#but with oscar nominated actors somehow

[kitwilsonsass]

Watching Twisted Metal out of morbid curiosity because every time I heard about it I repressed it immediately and I.....

[lungthief]

said this before but deep down there is a small but deeply convicted and unsettled part of me so genuinely convinced that like 30 years from now some talented nyu grad prettyboy actor is going to be launching a for your consideration campaign after playing brendon urie in the social network style panic at the disco pseudo biopic produced by someone who was chronically online in 2014 but made it big in the entertainment industry somehow (nepotism probably) and all the buzz will be entirely centered around the film’s frame by frame recreation of northern downpour live at bush hall. people on a niche but very dedicated side of twitter will be posting side-by-sides of the 2011 recording and the clip from the film like they did with the bohemian rhapsody live aid performance. it will be nominated for 3 oscars and 4 golden globes and will win none of them. ryden discourse will be back but worse somehow. hell will be empty and all the devils will be here

[broadwaydivastournament]

Broadway Divas Tournament: FINAL

So. It's all come down to this. Were any of us truly surprised? Are any of us really prepared?

Six-time Tony winner Audra McDonald (1970) holds the record for most Tony acting awards a person has ever won. She is one of five actors to be nominated across all four respective acting categories and the only person to win every one (and the only actress out of the three who is still living...). Her stage work includes: Ragtime (1998), Porgy and Bess (2012), and Lady Day at Emmerson's Bar and Grill (2014). Internationally acclaimed concert tours, Tony host, crown jewel of the American Stage. Grammy winner, Tony winner, Emmy winner. Get this woman an Oscar, stat. This is a BROADWAY Diva tournament, and Audra Ann McDonald is BROADWAY.

Seven-time Tony nominee, two-time winner Bernadette Peters (1948) has a sixty-plus year stage career of monumental proportions. Considered the foremost Sondheim interpreter, their collaborative works include Sunday in the Park with George (1984), Into the Woods (1987), Gypsy (2003), and Follies (2011). She has a thriving concert career, and was a co-founder of the beloved Broadway Barks event each year in Shubert Alley. She has an honorary third Tony (Isabelle Stevenson Award) for her outstanding advocacy and philanthropy. This is a Broadway DIVA tournament, and I mean come on, look at her. That is the quintessential DIVA right there.

NEW PROPAGANDA AND MEDIA UNDER CUT

"I don't know what to tell you if you're somehow on the fence here. Audra Ann McDonald is Broadway's most beloved darling, and that's a quantifiable fact. Look at her award shelf. Her voice could resurrect the dead. She is an Oscar away from EGOT status. She has overcome almost insurmountable racism on the Great White Way. She is everything to me. A triple threat of acting, singing, and dancing where not one takes a backseat and she looks and sounds amazing at all times. "

"I have been besotted by Bernadette Peters (and her bosom) for more than two decades. Her name is synonymous with Broadway. She is THE Broadway Baby. She started in showbusiness as a child and has not left in seven decades. Her voice is emblematic of a time when we let people with unique, fascinating, wildly different voices star in shows rather than have everyone bow to the BA-ification of Broadway where everyone sounds the same and no one is distinctive."

[thesublemon]

best picture

For the first time in a long time, I watched all of the movies nominated for Best Picture at the Oscars this year. Partly on a whim, partly for a piece I’ve been working on for a while about what is going wrong in contemporary artmarking. I cannot say that the experience made me feel any better or worse about contemporary movies than I already felt, which was pretty bad. But sometimes to write about a hot stove, you gotta put your hand on one. So. The nominees for coldest stove are:

Poor Things. Did not like enough to finish. I always want to like something that is making an effort at originality, strangeness, or style. Unfortunately, the execution of those things in this movie felt somehow dull and thin. Hard to explain how. Maybe the movie’s motif of things mashed together (baby-woman, duck-dog, etc) is representative. People have been mashing things together since griffins, medleys, Avatar the Last Airbender’s animals, Nickelodeon’s Catdog, etc. Thing + thing is elementary-level weird. And while there’s nothing wrong with a simple, or well-worn premise, there is a greater burden on an artist to do something interesting with it, if they go that route. And Poor Things does not. Its themes are obvious and belabored (the difficulty of self-actualization in a world that violently infantilizes you) and do not elevate the premise. There’s a fine line between the archetypal and the hackish, and this movie falls on the wrong side of it. It made me miss Crimes of the Future (2022), a recent Cronenberg that was authentically original and strange, with the execution to match.

Anatomy of a Fall. Solid, but not stunning. The baseline level of what a ‘good’ movie should be. It was written coherently and economically, despite its length. It told a story that drew you along. I wanted to know what happened, which is the least you can ask from storytelling. It had some compelling scenes that required a command of character and drama to write—particularly the big argument scene. The cinematography was not interesting, but it was not annoying either. It did its job. This was not, however, a transcendent movie.

Oppenheimer. Did not like enough to finish. But later forced myself to, just so no one could accuse me of not knowing what I was talking about when I said I disliked it. I felt like I was being pranked. The Marvel idea of what a prestige biopic should be. Like Poor Things, it telegraphed its artsiness and themes and has raked in accolades for its trouble. But obviousness is not the same as goodness and this movie is not good. The imagery is painfully literal. A character mentions something? Cut to a shot of it! No irony or nuance added by such images—just the artistry of a book report. The dialogue pathologically tells instead of shows. It constantly, cutely references things you might have heard of, the kind of desperate audience fellation you see in soulless franchise movies. Which is a particularly jarring choice given the movie’s subject matter. ‘Why didn’t you get Einstein for the Manhattan project’ Strauss asks, as if he’s saying ‘Why didn’t you get Superman for the Avengers?’ If any of this referentiality was an attempt to say something about mythologization, it failed—badly. The movie is stuffed with famous and talented actors, but it might as well not have been, given how fake every word out of their mouths sounded. Every scene felt like it had been written to sound good in a trailer, rather than to tell a damn story. All climax and no cattle.

Barbie. Did not like enough to finish. It had slightly more solidity in its execution than I was afraid it would have, so I will give it that. If people want this to be their entertainment I will let them have it. But if they want this to be their high cinema I will have to kill myself. Barbie being on this list reminds me of the midcentury decades of annual movie musical nominations for Best Picture. Sometimes deservingly. Other times, less so. The Music Man is great, but it’s not better than 8 1/2  or The Great Escape, neither of which were nominated in 1963. Musicals tend to appeal to more popular emotions, which ticket-buyers and award-givers tend to like, and critics tend to dislike. I remember how much Pauline Kael and Joan Didion hated The Sound of Music (which won in 1966), and have to ask myself if in twenty years I’ll think of my reaction to Barbie the same way that I think of those reviews: justified, but perhaps beside the point of other merits. Thing is. Say what you want about musicals, but that genre was alive back then. It was vital. Bursting with creativity. For all Kael’s bile, even she acknowledged that The Sound of Music was “well done for what it is.” [1] Contemporary cinema lacks such vitality, and Barbie is laden with symptoms of the malaise. It repeatedly falls back on references to past aesthetic successes (2001: A Space Odyssey, Singin’ in the Rain, etc) in order to have aesthetic heft. It has a car commercial in the middle. It’s about a toy from 60 years ago and politics from 10 years ago. It tries to wring some energy and meaning from all of that but not enough to cover the stench of death. I’d prefer an old musical any day.

American Fiction. Was okay. It tried to be clever about politics, but ended up being clomping about politics. At the end of the day, it just wasn’t any more interesting than any other ‘intellectual has a mid-life crisis’ story, even with the ‘twist’ of it being from a black American perspective. Even with it being somewhat self-aware of this. But it could have been a worse mid-life crisis story. The cinematography was terrible. It was shot like a sitcom. Much of the dialogue was sitcom-y too. I liked the soundtrack, what I could hear of it. The attempts at style and meta (the characters coming to life, the multiple endings) felt underdeveloped. Mostly because they were only used a couple times. In all, it felt like a first draft of a potentially more interesting movie. 

The Zone of Interest.Wanted to like it more than I did. Unfortunately, you get the point within about five minutes. If you’ve seen the promotional image of the people in the garden, backgrounded by the walls of Auschwitz, then you’ve already seen the movie. Which means that all the rest of the movie ends up feeling like pretentious excess instead of moving elaboration. It seemed very aware of itself as an Important Movie and rested on those laurels, cinematically speaking, in a frustrating way. It reminded me of video art. I felt like I had stepped through a black velvet drape into the side room of a gallery, wondering at what point the video started over. And video art has its place, but it is a different medium. Moreover video art at its best, like a movie at its best, takes only the time it needs to say what it needs to say. 

Past Lives. I’m a human being, and I respond to romance. I appreciate the pathos of sweet yearning and missed chances. And I understand how the romance in this movie is a synecdoche for ambivalent feelings about many kinds of life choices, particularly the choice to be an immigrant and choose one culture over another. The immigrant experience framing literalizes the way any choice can make one foreign to a past version of oneself, or the people one used to know, even if in another sense one is still the same person. So, I appreciate the emotional core of what (I believe) this movie was going for, and do think it succeeded in some respects. And yet…I was very irritated by most of its artistic choices. I found the three principal characters bland and therefore difficult to care about, sketched with only basic traits besides things like Striving and Being In Love. Why care who they’d be in another life if they have no personalities in this one? It’s fine to make characters symbols instead of humans if the symbolic tapestry of a movie is interesting and rich, but the symbolic tapestry of this movie was quite simple and straightforward. Not that that last sentence even matters much, since the movie clearly wanted you to feel for the characters as human beings, not just symbols. Visually, the cinematography was dull and diffuse, with composition that was either boring or as subtle as a hammer to the head.

Maestro. Did not like enough to finish. Something strange and wrong about this movie. It attempts to perform aesthetic mimicry with impressive precision—age makeup, accents, period cinematography—but this does not make the movie a better movie. At most it creates spectacle, at worst it creates uncanny valleys. It puts one on the lookout for irregularities, instead of allowing one to disappear into whatever the movie is doing. Something amateurishly pretentious in the execution. And not in the fun, respectable way, like a good student film. (My go-to example for a movie that has an art-school vibe in a pleasant way is The Reflecting Skin). There’s something desperate about it instead. It has the same disease as Oppenheimer, of attempting to do a biopic in a ‘stylish’ way without working on the basics first. Fat Man and Little Boy is a less overtly stylish rendition of the same subject as Oppenheimer, but far more cinematically successful to me, because it understands those basics. I would prefer to see the Fat Man and Little Boy of Leonard Bernstein’s life unless a filmmaker proves that they can do something with style beyond mimicry and flash.

The Holdovers. Did not like enough to finish. It tries to be vintage, but outside of a few moments, it does not succeed either at capturing what was good about the aesthetic it references, or at using the aesthetic in some other interesting way. The cinematography apes the tropes of movies and TV from the story’s time period, but doesn't have interesting composition in its own right. It lacks the solidity that comes from original seeing. (Contrast with something like Planet Terror, in which joyous pastiche complements the original elements.) The acting is badly directed. Too much actorliness is permitted. Much fakeness in general between the acting, writing, and visual language. If a movie with this same premise was made in the UK in the 60’s or 70's it would probably be good. As-is the movie just serves to make me sad that the ability to make such movies is apparently lost and can only be hollowly gestured at. That said, the woman who won best supporting actress did a good job. She was the only one who seemed to be actually acting.

Killers of the Flower Moon. The only possible winner. It is not my favorite of Scorsese’s movies, but compared to the rest of the lineup it wins simply by virtue of being a movie at all. How to define ‘being a movie’? Lots of things I could say that Killers of the Flower Moon has and does would also be superficially true of other movies in this cohort. Things like: it tells a story, with developed characters who drive that story. Or: it uses its medium (visuals, sound) to support its story and its themes. The difference comes down to richness, specificity, control, and a je ne sais quois that is beyond me to describe at the moment. Compare the way Killers of the Flower Moon uses a bygone cinematic style (the silent movie) to the way that Maestro and The Holdovers do. Killers of the Flower Moon uses a newsreel in its opening briefly and specifically. The sequence sets the scene historically, and gives you the necessary background with the added panache of confident cuts and music. It’s useful to the story and it’s satisfying to watch. Basics. But the movie doesn’t limit itself to that, because it’s a good movie. The sequence also sets up ideas that will be continuously developed over the course of the movie.* And here’s the kicker—the movie doesn’t linger on this sequence. You get the idea, and it moves on to even more ideas. Also compare this kind of ideating to American Fiction’s. When I said that American Fiction’s moments of style felt underdeveloped, I was thinking of movies like Killers of the Flower Moon, which weave and evolve their stylistic ideas throughout the entire runtime.

*(Visually, it places the Osage within a historical medium that the audience probably does not associate with Native Americans, or the Osage in particular. Which has a couple of different effects. First, it acts as a continuation of the gushing oil from the previous scene. It’s an interruption. A false promise. Seeming belonging and power, but framed all the while by a foreign culture. Meanwhile potentially from the perspective of that culture, it’s an intrusion on ‘their’ medium. And of course, this promise quickly decays into tragedy and death. The energy of the sequence isn’t just for its own sake—it sets up a contrast. But on a second, meta level it establishes the movie’s complicated relationship to media and storytelling. Newsreels, photos, myths, histories, police interviews, and a radio play all occur over the course of the movie. And there’s the movie Killers of the Flower Moon itself. Other people’s frames are contrasted with Mollie’s narration. There’s a repeated tension between communication as a method of knowing others and a method of controlling them—or the narrative of them—which plays out in both history and personal relationships.)

Or here’s another example: When Mollie and Ernest meet and he drives her home for the first time, we see their conversation via the car’s rearview mirrors. This is a bit of cinematic language that has its origins in mystery and paranoia. You see it in things like Hitchcock or The X-Files or film noir. By framing the scene with this convention, the movie turns what is superficially a romantic meet-cute (to quote a friend) into something bubbling with uneasiness and dread. This is not nostalgia—this is just using visuals to create effects. It doesn’t matter if you’ve seen anything that uses the convention before, although knowing the pedigree might add to your enjoyment. The watchfulness suggested by the mirrors and Ernest’s cut-off face will still add an ominous effect. It works for the same reason it works in those other things. Like the newsreel, it is a specific and concise stylistic choice, and it results in a scene that is doing more than just one thing.

In general, the common thread I noticed as I watched these nominees, was the tendency to have the ‘idea’ of theme or style, and then stop there. It’s not that the movies had nothing in them. There were ideas, there was use of the medium, there was meaning to extract. There were lots of individually good moments. But they tended to feel singular, or repetitive, or tacked on. Meanwhile contemporary viewers are apparently so impressed by the mere existence of theme or style, that being able to identify it in a movie is enough to convince many that the movie is also good at those things. The problem with this tendency—in both artists and audiences—is that theme and style are not actually some extra, remarkable, inherently rarifying property of art. Theme emerges naturally from a story with any kind of coherence or perspective. And style emerges naturally from any kind of artistic attitude. They are as native as script, or narrative, or character. A movie’s theme and style might not be interesting, just like its story or dialogue might not be interesting, but if the movie is at all decent, they should exist. What makes a movie good or bad, then, is how it executes its component parts—including theme and style—in service of the whole. When theme is well-executed it is well-developed. Contemporary movies, unfortunately, seem to have confused ‘well-developed’ with ‘screamingly obvious.’ A theme does not become well-developed by repetition. It becomes well-developed by iterationand integration. Theme is like a melody. Simply repeating a single melody over and over does not result in the song becoming more interesting or entertaining. It becomes tedious. However, if you modify the melody each time you play it, or diverge from the melody and then return to it, that can get exciting. It results in different angles on the same idea, such that the idea becomes more complex over time, instead of simply louder.

Oppenheimer wasprobably the worst offender in this regard. Just repeat your water drops, crescendoing noise, or a line about ‘destroying the world’, and that’s the same as nuance, right? Split scenes into color and black and white and that’s the same as structure, right? That’s the same as actually conveying a difference between objectivity and interiority (or another dichotomy) via the drama or visual composition contained in the scenes, right? When I watched many of these movies, I kept thinking of a behind-the-scenes story from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The story goes that Joss Whedon was directing Sarah Michelle Gellar in some scene, and when the take was over he told her how great she was, and that he could see right where the music would come in. And Gellar replied that if he was thinking about the music, he clearly wasn’t getting enough from her acting alone. This conversation then supposedly informed Whedon’s approach to “The Body,” a depiction of the immediate aftermath of death that is considered one of the best episodes of television ever made, and which has no non-diegetic music whatsoever. Not to imply that music is necessarily a crutch, or to pretend that “The Body” is lacking in other forms of stylization (it is a very style-ish episode). But more to illustrate the way that it is easy to forget to make the most of all aspects of a medium, particularly the most fundamental ones, once one has gotten used to what a final product is supposed to feel like. 

And that’s why most of these movies don’t feel like movies. They create the gestalt of a movie or a ‘cinematic’ moment—often literally through direct vintage imitation—without a sense of the first principles. Or demonstrating a sense of them, anyway. Who needs AI when the supposedly highest level of human filmmakers are already cannibalistically cargo-culting the medium just fine.

[1] “The Sound of Money (The Sound of Music and The Singing Nun).” The Pauline Kael Reader. (This book contains the full text of the original review, rather than the abbreviated review that I linked earlier.) 

[rosewaterandivy]

Hm. So. Modern actor! Steve Harrington being nominated for an Oscar (Best Actor, obviously). He’s been nominated and lost out on Best Supporting Actor before and he’s been an attendee and presenter a few times over the years, but he’s nervous about this nomination in particular.

Maybe it’s because there’s a bit more on the line now, you’ve been married a few years and the twins, Eden and Ezra, are turning two soon. Eddie’s girlfriend Liz penned the script, which was miraculously picked up by A24, and somehow you and Ed had been roped into overseeing the score/soundtrack. Liz had been hesitant to bring Steve on even though all the other actors auditions and self-tapes paled in comparison.

They had a whole lunch about it - it was a *to do* in every sense of the word.

But once he read the script, Steve knew that role had to be his. Because the emotional thrust of the film was inspired by you and the chaotic unfolding of his relationship with you. It wasn’t so obvious at first glance, but if you knew where to look, it was clear as day.

All the love you’d had for one another, your little ragtag bunch of dreamers - Eddie, Steve, Liz, and you - found its way onto the pages of this script. It was a love letter to you and for you, with every word.

And Steve would be damned if he didn’t fight tooth and nail to be a part of it.

Bringing home the Oscar was no different. Besides, he had a little side bet riding on it. Maybe he cajoled you into potentially contemplating having another kid (or two) after one too many glasses of Syrah.

And maybe you’d agreed with the stipulation of: “Okay stud. I’ll think about it if you win the Oscar, but then and only then.”

He’d started the campaign in earnest the very next day. Now all that was left was it being it all home. And if there’s one thing Steve Harrington does, it’s win.

[steddieas-shegoes]

Request: actor Steve??? Singer Eddie at the grammy's??? Eddie's band winning a Grammy & Eddie proposing to Steve accidentally in his speech???? & Steve crying and nodding yes but he is in tears & can't stand up??? Ok but then at the Oscars Steve actually proposes on stage because he had broken his leg & Eddie helped him on stage. But his proposal is the same as Eddie's because he also asks during his speech & Eddie cries and they get engaged again ❤️❤️❤️❤️

BABYYYYYY!!! NOT ONE, BUT TWO MARRIAGE PROPOSALS?! YES! PLEASE! I love the idea of Steve being prepared to propose to Eddie, has a whole plan, and then Eddie gets so emotional when he wins a Grammy that he does it before Steve gets a chance. Steve CANNOT be outdone, so obviously he does it too. We love love! - Mickala ❤️

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

Somehow, against every odd, Eddie Munson made it.

Corroded Coffin, through hard work and a pinch of luck, were nominated for a Grammy.

They’d spent years climbing their way to the top (hard work) and finally got signed to a huge record deal when an agent saw them opening for a metal band at a festival (pinch of luck).

Their first album broke records in ways that hadn’t been seen since Metallica stepped onto the scene.

Their first tour sold out in minutes.

Their second album had a lot of hype to live up to, and according to the Grammy nomination, it far surpassed the expectations.

He hated that Steve couldn’t walk the carpet with him, but he was happy he was waiting inside with all the significant others of the band.

Probably already drinking wine and champagne. Maybe even shots.

Dammit, Eddie hated walking the carpet.

Steve was a fun drunk, but he was even more fun when he’d only had a couple. His filter shut off, but he wasn’t quite at the point of bitchy. He was silly.

Steve was rarely silly.

Fun, funny, happy.

But never really silly.

Not like Eddie was.

But after a couple drinks? Downright clownish.

Eddie tried to rush through the remaining interviews, and the guys could tell, throwing him shocked looks. Eddie loved the spotlight, so it probably was a little shocking.

When they got inside, they were stopped by just about everyone who lived on planet Earth.

Eddie was ready to grab Steve and run.

Fuck the Grammy.

But he couldn’t do that. This was a possibly once in a lifetime thing. Wayne was watching at home even though he “doesn’t have time to watch those stupid awards.”

If they did win, Eddie had to give a speech, they had to go to afterparties, he had to fuck Steve against the window in their hotel room.

He shook his head, trying to clear it of any of those thoughts. Now wasn’t the time.

He walked into the main room, suddenly overwhelmed by the crowd and the vast expanse of tables and seating and stage area in front of him.

He caught a glimpse of Steve at a table not too far away, laughing at something Jeff’s wife, Amy, was saying. She’d almost skipped tonight, her pregnancy far enough along that getting all dressed up didn’t sound remotely appealing. But then she’d heard Steve was going, and she’d called her sister to alter her dress immediately.

Gareth’s fiancé, Sam, was sitting away from everyone, still not sure of her place in the group. They’d had a bit of a whirlwind romance, and Eddie would be more worried if Sam wasn’t completely head over heels in love with Gareth in high school first. But she’d only just met everyone a month ago, and this was the first public event she attended with everyone. She was visibly nervous.

Grant’s wife, Savannah, was clearly trying to make conversation with everyone.

And Eddie knew that Steve and Amy weren’t purposefully making it harder, but they certainly weren’t making things easy for her.

They were laughing so much, he couldn’t even be sure they were laughing at something.

He sidled up to Steve’s side, plopping down in the empty chair to his right.

“Eddie! Amy’s here!” Steve smacked his arm excitedly.

He was at least three wines in.

“I see that, sweetheart. Hi, Amy.”

“Hey, Eddie. He’s drinking for two,” Amy smiled fondly as Steve took another sip of wine.

“And she’s eating for two!” Steve said as he reached out to touch her belly. “I can’t believe I don’t get to have your babies, Eds.”

Eddie snorted. Amy let out a loud laugh.

“I’m sure we can give it our best shot later tonight,” Eddie whispered in his ear, smirking to himself when he saw Steve shiver.

They all continued chatting, occasionally getting interrupted by guests: producers, musicians, agents, even some kids who were big fans.

When the show started, Steve was drifting. He’d had maybe one too many, and he’d reached the sleepy part of wine drunk a lot sooner than he should’ve. Maybe because he barely slept last night. Maybe because Eddie fucked him in the shower and the couch and the bed, and then woke him up early to fuck him on the counter before he had to leave for an interview with Good Morning America. He was tired.

Eddie was tired too, but he was used to a lot of late nights and early mornings over the last couple of years.

Plus, he was running on so much adrenaline at the thought of winning a Grammy, he was pretty sure he could stay awake for another 12 hours.

Steve’s head rested against Eddie’s shoulder, his hand entangled in Eddie’s.

For seven years, Steve’s been his biggest fan, his person, his everything.

And for three years before that, he was his best friend.

He was there at grungy bars, outdoor festivals in rain or shine, that one fundraising event at the mall that was a total disaster. He was front row at their first opening gig for a Midwest metal band, and front row at their opening gig for Ghost. He was backstage for their first headlining tour, in the studio when they recorded their first and second albums, and on the tour bus when he could miss work.

It only made sense that he was here for this.

He wanted him here for everything.

This wasn’t the first time he’d thought that, probably not even the hundredth. He’d wanted to marry Steve for years.

But Steve was focused on building his own career, and Eddie insisted that he do what he wanted to do no matter what Eddie did with his career.

It meant a lot of time apart, a lot of FaceTiming at weird hours of the day or night because it’s the only time their schedules would sync up, a lot of missing each other.

But they believed in their relationship the same way they believed in each other, and they kept making it work.

He had a ring. He bought it years ago. Wayne had it so Steve wouldn’t find it, but they’d already planned on him taking it with him on his next stop in Hawkins.

He let himself relax a bit. Had a glass of wine, then champagne, and a beer. Their category was almost the last of the night, so they were able to relax for a while.

Steve knew a lot of people in the industry because of his acting career, but he’d made it very clear tonight was about Eddie to anyone who tried to talk to him.

The night was long, longer than Eddie could really handle.

His nerves were through the roof and Steve had fallen asleep on his shoulder.

When their category was announced, Eddie nudged him awake gently.

“Hey, sweetheart. I’m either about to be a Grammy winner or get a lot of great sympathy sex from you,” Eddie whispered in his ear as a camera guy settled in front of their table to get their reactions.

Steve was suddenly wide awake, the realization that this could be one of the biggest moments of their lives making him grip Eddie’s hand like a lifeline.

“And the winner for Best Metal Album is…” the announcer paused for dramatic effect. “Corroded Coffin with Reanimate!”

The whole room was cheering, but their table was going wild.

Steve jumped up the moment they said Corroded Coffin, jumping up and down and pulling Eddie up on his feet.

The next minute was a blur as they made their way to the stage, his boys surrounding him and clapping each other on the back excitedly.

They’d all worked hard for this, dealt with endless bullying in high school because their music was different, fought through the struggle of trying to appease bar owners and small town festival organizers with “softer” music so they could get in front of the right people. They spent thousands of dollars they realistically didn’t have to travel to places where metal was more welcome.

They had to take out personal loans to get studio time to record a demo and send it in to every record company they could think of.

Steve gave them 25% of his inheritance to buy their first tour bus because “it’s a good investment, and it’ll save money on hotels and eating out.”

When they got to the stage, Eddie realized that he’d have to speak.

Shit.

He’d kind of prepared a speech, but he also didn’t want to get his hopes up too much so he’d just let it go.

“Uh, wow. Okay. Thank you guys so much!” He started. He could just barely see the faces of everyone at their table, but Steve’s beaming smile was enough. “I didn’t prepare much other than that because I just didn’t think we would win. I know we’re talented and we work hard, but this is the biggest award you can win in the music industry and we still have a long way to go to really feel like we can even be in the same room as most of these talented musicians.”

He was killing it!

“I need to thank these guys up here with me, all the guys who work with us in the studio, everyone who makes tour possible, my Uncle Wayne, who probably is crying but won’t admit it when I talk to him later.” Everyone laughed. “But I have to thank Steve more than anything. I think the guys would agree he’s been the guy there for us through everything. He’s not just my boyfriend, he’s our first and biggest fan. Sorry to all the wives and future wife at our table.” More laughter. “I don’t know where we’d be without him, but I really don’t think I’d be who I am if not for the way he loves me, the way he’s always loved me. Even when it’s hard, even when we go months without being able to see each other, we find ways to make us work. We keep doing the damn thing even when the damn thing is hard. I didn’t plan to do this tonight, and Wayne is gonna kill me, but Stevie, sweetheart, I can’t go another day without knowing. Will you marry me?”

The room erupted into cheers, the guys on stage jumping up and down. He saw the camera guy zooming in on Steve’s reaction as they broadcast it on a screen by the stage.

But Eddie didn’t need the screen. He could see the tears streaming down Steve’s face as he cried, his smile bigger than life as he nodded.

“He said yes!” Jeff yelled.

The crowd cheered louder as Eddie handed the Grammy award to Gareth and ran down the stairs back to his table.

Steve jumped into his arms, wrapping his legs around his waist.

Eddie’s hands immediately went to his thighs to support him, and Steve’s hands cupped his face.

“I can’t believe you just did that,” Steve sobbed out.

“I can’t believe I haven’t done it earlier,” Eddie responded.

They kissed in front of the hundreds of people here and the possibly millions watching at home.

It was one of the best kisses they’d ever shared. The room around them went quiet, at least to them, as their lips moved against each other passionately, but with a gentleness they rarely had with each other anymore.

They pulled apart after a few more seconds, foreheads resting against each other as they caught their breath.

Eddie gently let Steve down, using his thumbs to wipe away some of his tears and giving him a beaming smile.

“Wayne’s got the ring. I have a feeling he’ll be making us come for a visit very soon so I’ll put it on you then,” Eddie whispered.

The rest of the band had trickled back to the table to collect him for post-win interviews backstage, but he couldn’t go without one more kiss.

Steve gave it willingly, always giving love in whatever way he could.

“Okay, I gotta go answer some questions. We’ll be quick,” he said with one more kiss to Steve’s forehead.

“Love you. So proud of you,” Steve said as he pulled away.

“Love you so much!”

—---------------------------------------

Steve’s engagement ring glistened in the spotlight hitting their table at the Oscars.

The Oscars.

Steve Harrington, almost Munson, was sitting at the Oscars because he was nominated for two awards: Best Actor in a Drama and Best Actor in a Comedy.

Eddie was sitting next to him, somehow more nervous here than he was at the Grammys.

His leg hadn’t stopped bouncing up and down since they sat down 20 minutes ago. The other people at the table were luckily good friends and didn’t think anything of his anxiety.

Eddie never got nervous before shows, or interviews, or photoshoots, or even his award shows. But when it came to Steve, he was a nervous wreck.

Before auditions, before appearances, before red carpets. He was on edge whether he was with him or not.

Tonight was no different.

They’d had incredibly busy schedules after the Grammys, only seeing each once over the last three months. But Eddie had told his manager nearly six months ago that he would not miss this for any reason, that Steve supported him at all of his big events, and he wasn’t going to ask permission to support his fiance, he just was.

Except it turned into more of Steve supporting him as the night wore on, the realization that Steve could very well win both categories keeping Eddie strung out.

It was actually a little cute.

The comedy category was first, and he had tough competition. Anytime you’re going against people like Jonah Hill and the people at Disney you have to be ready to lose.

And he did lose. Well, Eddie kept saying “it’s not a loss, it’s just not a win”, which was really the same thing.

But Steve wasn’t as upset as he expected to be. Comedy wasn’t really his forte, he’d only done a handful of comedy movies and shows over the last few years, and none of them were major roles.

It was the drama he cared about.

He’d put his heart and soul into this film. It was regarded as the breakthrough queer film of the year, up for enough awards tonight to be considered an Oscar Sweep.

He never would have gotten here if not for the man next to him, so he could handle his nerves easily.

“Drama is next,” Eddie breathed out, his hand squeezing Steve’s knee.

“I know, baby.”

“What if you win? Oh my god, what if you don’t? No, no. You’ll win. This is your best work. Seriously, don’t know why I would ever think you wouldn’t.”

Steve smirked as the announcer started saying all the nominees’ names.

The camera focused on him was probably capturing a lot of Eddie’s mumbling under his breath, but luckily they weren’t mic’d up so it would be easy to explain away.

“The winner for Best Actor in a Drama…Steve Harrington!”

“Oh my god! Oh my god! Steve I can’t feel my legs, I can’t feel them. Or my arms. I think I might black out, oh my god,” Eddie immediately turned to him with tears in his eyes.

“Baby, I need you to help me on stage. My leg’s broken, remember?”

And that was a pain in the ass. His last role required some stunts and Steve was an idiot and insisted on trying one for himself. It didn’t go well and he’s lucky it was just a broken leg.

Steve kissed Eddie’s lips softly, quickly, to get him to focus.

“Right! Okay,” Eddie stood up and held his arm out for Steve, who was using a single crutch to get around this evening instead of two. “Off we go!”

Steve giggled, and nodded at people clapping as they passed them on their way to the stage. Eddie was so busy looking ahead, trying to get him to the final destination safely, he missed the announcer making a joke about Steve earning the drama award by breaking his leg.

When they got on stage, Steve stood at the mic while Eddie stood at the side of the stage. He was crying, much like Steve had when he got his Grammy award.

“Sorry for taking my sweet time. As you can see, I thought I was able to do what stunt actors do and forgot that they’re actually very in shape and talented.” The room laughed. “Hey, no laughing, I didn’t win in comedy.” More laughter, louder this time. “I have to thank everyone who worked on this film; It’s truly one of those films that will continue to change lives. It was the most difficult job I have ever had, and I am so grateful for everyone who gave me the chance to prove that I could do it. I’d like to thank all my kiddos, who aren’t kiddos anymore, for all yelling at me in the group chat when I almost turned this down because I didn’t think I could do it. My agent, who goes through a lot of amazing opportunities but always manages to find the perfect one.” Steve looked over at Eddie and let himself finally tear up a little. “And Eddie. Can’t forget that guy. My support, literally.” He saw Eddie snort out a laugh between his tears. “Would not be standing here without him and not just because he had to walk me up here. Every time I thought about giving up, he made me go to one more audition or read one more script. Every time I’ve not gotten an offer I really wanted, he’s been there to remind me that there’s something better coming along. Like this one. I’d been turned down for a show I really wanted the same day I sent in the audition tapes for this role. I cried for hours on the phone with Eddie and he told me, I’ll never forget his exact words, ‘You’re meant for better and better will find you.’ And it did. But the best is you, baby. You’re the better that is at the beginning and end of all my days. I could never work again and I’d still be the happiest guy in the world because you’re mine and you want me just as much as I want you. Eight years ago, I was closeted, telling myself that the way I felt when my best friend hugged me was just because he was my best friend. Now, I’m winning an Oscar for playing a queer man in a deeply moving film about finding love for yourself even when love from others isn’t an option. I’m marrying you, that best friend who probably knew exactly what he was doing when he hugged me. And I know I’m wearing your engagement ring, and we’ve already set a date and picked the cake, but I feel like I should ask. Eddie, you’re the only one who gets me at my best, and you also get me at my worst and still love me anyway. Will you marry me?”

He watched as Eddie’s brain ran through a million options at once, finally settling on joining him at the microphone.

He pulled him against his chest, hand against the back of his head.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes, it’s a yes. Fuck, yes,” Eddie sobbed out.

The crowd was cheering, and the cameras were circling around the stage getting every angle of the moment that they could.

“Next time you’re on this stage accepting an award, you’ll be Steve Munson,” Eddie teased.

“It’s got a nice ring to it,” Steve said against his shoulder.

They pulled apart enough to kiss, much like they did at the Grammys: soft, passionate, but slow.

“Do you have a secret ring hiding at Wayne’s too?”

“No, no ring. Just wanted to show the world I love you as much as you love me.”

“Oh, so it’s to show off. Got it,” Eddie poked him in the side, smirking when he laughed. “Get your trophy before they kick us off the stage.”

Steve grabbed his award, waved to the crowd with one final thank you, and let Eddie help him off the stage.

They were getting married in three months, honeymooning in four. They’d just bought their first house together, spent the last seven years renting apartments wherever life took them. They started talking about taking a break after Corroded Coffin’s next tour and Steve’s next movie so they could start a family.

They had so much to look forward to.

But most importantly, they had the backseat of a limo entirely to themselves on the way back to the hotel.

If they left a $500 tip for cleaning after, it was their business.

[whoiwanttoday]

The Oscars are upon us and thank god. This year's awards season felt prolonged for some reason, like extra long. It's a thing I look forward to with all the red carpets but also seeing what wins and discussing what should have won but somehow it felt like it lasted forever this year. Maybe it's just me, who knows, but a few movies seemed to have a death grip on the entire conversation this year. My take on 2023 was that it was sort of an interesting year in that it's mean was strong but it didn't move me. A lot of years there are one or two movies that are such favorites of mine that I know I will return to them again and again. Movies that hit my heart. Last year it was Aftersun, a few years before that Portrait of a Lady on Fire and Little Women, and so on. This year, assembling my top 10 list I found that there was nothing that I couldn't wait to pop in again but I had trouble keeping the list to just 10 movies. It was a weird situation where if you looked at my list and told me my ten should be one and my one should be ten I'd probably agree with you. Anyway, with the Oscars coming here is what I think of the big awards. Best Actor I don't care. There are three candidates that if they won I'd be glad and I think the most likely to win are two of them so that's fine. I think Ryan Gosling should win for Supporting actor but he probably won't but I won't be heart broken cause I saw all the performances and they are good and the best supporting actor this year wasn't even nominated so who gives a fuck? Ditto best Actress and supporting actress but my pick would probably be Emma Stone for actress. Best Picture I think Zone of Interest or Poor Things would probably be my pick of those nominated, both are amazing pieces of cinema but the first can be like doing your homework in the sense that it is a deeply unpleasant experience that I think we should all go through from time to time. Past Lives and Poor Things are very rewatchable and will grow with each viewing so I think have the most legs for posterity other than the obvious Barbie and Oppenheimer. As for Oscars snubs, the stuff they basically ignored but shouldn't have because it's better than some of what made it in no orders is: May December, Asteroid City, Return to Seoul, Wes Anderson like ever, Zac Efron, CHARLES MELTON, Park Ji-Min, Greta Lee, Teo Yoo, I guess maybe just Asian Actors in general, great job Oscars. Oh, and you know, shout out to A Thousand and One which probably shouldn't be nominated, it wasn't perfect but is the sort of flawed that made it somehow far more compelling than a lot of the nominees this year. Oh, and Four Daughters should win for documentary because it is movie and fascinating and takes a tact I have never seen a documentary do before. Award moving the medium forward.

Anyway, all that is a long way of saying I am posting Margot Robbie today who should have been nominated for an Oscar this year. It isn't the single greatest snub of all time but she was in a movie that helped save Hollywood for at least one more year and did a phenomenal job in a role that I think literally she is the only person who could have played it. Acting is so much more than the words you say and your body and physicality is part of it and there is something to be said about someone who can both look like Barbie and act at a high level. Despite the fact that I do not feel the same level of lust for Margot Robbie the rest of the world does I cannot help but admire her as an actor. She is, without a doubt, someone who goes for it in a way very few movie stars do. She acts in everything i have ever seen her in as if this is her one shot to get into Hollywood and if she half asses it her career is over. This is such a level of effort from a movie star who often settle into a persona. Not because they can't act but because a persona is more profitable and better for their career but also yes, it is easier. Easier and safer and she never, ever does that. Thing is, awards are often about what is distinguished more than it is about what is accomplished and playing a toy is not distinguished playing say, dead people is. Now, you'll hear people say awards don't matter and they are nonsense and that's all true except also they do matter and they are important. Which is why this isn't a massive snub because Margot Robbie is going to be just fine but here is why they are important. Every single movie nominated for the Oscars this year is about to get a second life. It will have more eyeballs on it than it would otherwise, both in theaters and on streaming. Artists tend to want their art to be seen, it's very unsatisfying to create and have it wither in obscurity. It will also make them more money so they can make more art but also so they are rewarded for their labor. Finally, everyone likes to be recognized for their work. Anyone here who does a job knows how awful it is to toil away in obscurity without so much as a thanks or recognition of your effort. Which is why you see people like me worry about who wasn't nominated as much as anything else. So they don't matter in the sense that who wins the Oscar has no impact on what is or isn't a great movie but it does matter in the sense that it matters to the people working on it and it matters on how it gets recognition for work. So, Margot Robbie could at least win as a producer but I think her role was good enough she should be nominated as an actress again and think she largely wasn't not because the field was so crowded but because she made a movie about a toy and thus we've seen almost no actual awards for Barbie. Enjoy the Oscars, enjoy these pics of Margot. Today I want to fuck Margot Robbie.

[watchmorecinema]

The Oscars Hate Animation

First I want to say that I don't hold any animosity towards the films that were nominated for best picture. I haven't seen them all but they all seem pretty damn great (Maestro feels oscar-baity to me but whatever).

What I don't like is how animation is put into its own box. They can't ignore it completely, but they can push all animated works into the animated film category and make sure that none of them can possibly take the main awards. Animation is treated as something for children, or hyper-violent fare for edgy teens.

You couldn't imagine this happening to painters. Vincent Van Gogh was never told that he made nice things for children to look at. Picasso was never told that he could be making "real" art if he switched to photography. A single image is art, but millions in a row to give the illusion of motion is somehow less than art.

It's just all so stupid. Spiderman: Across the Spiderverse is a beautiful movie with such fluid animation, expressive characters and just flush with color. The movie isn't happy with just having a single great art style, instead incorporating new art styles and movements as it switches between universes. It's incredible, and it's given the same amount of recognition as Wish simply because they both happen to be animated. The voice actors were not nominated for their work, neither were the producers, sound designers, editors or even the director. The only recognition it can get is "best movie of this selection that we don't really care about but feel compelled to mention".

If you've never really watched an animated film that you thought was really mature and thoughtful, I've got the just the list for you. Personally I recommend Akira, Perfect Blue, Redline, Angel's Egg, Isle of Dogs and Mad God but most of the movies on that list are pretty great.

[dynared]

Random thoughts on the Earthspark cancelation and what comes next for the Transformers brand

What a week, huh? So, we got confirmation Earthspark was canceled, Hasbro put the absolute bare minimum effort into their 40th anniversary celebration leading to many people going to the movie theaters expecting Transformers the Movie and not DVD-quality episodes of the TV series with many demanding refunds, and some good news, Transformers from Skybound being nominated for several Eisner awards, the first time a Transformers comic has ever been nominated for the comic book world's Oscar equivalent.

So once again, the brand, the sole surviving Western mecha brand at this point unless that J-Lo movie next week somehow launches a new franchise (doubtful) is at a crossroads, especially with their enduring business partner Paramount in complete turmoil, with more senior executives jumping ship and an official NDA signed between Paramount and Sony yesterday which allows Sony access to Paramount's record-keeping in order to ascertain the value for a bid.

So with all that said, rambling about the franchise under the cut.

Earthspark is done after this season, and it's easy to see why. While many right-wing grifter types will point to the nebulous "wokeness", an ill-defined term at this point that means little besides "bad non-traditional thing", the reasons are pretty simple. Kids weren't interested, the toyline didn't sell, and the show, whether due to being distributed on a streaming service people only get for Sonic stuff and the occasional South Park special, had very poor ratings. If you're making a kids show and you bore the kids, you're done, no matter how "important" you think the stories are. The days of Ted Turner funding Captain Planet out of his own pocket are long gone.

Since Earthspark is dead, but another series is in development, it looks like Hasbro will not be letting the franchise rest for any set period of time. The most likely follow-up for Earthspark is a spin-off of Transformers One similar to what Tales of the TMNT is for Mutant Mayhem after the latter's box-office success. It's a pretty low-risk venture to boot, with the biggest issue being the usual problems with a movie spin-off (lower quality visuals, sound-alikes since you can't pay the celebrity actors to do the voices week in and week out) so long as the movie is a success. It also lets the franchise establish some needed distance from Earthspark's lack of success.

Now, the question of "What if One isn't a success?" definitely is one that Hasbro is contemplating. For all the ragging on Snake-Eyes GI Joe Origins as a box office bomb, Rise of the Beasts was widely viewed by Hollywood as a flop and the lowest-grossing film in the history of the franchise. While a lot of that may be due to the wishy-washy way the continuity has been handled and the inability to commit to a full reboot (Madame Web producer Lorenzo di Bonaventura has been insistent that all the Michael Bay movies are still canon, even though that makes no real sense), if One isn't successful, the franchise may need to step back for a year or two.

Any other new concept for a series that fans have wanted is simply not feasible due to time and budget. With Hasbro joined at the hip with Paramount (apparently Hasbro board members own Paramount stock, hence their desire to keep the relationship going so long as Paramount exists), they don't have access to or funds for numerous studios. Studio Trigger have been asking to do a Transformers show for years now, hence all the shout-outs in stuff like SSSS.Gridman and even Panty and Stocking. Studio Orange's head took to the internet earlier in the week asking to be able to do a mecha show. Neither is getting the call from Hasbro because Paramount would rather use local Western studios and save money.

That of course leads to the final option for an adaptation, a 1:1 or similar of the Energon Universe. The problem with that is simply put, it's way too soon. While it would assuredly get a lot of attention just by putting down "From the creator of Invincible and The Walking Dead" in the promos, animation lead times mean that it would be impossible to do at this point without overtaking the entire stock of comics and either resulting in huge delays between seasons, or filler. Neither of which would be helpful.

So I guess tl:dr - Earthspark bombed not because of a non-binary owl, but because the kids were bored by it, with even the Fox News controversy failing to get the show any real positive attention with its main demographic of families. As horrible for Hollywood as it may be to see Paramount be sold for parts to Sony, it may actually be Hasbro's best bet at making its tie-in brands successful again on the big and small screens. And if One doesn't succeed, they are going to be in big trouble because nothing else is realistically ready yet.

[royalsunshinehotel]

first of all i love your writing. my request is maybe something inspired by ABBA's waterloo?? lmao it's such a catchy song. could be jay, joshua or anwar?

Anwarterloo (Anwar x DWTS! Reader)

A/N: In this fic, Anwar is on Dancing With The Stars, and is partnered with the reader. This one is short because I am buzzing.

"Waterloo?? By ABBA??? Who did you kill to get that song?" shouted Keo as your friend twirled you around. The dance had been electric, Anwar was on his game, he'd somehow hit all his steps and never lost a moment of his elegance that kept people tuning in to see the two of you.

The air was buzzing. Against all odds, you'd gotten your little lanky diva to the semi-finals of this latest season. And your first season as a pro dancer to boot! GOD!!!

In your many years as a dancer, you'd been able to figure out what your most comfortable version of 'poise' looked like.

"How's the ankle?" Asked your partner as he put an arm around your waste. You'd been struggling the past few weeks, and he'd covered for you, flawlessly.

It was odd to have a man be helpful for a chance. In your city, men were usually pretty accessories, they were rarely productive. It didn't bode well. Dancing this much was too hard on your body, these feelings for Anwar made your brain hurt.

He's beautiful, next to you, silvery shirt open.

You don't want to be on TV, you want to bite his neck like a rabid dog.

Anwar could feel your eyes on him, but he's an Oscar-nominated actor, he can conceal things for a little bit longer. Season was almost over, Anwar knew you were barely hanging on, and the fist of his sparkly open shirt told him exactly how your joints felt.

His felt the same. His studio said he needed to do this as a promotion as a biopic. It was never supposed to get this far!!

Why, oh why, did he have to be naturally good at everything, he could with this fucking thing. Maybe his bones would pop out before then. How did people do dance as a job?

"Ugh, Americans," he thinks.

You take a moment to exhale, as the couples before you are called out on to the stage for the elimination ceremony.

"Arten, Taylor, Anwar, YN, You're our last couples tonight. We're letting American decide," Alfonso Ribero nods solemly at the audience and it's so deeply difficult not to hide your face behind your hands.

"Excuse me, Alfonso, I've got something to say!"

"Oh, yeah Anwar? What's that?" He's such a good sport, Alfonso was a perfect host for this show.

"I've reached my peak with dancing. I'd rather take my leave from Dancing With The Stars knowing I did my best, and that I'd rather be eating." Alfonso hides a laugh behind his hand.

"Taylor is the better dancer, anyone with eyes can tell, and I'd rather be taking this one out on a date. You promised when the season was over..." Your partner gives you the saddest, most large, wet eyes you could ever imagine, and it squeezes all the breath out of your lungs.

"Oh... yes!" You answer, blinking at him, asking 'Where are you going with this?' Dinner with Anwar, had you ever actually seen him eat?

"She said yes, so America, don't vote for me, I'm going to Five Guys because I'm tired!!" You roll your eyes in full view of the camera, hoping that the teens on Twitter could capture what on earth your Anwar was doing!

"Taylor, you're a dear friend," Taylor blew him a kiss, smiling, and he bowed, "goodnight everyone!"

The audience stands, for someone self-aware. As far as you were concerned, such charisma should be banned within city limits!

"You're ridiculous!" You cry, laughing as Anwar sees fit to pick you up like a bride, and sweep you off the fucking ballroom floor. Good riddance, it's time for something else.

You close your eyes, leaning into your chest as lights flash. The night is temperate, bordering on a light chill, and you stood on the pavement with your ass practically out in your leotard. This LA thing was for the birds, how did people do this?

"I am so proud of you. And thanks for that." You reach up and kiss his bearded cheek, as he plants you firmly on the sidewalk. The car you had waiting was going to take you to five guys. Whatever it was between the two of you had to be addressed, and you've got more than enough time now.

[broadwaydivastournament]

Broadway Divas Tournament: Round 1A

(this poll breaks my heart)

Six-time Tony winner Audra McDonald (1970) holds the record for most Tony acting awards a person has ever won. She is one of five actors to be nominated across all four respective acting categories and the only person to win every one (and the only actress out of the three who is still living...). Her stage work includes: Ragtime (1998), Porgy and Bess (2012), and Lady Day at Emmerson's Bar and Grill (2014) among so much more on Broadway and far beyond. All this woman needs is an Oscar to EGOT, and what are we as a society doing to make that happen? Audra debuted on Broadway as a replacement in The Secret Garden, and yes, Rebecca Luker was still there.

Rebecca Luker (1961-2020) was known for her luminous work in The Secret Garden (1991) as the original Lily Craven, The Sound of Music (1998), and The Music Man (2000) where she was nominated for a Tony alongside an iconic lineup (Audra McDonald, Marin Mazzie, Toni Collette, and Heather Headley). She had an extensive regional theatre and concert career and had four solo recordings. In February 2020, she was diagnosed with ALS, and by October her beautiful voice was all but gone. Rebecca passed away in December of 2020. She was 59.

PROPAGANDA AND MEDIA UNDER CUT:

"Is any propaganda really needed? Is saying six-time Tony winner Audra McDonald not enough for you people? Just listen to this woman's voice and tell me your soul doesn't ascend to a higher plane of being. And just listen to her do Lady Day. Audra McDonald, what the fuck? How are you this talented? Audra McDonald is THE Broadway Diva and a true triple threat. She has ten Tony nominations to her name, and is right up there alongside the legends that were Julie Harris and Chita Rivera."

"True operatic sopranos are a dying breed in the most literal sense. Rebecca was a gift to this world, and I miss her dearly. Her Marian in The Music Man was everything, and I refuse to acknowledge that we live in a world where we had her revive Barbara Cook's role after over forty years, only to get a second revival barely two decades later with a fucking belter in a soprano role. Go listen to Rebecca Luker's "My White Knight" and cleanse yourself, and watch how she somehow finds the bootleg camera and sings right to it."

[cinemaocd]

Movies I watched in March 2024

Under the Cherry Moon (1986)** I'm Not There (2007)*** Jingle All the Way (1996)* Three Graves to Cairo (1943)** Hitchcock (2012) ** Silent Partner (1978)** Possession (2002)** Oppenheimer (2023)** Oscar Wilde (1960)** Turning Point: The Cold War and the Bomb (2024)** Anselm (2023)*** 24 Hour Party People (2002)** Two of Us (1999)*** Remains of the Day (1993)*** Doubt (2008)*** Dune (1984)*** Dune Part II (2024)***

Under the Cherry Moon (1986)** Absolute bobbins of a script is still beautiful to look at, very gay and of course mainly a vehicle for Prince's music. Under the Cherry Moon was the follow up to Purple Rain. It was a box office flop, a critical failure that earned Razzie nominations, but is a worth another look. Prince and Jerome Beton are sex workers with a rich female clientele on the French Riviera, the kind of career that only exists in movies. Kristin Scott Thomas makes her film debut as the debutante who comes between the friends and threatens to part them. Prince's death scene, harkens back to Camille with Prince playing Garbo. Like Garbo, Prince was happy to exploit his own androgyny and like Garbo, he was doomed to only explore that in a way that could be squeezed into heteronormative films.

I'm not There: (2007)*** A fascinating look at Bob Dylan, dividing him into six personae played by six different actors. Haynes uses different film styles, the Cate Blanchett mid Sixties Dylan of Bringing it All Back Home and Blonde on Blonde is matched in style with the black and white cinematography of D.A. Pennebaker's Don't Look Back. It also has elements of the Italian Surrealists like Felinni or Antonioni with a scoch of A Hard Day's Night. The soundtrack is particularly good, avoiding for the most part, the licensing pitfalls that plagued Haynes' Bowie biopic, Velvet Goldmine. Some of the most effective moments of I'm Not There, pair landscape shots with Dylan's music. Given the catalogue and the array of talent, Haynes has gathered, one perhaps expects a bit more , but then that has always been Dylan's nature, he's mysterious and aloof, leaving us wanting more.

Jingle All the Way (1996)* We watched this Christmas movie in March because we recently learned that part of it was filmed at my son's elementary school. It had Jake Lloyd somehow being more annoying than he was in the Phantom Menace as a bonus. Phil Hartman got dragged into this unfunny mess as well.

Three Graves to Cairo (1943)** Tense war time drama about a British officer who gets trapped behind the lines and ends up hiding out in a hotel working as a waiter for Field Marshall Rommel. Billy Wilder ratchets up the tension, his script giving all the best lines to Rommel, played by Erich Von Stroheim who really owns the film though Anne Baxter and Franchot Tone nominally "star."

Hitchcock (2012)** Hichcock's struggle to make Pyscho dramatized with fantasies where he hangs out with Ed Gein, while Alma Hitchcock gets involved in a Hitchcockian romance with a hack writer. Scarlett Johannson plays an almost deliberately obtuse Janet Leigh and James Darcy captures pre-Psycho Tony Perkins. It's a bit silly but I'll never turn down Helen Mirren and Anthony Hopkins in anything. This has a slight, arch feel to it, like many of Hitchcock's pictures, but lurking underneath are the ordinary hates and passions of a man who fears being left behind, at the height of his career. For his long-suffering wife's part, she too feels she's being replaced by the young actresses that Hitchcock is obsessed with at the moment. The conclusion is sweet enough for the Hayes office: husband and wife rediscover the magic of their working relationship, which was always the rock upon which their relationship was built.

The Silent Partner (1978)** With Elliott Gould, Christopher Plummer and Susannah York in the cast, this should have been better. Decent heist plot that devolves into slasher film . Christopher Plummer takes on the dubious mantels of playing a villain in a piss-poor American action film and a cross-dressing murderer.

Possession (2002)** A rather thin adaptation of a great novel, A.S. Byatt's story of two modern academics who disover a previous hidden romance between two Victorian poets. The film lacks the poetry of the novel, which I think is necessary for the story to have its full impact, but the film is full of plenty of jabs at academia as well as burning passions. Gweneth Paltrow and Aaron Ecklund play the young couple, while Jeremy Northam and Jennifer Ehle play the poet/lovers. Tom Hollander has a small but memorable part as does Toby Stephens.

Oppenheimer (2023)** My least favorite half of Barbenheimer still damn good and the physics nerd in me reveled in seeing my dead physicist boyfriends on screen. There are better films about Oppenheimer's life (BBC did a mini series starring Sam Waterston and it's on youtube) but something about the dreamy quality of Nolan's film captures that quantum mystery kinda vibe and put it in a blockbuster package. Cool.

Oscar Wilde (1960)** Preceded the landmark film Crisis by one year, without the world shaking honesty that film managed, around the topic of homosexuality and the law. Both films hinged on blackmail of a gay man but Oscar Wilde is careful to skirt around explicit mentions of sexuality, using tricks like showing the dictionary definition of "sodomy" briefly on camera. More was needed and more was achieved a year later. Ralph Richardson contributes to the courtroom scenes admirably and Morley is a terrific Wilde, who would rather make point for style than save himself from prison.

Turning Point: The Cold War and the Bomb (2024)** Fascinating background to our current situation, most of which is terrifying and now I'm worrying about the bomb again. I took off a star for the sheer number neo-con/Reaganite talking heads in this...

Anselm (2023)*** Wim Wenders stirring mostly visual documentary about Anselm Kiefer, a German artist who has explored his childhood memories of post war Germany in a frank and intimidatingly in your face way, on a massive scale combining sculpture, painting and physical spaces, many of which he has engineered himself. As a middle aged person who feels estranged and terrified to look more deeply into her own childhood, Anselm was something to sit with for two hours.

24 Hour Party People (2002)** Steve Coogan plays Tony Wilson, the Manchester TV personality and club owner who helped launch the careers of Joy Division, New Order and The Happy Mondays. Coogan has a tendency to make all his characters Alan Partridge and this is no exception, but it kind of works? It did more to get me to listen to Joy Division that numerous goth roommates ever could...

Two of Us (1999)*** I can't stop watching this made for VH-1 fanfiction of a movie starring Jared Harris and Aidan Quinn as John Lennon and Paul McCartney, dramatizing a probably apocryphal tale that John and Paul met up in NYC in the 70s when Paul was playing Madison Square Garden. Pure fluff and nonsense. I need it like air.

Remains of the Day (1993)*** Revisiting this old favorite and finding that it's kind of pacey and funny for a Merchant Ivory pic. The movie that made me love Tony Hopkins as an actor, his Stevens is really such a fascinating, ostensibly tragic character and yet there is a weird kind of triumph to living one's life so completely to a schedule and a code, and yet never being to eliminate desire and feeling.

Doubt (2008)*** This is the second Philip Seymour Hoffman movie I've watched in the last few months that has left me utterly haunted. Like The Master, Hoffman creates a villain who charms the audience at the same time you know that he's probably done unforgivable things and is only at the start of a long career of doing unforgivable things. Meryl Streep gives a heavy handed performance (Streep never met a colloquial accent that she didn't wear like a Groucho Marx nose) that certainly gets the point across that unpleasant people usually aren't the bad guys you want them to be. Amy Adams plays a naive young nun who, like the audience, is left wondering what to believe.

Dune (1984)*** Unapologetic Lynch Dune lover here. I love the cheesy acting, the wild tonal shifts, and the attempts to put this sprawling multibook epic in the Star Wars shaped box that the studio wanted him to use. My favorite scene has become Lynch's cameo, he seems so happy just pretending to be a spice miner, in his little spice mining suit in his little unconvincing space ship. I love him and this whole stupid mess. Sorry Frank Herbert.

Dune Part II (2024)*** My prediction is that Villeneuve's probable trilogy will--like so many franchises--peak in the second film. The first part was a slow-moving visual feast, that only hinted at the potential of this cast. Things actually start moving in the plot and Chalamet's Paul does his best to cope. Unlike MacLachlan's avuncular Atreides, who takes being a Messiah as just being another Tuesday of being the Universe's Most Gifted Child, he actually seems conflicted. Zendaya continues to utterly dominate every time she's on screen. Can Channi be the focus of the movie? Please?

[pinesource]

We've seen the versatile and charming Chris Pine take on a litany of roles over his career that have stretched him both emotionally and physically. He has been the suave space pioneer Captain James T. Kirk in the Star Trek movie franchise, the sophisticated CIA special ops man in Jack Ryan: Shadow Recruit, the charismatic and rakish swindler Frank in Don't Worry Darling, and most recently, the down-his-luck scoundrel in Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves. He has handled each of these characters with just the right amount of deft, nuance, and effusive energy. But the role that is without a doubt his most layered and measured is as Toby Hooper in the Taylor Sheridan-written neo-Western Hell or High Water.

While it might surprise some to learn that Pine has never even been nominated for an Academy Award, there is one singular part we think deserved not only a nomination but a straight-up Best Actor in a Motion Picture Oscar, all thanks to his elegantly rugged portrayal of Hooper. By now, he should have a little golden statuette on his mantle as we speak, and the fact that he wasn't even nominated needs to be re-examined as there are a handful of "Oscar moments" for Pine in the film.

Chris Pine has been called on to play all sorts of characters in his still very young career, but his role in the Taylor Sheridan neo-noir Western is by far his best. In Hell or High Water, Sheridan writes a part for him that really pulls out all the actor's talents as a modern-day Frank James to his brother Tanner’s wild-ass Jesse James. After a series of ham and egg bank robberies, the two main characters settle into place. Tanner is brash, irreverent, and seems okay with giving the whole world the middle finger. For Pine's Toby, it's not quite so easy. He has to be the brains and measured temperament of the outfit as they are on a mission to steal enough money to pay off the bank lien on their family ranch that sits amid the sprawling West Texas plains. Sheridan wastes little time giving Pine the emotional anchor of the misanthropic antiheroes and asks him to deliver a sympathetic felon who you somehow want to see succeed no matter how many laws he's broken or people he's harmed. It takes serious dramatic savvy to do that and be convincing to a smart audience.

As the Hooper brothers are on the run from the law played by the equally dyspeptic tandem of sheriffs named Marcus Hamilton and Alberto Parker (Jeff Bridges and Gil Birmingham, respectively), they stop at a remote convenience store in the middle of nowhere. When two punks pull up next to Tanner waiting at the gas pump in a bright neon green muscle car and start to give Tanner shit, Toby comes out of the store and sees what he perceives to be a threat to his kin (the driver brandishes a gun), and doesn't hesitate for a second. It's Chris Pine's second "Oscar moment" in Hell or High Water as he single-handedly delivers an epic beating of the driver. By the time he makes his way to the passenger side of the car, he is met with a stunned and frightened kid who doesn't want any part of the ass whipping he just witnessed. The beautiful part of the scene is watching Toby proceed calmly and get into the car and the two share a laugh as they drive away from the scene arguing the merits of Dr. Pepper verus Mr. Pibb. Pine can deliver the brawny goods if he needs to and the size and physicality combined with a protective brother bear instincts make for a stark and utterly believable outward expression of the lengths he'll go to protect who and what he loves.

We've mentioned "Oscar moments" throughout this article and there is complete validity that in order to win the little golden man, you need to have at least one remarkable and memorable moment that gives us goosebumps, warm fuzzies, sadness, fear, or any other manner of emotions. But aside from these isolated turns, there is an overall tone and mood that the character must create that permeates and sets the tone for the entire film. In Hell or High Water, Chris Pine has an unmatched reserved urgency about him that both slows down and speeds up the measured pace of the movie. There are a handful of tender moments between father and son, and the two brothers as well. He doesn't have a lot of dialogue, and that's the way we like our leading men in Westerns. In fact, Pine spends most of the film with his chin planted firmly in his upper chest peering up at his counterparts. At the same time, there is a restlessness about him that is difficult to pinpoint, but impossible not to feel — all the way to the front of your cinematic cerebral cortex in a weighty performance that is criminally unrecognized.

[ultrahpfan5blog]

Barbenheimer Part 2: My thoughts on Oppenheimer.....

After a 50 min break after Barbie, I settle down to watch Oppenheimer in IMAX. I am a big fan of Nolan's movies. I haven't seen Following, but I either like or love every movie he has made. He's one of the few directors who is the star of his own movie, whether the lead actor is someone as famous as Leonardo DiCaprio or some unknowns like in Dunkirk. So I went in with high expectations and Nolan lived up to those expectations again.

Oppenheimer is a movie that leaves you shaken. I genuinely can't believe how a 3 hour movie which is all talk, ended up being so gripping that it just rushed by. This summer has seen its fair share of long movies, with a majority of summer blockbusters clocking in around 2.5 hours, but I felt the length with all of them. Not with Oppenheimer though. While I would hesitate to call it Nolan's best, its easily one of the best of the year.

What is amazing is the film is essentially two films at once. One is a movie about the construction of the bomb and the Trinity test and subsequent deployment of those bombs. The second is a courtroom drama of two legal proceedings happening at different points in time. Both movies are riveting and the structure of the movie is enthralling. The first act of the film basically acts as the first 2 acts of both movies. It sets up the characters, the various dynamics etc.... Then the second act is essentially the final act of the first movie, and the third act, if the final act of the second movie. It was a genius way to keep audience enthralled throughout.

The film is just filled with extraordinary work by everyone involved. The cinematography, costume design, product design, the practical effects, the performances, the directing etc... is all superb. I fully expect this film to get a lot of Oscar nomination come Oscar season. The characters are extremely well realized, and not just Oppenheimer or Strauss, but every single individual. There are so many known actors that appear in this film, sometimes just for a scene or two, but somehow every character is a fully realized character. I also like that Oppenheimer is portrayed as man. He has flaws, but he also has traits to be admired. Even Strauss is not portrayed as evil, just vindictive. Also, as someone who is in the Engineering field, the construction of the bomb was just fascinating to me. I loved watching legendary 20th century scientists, who are rockstars of the scientific community, depicted as people and I loved a lot of their individual interactions. The scenes between Oppenheimer and Einstein for example, were terrific. The final scene between them is genuinely terrifying. In general, the way Oppenheimer's mind is visualized is awesome.

There is not much in terms of flaws. The film is talky. For some, that may be boring. I can maybe say that the actual portrayal of the explosion, while exciting, was not as bombastic and horrifying as it could have been. There are moments in the courtroom drama part of the film, where it feels like it could have been edited down a little. And it took me about 15 minutes to get a handle on the structure of the film and the back and forth time jumps. But honestly, can't think of too much else apart from that.

The performances are incredible across the board. Cillian Murphy should be a top contender for best actor. The guy has been excellent in supporting roles for a while, but he kills it here. Apart from scenes from the Lewis Strauss confirmation hearing, he is on screen for every scene. RDJr finally breaks out of his Tony Stark skin and delivers a superb turn here. He really bursts into top gear in the final act of the film. Emily Blunt is lovely. She is largely in the background but she shines superbly when she has to be front and center towards the end. Matt Damon is immensely likable as Leslie Groves, one of Oppenheimer's true supporters outside of the scientific community. The film is littered with so many other excellent performances. Benny Safdie as Edward Teller, Josh Hartnett as Ernest Lawrence, Kenneth Branaugh as Niels Bohr, Jason Clarke as Roger Robb, Tom Conti as Albert Einstein, Florence Pugh as Jean Tatlock, and David Krumholtz as Isidor Isaac Rabi are all highlights in the movie. Casey Affleck walks in for a couple of scenes and sent chills down my spine with his performance. Alden Ehrenreich has a superb mini arc of his own as aide to Strauss and he has some of the most satisfying scenes in the movie where he converts to an Oppenheimer supporter as he figures out the things Strauss has done. But there are so many excellent performances in this movie that I could go on and on.

As a director, Nolan has really outdone himself. I can't make an assessment as to where this film lands in Nolan's filmography but it is towards the top of an already excellent set of films. I suspect nothing will outdo TDK trilogy and Inception for me, but this might land right behind those. All in all, a 9/10 movie.

[typingcorgi]

golden

characters: marcus pike x you rating: e (oral f receiving, sex summarized. not that spicy tbh but still if you're under 18 please shoo) summary: set in 1960s. you're an actress in a relationship with Hollywood's biggest film star. this has no plot, just soft smut and feels. lol

i have been reading too much taylor jenkins reid, please enjoy

1964.

It's a sullen awards season if you're being honest. The country is still reeling from the assassination of its chief diplomat. Hollywood has taken a somewhat somber and patriotic turn, and you're not sure how quickly you can keep up with it all.

And still, you are Hollywood's brave girl. You need to sport a brave face.

This is your second time attending the Academy Awards. Your dress is long and as blue and dark as midnight. When confronted by your stylist, your initial choice had been a bold and sweeping red gown, but your publicist warned you against a provocative decision.

Your eyeliner is winged and subtle, lips soft and pink, and when your date arrives in '62 Crown Imperial, he is rendered breathless. 

He wins for Lovers Lost in Paris, of course. Even a film set in France has somehow shoehorned in all the makings of a patriotic romance; two Americans having met in the City of Lights only to fall desperately in love and reconnect decades later after having returned to the States some time ago.

It's not an unexpected win, though perhaps ironic, considering you know his birth-given name is Marcos Pereira, not Marcus Pike.

You’ve murmured his name—his real name—when he’s fucked you after long shoots and scheduled photo ops and publicity dinners. It always sounds so pretty, the authentic use of it, the rawness of it, the believability that a woman could honestly and earnestly love a man with a name Hollywood had discarded decades ago.

Still, you’re under no illusion that this relationship hasn’t been manufactured by the film industry itself. Your agents have agreed—it’s beneficial for you both to be seen together. Even if you’re not the leading actress in Lovers, you’re about one film away from being an undisputed leading lady. And more importantly, being photographed with one of Hollywood’s biggest actors is mutually beneficial. It boosts your name recognition, further guaranteeing your spot in a leading role, and it’d also built the momentum toward Lovers’ release. Once audiences knew you and the Marcus Pike were dating, they rushed to the box office in droves.

And you won’t lie—name recognition is nice. Auditions are rolling in. Money is better. But this newfound connection with Marcus is what fills your cup. Some mornings when you wake up in his arms, you wonder if you’d give it up to spend the rest of your life in that exact moment, untouched and unbothered.

Most of the time, you say yes.

The Academy afterparties have started, but you and Marcus have opted to return to your hotel. You kick your heels off before the door to your room has even closed. Marcus offers to rub your feet, and you politely turn him down. You order room service instead and open a bottle of wine.

"You were brilliant up there," you say, your weary feet resting upon a silk pillow at the edge of the bed. He's poured you each a glass of Chardonnay and you share a cigarette. You'd much rather take advantage of a quiet night in rather than the boisterous scandal of a typical afterparty.

"Now, who paid you to say that?" He teases. "With the number of mics thrown in your face tonight, I'd be surprised if someone didn't bug this place."

You smile sheepishly and nod, rolling your eyes slightly at the comment. "I was hardly interviewed," you protest. "It was you everyone was after."

While Marcus Pike is embarking on his third decade in film, you are a relative newcomer. Your role in Lovers was nominated for Best Supporting Actress, but you lost to your costar. It was a bit of a blow to your evergrowing ego, but Marcus had reminded you that the film that earned you an Oscar had yet to be filmed. It's out there for you. I just know it, beautiful.

"I don't think that's true," he replies back, lips curving into a slight smirk. “But if they were, I didn’t notice.” He sits behind you on the bed, a gentle grip along your shoulders while his lips press a tender kiss along your neck.

“I wonder why,” you say, soft and knowing. You shiver as you lick your lips and inhale sharply. Marcus Pike always makes you shiver.

His lips trail toward your chin, your jawline, until they’re resting upon yours while he lays you down. He takes you apart so perfectly, so beautifully because he knows what makes you fall apart beneath his broad hands and thick fingers. He knows to take your dress off and pull your panties toward your ankles before he dives into your slick, tasting you until you repeat his name on your pink-smudged lips. Marcos. Marcos. Marcos.

You swear to the heavens that this is the moment you realize you’ve fallen in love. You love his kindness, his sweet smile, his willingness to drop his own damn trophy to massage your feet the moment you step foot into your room. You love that he orders pancakes at two in the morning and tips the bellman extra for troubling him at such a ridiculous hour. You love his work ethic, his commitment to his craft, his willingness to accept feedback rather than spit in the face of those who offer it. He hasn’t been hardened by Hollywood, not yet, not when these movers and shakers have given him reasons to.

And because he hasn’t, you haven’t, either. You know the circumstances are different for you—you’re a younger woman, you’re a woman; there are expectations put upon you that Marcus Pike and men like him don’t have to reckon with. But he is willing to help you overcome them.

You love that about him too.

“Hm?”

Marcus comes up from between your legs, eyes as wide as dinner plates. Your eyes had been practically closed, chest rising and falling with every sweet breath, until you realize he’s looking at you like that—why is he looking at you like that?

“Wh—what’s wrong?” You stammer, trying to compose yourself. You must look ridiculous—your hair a mess, your lipstick feathering along your lipline. Your dress is a messy blue heap at the floor, and even though Marucs himself looks disheveled, too—hair mussed, shirt wrinkled, bowtie undone and hanging loosely around his neck—you barely notice. If anything, it only furthers his charm.

“Nothing,” he replies, too quickly. “Nothing at all. It’s just—you said—”

“What?” You interrupt. You’re immediately alert now, your drooping eyes now open while your lips purse. You’d been in such a fucking trance, on the brink of an orgasm, until Marcus pulled away so abruptly that it took a few extra minutes to realize he hadn’t been down there anymore. And now you’re wondering what you’ve said in your sexually charged haze. “What did I say?”

“Baby,” he breathes after a beat, and then he kisses you. He murmurs something against your lips and it’s only then you realize you’ve confessed, unknowingly. You told The Marcus Pike that you loved him, and against all odds, he’s saying it back to you.

He says it back in Spanish, once, twice, again. Again. He says it between kisses at your chin and along your neck and your collarbones.

Te amo, hermosa. Te amo.

 You help him unclasp your bra, and he says it again in English between kisses at your breasts.

��I didn’t even realize—” you choke out, and you’d be mildly horrified you’ve told this man you love him if the feelings hadn’t been so plainly reciprocated. Your heart squeezes, your body thrumming beneath each confession he offers without hesitation, and the love you make is soft yet beautiful.

You’re eating what’s left of the pancakes, back resting against the headboard, and it’s like a new light has been ignited between you. By this point, you’re both exposed to the yellow glow of the bedside lamp. Marcus can’t stop smiling.

“What is it?” You ask him, nervousness settling in your belly. “You keep looking at me like that—why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because,” he shrugs. “I’m the crazy son of a bitch that planned on proposing to you tonight.”

And now it’s your turn for shock. Your fork hits the porcelain plate that you nearly drop in the pristine white bedsheets. He catches it and you can feel the warmth of his palm radiating against the back of your hand.

“Y—you were going to do what?” You hate how mousy you suddenly sound. You are not the confident actress that had just been nominated for an Academy Award.

Marcus actually laughs, a palm scrubbing his face. “Yeah, I know. It sounds crazy, but…hear me out on this. I’ve never met anyone that makes me feel the way you do. I know it’s too soon, but life is short, and I don’t want to spend another minute of it without—wait.”

He leans over the side of the bed, pulling his suit jacket from where it hangs on the back of a chair. “I couldn’t bring the box with me. You could see it in the pocket and it just was…obvious.”

He slips his hand into the interior pocket of his suit jacket, and butterflies fill your stomach when you see a round-cut jewel sitting atop a golden band. He presents it to you flat in his palm with a sheepish smile. “This is it,” he offers, simply and suddenly it feels like an allegory for his heart. He is giving you something subtle and beautiful in the hopes you’ll accept and wear it proudly.

“Marcos,” you murmur, and you kiss him.

The next day, the photographers have a field day with you.

[denimbex1986]

'Andrew Scott and Paul Mescal might just be the most emotionally devastating couple you will see on screen this year. In the sensational All of Us Strangers, Scott plays Adam, a lonely screenwriter living in a near-empty London tower block. When he meets his neighbour, Mescal’s Harry, the two begin a tentative love affair, finding solace in each other’s arms. It is a film that deals with all manner of high-intensity emotions – grief, parental love, seclusion, loneliness, bullying, coming out. The protagonists’ sexualities are an intrinsic part of them and their story – but so are many other things.

“There is a gay storyline at the centre of it that we thought would appeal to LGBTQ audiences,” says Scott, who grew up believing he would never play lead roles because he was gay.

“But we’re dealing with lots of different forms of love. I don’t think people give a f**k about what sexuality they are when they respond to this film. It just wouldn’t be true to say that it’s just gay people [who] respond to this film. People get it. They get it and I love the fact that people are talking about love and they’re talking about emotionality and they’re so moved by it.”

“I think the least groundbreaking thing about this film is actually the sexuality,” agrees Mescal, who pinpoints the more universal emotions, such as loss, as the real heart of the movie. “That to me is remarkable and groundbreaking.”

Scott and Mescal are sitting together in an overly beige hotel suite. Scott, 47, is dressed in a white Lacoste jumper, while the 27-year-old Mescal is more casual still in a white T-shirt. They are relaxed in each other’s company, and spent the weekend in their homeland for the Irish premiere. “It felt cathartic,” says Mescal. “A great celebration of the film.”

Scott has been nominated for a Golden Globe for Best Actor and is delighted by the reception the film has been getting. “Genuinely wonderful,” he beams.

All of Us Strangers is the brainchild of writer-director Andrew Haigh, who previously proved his talents for shedding light on human frailty with the gay one-night-stand tale Weekend (2011) and 45 Years (2015), which starred Charlotte Rampling and Tom Courtenay as an elderly couple whose relationship quietly implodes in the run-up to their 45th wedding anniversary.

Haigh clearly has an eye for formidable on-screen pairings. “I don’t think [Scott] has had a lead film role like this,” the director tells me. “And so that kind of excited me… I love the idea of taking someone that you might not have seen do something and then seeing them do it.”

He cast Mescal after seeing him playing the quiet, lost student Connell in the 2020 TV phenomenon Normal People. “It was clear that his star was on the rise.”

Since then, Mescal has been ­Oscar-nominated for 2022’s father-daughter indie Aftersun, proving Haigh’s intuition was spot-on. “It’s like he’s been blown out of a rocket into stardom.”

Despite all its immensely human themes, All of Us Strangers is also a ghost story. As Adam attempts to write about his childhood, he starts to revisit his family home and encounters his mother and father (Claire Foy, Jamie Bell), who are delighted to see him. Except something is amiss. They look straight out of the 80s –which they are. Both died decades earlier in a car crash when Adam was 12 – he is now, somehow, communicating with their ghosts. It seems he has the chance so many wish they had: to say things to loved ones after they are gone. One of those things is that he is gay. It is one of the film’s most touching scenes, as he explains, unashamedly, with Foy’s prissy suburban housewife shocked by the revelation.

Both Scott and Haigh are gay, and while the scene elicits laughter at her outdated views, it must surely speak to their own experiences.

“I remember growing up in the 80s, and it was a very rough time to be gay,” says Haigh.

“Back then people did not like gay people. And families did not like the idea of their children being gay. So I think it’s really important to remind us that that’s how the world used to think.”

As Adam’s visits continue, we see how his parents, as he ­imagines them, soften and accept him. We also see how much regret they bear that they did not do this when he was a bullied child, crying in his room. To borrow from the Frankie Goes to Hollywood song that features heavily in the film, it is a hymn to the power of love.

“I think it’s about the idea that you have to let love in,” says Scott.

“You can survive, and you can trap yourself and lock yourself away. But you’ve got to let it in. Because [otherwise] what’s the point of having the privilege of breathing in this world?”

True enough. But it is also a film about isolation and the way, especially in big cities, we can cut ourselves off from those around us. Like the characters, “I’ve lived in an apartment block that felt like I had no connection to my neighbours”, says Mescal.

“I have too,” nods Scott. “Also, not to be cliché about it, but both of us are Irish. And there is a – what’s the word? – friendliness that’s part of our culture. You see people on the road and you wave at them. You say ‘Hi’. It’s quite chatty, I suppose. London, it’s four times the size of the population of Ireland. I’ve certainly had a thing where I think I’m going to try to make friends with the person – or at least acknowledge the person – who works in my local supermarket that I see every day. For me, that’s kind of important to establish community.”

Their Irishness bonded Scott and Mescal, but there is an effortless, easy-on-the-eye chemistry between them that goes beyond a common nationality. Haigh says they were trying to get across a plethora of different things – “intimacy and tenderness and compassion… and sexiness”.

“I had an unjustified confidence in the fact that Andrew and I would get on professionally,” says Mescal. “And personally, I think that’s ultimately what people are saying when they describe chemistry. Chemistry is kind of like this magic word. Does it look like those two people like and love each other?”

Harry tenderly bathes Adam at one point; in another scene, they take drugs in a gay club, with Adam gently requesting Harry take care of him.

“Chemistry is so situational,” says Scott, whose equally charged chemistry with Phoebe Waller-Bridge when he played the “hot priest” in Fleabag brought him further into the mainstream in 2019.

“The imagination of the audience creates chemistry. If they like us as actors, they’re going to have an excitement about putting those two people in the same room. There’s a lot of different things, as well as our relationship, that dictates it and then you work on the actual physicality. But chemistry isn’t just about sexual chemistry. It’s about loads of different forms of chemistry.”

Encouragingly, Haigh reports that there was no “pushback” on any of the film’s more explicit sex scenes. “Everybody was very supportive about how to tell the story,” he adds.

“I do think it does show progress [in telling queer stories]. This isn’t a tiny film made for $500,000. This is a slightly bigger film. And I do think that we have progressed to a stage where we can tell these kinds of stories; whether they become massive blockbusters, of course, is a different matter, because of course they won’t. It’s not Barbie; it’s a different type of movie.”

Sadly, the Academy failed to nominate All of Us Strangers for any Oscars this week. Nevertheless, Mescal feels it is important even to be in the conversation.

“Films of this scale and size are so important to me,” he says. “[There] should be space for more films like this. If we need to free up more space by getting rid of ‘X’ film or ‘Y’ film every year, I think that would be a good compromise. Audiences actually love being challenged. I don’t think they want to go to the cinema and be thinking about what time it is or what their Facebook or Instagram feed is doing.”

Both actors have big-budget projects up next. Mescal stars in Ridley Scott’s Gladiator 2, while Scott plays Patricia Highsmith’s charming serial killer in Netflix’s Ripley, due out in April. But it is films like this that seem to matter to him most. “Of course, we all love a bit of fast food,” he says. “I’m not saying there isn’t room for that. But if that becomes the pervasive thing we all consume, it’s just a little unhealthier.”

All of Us Strangers is “nutritious” by comparison. “This film, I have no doubt, will continue to connect with people for years. And that is genuinely thrilling.”'