musical, but there’s sort of something here, and I’m actually kind of into it!”

Me when the musical numbers are not happening: “This is hot garbage”

25. Eternal Memory - Would the couple at the center of this film have been a blast to sit next to at a dinner party or would they have been insufferable? Tough question to still be asking after a movie that is basically just 90 minutes of hanging out with them. Once the Alzheimer’s really kicks in the footage is undeniably heartbreaking and powerful, it just feels like it takes a long time to get there, and the whole thing feels kind of shapeless. I’m sure if I was Chilean and I had an existing knowledge of these two people it would have worked better, but ultimately it just never really got there for me, sad as the story may have been.

24. Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3 - For a movie nominated for best visual effects I thought the visual effects were half incredible and half pretty generic Marvel CGI slop. Which fits perfectly with the rest of the movie. I thought half of the plot made sense and the other half I had no idea what was going on. Half of the characters were memorable and important, and the other half felt like random people in weird makeup on the screen with no real explanation. And I thought the movie was half clever fun, and half this-is-too-long what-are-we-doing-here pablum.

23. NYAD - An A+ Rustin or a B- AIR. Of all the movies I saw this year, it’s definitely one of them.

22. The Boy and the Heron - Look, Miyazaki is a master, I get it and I agree. But when your movie is just a series of unrelated cool ideas that you had that you just strung together in something that sometimes resembles a plot and other times doesn’t even bother to, it’s just not gonna be my thing. If it’s yours, that’s cool, more power to you, but it’s decidedly not mine.

21. Four Daughters - This year’s Luca/The Sea Beast Memorial Award winner for “movie that I definitely saw but remember almost nothing about”. Congrats?

20. Io Capitano - A well-made if fairly standard and by the numbers tale of a harrowing journey in search of a better life. Good movie, and much better than I was expecting, but the fact this got nominated over my beloved The Taste of Things is baffling and an outrage of the highest order.

19. Godzilla Minus One -

Killers of the Flower Moon - $200 million budget, no Godzilla

Godzilla Minus One - $15 million budget, SO MUCH GODZILLA

The money they saved on good acting and writing, they certainly made up for with truly incredible Godzilla shit.

18. Nimona - Out of 37 movies on this list, this is number 18. Which means it’s literally one spot above the mid-point, and that feels exactly right. Great causal queer representation, glad Netflix saved it from Disney, and as a movie, exactly one place above the exact middle.

17. Mission: Impossible - Dead Reckoning - Cool stunts, bro!

Did it all really make sense and need to be that long? No. But, in this case, who cares. It’s just a solidly constructed, well-made, fun action film. Sometimes they DO make ‘em like that anymore.

16. To Catch A Tiger - The way the world changes, truly changes, is when incredibly brave and courageous people potentially sacrifice everything to simply do what’s right, in the face of an entire society trying to stop them. Watching it is happen is equal parts powerfully moving and deeply enraging

Same as it ever was.

15. Robot Dreams - If you took a drink every time the Twin Towers were prominently featured in this Spanish animated love story about a dog and his robot friend you’d have at least 5 drinks, which maybe isn’t a ton of drinks, but it’s still pretty wild.

This is a truly incredible 45 minute movie that’s unfortunately padded out to an hour and a half. But still, a lot of REALLY great stuff here that sadly no one outside of 2023 Oscar completists will EVER see.

14. American Fiction - Don’t know that I can ever remember being bait-and-switched by a movie’s marketing before in a GOOD WAY. This was billed as a scathing but somewhat obvious racial and publishing industry satire that felt like I got it just from watching the trailer. But what’s barely in the trailer at all, is that is actually much moreso a lovely, moving, nuanced human story of family and adult relationships. All the book stuff was fine, but all the other stuff was truly wonderful. Don’t know if it ever all fully came together for me, and honestly I think I would have just enjoyed a road trip movie with Jeffrey Wright and Sterling K. Browns’ characters even more. Regardless, excited to see what Cord Jefferson does next.

13. The Teachers Lounge - Pay teachers more money.

This was a real hidden gem of this year. In creating true moral complexity, who’s-right-who’s-wrong ambiguity, and post-movie discussion fodder this film is Anatomy of a Fall’s ever so slightly less attractive cousin, and yet it has flown COMPLETELY under the radar while Anatomy of a Fall has become of this year’s true runaway critical darlings. No shade to Anatomy of a Fall, but #justiceforTheTeachersLounge!

Also, pay teachers more money.

12. Anatomy of a Fall - Speaking of Anatomy of a Fall… Is there any court in the world that would actually work in exactly the way the one works here? With the case being resolved in the way it was? I don’t buy it. Seems like a pretty big flaw in film that’s built around a screenplay that is otherwise like a diamond polished to perfection. But that aside, it feels almost revolutionary to watch a movie with this level of true ambiguity. So many movies want you to leave the theater talking and arguing and discussing, and yet this is the very rare one that actually pulls it off. Also, how are European filmmakers able to do such a better job at finding child actors than American ones are? This needs to be talked about more so we can get to the bottom of it. But, in the end, the most important thing about this film is that it was my gateway to learning about the existence of the greatest award known to man: the Palm Dog. And never has that award been more richly deserved than it was for the dog in this film. For other dogs, watching this movie it must have been like seeing Marlon Brando in Streetcar for the first time. Dog acting will never be the same. I’m convinced that Daniel Day Lewis had to retire from acting so that Messi the dog could take his place. This town ain't big enough for the both of them.

11. Society of the Snow - A movie that makes you immediately want to go out and watch a documentary about the true events, and yet is also better than any documentary could ever hope to be. The end credits should really include a QR code that takes you to the subject’s wikipedia page, because your brain can’t comprehend how this was real, even though you know going in that it is. From the second the plane hits the ground it’s a film that’s nearly impossible to look away from. If the filmmaking is perhaps a touch too conventional for the movie to place higher than this on my list, that's nothing against the film really, I think that’s probably the right choice to tell this particular story. But in the end: wow, humans beings, how truly amazing the best of us can be sometimes.

10. The Holdovers - Is it possible to talk about this movie without using the phrase “70s Hal Ashby movie”? How about “a warm wool sweater of a film”? “A tweed jacket over a beige turtleneck”? “A hot chocolate spiked with bourbon on a winter night spent looking at Christmas lights”?

Yeah, ok, “70s Hal Ashby movie” still works best.

9. May December - What excites me most at the movies is seeing something totally new that I’ve never seen before, and in all my years of moviegoing I can’t think of another film that even attempted to pull off the exact tone that this movie completely nails. I’m not even totally sure how I would describe it. It has actually kind of surprised me how popular this movie has been, because it feels so totally unique and strange and singular. But maybe we can have nice things after all. And speaking of nice things, the three central performances in this movie are probably, for my money, three of the best five performances of the entire year. So of course none of them were Oscar nominated.

This is why we can’t have nice things.

8. Killers of the Flower Moon - I wanted to see this movie so badly because I’d read the book, and now all I wish is that I could see it for the first time without having read the book. That it took a book I loved and turned it into something totally different, isn’t a failing of the movie, it’s probably to its credit, it was just vaguely disappointing expectations-wise. But to take what’s essentially a who-done-it and turn it into a searing indictment of America’s original and ongoing sin made this material into something much more vital and powerful.

My Oscar rant for this year: Lily Gladstone is in less than an hour of a three and a half hour movie, her contending for Best Actress rather than Best Supporting Actress is utterly absurd although I get and respect why she did it. But still, I’m holding out hope she doesn’t win. And yes the movie is too long, but what movie these days isn’t? It’s so great to see Robert DeNiro really get to cook again, and there are some really great Native actors who make the absolute most of what should be many more opportunities. But most of all, Martin Scorsese: still an absolute master at directing. When you make a movie where Jesse Plemons gives like, at most, the 6th best performance in the cast, you know you’re great at what you do.

7. Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse - Art in the sense that you could take any single still frame of the movie and hang on your wall like a painting, which I know was the intent, and boy did they pull it off. Also art in the sense that it kicks ass. It may be the last morsel of meat left on the decaying bones of the the carcass of superhero movies, but it really shows what might have been. What true imagination, wit, humor, and intelligence can be when they’re allowed to work free of restrictions and at their absolute apex. The why-don’t-they-make-the-whole-plane-out-of-the-black-box of IP filmmaking.

6. Oppenheimer - Still not totally convinced that the final third of the movie works or is necessary, but regardless, overall, what an achievement! To have me watching thru my fingers with stress over whether or not the bomb will work would be like creating an almost unbearable level of suspense over whether the Titanic will hit an iceberg or not. It’s just truly masterful filmmaking. 2023’s clear answer to the question “why movies?”

5. Barbie - To have a movie with something real to say, something that matters, where the message isn’t tacked onto to the IP, but the IP is used as vehicle for the message; and to have that movie be the #1 movie of the year by far, and totally dominate the culture - that feels like a comet. Like something you get maybe once in a generation. What comedy does better than anything else, what it does most effectively when operating in its highest form, is it can penetrate the hearts and minds of people who would otherwise totally reject anything remotely resembling vegetables. And I truly can’t think of a movie working on this scale, that so effectively says what it wants to by not just sacrificing an ounce of its comedy, but instead by USING its comedy. Get rid of the Mattel storyline and this is maybe the best comic screenplay of all time? Seems extreme, but the scale this is operating on, with the needle that is has to thread, and how many of its jokes feel so insanely specific and niche yet work so universally - it’s definitely in the conversation at the very least. If only every Will Farrell scene didn’t fail so epically this would be #1 easily. But still, Greta Gerwig, Our Queen: she’s now 3 for 3 with 3 upper deck HRs. I would lie down in traffic for her.

4. Maestro - It’s wild to me how unpopular this movie seems to have become. I attended the official Academy screening for Maestro and in my three years of attending Academy screenings it’s the first time a film ever got a standing ovation, and a raucous one at that. I would have put down money on it winning Best Actor and maybe even Best Actress on the spot. I was convinced it was going to be one of the most critically acclaimed films of the year. And then, well, it wasn’t. And I’ve thought a lot since about why that is. And I think I’ve settled on a theory: the title did it in. People came in expecting a biopic of Leonard Berstein and a movie about what made him great. And not only is this movie not that, it’s not trying to be. This isn’t really about a maestro at all. It’s about a couple. About the sacrifices that we make for art, for each other, for fame. It’s about supporting people we know are flawed, or will cause us pain, because we want to be a part of something greater than ourselves. The famous scene of Bradley Cooper conducting, which absolutely wrecked me, isn’t really about conducting - the key to the entire movie is when the camera pulls back to reveal Carey Mulligan watching him conduct. And in that moment all the pain, the struggle, the things unsaid and the sacrifices, for her, are all worth it for this perfect moment of art. They did this thing together, this thing that will live on well after they are dead, and for them, for those two people, maybe that’s what it’s all about. And so in a room full of hugely successful film professionals who probably recognized so much of their life and relationships on that screen, the movie played like gangbusters. And to the huge masses of people who maybe have healthier relationships to art than Leonard Bernstein, Bradley Cooper, and the members of the Motion Picture Academy, who were probably watching this at home on Netflix while half paying attention it all just seems a little much, or a little inaccessible, or not at all what they wanted when they turned it on. But it’s what I wanted. Because my brain is broken in the very same way. #Maestro4Ever

3. Poor Things - My expectations for this movie were that it was going to be my favorite movie ever made, and here it is at only #3 of 2023. So went went wrong (other than having comically unrealistic expectations)? Well, Jarrod Carmichael gives a performance that’s a real contender for the Mount Rushmore of Bad Performances In Otherwise Great Movies. And Mark Ruffalo is WOEFULLY miscast. And the entire boat section is too long and too unfocused.

And YET, even with those big minuses working against it, this movie still finishes in the top 3 in a truly great year for movies because WOW are the highs high. Emma Stone, my queen of queens, the GOAT of my heart, is just otherworldly here. It’s some real Daniel Day-Lewis how-did-they-do-it, I-don’t-understand-how-we’re-even-the-same-species-let-alone-the-same-profession level shit. Tony McNamara is now unquestionably my favorite writer working today. If every generation gets the Aaron Sorkin they deserve, then we’re currently living in the greatest generation. And perhaps most of all: Yorgos! He should write his name in all caps because that’s how it should always be said. YORGOS. Any less enthusiasm for his genius than that and you’re just not doing it right. When they talk about visionaries and singular talents YORGOS is what they mean.

So if you put my favorite current director, favorite current writer, and favorite current actress together and you don’t get 100% perfection, well, that’s ok; you still get something pretty damn great.

2. The Zone of Interest - In art as in life, often the thing that determines what story you’re telling is simply how far you zoom out the frame.

It’s been said ad nauseam, but the fact that there are two totally separate and completely opposite movies happening at the same time, the one you see and the one you hear, is so genius, so unprecedented, and so uniquely powerful that I feel like I don’t have even the words to properly discuss it other than to simply point it out. Just when you think that after 100+ years of movie-making there’s nothing wholly new and totally original that can possibly be done with the art form, something like this comes along and absolutely blows you away. It’s Art with a capital A, and it’s a movie I will be referencing and thinking about the rest of my life. A true masterpiece and a perfect film.

1. Past Lives - I walked out of this movie and thru heaving sobs of emotion, said to myself “well that was one of the best films of this decade” and I only feel more strongly about it now. In terms of sheer gripping your seat, watching through your fingers, unbearable levels of tension Past Lives will see your “will the atomic bomb actually work and forever change humanity”and raise you a “two people wordlessly staring at each other”. This movie is as thrilling as any action movie, as suspenseful as any horror movie, as moving as any drama, and as romantic as any rom-com. Plus every other emotion too. It’s the best off every type of movie and it’s just three people talking to each other in different combinations. And the moment of loaded silence, THE MOMENT, you know the one - I don’t know that I’ve ever been more transfixed by a movie screen. If you had told me it lasted 15 seconds I’d have believed you, and if you told me it lasted 5 minutes I’d have believed you. I literally think I stopped breathing at one point during it. I certainly know I lost track of all sense of space and time.

The older I get I find myself more and more asking why I spend so much time watching movies. With the limited time we have on earth is watching 100 or so movies every year worth it? Is it the best way to be spending my time? Ultimately what is it all for?

And then, once every few years, if you’re lucky, you see something like Past Lives, and as you’re walking out of the theater, the only thing in life you could ever want, the sole purpose of human existence, is simply to have more time to watch more movies.

SHORTS

1. The Wonderful World of Henry Sugar (Live Action)

2. 95 Senses (Animated)

3. The Last Repair Shop (Doc)

4. Nai Nai & Wai Po (Doc)

5. Invincible (Live Action)

6. Our Uniform (Animated)

7. Red White and Blue (Live Action)

8. The Barber of Little Rock (Doc)

9. Letter to a Pig (Animated)

10. Pachyderm (Animated)

11. The Island in Between (Doc)

12. The After (Live Action)

13. Knight of Fortune (Live Action)

(Big Gap)

14. The ABCs of Book Banning (Doc)

15. War Is Over! (Animated) (the worst overall Oscar nominee, with a needle drop that truly has to be experienced to be believed)

#academy awards #oscars #maestro #poor things #oppenheimer #barbie #past lives #zone of interest #the holdovers #emma stone #killers of the flower moon

0 notes

cyhyr · 3 years

Text

Summer of Whump Day 25: Isolation

Fandom: Naruto

Rating: G

Pairing: Hatake Kakashi & Umino Iruka, pre-relationship

WC: ~2000

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Notes: Depression. Self-isolation.

A/N: This is sad, but it's also oddly sweet in the end?

Naruto leaves to train with Jiraiya and Iruka is happy for him, he really is. He’s happy that he’s with one of the strongest shinobi of their time, that Jiraiya-sama is going to keep them moving and keep Naruto safe from the Akatsuki. He’s happy that Naruto made time to see him before they left, and that he promised to write as much as Jiraiya deems it to be safe.

Really, he’s happy.

That doesn’t mean that he’s not…

Upset? No, that’s not right.

Within two weeks, Iruka stops going out after work. He packs up his bag and locks up his classroom, and when the other teachers wave him down and ask if he’d like to join them for drinks he says something like, “I appreciate the offer, but I have a lot of grading. Maybe next time?” And then next time comes around and he shakes them off again. After five or six attempts, his co-workers stop asking. Iruka’s not sure if he’s relieved or not.

Anko tries to invite herself over, but Iruka denies her entry, stating that he hasn’t cleaned.

“What? That’s never stopped us hanging out before! C’mon, Ruka, I’ve got beer and bad movies! It’s Friday night!”

But, no, he really hasn’t cleaned in… How long has it been since Naruto left? He closes the door, begging off that he just doesn’t feel up to it tonight. “Maybe next week?”

Anko tries again for the next three weeks. Iruka changes the wards and locks after she breaks in when he denies her the fourth time. She doesn’t try again after that.

And then the Academy goes on a month-long break. He sees Izumo and Kotetsu at the Desk, where he assists four afternoons each week. They talk over him and try to pull him into their conversations, but he does his work and then goes home without exchanging a word with either of them. He gets enough socialization from yelling at the shinobi who think that because he’s… low… means his standards for accepting mission reports have also dropped.

They haven’t. That news gets around quickly enough.

Tsunade-sama asks if he’d like to take on extra shifts or duties. He tells her he doesn’t have the time. It’s not wrong; but also, it’s not time he’s missing, not really. She looks at him oddly, but accepts his answer. Shizune gives him a folder of paperwork to peruse at home, just in case he changes his mind?

(She lied. The “paperwork” is informational pamphlets on empty nest syndrome, depression, and self-isolating. Iruka burns them all. He doesn’t leave himself in a room with just the two of them again.)

He’s only working enough to keep the lights on and put rice in the pantry. The rest of his time is spent curled up on his bed, staring into the abyss of his bedroom. Over the next week he uses up every other bit of food in his home, even the emergency ration bars in his closet. Anything to not have to leave the house unnecessarily and see everyone’s pity.

He’s not…

He’s happy for Naruto.

He’s not even related to Naruto. He can’t have empty nest syndrome because Naruto never lived with him!

Iruka absolutely doesn’t cry himself to sleep. Because he’s happy, damnit.

Iruka stops going to work. He can hardly make himself get out of bed anymore. He uses the toilet and makes a pot of rice once every other day, eating it cold between fresh pots. Tea is too much work, even though a niggling part of him that sounds like Sandaime-sama says that fresh, hot tea would do wonders for his mood. Instead he’s drinking only water from the tap and barely remembering to wash his cup afterwards.

Izumo and Kotetsu come over and knock repetitively on both his front door and his bedroom window. Iruka stays in bed and ignores them. He can’t take their pity anymore.

He wants desperately to be with his friends, but more than that he wants to want to be with them.

There’s laundry all over his bedroom floor, and he’s not sure how that happened because he’s been wearing the same uniform for—days? Weeks? The apartment is a mess, but how because he stays in bed all day except to eat or use the toilet.

His body aches.

He stares at a picture taken of him and Naruto after his back injury had healed. It has a place of honor on his nightstand, next to his perpetually empty rice bowl and glass of room-temperature water.

Maybe… maybe, in the solitude of his own home, he can admit that he’s a little bit sad that Naruto’s gone.

He doesn’t remember falling asleep. He doesn’t remember waking up.

He exists in an odd between-state; the worst part is that he exists.

Every breath hurts. Naruto’s smile lights up his room from his nightstand, but it’s the only beacon he has left.

The knocking starts up again an hour before he’s supposed to report to the Desk. It continues, again, six hours later. Both times, he tunes it out. He’s not ready.

Kakashi clutches the letter in his hand and looks up at the apartment complex. Naruto had been gone just over a month and already sent a letter trying to hide how much he misses everyone. But in his very last post-script, he asked Kakashi to do something…

Please check in on Iruka-sensei for me. He’s really good at hiding how he’s feeling, even if it includes hiding himself away.

And, well, Naruto can’t have known about the tiny crush Kakashi’s been harboring for Iruka since he stood up to him at the chūnin exam nominations almost a year ago. But he can do this for his student.

So he steps up to Iruka’s door and knocks. And instead of the door he knocked on opening, the neighbor’s does.

“What’s all this again—oh, you’re new,” the woman says.

“Ah, yes, I suppose,” Kakashi stammers. “I’ve been off on a mission and just got back. Do you know if he’s home?”

She scoffs. “He doesn’t leave anymore.”

Shit.

“His friends stopped trying to get him to open the door three days ago. Blessed silence, for once.”

“My apologies, for disturbing you,” he says. He places a hand on the door and gently tugs at the wards. They’re strong—stronger than what a chūnin schoolteacher should bother having, but not strong enough that he can’t break through. “I’ll be only a minute longer.”

“See that you are,” the woman shuffles back inside. “It’s been wonderful since Umino stopped bringing the Fox around. No screeching.”

Kakashi wills himself to ignore her and turn back to Iruka’s door. The neighbor’s door clicks shut, and so he pulls up his hitai-ate and looks at the wards with the sharingan. It takes him a careful three minutes of chakra manipulation to undo them, but soon the wards fall and Kakashi turns the handle.

Unlocked.

The apartment is… cluttered? It could use a quick clean-up, definitely. There’s this layer of dust on many of the hard surfaces, and the floors could use a mop. But at first glance, it doesn’t look like some homes he’s stepped into holding depressed people.

A quick look in the kitchen shows much more evidence of Iruka hiding something. Dishes overflow the sink, the stove top has burned grains of rice stuck in places, and an overwhelming bland smell permeates the air. He steps in quickly and checks the fridge, sighing. There’s a few condiment bottles, but other than that there was only a container of rice in the middle shelf.

He’s torturing himself. Kakashi wonders if he’s aware of this.

There are three doors at the end of a short hallway outside of the living room. One, on the right, is a bathroom. The other, the left one, he can tell is the “spare” room Naruto claims is his—there’s a ramen poster pinned to the door, and while he remembers that Iruka is also very fond of ramen, he feels he can say with surety that Iruka wouldn’t decorate with ramen-themed posters.

This leaves the center door at the very end. He knocks twice before opening the door slowly.

Here is where the depression has settled, clearly.

Here is where Iruka is laid out on his side, curled slightly towards his nightstand. His hair is down, streaming across his pillow in clumps. There are clothes all over the floor; Kakashi wonders if any of them are clean. Probably not; he’ll assume not. There are ration bar wrappers near the bedside and empty dishes scattered around.

He’s torn. Should he clean up and then rouse Iruka; or talk to Iruka and then ask if he wants help cleaning up?

Kakashi tries to remember what he was like after losing… but it’s not the same, is it? It’s never the same. Every loss, every kind of loss, hits differently.

He steps over dirty clothes and kicks aside food wrappers. He kneels down beside Iruka’s nightstand and pushes aside a clump of hair that had fallen over his face. Iruka’s eyes are red-rimmed, sunken, and worst of all, cold.

“Naruto sent me,” he starts with, hoping it will get a reaction. It doesn’t. He follows Iruka’s gaze to a picture of the two of them, taken a week or so after Naruto became genin. How had he never noticed that Iruka and Naruto have the same wide smile? Naruto must have picked it up from Iruka.

“He was worried that you would hide away how you’re feeling,” Kakashi continues. “I suppose he was right to worry.”

No response.

“You can’t keep isolating yourself, sensei,” he says. “It’s not healthy.”

An answer, finally, comes softly. “Okay.”

Kakashi narrows his eye. “Okay?”

Iruka shrugs.

“Iruka, do you even know what day it is?”

Iruka shrugs again.

Kakashi carefully reaches out to touch him. Iruka flinches at the contact, but allows it. He pleads, “You need to go outside.”

“People stare,” he mutters. “Don’t want their pity.”

“I’ll keep them from looking at you,” Kakashi says.

“How?”

“I can be fairly intimidating when I want to be.” Kakashi puts his hand on top of Iruka’s. His skin is dry and cracked on his fingertips. “Will you come with me?” he asks.

“Can’t.”

“Why not?”

Iruka blushes. “I... I don’t have anything clean to wear.”

Kakashi smiles. “That’s an easy fix. We’ll make a plan and do it later, after the laundry is done.”

“I don’t have the energy to—”

“I’ll take care of it,” he waves his other hand. “Why don’t you go clean up?”

Iruka squeezes his eyes shut tight and his shoulders shake minutely. “I think my hair’s a loss,” he sniffs. “I’d have to cut it off and I—”

“Iruka, please,” Kakashi interrupts. He leans in and presses his masked lips to the back of Iruka’s hand. “No more excuses. Please, try for me? For Naruto? He’d hate to see you like this. I hate to see you like this. If you need your hair cut, I’ll cut it. If you need fresh clothes, I’ll wash them. If you need groceries, I’ll buy them. I want to help you. Please let me help you.”

Iruka doesn’t open his eyes for a long time, but he also doesn’t pull away. Kakashi waits. And when the nod comes, small and hesitantly, he can’t help but kiss Iruka’s hand again.

“I’m sorry,” Iruka whispers. “I shouldn’t—it’s—I’m being such a burden and I’m sorry.”

“You’re worth it,” Kakashi shakes his head. “Whatever burden you are, I’m willing to carry it if it comes with you.”

Iruka blushes. “That’s… don’t use your Icha Icha lines on me, please.”

“It’s not a line,” Kakashi says. “Come on, you need a shower, a shave, and some real food—not just rice. I’ll start a load of laundry while you’re cleaning up, and order in.”

“What about outside…?”

“We’ll do that tomorrow.”

#summerofwhump #summerofwhump25 #isolation #fanfic #umino iruka #hatake kakashi #kakairu #my writing

20 notes · View notes

bettsfic · 3 years

Note

hello!! i hope you're doing well~ i'm at the point where i have writing that i'm satisfied with enough to send out to try for publishing, but i'm afraid i have no idea where to start with that process. where does one look for things to get short stories published in? how does one juggle acceptances? or does that not happen? do i always get to keep ownership of my writing? is there anything to expect/look out for? you don't have to touch on all of these! thank you in advance!

congrats on finishing a story! the good news is, you now have a writing sample that is hopefully representative of your best work, and a good writing sample can open a lot of doors for you in terms of workshops, residencies, and potential funding opportunities.

the bad news is, publication is a long-con. expect it to take 2+ years to place your story. of my 3 publications, the timelines were:

“lien” -- written fall 2016, 16 rejections, published spring 2018

“an informed purchase” -- written summer 2017, 5 rejections, published summer 2018 (this was unimaginably fast)

“the ashtray” -- written spring 2017, 17 rejections, published winter 2019

if your story is genre (sci fi, fantasy, horror, etc), i’m afraid expectations are a bit different than what i’m about to tell you. so i’m going to answer your question assuming you’ll be submitting to literary journals/magazines.

the first thing you need to do is read as many short stories as you possibly can that have been published in the past 10 years. here’s how to do that:

pick up the most recent copy of america’s best short stories (this year’s was edited by anthony doerr, one of my favorite writers)

read it and find the stories that are most similar to your work

research the authors who wrote those stories and figure out what journals have published them; read as much of their work as you can

(short story collections will have acknowledgments listing where their stories have appeared. you can also find this info on an author’s website, assuming they have one)

find the journals that have published the authors you like and read their most recent handful of issues

if their aesthetic jives with your work, look into their submission guidelines to see if your story fits with their requirements in terms of word length, etc.

if so, submit! if not, keep them in mind for when you have a story they might want

you can also click through entropy mag’s where to submit round-up

there’s also duotrope, which is a lit mag submission base, but it costs money and that’s shitty of them

note there are thousands of lit mags out there, all of varying quality. you don’t want to waste your time submitting to shitty mags or ones that don’t fit with your work. the more research you do on the front end, the easier it’ll become later

it takes a long time to become familiar with the world of literary publishing. it’s a lot like a fandom in that way. you have to read what’s out there and engage in order to figure out what’s going on.

some general tips about finding places to submit:

don’t pay submission fees. some magazines will ask you to pay $3-$5 to submit. later in your writing career maybe that’ll be a worthwhile thing, but for your first pub i wouldn’t bother. stick with free submissions.

look around on the publication’s website to see if they nominate their writers for the pushcart, best of the net, or pen awards. also see if they promote their writers’ successes elsewhere, like when they get a book deal.

check to see how many followers they have on twitter and/or instagram. figure out what their reach is.

check to see if they’re affiliated with a university. if they are, keep in mind that their editorial staff will rotate every semester or year, and so will their aesthetic interests. find out of it’s run by the english department or if it’s an undergrad journal. if it’s an undergrad journal they may only accept undergrad writing. most of the time journals are run by grad students

if they’re not affiliated with a university, check to see how many issues they’ve published. fewer issues, bigger risk they’re not a journal that will keep afloat and they maybe don’t have their shit together yet. lit mags are like podcasts: everyone wants to start one; very few people make it into anything meaningful. (conversely, the bigger the risk, the bigger the potential reward. a newer mag could skyrocket, and you along with it)

see who else a magazine has published. look for names you recognize. my first publication once published mary ruefle, and i’m fucken feral for mary ruefle. my ego lifted into space after being published somewhere that she had also been published.

lastly, publication is about finding the right fit and forming relationships. a smaller mag that will value you and support you for your entire career, that is thrilled to have your work, is far more important than getting into a bigger mag that has no personal engagement or investment in you. my first publication, the editor sent me a hand-written letter about how much he loved my story. he nominated me for an award. my third publication was similar. the editor based the cover art on my story and also nominated my work for an award.

to answer your other questions: you will never have to juggle acceptances. when you receive an acceptance, you have to withdraw your outstanding submissions. when you publish, you usually sign a publication agreement for what’s called first serial rights, which means that the publication owns the rights to your story for 1 year, after which you can publish your work wherever else you want. most publications don’t accept work that’s been previously published, though.

you will need a cover letter. here is what your cover letter should look like:

Dear [Editor (yes you have to look up the editor’s name)],

Enclosed is my fiction submission, “Story Title.” Thank you for considering it for publication in [Journal]. [put your author bio here. here’s mine, and you can drag and drop your info: I received my MFA from Miami University in Ohio, where I am currently a creative writing and composition instructor. My fiction has appeared in Quarter After Eight, Midwestern Gothic, and Rivet Journal. I am a recipient of the 2018 Jordan-Goodman Prize in Fiction, and I was nominated for the 2019 PEN/Robert J. Dau Short Story Prize for Emerging Writers and 2020 Pushcart Prize. My work has been supported by the Sundress Academy for the Arts, Kimmel Harding Nelson Center for the Arts, and Hambidge Center residences, as well as the Tin House Workshop and New York State Summer Writers Institute.]

This is a simultaneous submission. I will withdraw the piece immediately if it is accepted elsewhere. I look forward to hearing from you. Best, [Your name]

i don’t know why they say they want a cover letter when 1) nobody reads them, and 2) they don’t actually say anything. i’m assuming it’s just to see that you know how to submit to journals? anyway, unless explicitly asked, don’t talk about your submission at all. the work should speak for itself.

here are some other things:

journals take around 3 to 6 months to reply to you, sometimes upward a year or more. do not follow up with them asking about your submission until it’s far past the window they say they’ll reply, and even then, i don’t recommend it

you will be rejected. repeatedly. i know writers who submit a piece upwards a hundred times before giving up on it. i give up/do major revisions after 20 rejections for a given story

submit in batches of 10 at a time and keep a detailed tracking sheet

the longer you’re waiting to hear back, the further you get in the process. if a journal rejects you after a year, it probably means an editor fought for your story and lost

treat any personal note/correspondence from an editor, even critical, as a gift. editors do not often give their attention. be sure to reply to personal correspondence

if a journal rejects you but welcomes you to submit again, submit a different piece and do it quickly, with a note that says they liked something else you sent them

if you get accepted to a journal that wants you to make major revisions that you don’t want to make, don’t be afraid to pull the piece. i’ve been in this situation twice: once where i refused to make the revisions because i felt they altered the heart of the story, and once where i made them because i could understand where the editor was coming from, even if i didn’t like it as well. that said, usually journals won’t be willing to work with you on a story that needs major edits; they’ll just reject the story, even if they see promise in it

okay that’s all i’ve got. i hope this helps, and happy submitting!

#writing advice #pardon any typos #i wrote this very fast and didn't read through it #hideyseek

50 notes · View notes

introvertguide · 3 years

Text

Chinatown (1974); AFI #21

The next movie that we reviewed was a very dark example of neo-noir film directed by Roman Polanski, Chinatown (1974). This film was a throwback to very dark crime thrillers that reflected the outlook of a Great Depression followed by world war. Polanski was experiencing a very dark period since he had just moved to America to get married and immediately lost his wife and unborn son in a horrific murder. The film was well received by critics and audiences, but it could not stand against the award winning juggernaut which was The Godfather Part 2. Polanski’s film was nominated for 11 Academy awards but only took one home for best original screenplay, a category that didn’t include The Godfather Part 2. It is hard to describe how incredibly down beat this film is without spoiling too early, so let me give the breakdown with the standard warning:

SPOILER ALERT!!! THIS IS A MURDER MYSTERY SO THE PLOT IS ABOUT TO BE WELL SPOILED!!! IF YOU WANT TO SEE THE FILM FIRST, NOW IS THE TIME TO STEP AWAY!!! COME BACK AFTER YOU SEE THE FILM!!!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

In 1937, a woman identifying herself as Evelyn Mulwray hires private investigator J. J. "Jake" Gittes (Jack Nicholson) to follow her husband, Hollis Mulwray, the chief engineer at the Los Angeles Department of Water and Power. Gittes tails him, hears him publicly refuse to create a new reservoir that would be unsafe, and shoots photographs of him with a young woman, which are published on the front page of the following day's paper. Back at his office, Gittes is confronted by a woman who informs him she is the real Evelyn Mulwray (Faye Dunaway) and that he can expect a lawsuit.

Realizing he was set up, Gittes assumes that Hollis Mulwray is the real target. Before he can question him, Lieutenant Lou Escobar fishes Mr. Mulwray, drowned, from a reservoir. Under retainer to Mrs. Mulwray, Gittes investigates with suspicions of murder and notices that although there is a drought, huge quantities of water are being released from the reservoir every night. Gittes is warned off by Water Department Security Chief Claude Mulvihill and a henchman (Roman Polanski) who slashes one of Gittes' nostrils. Back at his office, Gittes receives a call from Ida Sessions, who identifies herself as the imposter Mrs. Mulwray. She is afraid to identify her employer but tells Gittes to check the day's obituaries.

Gittes learns that Mulwray was once the business partner of Evelyn's wealthy father, Noah Cross (John Huston). Over lunch at his personal club, Cross warns Gittes that he does not understand the forces at work, and offers to double Gittes' fee to search for Mulwray's missing mistress. At the hall of records, Gittes discovers that much of the Northwest Valley has recently changed ownership. Investigating the valley, he is attacked by angry landowners who believe he is an agent of the water department attempting to force them out by sabotaging their water supply.

Gittes deduces that the water department is drying up the land so it can be bought at a reduced price and that Mulwray was murdered when he discovered the plan. He discovers that a recently deceased retirement home resident is one of the valley's new landowners and seemingly purchased the property a week after his death. Gittes and Evelyn bluff their way into the home and confirm that the real-estate deals were surreptitiously completed in the names of several of the home's residents. Their visit is interrupted by the suspicious retirement-home director, who has called Mulvihill.

After fleeing Mulvihill and his thugs, Gittes and Evelyn hide at Evelyn's house and sleep together. During the night, Evelyn gets a phone call and must leave suddenly; she warns Gittes that her father is dangerous. Gittes follows Evelyn's car to a house, where he spies her through the windows comforting Mulwray's mistress, Katherine. He accuses Evelyn of holding the woman against her will, but she says Katherine is her sister.

The next day, an anonymous call draws Gittes to Ida Sessions' apartment, where he finds her murdered and Escobar waiting for Gittes' arrival. Escobar tells him the coroner's report found salt water in Mulwray's lungs, indicating that he did not drown in the fresh water of the reservoir. Escobar suspects Evelyn of the murder and tells Gittes to produce her quickly. At Evelyn's mansion, Gittes finds her servants packing her things. He realizes her garden pond is salt water and discovers a pair of bifocals in it. He confronts Evelyn about Katherine, whom Evelyn now claims is her daughter. After Gittes slaps her (a lot), she tells him that Katherine is her sister and her daughter; her father raped her when she was 15. She says that the glasses are not Mulwray's, as he did not wear bifocals.

Gittes arranges for the women to flee to Mexico and instructs Evelyn to meet him at her butler's home in Chinatown. He summons Cross to the Mulwray home to settle their deal. Cross admits his intention to annex the Northwest Valley into the City of Los Angeles, then irrigate and develop it. Gittes accuses Cross of murdering Mulwray. Cross has Mulvihill take the bifocals at gunpoint, and they force Gittes to drive them to the women. When they reach the Chinatown address, the police are already there and detain Gittes. When Cross approaches Katherine, Evelyn shoots him in the arm and starts to drive away with Katherine. The police open fire, killing Evelyn. Cross clutches Katherine and leads her away, while Escobar orders Gittes released. Lawrence Walsh, one of Gittes' associates, tells him: "Forget it, Jake. It's Chinatown."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

I really cannot emphasize how much of a bummer ending this film has. It is right up there (down there) with Sophie’s Choice. A man who pays to dump water so that he can purchase cheap farm land, kills his partner who threatens to tell, and rapes his own 15-year-old daughter is the antagonist. In the end, he is released to take custody of his young granddaughter without punishment after the police shoot the daughter that he raped. The investigator who tried to help and solved the mystery is left with no say and a slit nostril for his troubles. Polanski later said in interviews that he wanted to emphasize the futility of trying to find justice in Los Angeles. Both his life and this movie really proved that as a fact. It is funny that the screenwriter who won the academy award wanted Cross to die and Evelyn to live, but Polanski insisted and the dark tone is what pushed the award in their favor.

There was some discussion about finding an actor that was willing to be the lead with a bandaged face or prosthetic injury for most of the movie. It was still all about face time and dialogue, so most lead actors didn’t want to cover up their face. Nicholson was not actually known for his good looks as much as other actors, so he was more willing to take on the role. Actually, it was Nicholson who wanted to work on a project with Polanski and suggested the script in the first place. Also, Nicholson really connected with Polanski at the time and was not afraid to play dark roles. Jon Huston was not as keen on the heavy pedophile incest role since he had a lovely young daughter of his own (actress Angelica Huston). It turned out to be a good choice for all the actors involved.

Something that came up during the viewing with my housemates was reactions to the scene when Jack Nicholson is slapping Faye Dunaway when she is admitting that the girl she visits is both her sister and her daughter. She keeps alternating between “she’s my sister” and “she’s my daughter” and each statement is punctuated with a slap in the face by Jack Nicholson. It is supposed to be deeply serious and a major reveal in the movie, but we were laughing so hard at the absurdity. It was truly unrealistic and more of a trope of film noir than anything else (slapping a hysterical woman). It truly was a throwback to 40s and 50s style Hollywood and some of the standards of film story telling at that time were a bit silly.

I have reviewed this move in more ways than I thought because I realized on this viewing that the video game L.A. Noir borrows very heavily from this film. So many aspects, from the locations to the situations to the soundtrack, were all put into the video game. I have spent many hours of my life playing through that game a number of times and I am shocked each time. I am curious if Rockstar Games had to pay any money to Roman Polanski for such a close similarity to the film? I tried to look it up but didn’t find anything, so probably not.

So should this film by on the AFI to 100? For sure. It is an Old Hollywood story about even older Hollywood. It stands out as one of the darkest endings that I have ever experienced. It has major star power and surrounded by amazing stories of Hollywood. Would I recommend it? I sure would. It is a great trip around old Hollywood with some of America’s greatest actors. I think just as interesting is the story of Roman Polanski (who I did an article on as well) and why his head space was so dark during the production of this film. Definitely worth a watch and a background deep dive.

#introvert #introverts #chinatown #jack nicholson #faye dunaway #roman polanski #movie review #top 100 #70s #Film Criticism

15 notes · View notes

saltnhalo · 5 years

Note

congrats on 1.5k!! that’s awesome. my prompt is destiel based on these lyrics: “my mother said im too romantic. she said ‘you’re dancing in the movies’. i almost started to believe her. then i saw you and i knew.” THANKS SO MUCH

Thank you! Fire On Fire is such a beautiful song :)

The world gets the first inkling that something has changed when Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak step out of their limousine and onto the red carpet of the Academy Awards hand in hand.

Immediately, every single camera on the red carpet is turned towards them, word spreading like wildfire about this new development, as the pair pause at the end of the red carpet and Dean stops to adjust Castiel’s lapels.

“Do you think they’ve noticed?” Cas whispers, leaning in close to Dean’s ear. The chuckle he gets in response is rich and warm, and grounds Cas even as the media reporters gather nearby and start to clamor for their attention.

“Surely not,” Dean jokes back. His fingers smooth over the front of Castiel’s jacket, lingering there for a moment, and it feels like they’re in a little bubble of calm where the two of them can simply exist together, just for a second.

“You good to go?”

Making their romantic debut tonight had been a decision that both of them had made together, but it’s still more than a little daunting when Castiel can feel the pressure of the public eye already descending upon them. He’ll be okay, though. Especially with Dean by his side.

“I’m good,” Cas confirms, turning his head to press a quick kiss to Dean’s cheek—on the side facing away from the reporters, thankfully. “I love you,” he breathes, quiet enough that only Dean can hear.

He feels Dean soften more than he sees it, and the gently murmured, “Love you too,” is exactly what Castiel needs to bolster his courage and give him the confidence he needs to face the world.

“Let’s do this,” he says, straightening his back and turning to face the red carpet.

Beside him, Dean grins.

There are people shouting questions at them from all directions as they make their way along the carpet, and they get pulled aside for an interview almost immediately. Castiel can’t hide his amusement as the interviewer frantically looks through her cue cards, then seems to give up and tosses them aside with a slightly nervous laugh.

“Well,” she says, holding her microphone up to the two of them, “you’ve certainly made a statement here tonight. Many people have been speculating, but I suppose we can see from your entrance that there’s some substance to the rumors, and that the two of you are dating. Can you confirm that?”

Castiel gives Dean an almost-imperceptible nudge—he’s always been the smooth talker, the one who’s better at answering questions than Cas.

Dean, surely having predicted that Castiel would throw this one to him, takes it in his stride with a smile. “We sure are. It’s been… what, seven months, now?” He pauses and waits for Castiel to nod in confirmation, then continues. “It’s been really tough keeping it a secret, but… you know how it is, when you’re in the public eye. We wanted to make sure it was solid and that we would be able to support each other when we finally went public with it.”

“And what better time to do that than the Oscars, right?” Castiel chimes in with a joking tone and a smile.

The interviewer laughs and nods her agreement, gesturing briefly to the myriad of other media outlets hovering and waiting to speak with them. “It’s certainly got everyone flustered in the best possible way, that’s for sure. I won’t keep you long, gentlemen, since I’m surely not the only one who wants to talk to you, but before I let you go, I just want to ask one more question. I assume the spark began when you were filming for the movie you’ve both been nominated for tonight, Profound?”

She waits for them to nod their confirmation before continuing.

“Castiel, in the past, you’ve always said you’re a bit of a romantic. What was it that drew you to Dean?”

Cas blows out a breath, taking a second to turn the question over in his mind. There’s a lot he could talk about—little moments, starting on set and continuing outside of work, all the pieces of Dean that come together to make him the man that Castiel is hopelessly in love with.

But that’s far too intimate, and far too much detail, so instead, he says;

“It was like a—a spark. He’s so magnetic to be around. Ironically enough, it was like something out of a movie. Maybe not exactly love at first sight,” he says with a chuckle, and feels Dean lean reassuringly against his side, “but it was like… everything just fell into place. And now I couldn’t imagine where I’d be without him.”

The interviewer says something in response, probably making some closing remarks for the cameras, but Castiel doesn’t really pay attention to any of it. Instead, his focus is on Dean—the steady solidness of his presence, the quick squeeze of his hand, the smile that curls his lips when Castiel looks over at him, that feels like it’s just for him.

“You’re nailing it, babe,” Dean says quietly, lifting their entwined hands and pressing a kiss to Castiel’s knuckles. “Just a couple more, right?”

There’s a cheeky, teasing spark in his eyes, and Castiel gives him an affectionate eyeroll. “Just a few,” he says sarcastically, even as a new interviewer closes in on them.

It’s going to be a long night, but it’ll be worth it to not have to hide their relationship any longer.

And besides—as long as he has Dean by his side…

Castiel feels like he can take on the world.

#dean winchester #castiel #destiel #profoundnet #spncreatorsdaily #actor au #actor dean #actor cas #established #emma's writing #spn #fic #deancas

270 notes · View notes

brooklynislandgirl · 4 years

Text

I saw something on my dash and I feel the need to respond. I am not @ the person who wrote it because she is a lovely person who is just expressing her opinion, and mine of course drastically differs. It isn’t a call out post so much as a...different view which is necessary.

~*~ JJ Abrams: Is great at beginnings. He is very strong at creating an introduction but the man couldn’t follow through if he were given a map, a compass, a sherpa and put inside a wet paper bag. Plot bunnies have never been wrangled and in depth character work is not his strong suit. An excellent example of this is both Lost and the Star Trek series, another fandom that I have lived in practically all of my life.

Rian Johnson: Never heard about him before TLJ and I am absolutely certain I don’t want to have anything else to do with any of his work. Strong Character dynamics was touted as his strong suit and from what I saw in TLJ, there was more character dynamics in Seasame Street. As for Experimental Works, the key word is experimental, and sometimes the experiment fails. As for Original plots, well...there wasn’t anything original. I saw this movie twice over growing up and done better than what he did.

George Lucas: Great at coming up with a verse, phenomenal vision and desire to bring back/recreate the action-adventure series of the past and dropped us into the middle of a vibrant and intriguing world. Yes, the dialogue was occasionally clunky but forgivable. The FATHER of modern special effects, and it makes me wonder what would have happened if they HAD used his ideas and outlines for the Sequel Trilogy, rather than having his contributions scrapped. Just remember kids, if it wasn’t for George, we wouldn’t HAVE Star Wars. {Or Indiana Jones, Or American Graffiti or.....}

~*~

As for ‘people need to stop acting as if Star Wars is this award-worthy fanchise’, uhm shall we not mention the 7 Academy Awards, 8 Saturn Awards, the Baftas, the Nebulas, the People’s Choice Awards, and the LA Film Critic awards won by the original trilogy, or the 5 Oscar Nominations of the Prequel Trilogy? Cause I mean I can pretend they don’t exist, but that doesn’t mean that they will be miraculously erased from reality.

Yes, the Franchise IS about Space Wizards and light sabers and princesses and pirates, but it is also a mythological treatise for a modern age, an in depth attempt to recreate both the nostalgia of past media and based on cultural/psychological archetypes far exceeding JUST being movies. And whether or not that was George’s intention, it has taken a life of its own and has now influenced at least 3 generations of human beings. Possibly more.

The ST is far less developed, yes. Because no one cared. They only had to scavenge the best bits of the OT and PT and paste them together in whatever pseudo-order they could make fit, and added in things that made absolutely NO SENSE when they couldn’t. Specifically most of Luke’s “characterisation”, Rose-whomeverthehellshewas, and I mean to answer this I would have to write an entire other post. Was it boring? Yes. Was it Cookie-Cutter, you could say so, with a few minor exceptions, and if those were MY cookies, I’d have thrown them out. Oh. Wait. I DID.

I would also like to point out that a good 3/4ths of the novels if not more were written to cover the galazy AFTER Return of the Jedi. Any one or more of those stories would have been far better to adapt that what the ST trilogy has given us. As for “The ST takes place over less than 1 year” and “TLJ specifically occurs in a period of less than 24 hrs” in regards to the PT and OT:

Attack of the Clones takes place over 6 days, in film. Revenge of the Sith takes place over the course of 5 days in which I don’t think Anakin really gets any sleep at all.

We must assume that all the films therefore occur within a week or less. Slivers of important events. We don’t get to see Anakin being trained over Ten years. We don’t see Luke going and training in the dark side before he appears on Jabba’s barge, and yet these things happened.

~*~

Bunny, no no no. Rey is NOT just Luke as a female with abandonment issues. Luke didn’t know how to use a light-saber when he first saw one. He didn’t know how to use the Force, and had to be trained by Kenobi and Yoda. Rey...didn’t need anything. Neither did Finn, actually. Luke was a good guy, yes, but he had his doubts, his fears, his learning period. Go back and watch the films. Anakin was really good at piloting, he was phenomenal at combat, but he had no social graces, he didn’t ‘people’ well, he struggled with abandonment {both his own and leaving his mother}, the flaws were very real and painfully so.

Anakin and Luke both had to undergo the Hero’s Journey, like Frodo and Siegmund and really, pretty much name any fantasy character that has ever been written. Rey has everything handed to her on a platter, doesn’t have any growth or struggle or really makes any choices of her own. She might have been a great character had she been handled with any degree of forethought or sincerity. Alas, we will never know.

If you’re going to quote George, quote him right, he specifically says “Twelve year olds” which is the age of the kids I work with on a daily basis and they do not have simple moralistic wold views. They have the seeds for very complex thought and I am often amazed by their ability to understand and expand on ideas in ways I hadn’t even imagined.

And maybe if you want to see black-and-white morality in Star Wars, that’s fine but it isn’t really the whole point. If it was... Anakin would never have fallen to the Dark side. He would have started there. Luke would never have left Yoda on Degobah to rescue his friends because that was NOT the right thing to do. The films are about choices, write or wrong, made by people in desperate situations. It is about how those choices shaped their history, how it made them into the people they are, but ultimately, they are about how important hope is, and how even someone who has made very bad choices, can ultimately find their way back.

Star Wars, the movies, is about Anakin and his Legacy.

And archetypes? They are the definition of depth, which is why they cross cultural/religious/gender norms. They are universal ideas that can be transitioned across but not changed from their fundamental existence.

TLDR: The Sequel Trilogy really is glorified bad fanfic and is trying to erase it’s legacy so that the Mouse can make money. We all know the Star Wars film series was really “The Tragedy of Anakin Skywalker” and how bout we all stop pissing on that. If the past must die then let them have their dignity.

#Lord Mercy.#I had to. And I have no regrets.

7 notes · View notes

catch22inareddress · 6 years

Text

Thrice Tipsy Chapter Four Suddenly Sober

Words: 3827

The next few months by with Sebastian flew by, and he was an utter gentleman. Seb and Chris mended their friendship after he was able to clear the air about the misunderstanding. While it was difficult, you two were able to successfully maintain a healthy relationship long distance. Thank goodness for technology.

That first visit with him proved a very successful one in the devirginization of you, and it was spectacular. Sebastian was a very attentive lover and that weekend let's just say you made up for lost time. While you were apart, he was continually showering you with sweet words and loving, thoughtful gifts. That was him, every considerate in all aspects.

On your six month anniversary, you flew to Hollywood to join him for the Academy Awards that he had to attend because he was nominated for supporting role in Destroyer. He wanted you there to be with him for as many events as possible, and with your work, you were able to swing several, thankfully.

He picked you up from the airport in a white t-shirt and hat with sunglasses. "Hey, doll. You look gorgeous." He wrapped his muscular arms around you and picked you up off the ground. "I fucking missed you." You giggled into his neck. "I just spoke with you before I left and saw you two weekends ago."

"I don't care. If we aren't together, I miss my woman." He kissed you gently, and you sighed into the kiss. He looked at you as though he was going to say something but thought better of it and went to claim your luggage and led you to a taxi.

While you had no complaints about your relationship, there was one thing that had entered your thoughts more frequently as of late. The only thing that was you wanted to explore with Sebastian in your relationship was your sex life. It was very vanilla, and he was so gentle with you; it left you craving more. You assumed it was because it was because you were a virgin when you first met and he didn't want to push you to quickly into areas unknown. But hot damn, you wanted it. Every time you looked at the Romanian biting his lip, you could just see him whispering dirty things while pounding into you around the corner of a crowded hall, trying to remain hidden from everyone. Other times you fantasized about his long fingers gripped around your throat and you were done, simple. You knew he had a dirty mouth because of all the of the phone sex and such; you just hoped that there was another side. This weekend you were hoping to see if he had it.

Either way, you were in it for the long run with this man. It would never be a deal breaker, but you were wishing that he had a dominant side that was itching to get out and mark you up, claim you as his.

He gripped your thigh, and you let out a moan, and he snapped his face towards you as you came out of your dirty thoughts. "Um. You alright there baby?" Your face shot up shades of crimson and he just smirked. "Y-Yea. Just thinking about how much I missed you." He chuckled deeply knowingly because he missed you just as much.

"Hmmm. That right, draga?" He took your chin and tilted it up to his face and gently kissed you but this time you bit into his plump lower lip, causing him to grip your thigh harder. He pulled away and whispered into your ear. "Soon enough, doll."

"So we have all tonight to ourselves, but tomorrow we have to be poked at to be ready for the awards." He leaned in ever so slightly. " What do you want to do tonight, love?" His voice was deep and playful while his eyes were dark giving away his intentions. "We could have dinner with Chris and his girlfriend." On any other day, you may have thought it over because it was Chris and you did like Julia but today, hell no. You just want to have sex with your man before having to spend the day with strangers tomorrow. So that was a hard pass. Nope.

When you took a moment to see him take off his hat and view tousled hair and plump lips you nearly quivered right there. He knew what he was doing to you, asshole. Well, two could play that game.

You leaned in and whispered in his ear. "I'd much rather you take me back to the hotel and have you mark up places that can't be seen." You nibbled on his earlobe, and he groaned. "Fuck, woman. What has gotten into you?" You pulled back thinking he was serious, but when you saw the dark and devious smirk on his handsome face, you knew he was more than ok with your remark.

You simply shrugged. "Nothing. Maybe I'm hoping to bring out something in you." You held back a smile as you heard him take in a sharp breath as the cab stopped just outside of the hotel building. He gave him the bills and grabbed your bags and went to the elevator in the lobby to go to his floor.

When the doors shut, his hands were full with your bags, and you took the opportunity to run your hands up his buttoned shirt, and he watched you with a dark face. His only tell was his heavy breathing fanning your hair and turning you on, loving what you could do to him. "I've missed you, baby." He bit his lip and hummed in response. "I've missed your hands on me, your cock in me." You ran your hand over his already stiff member in his jeans, and he moaned. "Fuck, baby. We're in an elevator." You chuckled when it dinged signaling his floor, thankful that it was also his door since he had the whole level for the suite.

He dropped the bags down and pulled your round bottom up against him, flush against his muscled body and kissed your neck. You tilted your head to the side and ran your left hand back up and over to grip his hair as he started to lead you in the direction of the room. "No, I want you now. Sebastian, please." He stopped and spun you around.

"My girl needs me that bad? You want me to take you right here?" He knew what you needed. Hard and fast. He had given you passionate and gentle, and thorough so many times, now you needed the other end of the spectrum. Judging by the lustful look on his face he was more than happy to oblige. He licked his lips and smirked deviously. "I'm gonna fuck that pussy so hard, draga." He gripped your hips as he pushed you back up against the wall and .your chest was heaving with anticipation, your legs were already quivering. His hands went below your skirt, and he kept his eyes on you as he ripped them off with ease and you yelped. "You wanted it rough, draga. Be careful what you wish for." He said it in a playful tone but the blue in his eyes was nearly gone, fully blown with lust and you were dripping with desire.

"Show me, Sebastian. Wreck me." He shook his head with a predatory tsk and hoisted you up slammed his lips into yours and swallowed your moan. His long fingers kneaded into your lush ass as your legs found possession around his waist, your fingers scratching his scalp.

While you were kissing, he removed his jeans, rubbing his cock at your slick entrance and your head hit the wall behind you. He bit your neck as he plunged deep inside in one thrust, causing you to cry out. "That's it, baby, I want everyone to hear you. I want the whole hotel to know that you're mine. Fuck, draga. You're mine. SAY IT!"

He kept thrusting into you without mercy, bruising your legs with those ordinarily gentle fingers. "I'm yours, Sebastian. Fuck me; I'm yours. Only yours." He marked you anywhere and everywhere his mouth could find, only tightening the coil in your belly further. You ripped open his shirt, clawing at his skin and he growled loving the painful sensation of your nipping and lovebites in return.

His ordinarily tender lips were chronicling every dirty deed at the moment, a map of sin across your body and you were relishing in it. "Cum, doll. Now." He demanded it in such a way your velvety walls obeyed, and you tensed around him, burying your face in his neck and crying out his name like a prayer.

With a few more thrusts he was done, and you two stayed in that position as he carried you to his room. He took gentle care in cleaning you up, then himself. He then removed the remainder of both your clothes and you laid on his chest. He rubbed calming circles on your shoulder, sighing in complete satisfaction.

"Was that...ok?" His voice was soft, and you were sure he was worried that he was too rough with you. The foul mouth Bostonian that he met all those months ago that he somehow still saw as a fragile flower. You looked up at him and moved the displaced and frazzled hair out of his lovely face. "It was pure perfection. You just thoroughly fucked your girlfriend against the wall. What wouldn't be ok, Seb?" He blushed, and you laughed at his boyish behavior after the debaucherous acts a half hour ago.

He ran his hand over his face then tucked it behind his head and paused. "I could tell that you wanted something..more. Something less like lovemaking. I can give you whatever you want, Y/N. We just didn't talk about it. I went on a hunch." You nodded. Whatever you want. That was vague and made you think that he may wish for more also. Okay, so all in. Let's do this.

"Alright. I'll go then you go." He narrowed his eyes but then gave a slight nod in agreement. "I love the gentle lovemaking, but...sometimes, I want to be fucked. Hair pulled, tossed around, up against the wall. Maybe around the corner at a party, I want to catch up for lost times but only with you and only if you are comfortable with it." He leaned over and smiled before giving you a thorough kiss.

"You are so damn cute, and yes, I am more than comfortable doing any of those things with you. I just wasn't sure if that was something you would be ok with or if you were ready." He ran his fingers over one of your many love marks that he left like a teenager and smirked. "I love marking you up, I know it's silly. I just like knowing that when you look in the mirror, you think of me. Plus when I see them, let's just say you look good being thoroughly fucked." You smiled and laid your head back on his chest and ran your hand down his muscular body, letting it come to rest on his waist.

"So what about you? What do you want?" He paused a moment, and you could nearly hear the cogs working in his head. "Well, what I want isn't necessarily sexual but could lead to more sex." You giggled at how he was leading into his request. "I like where this is going. Please continue."

"Move in with me." You froze a moment, replaying the words in your mind. MOVE. IN. WITH. ME.

You could feel his breathing pick up and could hear his heart rate escalate at your lack of response but you were completely blindsided. You had never lived with anyone, and you were in two different cities. How the hell.....

"I love you. I want to build a life with you. If moving in with me is too scary I can move to Boston, and we can try it that way. I will do whatever I can to make this work, but I don't want to do the long distance when we don't have to. When I'm home, I want my home to be with you. Whether it's in Boston or New York. You are my home my oasis." You sat up, and he did automatically, and you saw his brows furrowed and the worry flooded across his face.

Chris had been spending more time in New York because of Julia, and your job had several branches so you could transfer....what the fuck were you thinking The man of your dreams was laying it all before you, and here you were trying to figure and debate it in your mind.

"Yes." It came out soft, and if his heart were beating a little bit louder in his ears, he would've missed it. "Yes?" You looked him in the eyes and nodded your head. "Are you sure?" You smiled and nodded more confidently when you saw his earth-shattering smile. "Do you want me to move to Boston?" He was so happy, and you knew then that you would move to New York for him just because he was so eager to do whatever in the world to make you happy. "No, I'll move to New York. I can see about transferring branches."

He scooped you up into his arms, and you straddled his laps as he buried his face into your neck. "I thought you'd say no." His comment was muffled, but you heard none the less. "Why?" He pulled back. "I don't have a lot to offer here. I mean I'm gone sometimes for months at a time." You shrugged. "We'll make it work. We've made it work this far, and this will actually be easier. Home." He put his forehead to your and breathed in deeply like it was the first breath he had taken in forever.

"You've been my home since I found out that you existed."

The next morning both of you took an extensive and profoundly satisfying shower and had breakfast before a ludicrous team ascended on you two. Sebastian just laughed because he was used to the pre-show prep, but you were not. At least not this extreme. It was primarily an in-house makeover. You got a facial, mani-pedi, haircut and that was before the team started to dress you in the most glamorous gown you had ever laid your eyes on. Sebastian had chosen it just for you, along with the heels and you suspect the lingerie.

When you finally emerged from the hairspray and perfumed hazed bedroom, you found your prince charming on the balcony with his hands in his pocket. The look on his face made you heart fall into your stomach, and you nearly had to clutch the wall for support. Part of you thought you did something wrong or looked ghastly from his silence

He only took his hands out of his pockets and walked to you and ran them down you bare arms, causing you to shiver against them. "You are a vision, Y/N." He laid the most gentle and chaste kiss on your lips, careful to not undo any of the work to make your makeup perfection. Then he leaned in, careful so no one could hear. "The idea that you're mine, fuck me doll." He growled before kissing your shoulder and then walking past you to say thanks to the team of stylist. You took his lead, and all of you posed for a picture for his Instagram page.

You both talked about the move on the way to the theater and decided that when you got back to Boston, you would ask for a transfer and then depending on how quickly that could take place he would take time off to help you move. Little did he know you already emailed your boss and asked if it was even possible and what the waitlist would be, if so. You were just waiting to hear back.

On arrival, you were a ball of nerves with everyone screaming his name. He took your hand and walked across the street to some fans and took pictures while you smiled lovingly and held the camera a few times. He introduced you as his girlfriend, and some of them recognized you from his Instagram page and were very kind.

The security team then ushered you two back to the red carpet for interviews. Most of them were pretty straightforward about his role, what he was wearing, etc. When he got E! They were had more time to ask a few more questions along with those.

"So who is your date?"

He beamed as he pulled you closer by the waist into his large frame. "This is my girlfriend, Y/N." She seemed nice enough but was rather cold and calculating which put you on guard. "And what are you wearing, Y/N?" You laughed at your ignorance. "Actually, I don't know. Sebastian picked everything out. This isn't something that I normally keep in my closet." She laughed but it was not in a kind way, and you tensed, sure that Sebastian felt it.

"She is wearing Elie Saab." Sebastian thankfully came to your rescue. The interviewer barely even acknowledged Seb's response before she started interviewing you again. "Are you an actress? How did you two meet?" Sebastian's eyes narrowed and you could feel him becoming a bit more protective based on her tone. You just laughed off her question. "Well you work for E!, you should know if I'm an actress. To answer your question, no I am not. I am a book editor, and I grew up with Chris Evans, and we are best friends. I met Sebastian through him."

"How nice. I'm sure our viewers just like to know that their favorite actor has found the perfect woman for him." He took a step towards her, but you held him back. "Well, I doubt that could be obtained from a 2-minute interview with you. I can assure you though there is no better match for me. However, I do think that E! could find a better match for their red carpet interviewer. Insulting the nominees and their significant others at the Academy Awards shows very little class. Have a nice night."

He walked passed, and as you turned around, you saw several actors decline interviews with the woman based on her actions with you two. Including Johnny Depp, Nicole Kidman, and Robert Downey Jr.

He was pissed, and you could see his jaws clenching. "Hey, come back to me." He looked around before his eyes settled on you. "I don't like how she talked to you. I thought this of all places would be classy and tonight would be fun." You smiled and took his face in your hands, and both of you ignored the flashes. "I'm fine. Remember. Thick skinned-Bostonian. Tonight is about you and the award. Don't worry about me; I could have someone come up and throw a fucking slushie on me and still be ok. Nothing is going to scare me off. Get out of your head, Seb." He put his forehead to yours and finally took a breath. "Promise?" You chuckled and gave him a quick kiss. "Cross my heart. Now go finish you damn interviews."

The rest of the red carpet went without a hitch but when you sat down inside you found out through Chris that the E! interview was trending because of how crass the interviewer was. People were praising Seb and you for remaining classy. Crisis averted.

When RDJ and Gweneth Paltrow were up for best-supporting actor for Sebastian's role, you were holding his hand with pride and pure nerves. You leaned over and whispered into his ear. "Either way, you get what's under this dress and more when we leave." He laughed and kissed you.

He was still kissing you when Jason Momoa nudged him when his name was said. "Fuck, I won? I won!" He stood up and smiled and lifted you in his arms and kissed you. "I love you." He said it with full emotion and then walked up onstage.

"Wow, I first want to thank Karyn Kusama and Nicole Kidman and the cast for making me look good. They are the best director, actors, and team out there and without them, I wouldn't be here. So this is for you also. I would also like to thank my better half, Y/N. She ran lines with me and does with any movie I come across. She is patient and calms me and makes me laugh. She gets me out of my head and for most of you, you know how important that is. She is my oasis so thank you for being that for me. I love you. I also want to thank my fans. You are why I can do this as a career, and for that, I am blessed." He put his hand to his chest and mouthed thank you again and walked backstage after hugging RDJ and Gweneth again.

On commercial, he came out, and Jason saw him first and pulled on your hand. "There's your man, baby girl." You smiled and stood up rushing to him, and he picked you up and the immediate crowd clapped, and he hid his face in the crook of your neck.

He took you back to your seats, and you two sat down. "Congratulations baby." He smiled and just looked at you like you were worth more than any award. "The best thing to come out of this weekend is you. Knowing that someday soon when I come home, you will be there."

You smirked. "About that. I got an email from my boss. She already filled out my transfer request, and it was approved. I guess I better start packing as soon as I get home."

He paused reading your expression to make sure that you were playing with him. "Seriously? So..this time ...in two weeks. You. Me?" You nodded, and he hugged you, kissing your shoulder.

"This is the best fucking night of my life, O." You looked at him in confusion. "I've got you a nickname, doll. O for my oasis." You smiled and laid your head on his shoulder while his hand found a home on your thigh.

You were his oasis, and he was your home. Funny how all of this started because you just couldn't keep yourself from getting tipsy and now you couldn't imagine not being sober. You never wanted to forget one minute with this handsome Romanian man.

The strikethroughs below didn’t work so head on over to the tag list and take a peek or make corrections.

Feel free to add yourself or send me an ask!!!

Tag list: LINK

PLEASE COMMENT AND MY ASK BOX IS ALWAYS OPEN. I’M A LOVER OF ALL MY READERS SO FEEL FREE TO HIT ME UP ANYTIME!!! THANK YOU!!!

Forever Tags

@mscaptainjones @ssweet-empowerment @shynara51 @loislp @dragonselene @frozenhuntress67 @shorteststories97 @haru-ririchiyo @sabr-n @hothornymetalkinkygirl @kaelamarissa @m-a-t-91 @whyyougottabesorudee @you-be-mad-bitch @goalie-love @moodygrip @myersge @slytherin-in-hufflepuff-robes @pvnk-bivch @peaceinourtime82 @slytherinbratt @just4muggles @darrkshhhadow @zlixlle @tacohead13 @9769997118 @afacelessgirlinthecrowd @killerbumblebee @helloitsmeamie203 @buttercupbandit @heidimonkey @violetrose90201 @nishanki1 @mrs-meghan-winchester

Sebastian Stan @guera31

Thrice Tipsy @marvelsvalhalla

#Thrice tipsy #Sebastian Stan #miniseries #sebastianstan #sebastian imagine #sebastian reader #sebastian stan reader #sebastian stan reader smut #sebastian stan smut reader #reader #Chris Evans #friends to lovers #smut #romance

108 notes · View notes

introvertguide · 5 years

Text

In the Heat of the Night (1967); AFI #75

In the Heat of the Night (1967) was the next movie on the AFI list and it is one of my absolute favorites. It won five academy awards for Best Picture, Best Actor, Best Screenplay, Best Writing, and Best Editing. It is a take on old fashion Southern racism and a strong, intelligent black detective that shows them the error in their ways. The part of the Southern police chief that learns to respect the black Philadelphia detective was played by Rod Stiger, and he won every Major Best Actor award that year (Oscar, BAFTA, Golden Globe). An absolutely brilliant pair of lead actors. I want to go over the general plot, but I won’t go into too much detail as it is a mystery:

Some spoilers so give the movie a watch before reading. It is well worth it.

The movie is set completely in the small Southern town of Sparta where a local big wig has been killed. It appears that he was mugged and the local deputy finds a black man waiting at the train station. He assumes that this man is the assailant and brings him in to the station. They treat him very disrespectfully and refer to him as “boy” until they check his ID and find that the man is a detective in Philadelphia. His name is Virgil Tibbs (Sidney Poitier) and the local police chief Gillespie (Rod Stiger) is embarrassed and instead asks Detective Tibbs to stay and help solve the murder.

The constant racist undertone is apparent, and so is the desire to get the crime solved. The man who died turns out to be an important factory owner that was going to bring a lot of new jobs to the little town of Sparta. Thus, Gillespie and Tibbs must work together, even though the don’t like each other, to solve the mystery.

Detective Tibbs asks a lot of questions and his interrogations of local racist community leaders does not win him any friends. The chief keeps trying to arrest people and send Tibbs back to Philadelphia, but he keeps getting the wrong man and is corrected by the East Coast detective on many occasions. Some of the locals start trying to gang up and attack Tibbs so it becomes desperate that they find the killer and get him out of town for his own safety.

The do eventually resolve all issues and Tibbs is sent back to Philadelphia with the respect of the Chief. Again, I don’t want to spoil the mystery aspect so I will leave the synopsis at that.

Of note is that, although Poitier was the actor with the most screen time and who I would have considered the lead actor, he was not even nominated for Best Actor at the Academy Awards. In the time of the Civil Rights Movement, this was one hell of a slight by the Academy and has tainted the category to this day. The whole situation was drenched in irony because of the topic of the movie and that the white lead actor received all the accolades.

I would like to note that I called the killer from very early on the first time I saw the movie because I didn’t like the look of the person. I was told I was being judgmental and that is exactly what this movie was making a statement against. I am not sure of the lesson I learned from that, but I did think it was a little odd.

Also of note is the excellent use of the ticking clock. Instead of having some nameless higher up insisting on a time limit, it is the environment that pressures the forward progress of the story. I believe that the whole situation takes place over 3 days. Also, the town is tiny, so it keeps everything well incapsulated like a Sherlock Holmes tale. I really have an affinity for movies that tell a big story within a small space and time. It really keeps the plot holes to a minimum and tends to wrap up all details very well.

Finally, I would like to point out the marvelous soundtrack. It was written and arranged by the great Quincy Jones back when he was only 33 years old. The soundtrack featured original works by him and performed by Ray Charles. This was one of the first movies where I legitimately noticed the soundtrack on first view and truly enjoyed it. Fantastic!

The two questions I answer every time are very easy with this film. Does it deserve to be on the AFI list? Oh my goodness yes. There are some great quotes, it is highly representative of the era, it is a heavy award winner, and it is flat out a fantastic movie...no doubt in my mind. Would I recommend it? Emphatically. This movie is currently very underappreciated (perhaps because people associate it with the rather dismal TV show of the same name) and I would love to see it boosted back into the social consciousness. Great movie, so watch it and tell your friends.

#Introverts #movies #in the heat of the night #rod stiger #sidney poitier #mystery #AFI movies #best picture #best actor #Oscar winner #Quincy Jones #soundracks #detective #racism #civil rights #ray charles

11 notes · View notes

letterboxd · 5 years

Photo

Most Picture.

There are many ways to predict how the Oscars will go. How much money is the studio spending on the campaign? How highly rated are the nominated films? How much work have nominees put in during the awards season? Is it simply their time?

For this 2019 horse race, we thought it would be fun to go for a different metric. A fool-proof statistical analysis to find not what is the Best Picture, but what is the Most. And with that, we set about investigating the stats on rewatches of the eight films nominated for Best Picture.

It turns out that plenty in the Letterboxd community have logged the Best Picture nominees more than once, and in some obsessive cases, well into double figures. We had a feeling, based on anecdotal mood and general noise, that A Star Is Born and Bohemian Rhapsody would be right up there in the stanning stakes. And they are (read on for our Q&A with Letterboxd’s most obsessive A Star Is Born fan). But also: The Favourite made the top three, and the film you have rewatched the most left the other seven in the dust.

Without further ado, Letterboxd presents the 2019 “Most” Picture Awards, ranked by the number of members who’ve watched the 2019 Academy Award Best Picture nominees two or more times (total in brackets, as of today).

Each film features a review from its greatest fan, i.e. the Letterboxd member who has logged the film more than any other (at the time of writing).

And the 2019 “Most” Picture Awards go to…

1. Black Panther (13,268)

“Would I see this movie a personal record high of seven times in theaters? For Wakanda? Without question.” —Krys (12 watches, seven in cinemas)

2. A Star Is Born (5,943)

“TIRED: discourse about whether or not the film hates pop music, all think pieces about whether the film thinks Ally is a sell out and what that means for feminism, discourse on whether Why Did You Do That? is a bop or not.

WIRED: discourse about whether or not Jackson Maine even had an ass good enough to inspire such pop perfection.” —Juliette (16 watches)

3. The Favourite (5,378)

“I miss this so much I dreamt it. Instead of riding, Sarah was doing cartwheels.” —CBotty (15 watches)

4. Bohemian Rhapsody (4,928)

“The critics can go fuck themselves. THIS IS THE BEST MOVIE I HAVE SEEN! (for the fifth time).” —Iain (16 watches)

5. Roma (4,270)

“Yes I’ve seen this twice today, yes i cried like a bitch both times, yes this is the only movie.” —Eve (7 watches)

“My feelings regarding Roma are complicated to say the least. It’s like dating the girl of your dreams, only to realize that you are completely incompatible, which ends in desperate clinginess for an ideal that was never true to begin with. It’s been a strange journey of love, disappointment, and eventual acceptance, where I’ve come to terms with my feelings. I still admire the hell out of it, and I hope it wins all the awards in the world.” —Orrin (7 watches, admittedly more times than they have actually seen it)

6. BlacKkKlansman (3,669)

“This movie is so fucking powerful, and I loved every second of it.” —Kota (6 watches)

7. Green Book (1,370)

“OK what a way to start the new year. I love this movie so much. Viggo Mortensen and Mahershala Ali are for sure going to get nominated (and it’s well deserved).” —Anthony (5 watches)

8. Vice (1,164)

“8.4/10” —Harrison (4 watches)

Unpacking the re-watchability of A Star Is Born.

“I just expect it to be exactly what it is and to be there.”

Of the eight Best Picture finalists, Black Panther has been out the longest, had the largest budget, and has done the rounds of the streaming services. It was always gonna take the top spot in a rewatch match. But to figure out the rewatchability of second-place-getter A Star Is Born, we went to the film’s hardest stanner, Juliette, to help us understand why fans keep coming back even though it’s a complicated watch.

While Juliette’s multiple reviews are meme-tastic, quippy, punctuation-free gems of observation, when we asked her to explain herself, she went remarkably deep. Her replies may just make you want to take another look at Ally and Jack. [Note: this interview contains spoilers for the film’s plot.]

How many times do you think you have seen A Star Is Born? Juliette: I think I have seen the film sixteen times? I know for certain I have seen it fourteen times in theaters, but I’m not sure how many times I’ve watched it in the comfort of my own home since it’s been released on digital. There’s just something about the energy in a theater while this film is being screened. It gives me chills just thinking about it!

What keeps you coming back to it? It's so hard to pinpoint what exactly it is that draws me back to this film time and time again. I love a good love story when properly executed! I’m kind of obsessed with celebrity culture! I love a great musical! And like many people, the subjects of this film: alcoholism, mental illness, suicide, self-doubt, the cultivation of the self, love, mentorship, and reconciliation of one’s experiences with a flawed parental figure are all things that have permeated my life. Some of these things, I understand and have a firm grasp on, they feel definitive and their impacts are a tangible output. Some of these things, I still grapple with daily. There is little definition, largely just confusion and sporadic outbursts of pain.

When I return to this film, which I often do, the thing I don’t expect it to give me is answers. I don’t expect the film to be able to define for me what I must come to define for myself. I don’t expect it to clarify my confusion. I don’t expect it to eradicate the pain. I just expect it to be exactly what it is and to be there.

There’s a scene towards the end of this film where, while mourning the loss of his brother, Bobby explains how he heard one of Jackson’s songs performed at a bar. At first, it angers him. He feels like no one really knew Jackson. But then, something shifts and just hearing the song begins to soothe him. It reminds him that, in spite of their trauma and their turmoil, it isn’t all for nothing.

That’s what this film is for me. It soothes me. It reminds me that the facilitation of our healing can come through art. It reminds me that for people, who once felt broken and irreparable, it is possible to find love and happiness not just with another person, but within one’s self. It reminds me that our pain and our devastation can be met in equal measure with (and even maybe be overcome by) our brilliance, our triumph, and our devotion to one another.

What have you noticed with each rewatch? What I notice most with each subsequent rewatch of the film is what a massive undertaking the sound editing and mixing for this film must have been. I have such deep and profound respect and admiration for all the work that went into crafting the audio for this film! The film is such a visceral experience, one that truly engages all of the senses. I remember physically recoiling in the theater the first time I heard the sound of Jackson’s tinnitus. I remember feeling my entire seat shake in time with the music during the concert sequences.

I also have a sincere recommendation! Once you watch the film a few times, I really encourage you to watch the film just through the lens of watching Lukas Nelson & Promise of the Real in the background of the pivotal scenes. It adds so much dimension to scenes you thought you already knew!

What is the single greatest scene in this version of A Star Is Born? As clichéd or “basic” as it may seem to say, there is no denying that the greatest scene in this film is when Ally joins Jackson on stage and the two perform Shallow together. It’s a cataclysmic and mesmerizing moment.

It’s the way Jackson physically steps back and acquiesces his spotlight to new talent. It’s the combination of awe and support in Jackson’s eyes as he watches Ally assume center-stage. It’s the way Ally assumes her place at the mic for the first time. It’s how Ally—all at once terrified, shocked, overwhelmed, empowered, and free—finds a version of herself she had long thought impossible to access under the stage lights. The arc of which is punctuated by Gaga’s impeccable performance in this scene, most noticeably by the shift in her physicality, from her hands covering her eyes, unable to make eye contact, to grabbing the mic and belting her now patented cathartic wail.

It’s the way, two artists—no, two people—are separated physically on the stage singing into their individual microphones, but slowly find their way to meet in the middle and sing as one. In itself, this scene is the film in miniature. If this scene hadn’t worked, it’s very unlikely the rest of the film would have worked.

Not to mention, the scene is just absolutely stunning. Of course, the music is heavenly, that’s a given. In terms of the composition, I love how the camera moves around and captures each protagonist in different ways. And the color palette is gorgeous. The way that blue and red light dance around our protagonists throughout the sequence is just jaw-dropping. It’s the kind of high an artist, and in a turn a viewer, could spend their whole life chasing.

What do you wish haters understood about the film’s greatness? My first priority would be to tell the haters that Lady Gaga is not playing herself in A Star Is Born! Just because Gaga is a singer playing a singer, doesn’t mean she isn’t acting!

Furthermore, to me, it feels unfair that the power of her performance is sometimes diminished just because she sings in the film. Anyone can sing in a way that is technically proficient with enough training, but to tell a story through song? To act a song? To perform with every iota of your being musically? That’s a whole other skill and it is just as worthy of recognition and respect as any other leading performance this year.

Secondly, I would like to convey that just because something is a remake doesn’t mean that it lacks value or that it lacks something to say. I can’t pinpoint what exactly it is about this story that seems to capture the collective imagination every few decades, but I think it has something to do with how it presents ascension at the expense of descent, art as both artifice and freedom of authentic expression, and love in spite of sacrifice and self-destruction. There’s something about that cocktail that becomes the perfect receptacle for the expression and examination of our cultural anxieties.

Its malleable formula allows for questions to be asked about how we think about celebrity and fame, the self-identification process, and the value of art. In that sense, a remake of A Star Is Born is vital and refreshing, and certainly not tired and uninspired, and most importantly, it doesn’t lack something to say. It’s inherently reflective of the culture it was created in by its very nature. It allows us to ponder not just how Hollywood tells stories about itself, but also how we tell stories about ourselves. And if you ask me, there’s so much value in that.

What do you think should win Best Picture at this year’s Oscars? Well, I’m clearly biased towards A Star Is Born, but I would not be mad to see Roma or The Favourite walk off with the evening’s top prize!

What do you think will win Best Picture? My heart says Roma, my head says Green Book.

#oscars #oscars 2019 #academy awards #roma #best picture #the favourite #black panther #a star is born #film #movies #letterboxd

6 notes · View notes

ryanjdonovan · 2 years

Text

DONOVAN’S OSCAR PROGNOSTICATION 2022

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

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

BEST PICTURE:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BEST ACTOR:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BEST ACTRESS:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BEST DIRECTOR:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#oscars #oscarpredictions #oscarpredictions2022 #oscarprognostication2022 #donovansoscarprognostication2022 #oscars2022 #academyawards #academyaward

0 notes

cowcrook20 · 2 years

Text

The Twelve Tunes of 부산룸싸롱

The vacations are full of joyous feelings and also honored customs, consisting of the having fun of tunes concerning snowmen, St. Nick, evergreen trees, and provides finished up with big quite bows. Regardless of how you celebrate the period, you'll listen to these tracks on the radio, on TV, at the mall, in the workplace, and almost anywhere songs is executed. If you assume the same songs are played over and over, you're right, but if this troubles you, take into consideration the option: Christmas carols were prohibited in England in between 1649 and 1660. Oliver Cromwell, functioning as Lord Protector of Britain, believed Christmas must be austere as well as also outlawed celebrations, limiting celebrations to preachings and also petition solutions. Lots of holiday songs are cheery, several have spiritual overtones, and all are played so commonly that they know whatever your confidence. Yet what do you know about just how these tracks were developed and also individuals that wrote them? There are some remarkable realities behind this memorable songs. So, throw a log in the fire place, put on your own a warm toddy or some cold eggnog, as well as relax as we reveal the tricks behind most of the songs you are mosting likely to be hearing loads of times throughout December. " The Christmas Song," Mel Torme and Bob Wells, 1944. On a sweltering July day in Los Angeles, 19-year-old jazz vocalist Torme worked with 23-year-old Wells to develop this stunning song. Packed with freezing pictures and also a charming wistfulness for all the delights of the season, the track came to be an enormous hit by Nat "King" Cole the following year. In Torme's autobiography, he claims Wells had not been attempting to compose verses yet was merely writing concepts that would assist him forget about the heat wave. " The First Noel," Typical, 16th or 17th century. Some state this is a tune with a British history while others urge it has French beginnings. Until now, no person has any type of definitive proof. Two point are for certain: first, it's very popular if two nations are claiming it; and second, counting the title, the word "Noel" shows up in the song 30 times. " Hark! The Herald Angels Sing," Felix Mendelssohn, Charles Wesley, and also William Cummings, 1739-1855. Wesley's opening line was "Hark how all the welkin rings" and also he opposed when a colleague transformed it. Wesley wanted a sluggish as well as austere anthem for his tune, yet William Cummings established the lyrics to stimulating songs by Felix Mendolssohn (from a cantata regarding movable type innovator Johann Gutenberg). For his component, Mendolssohn defined that his composition just show up in a nonreligious context, not spiritual. So both initial writers' wishes were combated in the development of this marvelous song. " Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas," Hugh Martin and Ralph Blane, 1943. The songwriting team of Martin (songs) as well as Blane (lyrics) worked together for five years, creating Oscar- and also Tony-nominated tracks. This hauntingly wonderful song was made famous by Judy Garland in the 1944 film, "Meet Me in St. Louis." While the tune is a bittersweet treasure, the original verses were in fact darker and also not to Garland's preference. Given that she was a big star at the time, and also was dating the movie's director, Vincent Minnelli (she wed him the following year), the changes were made.

" I'll Be Home for Xmas," Kim Gannon and Walter Kent, 1942. Gannon (verses) and also Kent (author) worked usually together, yet despite having her three Academy Honor elections, absolutely nothing was as successful as this wartime tune. By getting it to Bing Crosby, they were ensured of large sales even though it competed with Crosby's recording of Irving Berlin's "White Christmas." The track is a perennial preferred, and also appears typically in movies, including "Capture Me If You Can" and "The Polar Express." " Jingle Bells," James Pierpont, 1850s. Beginning as a lively event of the Salem Street sleigh races, the track called "One-Horse Open Sleigh" made a rapid shift to the a lot more sober atmosphere of the church social and ended up being called "Jingle Bells." While there are four knowledgeables, only the initial is usually sung as a result of the lyrics in the staying 3 knowledgeables. A woman called Fannie Bright appears in verse 2, which also features a sleigh accident. The 3rd knowledgeable shows an anti-Samaritan laughing at a dropped sleigh chauffeur and leaving him sprawled in a snow bank, while the last knowledgeable deals such lines as "Go it while you're young" and also "Take the women tonight." Ah indeed, simply great tidy mid-nineteenth century enjoyable. " Happiness to the World," Isaac Watts and Lowell Mason, 1719 and also 1822. The words, inspired by the 98th Psalm, were written by Watts, a British priest, preacher, and also poet. Greater than a century later on, lender and choral educator Mason made up music for the item yet associated it to Handel, probably to make the hymn much more preferred. It took an additional century for the scam to be discovered. " Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer," Johnny Marks, 1949. Starting as a tinting book composed by advertising and marketing copywriter Robert L. May in 1939, the tale of a hated caribou overcoming adversity was a marketing product for Montgomery Ward outlet store. May's fairy-tale was immensely popular, as well as came to be much more so when May's brother-in-law, songwriter Marks, composed music as well as lyrics as well as got the composition to vocalist Gene Autry. That version offered 2 million copies the very first year alone. While most of the other reindeer names were invented by Clement Moore in his 1822 poem, "The Evening Prior To Christmas," the hero of the Might story was called Rollo. Wait, that name was nixed by store execs, so he came to be Reginald. Oops, that was declined, too. Ultimately, May's child recommended Rudolf. " Santa Claus is Pertaining To Community," Sanctuary Gillespie and also J. Fred Coots, 1932. After plenty of variations by stars as differed as Bruce Springsteen as well as Perry Como, it's hard to believe that Gillespie and Coots' track was refused around town since it was "a kid's track." 부산고구려 Even though Coots was an author on the Eddie Cantor radio show, Cantor at first handed down the song, only agreeing to do it at the urging of his partner. Currently it's so effective there's also a parody variation by Bob Rivers (in the design of Springsteen) called "Santa Claus is Foolin' Around." "Silent Evening," Joseph Mohr and also Franz X. Gruber, 1816-1818. There are numerous stories as well as whimsical speculations regarding the origin of this gorgeous song. Tossing aside the more lurid stories, we are entrusted to this: the poem, "Stille Nacht," was written by Mohr, who became assistant pastor of the St. Nicholas Church (truly!) in Oberndorf, Austria. Mohr gave the rhyme to Gruber, the church organist, reportedly on Christmas Eve, 1818, and also was done that same midnight. Unusually, the initial variation did not entail an organ, however was scheduled two voices, guitar and choir. Both Mohr as well as Gruber produced manuscripts with various instrumentation at different times from 1820 to 1855. The tune first made its means around the globe as a "Tyrolean Individual Tune" prior to acquiring sufficient popularity to be quickly identified with its very first two words or initial four notes. The Quiet Night Websites (www.silentnight.web.za) asserts there are more than 300 translations of the track and also functions web links to 180 variations in 121 languages. "The Twelve Days of Xmas," Typical, 16th Century. Okay, allow's obtain the two most preferred misconceptions out of the way: the lots days are December 26 via January 6, and there is no concealed religious definition to the lyrics. It's merely a tune that's likewise a memory video game. Little brother sings a line, you sing two lines, Aunt Lucy sings 3 lines, and so forth around the area. This passed for a good time in 1590. The "four calling birds" are an additional prominent mistaken belief. It's in fact "4 colley birds" (or blackbirds). Besides the 7 swans a-swimming as well as 6 geese a-laying, there are more birds in the verses than you may assume, as "5 golden rings" in fact describes ring-necked birds, such as pheasants. "White Christmas," Irving Berlin, 1942. Occasionally taken into consideration America's most popular holiday track, Berlin composed it for a film soundtrack ("Holiday Inn" starring Bing Crosby and Fred Astaire). With its peaceful power and also classy longing for the basic pleasures of the past, it was the ideal song for the bleak months during the middle of The second world war. Composer Berlin was negative regarding the tune when he initially provided it to Crosby, however Bing's self-confidence was well-founded. Generating a film of its very own (1954's "White Christmas" with Crosby as well as Danny Kaye), the tune hit the Top 30 almost 20 times and also has currently offered more than 30 million duplicates. There are reportedly 500+ videotaped versions of the tune in two lots languages.

#부산 고구려

0 notes

cowface06 · 2 years

Text

The Twelve Tracks of 부산고구려

The holidays are full of joyous feelings as well as honored customs, consisting of the playing of tunes about snowmen, St. Nick, evergreen trees, and also offers completed with big pretty bows. Regardless of exactly how you celebrate the season, you'll hear these tunes on the radio, on TV, at the shopping center, in the office, and nearly anywhere music is performed. If you assume the exact same tracks are played over as well as over, you're right, but if this troubles you, take into consideration the alternative: Xmas carols were prohibited in England between 1649 and also 1660. Oliver Cromwell, acting as Lord Guard of Britain, thought Xmas needs to be solemn and likewise outlawed events, limiting parties to sermons as well as prayer solutions. Great deals of holiday tracks are festive, numerous have spiritual overtones, and all are played so typically that they know whatever your confidence. But what do you find out about how these tracks were created as well as individuals that composed them? There are some interesting facts behind this unforgettable songs. So, throw a visit the fire place, pour yourself a warm toddy or some chilly eggnog, and also unwind as we disclose the secrets behind most of the songs you are mosting likely to be hearing lots of times throughout December. " The Christmas Song," Mel Torme as well as Bob Wells, 1944. On a sweltering July day in Los Angeles, 19-year-old jazz singer Torme worked with 23-year-old Wells to produce this attractive tune. Full of icy images as well as a captivating wistfulness for all the delights of the season, the track came to be an enormous hit by Nat "King" Cole the following year. In Torme's autobiography, he claims Wells had not been attempting to write lyrics but was merely writing down concepts that would help him forget about the heat wave. " The First Noel," Standard, 16th or 17th century. Some state this is a track with a British background while others urge it has French beginnings. Thus far, no one has any clear-cut evidence. 2 thing are for certain: first, it's very popular if two countries are declaring it; and also 2nd, counting the title, words "Noel" shows up in the track 30 times. " Hark! The Herald Angels Sing," Felix Mendelssohn, Charles Wesley, as well as William Cummings, 1739-1855. Wesley's opening line was "Hark how all the welkin rings" as well as he opposed when an associate changed it. Wesley desired a slow-moving as well as solemn anthem for his tune, however William Cummings set the verses to rousing music by Felix Mendolssohn (from a cantata concerning movable type developer Johann Gutenberg). For his component, Mendolssohn specified that his composition only appear in a nonreligious context, not spiritual. So both original writers' dreams were combated in the production of this marvelous song. " Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas," Hugh Martin as well as Ralph Blane, 1943. The songwriting team of Martin (music) and also Blane (verses) collaborated for five years, producing Oscar- and Tony-nominated tunes. This hauntingly lovely tune was made popular by Judy Garland in the 1944 film, "Meet Me in St. Louis." While the track is a bittersweet gem, the original verses were actually darker and not to Garland's taste. Because she was a huge star at the time, as well as was dating the film's director, Vincent Minnelli (she married him the list below year), the adjustments were made. " I'll Be Home for Christmas," Kim Gannon and also Walter Kent, 1942. Gannon (lyrics) as well as Kent (composer) worked frequently together, but even with her three Academy Award nominations, absolutely nothing was as successful as this war time track. By getting it to Bing Crosby, they were ensured of big sales although it took on Crosby's recording of Irving Berlin's "White Christmas." The tune is a seasonal favorite, as well as shows up frequently in films, including "Catch Me If You Can" and "The Polar Express."

" Jingle Bells," James Pierpont, 1850s. Starting as a vibrant party of the Salem Street sleigh races, the tune called "One-Horse Open Sleigh" made a rapid change to the more sober ambience of the church social and also became referred to as "Jingle Bells." While there are four knowledgeables, just the very first is generally sung because of the verses in the staying 3 knowledgeables. A female named Fannie Bright appears in verse 2, which also includes a sleigh collision. The 3rd knowledgeable displays an anti-Samaritan laughing at a dropped sleigh driver as well as leaving him stretched in a snow financial institution, while the final knowledgeable deals such lines as "Go it while you're young" as well as "Take the girls tonight." Ah indeed, simply good tidy mid-nineteenth century fun. " Delight to the World," Isaac Watts and Lowell Mason, 1719 as well as 1822. The words, influenced by the 98th Psalm, were written by Watts, a British priest, preacher, as well as poet. Greater than a century later, banker as well as choral teacher Mason composed songs for the piece however associated it to Handel, probably to make the hymn more prominent. It took an additional century for the hoax to be uncovered. " Rudolph, the Red-Nosed Reindeer," Johnny Marks, 1949. Starting as a coloring publication composed by advertising and marketing copywriter Robert L. May in 1939, the story of a hated caribou overcoming misfortune was a marketing product for Montgomery Ward chain store. 해운대고구려 Might's fairy-tale was significantly preferred, and also came to be even more so when May's brother-in-law, songwriter Marks, composed music as well as lyrics and also got the structure to singer Genetics Autry. That variation sold 2 million copies the first year alone. While the majority of the other reindeer names were created by Clement Moore in his 1822 poem, "The Evening Before Christmas," the hero of the May tale was called Rollo. Wait, that name was nixed by store execs, so he ended up being Reginald. Oops, that was declined, also. Finally, May's little girl suggested Rudolf. " Santa Claus is Pertaining To Town," Haven Gillespie as well as J. Fred Coots, 1932. After countless versions by stars as varied as Bruce Springsteen and also Perry Como, it's unsubstantiated that Gillespie as well as Coots' track was rejected around town due to the fact that it was "a child's track." Despite the fact that Coots was an author on the Eddie Cantor radio show, Cantor in the beginning passed on the tune, only agreeing to do it at the urging of his other half. Currently it's so effective there's even a parody variation by Bob Rivers (in the style of Springsteen) called "Santa Claus is Foolin' Around." "Quiet Night," Joseph Mohr and also Franz X. Gruber, 1816-1818. There are numerous tales and also whimsical suppositions concerning the origin of this lovely tune. Discarding the extra lurid stories, we are left with this: the rhyme, "Stille Nacht," was written by Mohr, who came to be assistant priest of the St. Nicholas Church (actually!) in Oberndorf, Austria. Mohr offered the poem to Gruber, the church organist, supposedly on Xmas Eve, 1818, and also was done that exact same midnight. Oddly, the very first variation did not involve a body organ, however was scheduled two voices, guitar and also choir. Both Mohr as well as Gruber developed manuscripts with various instrumentation at numerous times from 1820 to 1855. The tune first made its method around the world as a "Tyrolean Individual Song" prior to obtaining sufficient fame to be promptly identified with its initial 2 words or first four notes. The Silent Evening Website (www.silentnight.web.za) claims there are greater than 300 translations of the track and attributes links to 180 versions in 121 languages. "The Twelve Days of Xmas," Standard, 16th Century. Okay, let's obtain both most popular misconceptions off the beaten track: the lots days are December 26 through January 6, and also there is no concealed spiritual definition to the verses. It's merely a song that's likewise a memory game. Little bro sings a line, you sing 2 lines, Auntie Lucy sings three lines, and so forth around the room. This masqueraded a great time in 1590. The "4 calling birds" are an additional prominent mistaken belief. It's in fact "4 colley birds" (or blackbirds). Besides the 7 swans a-swimming and 6 geese a-laying, there are a lot more birds in the lyrics than you might think, as "five golden rings" really refers to ring-necked birds, such as pheasants. "White Christmas," Irving Berlin, 1942. In some cases taken into consideration America's most popular vacation track, Berlin composed it for a motion picture soundtrack ("Vacation Inn" starring Bing Crosby and Fred Astaire). With its silent power and elegant longing for the simple enjoyments of the past, it was the excellent song for the gloomy months throughout the center of World War II. Author Berlin was not positive concerning the tune when he initially provided it to Crosby, yet Bing's self-confidence was proven. Generating a film of its own (1954's "White Xmas" with Crosby as well as Danny Kaye), the tune struck the Top 30 almost 20 times and also has now marketed more than 30 million copies. There are reportedly 500+ videotaped versions of the listen two lots languages.

#부산 고구려

0 notes

seriouslyhooked · 6 years

Text

Scoring Your Love (Part 4/?)

Modern AU where Killian is a world famous soccer star who has hit rock bottom and been sentenced to the place where ‘football’ legends go to die – America. While here he crosses paths with Emma, an up and coming musician and film scorer who challenges everything he thought he knew and makes him want more than the game he’s always loved. Will be filled with fluff for days, and eventually rated M.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three. Story also on FF here and AO3 here.

A/N: Hey everyone! So this chapter we are back to just an Emma POV but as I said before, the eventual reunion of Emma and Killian is coming and we will get a little taste of that here. We’re picking up a few days after the Oscars, though there will be some mention of it, and Emma and her friends have all collected for a special outing. Can anyone guess what that might be given the obvious breadcrumbs I’ve provided? I’m sure you can. Anyway, hope you guys enjoy and thanks so much for reading!

“So if you had to guess, what does one actually wear to a soccer game?” Ruby asked Emma from the doorway of their living room. “Is this like comfy casual, or is it like that time we went to the Lakers game and didn’t get the memo?”

“Oh God I hope not,” Emma replied, recalling the time one of Ruby’s many admirers had gifted her with four tickets to a professional basketball game only for the friends to be dressed in t-shirts and surrounded by women ready for the club. It was staggering to see, especially since every man there was in fan gear and couldn’t give less of a damn, but apparently sitting in the good seats at the Staples Center demanded more fabulocity than any of them realized. “Mary Margaret mentioned she’s wearing her jersey so I would assume it’s pretty normal.”

“Thank God,” Ruby exhaled with just a touch of drama. “I love a good excuse to dress up, but I think Sunday was enough glam for one week.”

Emma totally agreed with her there, thinking back to what was probably the biggest night of her career so far and the culture shock it had been. Not even forty-eight hours ago Emma and Ruby had been standing at the center of one of the glitziest nights of the Los Angeles year, the Academy Awards. It was the talk of the town and ‘everybody who was anybody’ was there. In some ways it had been fascinating, to see what kind of process went into making a show that would be watched by millions across the country, and even at the most trying of moments Emma had felt the honor of being nominated amongst some really impressive professionals. But in her heart Emma hadn’t been all that impressed and she certainly wouldn’t consider it a fun outing.

If anything the tiers of importance that this industry boasted had been too fully on display to ever feel really comfortable. There were the people who were deemed worthy, like the big time actors and directors, and then there were the others, people who had worked just as hard if not harder on their craft but who didn’t get the same kind of attention. Emma had born witness to that as the hours of the evening progressed, and though she never wanted the kind of fame that would come from those more public roles, Emma still felt the not so subtle tension. There was a complete lack of balance on display there, and that underlying strain was all the more awkward when everyone was dressed to the nines, networking and mingling, and drinking champagne for hours with no actual food provided by the venue.

From Emma’s estimation, most of the people in her particular field would agree with her assessment that award shows weren’t the most rewarding part of this work. No one entered the business of scoring movies for the prestige and fan adoration, but there had been one person at her table who loved every moment of the evening and that was Ruby. In that at least Emma had been fully content, because even if she felt kind of ridiculous sitting there, Ruby had made the evening as fun and enjoyable as she could. The commentary she’d let loose throughout the telecast and the rest of the awards was filled with her usual biting humor and Ruby also made friends very easily, breaking the ice for Emma and letting her feel far more at ease than she ever would have felt on her own.

“Honestly that was enough glam for a lifetime,” Emma replied and Ruby rolled her eyes at the thought, making Emma smile. Knowing her roommate there would be some other Hollywood event Emma was dragged to in the coming weeks that, while not so extravagant, would require a level of presentability above her normal attire. And though Emma feigned like it was torture, she’d still go to support Ruby no matter what because that was what best friends did.

“Clearly we have to find you some new hobbies like Mary Margaret’s. You would think this preview game was bigger than the Oscars she’s that freaking excited. I mean honestly, the way she makes it sound she had a better chance of winning the lottery than scoring these tickets.”

“Well whatever the chances were, one thing is for certain – she is going to kill us if we’re late and I’m not ready to face the wrath of Mary Margaret, are you?”

Emma’s question inspired Ruby to actually get moving, and luckily just the thought of their usually chipper friend’s anger and disappointment was enough to get them up and out of the apartment in a timely fashion. The universe appeared to be on their side the whole way there too since traffic was light and parking was blessedly easy to find, but it became more and more clear as Emma and Ruby made their way to the stadium that this wasn’t the boring, basic practice they were expecting. This place was packed with people and Emma for one was shocked given how little enthusiasm most people in America seemed to have for the sport.

“Jesus, this is actual mayhem,” Ruby said at one point as she scanned the crowds for Mary Margaret and their other friend Belle. “I’m actually kind of digging it.”

“Of course you are,” Emma replied with a smirk and a shake of her head. “You live for chaos.”

“Well yeah, I mean it makes for a great story, and what is an actress if not a storyteller?”

“What is she indeed,” Emma laughed before spotting her other friends across the way and pulling Ruby along with her. It took a bit of time, but once they were all united, Emma was happy for it and glad to see they still had sufficient time to get into the park and to their seats. She was also astonished at just how exuberant Mary Margaret was. Her friend was typically an excitable person, but she was practically buzzing with energy today and her smile was infectious, like watching a kid experience their first candy store or opening presents on Christmas.

“Emma! Ruby! You made it! Oh my gosh - I mean this is just so far beyond awesome. I can’t believe we’re really here. We are really here!”

“Has she been like this all morning?” Emma asked Belle after hugging her friends in greeting and Belle nodded.

“Oh yeah. It’s been a solid twenty four hours of sports references I do not understand and actual squeals of delight.”

“You’re kidding,” Emma said, looking back to Mary Margaret who was now chatting Ruby’s ear off as they headed through the gate after scanning their tickets and being admitted inside.

“Remember when the last Harry Potter book came out and I completely lost my cool?” Belle asked, reminding Emma of another enjoyable evening in the early years of their friendship as she nodded. “It’s been worse than that. She makes me look like a casual Rowling reader.”

“Wow. So we’re really in for something today, huh? It would help if I knew anything about soccer. They kick the ball into the net right?”

“Emma!” Mary Margaret chastised, having now started listening to the conversation and Emma laughed heartily at that.

“Mary Margaret I’m kidding. I know soccer, okay? At least enough to get by. Trust me, after all these years of being your friend I’ve picked up on some stuff.”

“Well that makes one of us,” Belle said with a sigh. “I swear all I’ve got at this point is ‘Killian Jones is the best player in the world,’ and that’s because I heard it on repeat almost nonstop for the past month.”

Emma found herself stumbling a bit at the mention of the team’s star player, not because there was anything obstructing her path, but because that name meant something to her. Killian – now how common a name could that really be? She’d never met someone with the name before that she could recall, but only the other day she’d run into someone – someone who had made Emma feel something she hadn’t felt in a long time – and he too was named Killian. It felt like a very small world all of a sudden, but Emma shook it off, knowing rationally that there was no chance in hell they would ever be the same guy. Soccer stars, and international ones at that, did not gallivant around LA in leather jackets and shades. They just didn’t… right?

“You joke Belle, but you’re all going to see exactly what I mean once this game starts,” Mary Margaret said after finding their seats, which were surprisingly fantastic, and leading them all into the stands. “We already had a good team, a strong showing for the MLS, but with Jones… there will be no stopping us and maybe we’ll actually win a damn tournament for once!”

“Aren’t there only like twenty American teams? How bad can they really be?” Emma asked. “Also didn’t they just win that tournament thingy a few years ago?”

“Yeah but that was just the MLS cup. There’s international rankings we never qualify for and… really when you think about it anything but being number one is less than the best,” Mary Margaret said casually. “And they could be the best.”

“God I love when you get crazy competitive,” Ruby said with a genuine sense of happiness. “It means we get to scream our heads off all game and be totally nuts. It’ll also help me prep for that audition I’m doing next week. I’m supposed to be a jilted lover and I mean rage is rage right?”

“Oh yeah,” Emma agreed. “Just wait for a ref to give a bad call and Mary Margaret will give you all the character notes you need.”

Soon thereafter the stadium began to get more active. The people in charge of getting the place ready came out as practice prep began, but Emma was content to chat with her friends as Mary Margaret randomly threw in statistics here and there about assists and scoring and defensive tackles. It mostly went in one ear and out the other for Emma, but then something shifted and Mary Margaret was totally animated again.

“Oh my god, here they come!”

The friends turned in the direction of the tunnel through which the teams were exiting, and Emma noted the clear athleticism on display here. Soccer players might not be as big and bulky as football or hockey players, but Emma knew once this game started they’d be sprinting all over the place and playing to impress. No one got to this level, American league or not, and didn’t have talent and she was excited to see that even if she didn’t have nearly as much invested in this as Mary Margaret. As she scanned the oncoming players though, one particular man on the field caught her eye and her heart clenched tightly in her chest in the moment just before recognition set in.

Holy shit that’s him! That’s Killian! Emma thought to herself as her body flooded with a newfound sense of anticipation. Her hands began to shake and her pulse picked up its pace as she stood there, taking in a man who was little more than a stranger but who Emma hadn’t been able to forget since the moment they met. Out here on the field he looked different than he had on the street, but the uniform didn’t do anything to undermine his appeal. If anything Emma was more aware of how handsome he was now, noting the way that he appeared natural and at ease even with the eyes of thousands of people watching him right now.

“I can’t believe it’s really him!” Mary Margaret yelped as she grabbed Emma’s hand. “Killian Jones in the flesh. Can you believe it?”

“I can’t,” Emma whispered, and she meant it to. She hadn’t imagined it possible, but there was no denying it now, her Killian and the Killian Jones of international soccer renown were the same person. Well no wonder he’d thought a date with him was God’s gift – he’d probably never been turned down in his life. His good looks alone were enough to tempt anybody, but throw in the money and the fame and… well let’s just say Emma could understand that level of cockiness he’d tossed her way before.

“Mm, Mm, Mm. Those pictures do not do that man justice. He is h-o-t hot!” Ruby said with a wolfish grin. “But to be fair, they’re all hot.”

“Yeah they are,” Belle agreed. “You should have told us Mary Margaret! I would have been watching soccer with you way sooner if I’d known.”

Mary Margaret harrumphed at the joke and instead changed the subject to the game ahead and the stakes before them. They were playing one of their top rivals in the league, and apparently that was important because of blah blah blah, but try as she might Emma couldn’t pay attention. In fact, she couldn’t even seem to tear her gaze away from the field. She was instead watching Killian and trying to wrap her brain around how this was really happening. How had she flirted and ultimately turned down a guy like this without knowing? And why did she feel in her gut right now (and pretty much ever since the incident) that she wished things had gone differently than they had?

At that very moment something even more remarkable than his being there happened. As if she’s summoned him with her thoughts, Killian turned in her direction, and even though she was in a sea of people, she knew that he saw her. Their gazes caught and here she was all over again getting sucked into the mysterious force from this man that called to her. She felt exposed like this, as if he could see her fully, past all the walls and guards she put up to the world, but somehow she wasn’t afraid of it. Because the look in his blue eyes right now wasn’t arrogant or resentful – it was earnest and kind. He seemed softer now, but that intensity remained and Emma was drawn to it, wanting this strange sort of reunion to be happening anywhere else where they could actually do something more than look at one another in shock and wonder.

“Emma, are you okay?” Ruby asked, pulling Emma’s attention from the field and Emma looked over at Ruby, trying to put on a poker face, but through some sort of best friend ESP, and through looking in the direction Emma had been staring, Ruby made the connection of what Emma was going through. “Wait, that’s Killian?! Your Killian? The guy you-,”

“Yes, Ruby, that’s him,” Emma said, interrupting what would no doubt be lengthy commentary about Emma’s confession to her friends about the interaction she and Killian had on the street.

“No wonder you’ve been all moody and quiet. How did you possibly turn him down?” her friend asked, pretending to fan herself as she glanced back at the field.

“He was an ass. Totally full of himself, arrogant, basically everything wrong with men,” Emma said, but even as the words floated out into the air she felt a twinge of doubt.

Had he really been that bad? Or had he been flirting with her and just chosen the wrong thing to say? Lord knew she’d been called overly sensitive a time or two, but she’d never given that criticism any thought. Now though she wondered at her own actions and that instinct to judge and write him off. Excessive cockiness or not that spark was still there. Even all the way across this field Emma felt wrapped up in just the sight of him, and that look in his eye that he kept sending her way… well it was clear his interest hadn’t dried up at all.

“Well Ems, he’s rich, famous, and hot. Given those qualifications, when is the last time you think a woman said no to him?”

“Never,” all the friends agreed at the same time.

“Still that’s no excuse,” Emma said, sticking firm to the belief that guys who showed colors like that were best avoided given her track record.

“No, it’s not,” Mary Margaret acknowledged. “But maybe you caught him on a bad day or something?”

Emma could hear her friend trying to be positive about what was likely totally typical behavior for this man. Despite what he made her feel, Killian Jones was a player, at least if the little she’d listened to was true. Ruby had hit the nail on the head with all those aspects of him that would appeal to people, but their meeting indicated that he had a sense of entitlement because of it that Emma couldn’t stand. Still even at his worst Emma had this niggling sense that she wasn’t seeing him fully. It hadn’t felt right that he acted that way given the start of their conversation, and though her sort of superpower usually only extended to telling if someone was lying, she hadn’t been able to shake the idea that there was more to Killian than a lot of hot air and sweet nothings. It was those eyes of his – they’d conveyed something to her that made her heart skip and butterflies appear out of nowhere. It was totally terrifying, but at the beginning of their interlude she’d been brave enough to stay, because scary as it was it also felt so incredibly promising.

“Doesn’t matter now,” Emma said resolutely after shaking her head. “Because it was a one time thing.”

“You keep telling yourself that, girl.” Ruby taunted playfully as Emma ripped her eyes back from the field and turned towards her friends who all looked pleased as punch at having just witnessed her overt ogling of the pride and joy of the LA Galaxy. “Damn this is going to be so good. There’s no way he’s letting you go now.”

Emma tried to shake that comment off, but as the game began and Emma watched the match with rapt attention she had to say she agreed with Ruby’s assessment. Try as she might to deny Killian’s lingering interest, there was more than a couple of too-long glances in her direction cast during the game, and every time their gazes met Emma could feel the plea behind his look. She honestly swore she could hear his voice in her head it was so clear:

Just give me one more chance, love. I swear you won’t regret it.

And funnily enough Emma didn’t think she would. She just had to figure out when to tell him as much, and with her scheming friends at her side, she was pretty assured that an opportunity would present itself if only she were patient.

Post-Note: Okay so I know it’s not fair to kind of leave this dangling as is, but what can I say? I’ve been missing these shorter chapter story styles and given my current lack of ability to write it seems like the safest bet to getting the story out there at a regular pace. Not to worry though – next chapter we’ll pick up right here only from Killian’s point of view. You can expect an actual meeting then and I’ll be giving Killian his second chance at making a better impression with his Swan. Expect the fluff to come and then we’ll get to the cuteness of dating and all that fun stuff. Anyway hope you guys liked it chapter and let me know what you thought!

#captain swan #captain swan au #captain swan fic #cs fic #cs ff #cs au #captain swan ff #cs fluff #cs mc #emma swan #killian jones #the whole storybrooke gang #cs soccer fic #soccer star killian #musician!Emma #scoring your love #scoring 4 #scoring your love au

20 notes · View notes