Home for the Holidays

This past weekend I ended up going to two holiday parties and separately watching both parts of the John Hughes/Chris Columbus latch-key kid manifesto known as Home Alone. Having not watched either film since I was a child, I had actually forgotten just how much I loved these movies. When the films were released in the Christmases of 1990 and 1992, I doubt my 6-year-old self had any greater joy in the world than seeing Joe Pesci and Daniel Stern getting ruthlessly maimed by the precocious wise-cracking Macaulay Culkin. It's actually pretty clear watching them now why the first one was the third highest-grossing film of all time at its release, and was possibly the greatest cinematic event to children of my generation. It's a remarkably well-made film with a kick-ass soundtrack that succeeds in taking one of the most ridiculous premises of all time and almost making it seem plausible. So much so in fact, that my friends and I would go into my garage and piece together random stuff to try and come up with booby traps we could lay in case an intruder ever entered my house, which in hindsight, would most certainly have all failed against any motivated adult criminal.

So as a responsible adult now, I feel like it's my duty to go through and see what other lessons are to be learned from these films. This is what I learned. . .

1) Peter and Kate McCallister are terrible terrible parents

The fact that they unwittingly abandoned their son while rushing to catch an international flight might be chalked up to simple bad luck, but the fact that they did it two years in a row borders on criminal negligence. I'm frankly surprised that the police that the McCallisters plead their story to in the sequel don't immediately call child protective services. I could write a 9/11-style report on the levels of systemic parental failings that had to occur to allow the plots of these films to happen. Ignoring the fact that they punish their children for mundane sibling bickering by putting them in solitary confinement in the attic, they then neglect to even wake them up in the morning, they fail to notice his absence in the airport shuttle or the security line at the airport, and don't bother to double check that all their children have boarded before selfishly making their way to their luxurious first class seats, as they also apparently despise their children so much that they buy first class plane tickets for themselves while completely segregating their children in coach. As a result they can't even verify the absence of one of their kids until they're halfway across the Atlantic.

So how did the film convince my 6-year-old self that the parents in it are not the neglectful monsters that they are? First, John Heard and Catherine O'Hara are both so ridiculously likable that they seem incapable of being anything other than kind and well-meaning (they secretly love their kids - they just need two years of botched vacations to make them realize it!). Secondly, the film makes it seem like the McCallister family is so large and unwieldy that mistakes like this are just bound to happen. Never mind the fact that all of their other children are complete assholes. In actuality, the McCallister clan is comprised of two sets of parents with 4 or 5 kids each (something I strangely never picked up on when I watched these films as a child). Supervising children can be tough, but I've watched enough "Jon and Kate Plus 8" to know that even the most incompetent of parents can keep track of five fucking kids. And lastly, it totally relies on the incompetence of all of the service employees that Kevin deals with, who fail to notice how insane it is that a 10-year-old child is flying, buying groceries, riding in cabs, going up to the observation deck of the World Trade Center, and checking into hotels completely without supervision. Sure, it's easy enough to be fooled by the charms of a precocious, well-spoken child with a plausible back story, but the only character who even remotely tries to intervene is Tim Curry's cartoonishly evil hotel concierge.

2) Large Irish-Catholic families are a logistical nightmare

The McCallisters hardly seem able to get their children in one place long enough to eat dinner, let alone get them all on the same trans-Atlantic flight. The McCallister house is so unruly in fact, that in the opening of the film they fail to notice the suspicious-looking man standing in the foyer of their home doing a terrible job impersonating a Chicago police officer while he cases the joint for a robbery. If there's a better case for the use of birth control, I'd like to see it.

3) American Airlines sucks

For as much product placement as there is in these two films for the airline, you'd think somebody would have noticed how badly the airline and its staff come off. They completely ignore the standard airline practice of making sure that all minors are either accompanied by their guardians or are escorted by airline staff. They're also totally unable to help a distraught mother find a single open seat on any flight going from the sixth busiest airport in the world to the third (which incidentally happens to be that airline's hub). The only thing that can be said about American Airlines is that the Mrs. McCallister is so happy with her service that she apparently doesn't even bother looking into flights from other airlines.

4) Sadistic physical abuse and torture are okay when somebody is trying to break into your house or a toy store for which you have a mild attachment, and are preferable to contacting law enforcement

By Warner Bros-style cartoon violence standards, none of the cruelties that Kevin McCallister sets against the Wet Bandits are anything particularly egregious. However, in a world where people don't collapse into a pancake and pop up like an accordion when hit with a heavy objects, the pain that he inflicts on the home invaders is nothing short of psychotic (and their ability to endure it is inhuman). Of the traps that Kevin sets for Marv and Harry, the most painful would probably include: being shot in the genitals with an air rifle; having your scalp incinerated by a blow torch; stepping on broken glass and rusty nails with bare feet; and blunt force trauma from countless paint cans, bricks, and lead pipes. Assuming that any person could survive that level of abuse, the joy that Kevin takes in it is truly perverse. Really, how much different would it be for him to chain the two of them to pipes and tell them to saw off their own legs or strap them in a chair and start drilling their teeth. Though I suppose they probably deserve it for continuing to try and break into a house that they know is occupied by this remorseless Rambo child, rather than seeking the medical attention that they both desperately need.

5) Frightening, vagrantly-looking loners are actually just kind, misunderstood souls who will save you when the people you've been torturing all night have you trapped

Kevin is initially terrified by his bearded snow shoveling neighbor, just as he is by the creepy Irish pigeon lady he meets in Central Park in the second film. But he soon learns not to judge these people by their appearance. He learns that the snow shovel man is just giving him threatening looks because he's sad and misses his estranged son, and that the derelict bird lady of Carnegie Hall is actually not a vile pitri dish of contagious disease, and that she doesn't suffer from severe mental illness. Contrary to every episode of "Law & Order: SVU" I've ever seen, reclusive strangers that are inexplicably friendly to small children are generally just watching out for them until their parents get back.

Actually I think this video pretty well sums up my feelings on these movies. . .

Blogging The Oscars

8:30 - NPH musical numbers always deliver

8:40 - Joke about Christoph Waltz hunting Jews - cut to Ethan Coen

8:42 - Clooney faking (?) being mad about jokes at his expense

8:50 - Christoph Waltz gives surprisingly earnest speech. Mak

9:08 - Crazy Heart Song wins. Is T Bone Burnett high? Where's Woody Harrelson?

9:20 - Hurt Locker writer gives moving speech that makes me feel bad for rooting for Quentin Tarantino.

9:30 - Is any part of Molly Ringwald's face still organic?

9:40 - John Hughes montage showcases many great films, none of which were ever noninated for Academy Awards. Too little too late.

9:45 - Cadre of John Hughes actors reads like a cautionary tale for how not to age gracefully

9:50 - Ben Stiller presents makeup award dressed in Na'Vi makeup. Funniest thing Ben Stiller has done since Zoolander

9:55 - Is it just me or is the queueing off music weirdly sad?

10:00 - Precious writer might be drunk. . . or on ludes. Either way good job getting him off the stage before he falls over.

10:25 - Kristen Stewart and Taylor Lautner introduce horror montage. Are they aware that Twilight isn't actually a horror film?

10:32 - Hurt Locker winning sound awards is my Oscar pool Waterloo

10:39 - James Taylor sings Beatles song to death montage. RIP John Hughes, David Carradine, Dom Deluis. Wait, what's MJ doing in this thing?

10:49 - Interpretive dance medley includes pop-and-lock routine to atonal Hurt Locker score.

11:06 - The Cove wins best documentary. In case you're curious, the guy accepting this award IS the Indian guy from Short Circuit.

11:15 - On my 5th bright blue Avatar-themed cocktail. . . and I think I'm pretty much checked out. This thing needs to end soon.

11:32 - The Dude wins. Starting to get the feeling that Jeff Bridges is never actually acting.

11:49 - Sandra Bullock reprises her last night's Razzy award win. Continues to blur line between these two awards.

11:55 - Kathryn Bigelow wins victory for female Hollywood directors everywhere. All three of them.

11:58 - Hurt Locker closes the deal. Now all Avatar has to show for its achievements is its legions of worldwide fans and record-setting grosses.

Pre-Gaming the Oscars

Though I've more or less ignored my blog for the last year, this years Oscars are so ridiculous, I'd be a chump not to write a post on them. From everything I've read about the ceremony, it will be nothing short of the most shameless exercise in least-common-denominator pandering you've ever seen. 2 hosts. 10 Best Picture nominees. Preferential ballots. No lame Melissa Etheridge songs. I'm just shocked they didn't ask Larry the Cable Guy to host.

Of course, with that said, I am mostly (mostly) pretty happy about the nominees and predicted front-runners. So here goes with the prognosticating. . .

Best Picture

Cynical Prediction: Avatar
Idealistic Prediction: Inglourious Basterds

Although The Hurt Locker is probably more likely to upset Avatar in this one, I'm much more entertained by the possibility of Basterds stealing Cameron's thunder, and the preferential ballot system completely leaves open the possibility of something whacky like that happening. Though with that said, you'd have trouble making the argument that Avatar isn't the greatest cinematic achievement in the last decade at least. You know, for whatever that's worth.

Best Director

Cynical Prediction: James Cameron for Avatar
Idealistic Prediction: Kathryn Bigelow for Hurt Locker

At this point a Best Director seems like a inadequate award to give Cameron anymore (he's clearly just holding out for a lifetime achievement award anyway). Might as well give it to someone that'll actually appreciate it. Also this is clearly one of those situations where the award is meant to compensate for earlier achievements that were overlooked.

Best Actor

Cynical Prediction: Jeff Bridges for Crazy Heart
Idealistic Prediction: Jeff Bridges for Crazy Heart

Speaking of earlier works being overlooked, I enjoy how Jeff Bridges can just play the Dude in a serious film and it's instant Oscar bait.

Best Actress

Cynical Prediction: Sandra Bullock for The Blind Side

Idealistic Prediction: Anybody but Sandra Bullock

I'm still not positive that I didn't accidentally watch a bad lifetime TV movie when I thought I was watching The Blind Side, but the fact that Sandra Bullock is even nominated for this award is proof that women cannot get a fair break in Hollywood. May I remind you that Sandra Bullock also starred in this film last year.

Best Supporting Actor

Cynical Prediction: Christoph Waltz for Inglourious Basterds

Idealistic Prediction: Christoph Waltz for Inglourious Basterds

Not sure how Tarantino made a film about the joys of killing and torturing Nazis with the most likable and entertaining Nazi Jew hunter ever filmed, but I think he owes a pretty serious debt to Waltz.

Best Supporting Actress

Cynical Prediction: Mo'Nique for Preciousbasedonthenovelpushbysapphire
Idealistic Prediction: Mo'Nique for Preciousbasedonthenovelpushbysapphire

If there was a better portrayal of a child-abusing, welfare-scamming deadbeat mom this year, I'd like to see it.

Best Original Screenplay

Cynical Prediction: The Hurt Locker
Idealistic Prediction: Inglourious Basterds

While Hurt Locker is a poignant and ridiculously suspenseful look at the vagaries of modern guerilla warfare, Inglourious Bastards finds a poetic way to kill Hitler in three separate and distinct ways. Advantage Basterds.

Best Adapted Screenplay

Cynical Prediction: Preciousbasedonthenovelpushbysapphire
Idealistic Prediction: Up In the Air

From all the Oscar predictions I've bee reading, it seems like I'm the only person in America that still thinks Up In the Air is as good as it was when I saw it, and the script is damn near pristine. Though to be fair Preciousbasedonthenovelpushbysapphire was a good deal better than I was expecting it to be.

Best Cinematography

Cynical Prediction: Avatar
Idealistic Prediction: Avatar

Avatar stands as the first film I've ever seen to take 3D photography from the level of gimmick to the level of artistry (I mean, how good is the 3D rack focus on the water droplet in the first scene?). Case closed.

Best Editing

Cynical Prediction: The Hurt Locker
Idealistic Prediction: Avatar

Not gonna lie. Hurt Locker is a bit of an editor's wet dream. But the sheer thought of an editor having to pull together anything as staggering as Avatar and tell that story as well as they did is mind-boggling.

Best Art Direction

Cynical Prediction: Nine
Idealistic Prediction: Avatar

I wouldn't be surprised if Nine won this one, just because it's the kind of film where half of the Academy voters probably worked on the film (and frankly this is a movie that doesn't have much else going for it other than the art direction). But Avatar stands as the only film that successfully created a world so immersive that it's literally making kids depressed that they can't live there. Advantage Avatar.

Best Costume Design

Cynical Prediction: Coco Before Chanel
Idealistic Prediction: The Imaginarium of Doctor Parnassus

Surprisingly I've actually seen the majority of these films. And while I will readily admit that Coco Before Chanel is a damn near perfect film for and about costume design, I'd really just like to see Terry Gilliam get some love one of these days.

Best Original Score

Cynical Prediction: Avatar
Idealistic Prediction: Up

I'm gleefully surprised that Up appears to actually be the front-runner for this one. Though wouldn't be surprised to see Avatar do a full sweep.

Best Song

Cynical Prediction: "The Weary Kind" from Crazy Heart
Idealistic Prediction: "The Weary Kind" from Crazy Heart

I hardly thought that this was the best song in the film, but it's definitely the best of the field here. This also makes me disappointed that they're not performing the songs this year. A Jeff Bridges/Colin Ferrel country duet always brightens my evening.

Best Makeup

Cynical Prediction: Star Trek

Idealistic Prediction: Star Trek

It's a pretty weak field this year (since the best makeup work these days seems to be done in computers) but I wouldn't mind seeing Star Trek walk away with something.

Best Sound Mixing

Cynical Prediction: Avatar
Idealistic Prediction: Avatar

Ordinarily these sound awards just seem arbitrary to people without extensive training in audio engineering, but c'mon. . .

Best Sound Editing

Cynical Prediction: Avatar
Idealistic Prediction: Avatar

See above.

Best Animated Film

Cynical Prediction: Up
Idealistic Prediction: Up

Alright. I admit it. Even I am getting bored with Pixar winning this every time. Though until somebody makes anything better, that's just the way it's gotta be.

Best Foreign Language Film

Cynical Prediction: The White Ribbon

Idealistic Prediction: Something not about German guilt and anxiety.

As usual, this field is almost entirely composed of films that I couldn't find a theater to see if I wanted to (and naturally I've seen none of them). But the synopsis of this film reads like a perfect storm of qualifications for a foreign film Oscar,

Best Documentary

Cynical Prediction: The Cove
Idealistic Prediction: One of the ones that was too obscure for me to have seen

I've only seen two of the films nominated in this category, and both essentially amount to cinematic versions of rants you might hear from an unkempt grad student at Phish concert. With that said, The Cove was by far the superior of the two, and actually succeeded in giving me information that I didn't already know and making me feel guilty about having enjoyed Sea World as a child. Advantage Cove.

Pilot Season '09

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White Elephant Blogathon: The Tenth Victim

I'd like to first thank Rufus and Ben over at Lucid Screening for inviting me to participate in their Third Annual White Elephant Blogathon. I couldn't pass up an opportunity to write about second-rate movies, and if nothing else I'm hoping it'll help motivate me to get back in the habit or writing on this thing regularly.

For those that are unfamiliar with the rules of this event, the idea is simple: everybody submits the title of a terrible movie, the titles are thrown into a hat, and each person is assigned one of these cinematic failures to watch and review. I, for the record, submitted 3 Ninjas: High Noon at Mega Mountain (the last and presumably worst of the franchise, IMDB rating = 2.1). In return I got Elio Petri's 1965 cult classic sci-fi exploitation flick, The 10th Victim (IMDB rating = 6.8). It's like going to your office's Secret Santa gift exchange with a Hickory Farms cheese log and getting an iPod. I can't help but feel a little guilty. Of course, this is not to suggest that The 10th Victim is a great film, or even a good film, but it's at least something that I don't feel dumber for having watched. On the bad movie spectrum with patronizingly stupid action movies and frat comedies on one end and unwatchably bizarre art films on the other, The 10th Victim falls squarely on the latter. It's the kind of film that art students will claim is one of their favorites while secretly wishing they were watching Beerfest every time they actually watch it. When I showed the movie to Erin, she recalled it being a favorite of the now defuct East Village dive Rififi to put on a big screen for hipsters to watch as they dance to eighties synth pop and drown away the misery of their own jaded indifference to the world. And like all good hipster obsessions, it's a film that's much cooler in theory than it is in practice.

The premise of The 10th Victim is unquestionably awesome. Set in a future where all mankind's aggression is chanelled into a legally sanctioned cat-and-mouse game in which participants are alternately assigned to be either the hunter or the victim and each tries to kill the other in front of a television camera in hopes of cashing in on product endorsement deals, the film is sort of like an Italian art deco version of The Running Man with a smaller budget and less professional wrestler cameos. The film opens with a go-go dancing Ursula Andress (post-Dr No, pre-Casino Royale) eighty-sixing her intended hunter with a pair of guns improbably hidden in the cups of her bra. And it's pretty much all downhill from there. Following this victory, she gets dispatched to Rome to hunt her next victim, played by none other than Marcello Mastrioanni (who, according to the rules of the game, would actually be her 5th victim, but never mind). The film mostly consists of Andress awkwardly trying to seduce Mastrioanni and convince him to go to the Roman temple that her television crew is waiting at. Ultimately the film ends up being more of a romantic comedy than action movie. Mastioanni's character, who has just gone through the six-year process of getting an annulment and divorcing his first wife, spends most of the film beating off the advances of both Andress and a woman who is supposed to be his mistress (but that he apparently hates). Predictably Mastrioanni and Andress eventually fall in love and the film digresses into some sort of weird allegory about the disintigration of marriage in modern society. The film is loaded with what I assume is poignant social commentary that would make sense to me if I lived in Italy in 1965, but probably just amounts to the pretentious, drug-addled musings of the director. The acting in the film runs the gamut from bad to awful, with the exception of Mastioanni, who essentially plays the same cool-middle-aged-guy-in-existential-crisis that he does in 8 1/2 (which, let's be honest, I'm really never gonna get tired of seeing). The organ-infused bossa nova soundtrack is definitely awesome, though the slick modern design of the film often crosses the line between cool and creepy, as exemplified by the robotic pet dog that is ostensibly Mastroianni's only true companion in spite of its being the most terrifying thing this side of a Herbie Hancock video.

This film certainly deserves it's place in the pantheon of schlocky B sci-fi movies alongside Barbarella and Plan 9. Though I will say I was a bit disappointed in the overall amount of sex and violence in the thing. For an exploitation flick I could have done with a few more over-the-top gun fights and obligatory T&A, but I do have to give the film credit for combining the two so well as it does with two simple guns and a bra.

Blogging the Oscars

8:31 - Budget musical number, surprisingly funny.

8:34 - Craigslist dancers. Amazing.

8:36 - Even the writers of the show seem confused as to why The Reader was nominated for anything

8:41 - Past supporting actress winners step forward to present award like at the end of Predator 2. . . Too obscure?

8:46 - I appreciate Goldie Hawn's rack as much as the next guy, but I think those things probably need to be retired.

8:53 - I'm hoping all of the unfunny jokes in the Tina Fey/Steve Martin screenwriting bit are Steve Martin's fault.

8:58 - Political grandstanding at Oscars for first time in history.

9:07 - Wall*E wins!

9:10 - For purposes of animated short category, Academy graciously pretends that Pixar was not eligible for this category.

9:11 - "Domo arigato Mr. Roboto." Thank you very much stereotypical Japanese animator.

9:23 - Grandiose period piece that nobody saw or liked wins for costume design

9:44 - Janusz Kaminski chills with a very baked James Franco and Seth Rogen. Legendary.

9:46 - Consumate method actor James Franco clearly still high from Pineapple Express bit botches pronunciation of film he gives award to. How adorable.

9:47 - I usually lose the Oscar pool on the the short awards (since lord know I never actually watch any of them), but luckily this year I did my homework and read that Spielzeugland is about the holocaust, so I totally nailed it. . . Like gangbusters.

9:53 - The clear winner of tonight's ceremony. Boobs.

10:08 - Heath Ledger wins award for playing badass homicidal terrorist. Not gonna lie, I'm getting a little misty here.

10:13 - Hollywood rescinds blackballing to allow Bill Maher a pulpit to present documentary awards and trash religion.

10:42 - To atone for last fifteen years of terrible film work Eddie Murphy gives Jerry Lewis humanitarian award.

10:57 - Wow, Peter Gabriel is looking surprisingly fit. . . and black.

11:12 - RIP: Paul Newman, Sydney Pollack, Michael Crichton, Isaac Hayes

11:20 - David Fincher looks pissed. Was he as disappointed with Banjamin Button as I was?

11:32 - Kate Winslet wins victory for illiterate Nazis everywhere.

11:35 - Alright Kate Winslet, I do love you, but let's wrap it up.

11:44 - Mickey Rourke loses. I call shenanigans.

11:55 - Slumdog sweeps. I wanna watch Trainspotting.

3rd Annual Oscar Pre-game Extravaganza

The past year was a surprisingly good one for film, but it's hard to tell looking at this year's slate of Oscar nominations. 2008 was a year of great Summer blockbusters and mediocre prestige pics, and, as expected, the Academy made the mistake of choosing the latter over the former. Here are my unfortunate predictions. . .

Best Picture

Cynical Prediction: Slumdog Millionaire
Idealistic Prediction: Wall*E or Dark Knight

It's no surprise that Slumdog is the heavy favorite in this category, but I can't for the life of me figure out how it's schmaltzy feel-good heroics puts it above the fray of any summer popcorn flick that were shut out in this category. I also can't figure out who cared enough about The Reader and Benjamin Button (other than the producers of said films) enough to get them nominations, while passing up the chance to give nominations (and maybe a win) to two films that were great cinematic achievements in their own right, and universally loved by both critics and the public. Good job Academy. Way to vote your way to irrelevance.

Best Director

Cynical Prediction: Danny Boyle for Slumdog Millionaire
Idealistic Prediction: Danny Boyle for Slumdog Millionaire

Though Slumdog is hardly my favorite Danny Boyle movie, I do love his films and will be quite happy to see him win.

Best Actor

Cynical Prediction: Sean Penn for Milk
Idealistic Prediction: Mickey Rourke for The Wrestler

It's hard to tell how much of Mickey Rourke's performance can really be qualified as "acting", but I don't know how you can't love him for it. I do think Frank Langella deserves an honorable mention here though and am a little pissed that he's not being giving serious consideration here for playing the most adorable Richard Nixon of all time.

Best Actress

Cynical Prediction: Kate Winslet The Reader
Idealistic Prediction: Kate Winslet The Reader

There's maybe a slight chance that Meryl Streep could win this award, and it wouldn't be undeserved, but I'm pretty sure Kate Winslet is going to have a nervous breakdown if she doesn't get it this time around. I'm also in favor of anything that cynically proves Ricky Gervais right.

Best Supporting Actor

Cynical Prediction: Heath Ledger for Dark Knight
Idealistic Prediction: Heath Ledger for Dark Knight

Probably Heath Ledger is going to win this just out of respect and guilt on the part of the voters, but I don't think you can make much of an argument for anyone else in this category anyway. I'm just hoping that after Javier Bardem's win last year, that this will start the tradition of this award going exclusively to psychotic serial murderer characters.

Best Supporting Actress

Cynical Prediction: Penelope Cruz for Vicky Christina Barcelona
Idealistic Prediction: Viola Davis for Doubt

As much as I secretly wish Marissa Tomei would win this award for playing a spot-on Jersey Girl stripper, she's already won an Oscar for doing pretty much the same thing. Also, for Viola Davis's ten minutes of screen-time in Doubt she pretty much shows up and completely owns Meryl Streep. If that doesn't deserve an Oscar, I don't know what does.

Best Original Screenplay

Cynical Prediction: Milk
Idealistic Prediction: Wall*E or Frozen River

This was actually sort of a tough one for me, and I still can't decide. I mean, unquestionably I think Pixar deserves some credit for having, above all else, some of the best written films of all time. But Frozen River was probably one of the most intense thrillers I've seen in a long time. Also, since this is the only award where the Academy sees fit to recognize Sundance-type independent films, it would be nice to see a film with genuine indie cred win.

Best Adapted Screenplay

Cynical Prediction: Slumdog Millionaire
Idealistic Prediction: Frost/Nixon

There was a lot that was great about Slumdog Millionaire, but I don't think the screenplay's modern rehash of a Dickensian romance novel really deserves an award. Compare that to the political-docudrama-as-underdog-sports-movie scipt of Frost/Nixon. No contest.

Best Cinematography

Cynical Prediction: Slumdog Millionaire
Idealistic Prediction: Slumdog Millionaire

The photography in Danny Boyle movies is always amazing. This is no exception. Though I think it would have shown some balls on the part of the Academy to nominate Wall*E for this category.

Best Editing

Cynical Prediction: Slumdog Millionaire
Idealistic Prediction: Slumdog Millionaire

This movie is pretty much an editor's wet dream. I can't imagine it not winning.

Best Art Direction

Cynical Prediction: The Curious Case of Benjamin Bratt
Idealistic Prediction: The Dark Knight

Probably if David Fincher gave two shits about the screenplay instead of spending all his time on the VFX and art direction, this might have been a decent film. So I'm sure that if this film gets any awards, it'll be here.

Best Costume Design

Cynical Prediction: The Curious Case of Benjamin Bratt
Idealistic Prediction: Milk

As usual, this award comes down to which period drama has the gayest, most ornate outfits. Ironically I thought Milk was by far least gay and most tastefully understated film in this category. Plus I sort of wish I actually owned some of James Franco's outfits from this movie.

Best Original Score

Cynical Prediction: Slumdog Millionaire
Idealistic Prediction: Milk

As much as I enjoy the Bollywood musical stylings of A.R. Rahman, I just want Danny Elfman to win an award, and this is probably his best shot.

Best Song

Cynical Prediction: songs from Slumdog Millionaire
Idealistic Prediction: "Down to Earth" from Wall*E

Really Springsteen's song from The Wrestler should be the clear winner in this category, but the Academy seemed to think it better to only have three nominations than to even nominate it. So with that said, I'd just like Wall*E to win in one of the categories that it actually wasn't snubbed.

Best Makeup

Cynical Prediction: The Curious Case of Benjamin Bratt
Idealistic Prediction: Dark Knight

Is it just me or was the aging makeup in Benjamin Button not that convincing. Whereas both the Two-Face and Joker makeup in Dark Knight is both powerfully disturbing and 100 percent convincing.

Best Sound

Cynical Prediction: Dark Knight
Idealistic Prediction: Wall*E

The sound awards are always the biggest crapshoot, and seemingly completely arbitrary unless you're a sound designer. But since the first 45 minutes of Wall*E has pretty much no dialogue and I love it anyway, I'm sort of partial.

Best Sound Editing

Cynical Prediction: Dark Knight
Idealistic Prediction: Wall*E

See above.

Best Animated Film

Cynical Prediction: Wall*E
Idealistic Prediction: Wall*E

Though I was pleasantly surprised with Kung Fu Panda, it's still not much of a contest.

Best Foreign Language Film

Cynical Prediction: Waltz With Bashir
Idealistic Prediction: Waltz With Bashir

Not gonna lie. I still haven't seen any of these. But pretty much anybody I've met that's seen Waltz With Bashir has said it's pretty amazing.

Best Documentary

Cynical Prediction: Man On Wire
Idealistic Prediction: Man On Wire

I've only seen two of these, but they were both awesome. And as much as I enjoy Werner Herzog's ridiculous voiceover, Man On Wire is definitely the better film.

Grammys = meh

As usual, I skipped last night's live broadcast of the Grammys and instead opted for a variety of highlights and recaps. There were a few things that I probably would have liked to have seen live, like M.I.A. performing (while 9 months pregnant) a song about violently mugging western tourists to a crowd of mostly middle-aged liberal intellectuals, or like Radiohead replacing their whole rhythm section with the USC marching band, which, judging from the smirk on Thom Yorke's face served no purpose other than to prove in spectacular fashion how much better they are than all of the artists that have beaten them over the years in the major categories (and no, "Best Alternative Album" does not qualify as a major category any more than "Best Regional Mexican Album" does).





Much like last year's surprise victory from Herbie Hancock, this year's major awards sweep came from left field for anybody who isn't either a huge fan of American roots music played by British people or a Barnes & Noble member who still wears earrings despite being over 40 and a dude (Harrison Ford, I'm looking in your direction). In the interest of objectivity I listened to a few songs from Robert Plant/Allison Krauss album that took home "Album of the Year", including the song that won "Record of the Year", and found them to all be extremely tasteful (in a boring, underwhelming sort of way) but mostly just very unremarkable. At the very least the album was released on a proper independent label (which is about as far outside the box as the Recording Academy is willing to go). I thought Adele winning best new artist the year after Amy Winehouse to be a bit redundant, but could hardly come up with a compelling argument for any of the other nominees in the category. The only awards that seemed even halfway legit were the ones in the fringe categories. Despite my utter indifference to his work, Lil Wayne probably deserved to sweep the hip-hop categories for having the remarkable ability to actually move records (though I assume the voting in these categories is based entirely on the voting members going to their kids' ipods and voting for whatever shows up in their 'recently played' list). And Radiohead's win in the "Alternative Album" category was appreciated in spite of the fact that the album was actually released two years ago (for those of us with a computers and an internet connection anyway).

Of course, my gut reaction is outrage and disgust over the lack of prescience reflected by these awards, but I'm going to declare that the Grammys have now reached a new level of irrelevence somewhere between the daytime Emmys and the Spike TV Video Game Awards. They give out awards that reflect neither the tastes of critics nor the music-buying public. They are now so pointless that they barely register as a side-note to news of Chris Brown's arrest, and by no means the other way around.

Pretentious Music 2008

As usual, I've procrastinated writing this post for so long that it really doesn't matter at this point, but after taking the first month of 2009 to digest the musical offerings of the previous year and pretending like I was actually paying attention to current trends, I've decided to begrudgingly put together my list of my favorite songs and albums of 2008.

Now I say begrudgingly because I really didn't feel like there was much in the way of current music that qualified as "relevant" or "listenable", which I realize is the thing people say when they become too busy or old to give a shit what the folks at Pitchfork are fawning over this week, but I really think that this year it's just a statement of fact. And maybe it's because reading the business section of any newspaper in the last year was pretty much like watching the last 15 minutes of The Empire Strikes Back every day, or maybe it's because 2008 was the fist year in recent memory that American democracy (ironically) didn't seem like a miserable failure, but it's become increasingly difficult to argue for the importance of my own legally questionable mp3 collection. Nevertheless, here goes. . .


ALBUMS:

Drive-By Truckers - Brighter Than Creation's Dark

While most bands these days seem to struggle to put out two singles and half an hour of filler every three years, these guys have been filling up the full 80 minutes of their albums with quality material at least every two years for the past decade - and this album is my favorite so far. They've toned down the redneckiness of their sound slightly, but kept the gritty slice-of-life stories of people on the margins of the American South. Like their previous albums, the depressing nature of their subject matter would make their music pretty much unlistenable if their their hooks weren't so good and their lyrics weren't so damn clever.



King Khan and the Shrines - The Supreme Genius of. . .

This is a band that sounds too cool as a concept (a pudgy Canadian-born South Asian man that dresses in loin-cloths and belts out pitch-perfect sixies garage rock) to actually work. But it does. Brilliantly. And even though this album is technically more of a compilation than a real album, considering how criminally difficult it is to actually get a hold of any of their real albums, I'm gonna have to count it.



Titus Andronicus - The Airing of Grievances

Like the indie-rock equivilent of Jerry Stiller screaming "serenity now!", this album is one hell of a cathartic Seinfeld reference (barely edging out Wale's Mixtape About Nothing as the best musical Seinfeld reference of the year). And dispite the absurdly pretentious band name, the music is remarkably earnest, and includes enough shoe-gazey fuzz to warm my indie rock snob heart.




Vampire Weekend - Vampire Weekend

It's a little hard to believe that this album actually came out last year, considering the critical backlash to Vampire Weekend had begun before this album had even hit shelves last January, But hype and counter-hype aside, this still stands as one of the funnest and catchiest albums that I've heard in a while, and unlike most of the otherwise good music I listened to this year, I didn't forget about it two seconds after the songs ended.

Hullabalooza: Day 3

"I thought I had an Appetite for Destruction. But all I really wanted was a club sandwich."

3:30 - Perry Farrell feat. Paul Green's School of Rock All-Stars & Slash





























We started off the last day of the festival right. For some reason Claire had elected to receive text message spam from the festival, which mostly served to inform us about worthless product promotions, but did let us know that this afternoon the greatest guitarist of the hair metal era is going to be performing on the kids stage with the most effeminate lead singer of the alternative rock era. The set only lasted about 20 minutes and they played all covers. Perry and Slash did their best (which is to say, very little) to tone down their rock star ways. If you look closely in these pictures, Slash has a cigarette in his mouth for the entire show, and Perry would go over to the side of the stage between songs to have a glass of champagne. Perry would also introduce each of the songs for the children in a tone that was really more patronizing that child-friendly (like, before playing "Jane Says", he would remark, "this is a song about a girl that's very confused"). But even when it was clear that they were just phoning in the performance, they still rocked pretty hard, so I can't really complain.

4:00 - Chromeo

After we left the kids' stage, we walked by the neighboring stage where Black Kids were playing. Claire and I had both heard their single and thought they might be fun. We were mistaken. They sucked. So we went over to the next stage to see Chromeo, who were pumping out the good-time party jams without any of the Black Kids' bullshit hipster posturing. And I believe science has proven definitively that nothing gets a party going like a fat Puerto Rican guy on a vocoder.

5:00 - Saul Williams






























Saul Williams is a bit of an aberration in the world of hip-hop. He's a rapper (of sorts) who started out as a poet, and borrows as much of his style from industrial rock as he does from hip-hop (and is indeed produced by Trent Reznor). He could write lyrical circles around Jay-Z, Lil' Wayne, or pretty much any commercial rapper in the game. He writes about empowerment and unity without soundin naive, and can get angry without seeming militant. His set was certainly one of the highlights of the festival, coming out looking like an afro-centric version of Aladdin Sane-era Bowie, with his band dressed up like something out of an early-seventies Funkadelic lineup. He assaulted his audience with a barrage of break beats, guitar noise, and angry slam poetry. He also brought his 12-year-old daughter on stage as his only backup singer, and she was totally adorable.

6:15 - Gnarls Barkley












On my way to the next stage, I happened to catch the end of Blues Traveler's set and see enough to lament the tragedy of John Popper staving off death by losing hundreds of pounds and at the same time, lose all of his stage presence (though their cover of "I Want You to Want Me" sounded surprisingly good).

Dangermouse and Cee-lo arrived on stage dressed in tweed jackets and bow ties like a pair of stuffy boarding school teachers, with their band of students in khakis and maroon sweater vests. And while I'm always a strong supporter of bands in uniform, I was expecting a higher level of pageantry from the Gnarls guys. They put on a decent enough show, playing though most of their most recent album (which is pretty much just a more fine-tuned, less-inspired version of their debut). I'm far enough removed from the summer of '06 that I was able to enjoy "Crazy" without feeling suffocated by its overexposure, but certainly the highlight of their set was a cover of Radiohead's "Reckoner" that was easily on par with the version that Radiohead had played themselves two nights previous. Following the song Cee-lo made a bashful appeal for Thom Yorke's approval, which seemed completely unnecessary, but was certainly endearing.

8:30 - Kanye West























































































Throughout the entire festival, rumors had been floating around that the Junior Senator from Illinois might be making an appearance sometime during the festival, possibly along fellow hometown heroes Wilco, or otherwise Kanye, and while Claire and I were staking out our spot for Kanye, it was all anybody was talking about. Of course, anybody following the news could see that it would me a monumental blunder for Obama to have appeared at a rock festival, given the recent attacks from the McCain camp on his celebrity status. And anyway, there's only room on Kanye West's stage for one oversized ego, which was very well represented. I was somewhat disappointed in his stage show, given how elaborate his set has been for his current tour and how elaborate Radiohead's light show was the night before. So with a stripped-down version on his full set, we had to settle for a mind-blowing light show clearly lifted from Daft Punk's show here last year. I'm still not sure if I would have been more impressed with Nine Inch Nails' set on the other end of the park, but I was still pleasantly surprised with Kanye's performance. For a brilliant producer that rarely ever gets any credit as an MC, Kanye totally owned that stage for the hour and a half that he was on. Of course, he was well supported by his arsenal of smoke machines and flood lights that kept the level of drama high and sent anybody with epilepsy straight to the hospital. Midway through the set, he went into a self-indulgent rant about his own place in history and the importance of progress in art, which would be easy to slag off as the crass narcissism of a man with a god complex, but it's hard to think of anybody else in hip-hop with as much appreciation for genuine creativity (even if he's often co-opting more than he is creating). Later he went to the side of the stage to take a breather while his band jammed on an abbreviated version of "Don't Stop Believing", and you could see him on the monitor smiling, not a smirk of self-satisfaction, but of a giddy child living out his dreams.