TEN films up for Best Picture. Ten! The news straight from the mouth of Anne Hathaway, this year’s host for the 5:30am Oscar nominations junket. I wonder though, did she just start ad-libbing during the ceremony, naming every movie she saw last year instead of sticking to the teleprompter? Shut up, Anne! Stay on Message, Anne! A backstage panic ensues. They adapt. And then there were Ten.
Just a theory.
I’ve resisted seeing Avatar and that Nazi flick too. Something about James Horner soundtracks and skull-crushing violence. “The Hurt Locker”, now that was impressive. If the Academy doesn’t fork over the gold to its director, Ms. Bigelow, I will be one angry couch potato. But new rule time? Can we please stop calling them nods? As in, “Mr. Streep gets her 16th nod”. Mr. Potato Head does not approve of this lingo. Indeed, he is quite tired of it.
More perplexing than cheap expression is a Best Makeup category. For this Edith Head era snoozer, our choices are three: “Young Victoria”, “Star Trek”, and some foreign flick. I’m presuming that pointy ears constitute makeup. And certainly all those powder heads in Victoria needed an excessive amount of foundation. But this award, it’s so utilitarian. Why not have a Best Gaffer, or my personal favorite, an honor for Best Best Boy? And where are the Pet Wrangler awards? I swear I can hear the murmur of discontent among these animal whispering thespians every Oscar season.
The full list, please: