#i want to tragically sit on the hood of my car as snow begins to dust over me

[chetungwan]

I'm going through a *jazz hands* depressive thing rn, cause the weather just took a hard turn into the next season and that sort of thing makes me want to cut all ties and run away every time

Doesn't matter what season it's becoming, either! When the seasons change, some kinda migratory instinct awakens and I get depressed about not being able to climb on a bus and vanish into the roadways. So my ability to be social is diminished, even though it's probably even more important that I keep talking to people during this. Rest assured that this will fade at some point and I will stop longing to leave a cryptic note behind when I take a change of clothing and my cat before mysteriously disappearing

[swanqueeneverafter]

55. Wish You Were Here, Pt.3

Storybrooke. Present. Convent of the Sisters of Saint Meissa. (Belle is giving birth in the convent. Emma holds her hand and helps with her breathing as one of the sisters deals with the delivery.) Dream World. Boy: “Can you push me on the swing, Mommy?” (In a darkened playground, Belle walks towards her son on the the swings.) Belle: (Exhales deeply:) “I was... I was afraid I wouldn't be able to find you.” Son: “You'll always find me when you need to.” Belle: (Taking a seat on the swing beside him:) “So, look. We don't have much time now, okay? Your father's coming, and he will use those shears. So, please, if you know how to stop him, you have to let me know.” Son: “You know what you must do.” Belle: “No. No. (Stands:) No. No. I can't. I won't. There has to be another way.” Son: “There isn't. As you said, we're out of time.” Belle: (They embrace:) “I love you. I love you more than anything in the world.” Son: “I know. And I won't ever forget it. Oh, and Mother... don't forget the book.” Belle: “What book?” Storybrooke. Present. Convent of the Sisters of Saint Meissa. (Belle gasps and finally snaps back to the here and now just in time to give birth to her son.) A Short Time Later. (Belle rocks the baby in her arms as Emma leads the Mother Superior into the room.) Mother Superior: “Oh, congratulations.” Belle: (Laughs:) “Thank you, Blue.” Mother Superior: “Emma said you wanted to see me.” Belle: “Yeah. Yeah, I need your help.” Mother Superior: “Of course. Anything.” Belle: “Here. (Pats the bed and Mother Superior takes a seat:) Will you be his fairy godmother? And will you take him somewhere safe, somewhere far away from all this?” Emma: “Belle, what are you doing?” Belle: “Rumple will never stop. This is our son's only chance. (To Mother Superior:) Please take him, just until this is all over.” Mother Superior: “But you don't know when or if that will come to pass.” Belle: “I believe it will. I have to believe it will. Yeah. (Voice breaking:) Take him.” Mother Superior: (Taking the baby into her arms:) “Of course.” Belle: (Sniffles:) “Thank you, Blue. There's, uh... there's one more thing. Emma? (Emma hands over ‘Her Handsome Hero’. To Mother Superior:) Read it to him so that he knows that I'm always there for him. (To the baby:) My Gideon... strong and brave... a hero for all time. (Kisses the baby’s head:) Don't you ever forget that I love you.” (Mother Superior waves her hand and both she and the baby begin to glow. Elsewhere, Mr. Gold pushes open the convent doors and strides inside. Entering the room, he finds Emma and Belle sitting on the bed. Wordlessly he takes in the scene before something outside the window catches his eye. Mother Superior flies away with baby Gideon.) Mr. Gold: “No. You abandoned our son? After everything?” Belle: (Scoffs:) “I didn't abandon him! I gave him his best chance at a good life. And after what you did, that is clearly a life without you in it.” Mr. Gold: “Belle...” Belle: “Rumple, no! It's over. Okay? It's over! There's nothing left for you to say.” Mr. Gold: (Glances at the window, then back:) “What's his name? What's our son's name?” Belle: “Why? So you can use it to find him? You can do what you will with me, but I will never tell you.” Mr. Gold: “I would never hurt you, Belle. Never. But I will find our son.” 

Enchanted Forest. Past. (Belle tracks down the parents of the stolen baby and returns the child to them. Unseen from the distance, Rumplestiltskin watches the happy reunion.) Storybrooke. Present. Mr. Gold’s Shop. (Mr. Gold enters the back room of his shop.) Evil Queen: (Sitting in the darkness:) “Someone lose another son?” Mr. Gold: “Don't. Not now.” Evil Queen: (Turning on a light:) “Or what? Hmm? (Laughing:) Oh. I bet Belle really hates you now, huh?” Mr. Gold: “Go.” Evil Queen: “No. I'm going to enjoy this. I went to a lot of trouble for this to see what happens when you poison your love.” Mr. Gold: “I did no such thing. (Points, at her accusingly:) You did.” Evil Queen: (Laughing:) “Oh, no. You did. By making me an enemy. Okay, yes, I did the actual dosing of the tea. But you forced my hand. (Standing, crossing the room:) Oh, worry not. It'll be easy to fix, no? Just tell her. Oh, wait. She won't believe you, will she? Tragic.” Mr. Gold: “I may not have crossed a line today. But you most certainly did. And I'm gonna make sure you pay for it.” Evil Queen: “Oh, please. If you haven't found a way to kill the woman who murdered your own son without enlisting my help, I'm not all that concerned.” Mr. Gold: (As the Evil Queen starts to leave:) “One thing I thought you knew about me by now, Your Majesty... I play a very long game. And you? You're nothing more than one of my pawns.” Evil Queen: “Good luck finding your son. Again. I hear fairies make wonderful mothers.” (The Evil Queen leaves. For a few moments, Mr. Gold merely stands with pain etched across his face. Then, he begins taking his frustrations out on several items in the back room, smashing them to pieces.)

Blanchard Apartment. (Henry, Regina, Snow and Emma are gathered in the apartment, having discussed the days events. David lays slumbering on the bed.) Snow White: (Sighs:) “Okay. That's enough despair for one day. (Motions towards David:) I'm going to wake him up. If you would please fill him in on everything?” Henry: “Of course.” (Snow moves to the bed and climbs on beside David. She is about to kiss him when something stops her.) Emma: “Are you okay, Mom?” Snow White: (Shakes her head:) “No. (Slides off the bed and picks up something heavy:) She's watching us.” (Snow throws the item at the bedroom mirror, smashing it. Meanwhile, via her mirror, the Evil Queen smiles as her curse is clearly having the desired effect on her victims.) Regina: (Having seen enough:) “This is all my fault. (Heads towards the door:) I can't let them suffer for it.” Emma: (Walking, blocking her path:) “Regina, where the hell are you going?” Regina: “To stop the queen. I can hurt her. I'm the only one who can hurt her. Anything that happens to me will happen to her.” Emma: “No, we decided this in the mirror world. I am not letting you sacrifice yourself.” Regina: “Well, I'm not asking for permission.” Emma: “Oh, I see, we’re still doing this. (Folds her arms:) So did you forget what's about to happen to me? That I have a death sentence.” Regina: “But you can fight that future, Emma. I know you. You will fight it.” Emma: “But that doesn't mean I will win, and the only thing that makes that bearable is knowing that Henry will still have you. I can't be there, so you have to be. You know I'm right. We have to find another way to defeat her. Together.”

Mr. Gold’s Shop. (Emma and Regina sneak into Mr. Gold’s shop to find the place wrecked.) Emma: “Whoa. Oh, well, someone had a temper tantrum.” Regina: “Do you really think we'll find something in here to stop the queen?” Emma: “Maybe. (Notices something laying on the floor:) But I think I just found something else. (Crouches beside it:) This is it. This is the sword from my vision. It's here.” (Emma reaches to grab the sword but the vision flashes before her eyes once more.) Regina: “Emma, are you okay?” Emma: (Panting, grabs the sword:) “Yeah. I think it's safe to say this is what did it.” Regina: “This is the sword that killed you?” Emma: “Will kill me.” Regina: “Why would it be in here?” Emma: “I don't know. But now that we have it, maybe we can finally find who's responsible.” Regina: “The figure under the hood.” Emma: (Stands, holding the sword:) “Yeah. And then we can stop them. You see? This is why we keep fighting. The Savior is a title I've thought about running from numerous times, but I never have, because I want to protect my family and my friends and the people that I love. The vision still bothers me but I can’t give in to it. Just like you can’t let the Queen get to you.” Regina: “Yeah, but the Queen could very well be the one under the hood.” Emma: “Well then I say we take the fight to her.” Regina’s Vault. Exterior. (Regina and Emma, carrying the sword, head towards Regina’s vault.) Emma: “Do you really think you've got something in your vault that can tell us more about this thing?” Regina: “The hooded figure who uses it is fated to kill you. First we need to figure out who that is.” Evil Queen: (Appearing in a cloud of smoke, blocking their path, flirtatiously to Emma:) “Ooh, nice sword, sweetie.” Emma: (As Regina conjures a fireball:) “Regina, don't let her get to you.” Regina: “It's too late.” Evil Queen: (Chuckles:) “What are you gonna do? Throw a fireball at yourself? The only way to hurt me is to hurt you, which is why your girlfriend won't be able to stop me. See? Love is weakness. (To Emma:) Say hi to Sleeping Beauty... or is it Sleeping Daddy?” (Enraged, Emma slashes at the Evil Queen with the sword, cutting her cheek. Immediately regretting this, she turns to Regina.) Emma: (Gasps:) “Are you...?” Regina: (Touching her own cheek to find no damage:) “I'm... fine.” (Emma turns back to the Evil Queen, who attempts to heal herself. Much to her dismay, her magic is unable to heal the cut. Determined to end things, Emma lunges once more with the sword, but the Evil Queen escapes.) Emma: (Looking down at the sword, amazed:) “We can kill her.” 

Alleyway. (The Evil Queen reappears in an alleyway, sitting upon Regina’s car. As she touches the cut on her cheek again, she is approached by Mr. Gold.) Mr. Gold: “Thinking of going for a drive?” Evil Queen: “Rumple, I'm in no mood.” Mr. Gold: “Looks like the Savior's found a weapon. Now, normally I'd be upset that someone stole from me, but in this case, I think I'll let Ms. Swan's pilfering slide, and I can focus on finding my son. And you can prepare... (Places a golden cuff on her wrist:) to die. Now, no matter where you go, I can find you. You see, what you did to me, to Belle, was unforgivable. So if, at the end of the day, the Savior has yet to dispatch of you, rest assured that after I find my son, I will gladly finish the job.” Blanchard Apartment. (Emma and Regina have returned to the apartment as Snow continues to slumber.) David: “So it can hurt the queen without hurting Regina.” Emma: “The Evil Queen needs to die.” (David’s cellphone rings and he goes to answer it.) Henry: “You sure about this, Mom?” Emma: “In this case, the cliché is true. I was... born for this. With this sword, I can save all of us.” Henry: “That sword is what kills you. How do you know this isn't how you die... facing her? What if she's the figure under the hood in your vision?” Emma: “I can't sit out every battle because I think it might be my last. I'm the Savior, kid.” Henry: “You're also my Mom.” (Henry walks away as Emma’s hand begins to shake, the vision coming to her yet again.) David: (Returning:) “Hey. That was Leroy. The Evil Queen was spotted headed down Main Street.” Emma: (Clenches her hand into a fist:) “All right.” Regina: “Let's go.” Emma: “No. You can't. The only way you can hurt her is to hurt yourself, and I can't let you do that. (Takes Regina’s hand:) I've got this. You need to stay here with Henry.” Regina: (Sighs, lifting their hands and kissing Emma’s:) “Good luck.”

Storybrooke. Main Street. (Emma and David walk down the street when they hear a woman’s distress call.) Woman: “Help me!” (Quickly, the sheriffs run towards Granny’s diner.) Granny’s Diner. (They enter to find Jasmine tied to a chair.) Emma: “Jasmine!” Evil Queen: (Coming out of the kitchen holding the lamp:) “Ah, ah. This is about me. It's always about me.” Emma: “Damn right.” (Emma raises the sword but the Evil Queen begins to magically strangle Jasmine.) Evil Queen: “I can snap her neck before you get a step closer. (Emma looks to Jasmine as she gasps for air, then takes a step backwards:) That's better.” (The Evil Queen rubs the lamp and Aladdin appears.) David: “Well that’s new.” Evil Queen: “My genie.” Aladdin: “I'm sorry.” Evil Queen: “I believe I have three wishes.” Aladdin: “Go ahead. Wish. They always come with a price.” Evil Queen: “That they do. Which is why I'm not going to wish for something for me. (To Emma:) I'm going to give you something... something you've always wanted, something you confided about to Aladdin.” Emma: “You heard us?” Evil Queen: “Don't you know by now? I hear everything. You wished you weren't the Savior. So that's exactly what you're going to get. (To Aladdin:) Genie of Agrabah, I wish... that Emma Swan's wish, to have never been the Savior... be granted.” Emma: (Charging forward:) “No!” (Aladdin raises his hand and Emma disappears.) David: “Emma! What happened? Where did she go?!” 

[tobns]

SNOWED IN: A (Tragic) Christmas Story — part three.

In Which We All Contemplate Sacrificing Alexander for the Greater Good

Jen gives up on trying to induce bonding, so the rest of the evening is spent in relative peace. We’re free to do whatever our hearts desire, so long as we aren’t booking ourselves a one-way ticket to a jail cell and we don’t choose anything for dinner that has a Christmas tree sticky note with Jen’s name on it. I opt to sit downstairs in the living room with Jackie, Jack and Leven, Jack channel surfing to find something other than the ‘ridiculous Hallmark movies with budgets of twelve dollars’.

Leven’s doing her nails on one end of the sectional, legs stretched out as she paints her toes an alarming shade of yellow with concentrated precision. After she finishes a toe, she’ll stop, turn to face me and open her mouth so I can feed her a piece of trail mix – specifically, the cashews or the M&Ms. God forbid she eat a dried cherry.

I’m sitting under a heating blanket, which only adds to my heated demeanor still lingering from earlier. Alexander has stayed far out of my sight for the remainder of the day, so at least it’s nice to know he’s able to tell when he’s not wanted and isn’t going to push an apology like he might have years and years ago. Dayo has been rather suspiciously unaccounted for as well. I’ve tried asking Jackie on three separate occasions throughout the evening to go to Dayo’s room and make sure he doesn’t have Alexander hogtied in the closet, but she pretends that she’s either enthralled with the channel surfing or that I’m speaking a language she doesn’t understand.

Jackie sure did make one hell of a point yesterday. Perhaps there was a reason we’d all grown apart, whenever it happened and whether it was a gradual thing or the after effects of a sledgehammer coming down. Sure, Alexander’s girlfriends and their possessive nature played a pretty big part in us falling out, but maybe there had been a little bit more to it than just that.

“Jack, can you pick a movie already?” Leven mumbles after I toss an M&M into her expecting mouth.

He shifts his head in Jackie’s lap so he’s looking up at her. “When I find one that isn’t deserving of a fucking Razzie. Seriously, who makes these disasters, and what studio puts forth the money to produce them?”

“I thought you’d already decided their overall budget was a ten-dollar bill,” I point out. Jack simply points at me with the remote for emphasis as he keeps flipping. “Jackie, I am begging you—”

“—I am not going to see if Dayo is committing a felony!” she finishes for me. “Let him for all I care. Maybe that’ll teach ol’ Blondie up there a lesson.”

“I’ll be sure to remember this for when we’re all sitting at Dayo’s murder trial in two weeks.”

“Why do you care so much, Belly?” Leven asks, beating Jackie to the punch. “I mean, you were all but ready to decapitate him earlier.”

“Yeah, Belly,” Jackie echoes. “If anything, Dayo’d be doing you a favor.”

“What’s this about favors?” Jen asks as she passes through the living room, presumably making her way from the kitchen. She has inadvertently become my savior, keeping me from delivering an explanation that I’m not even sure I have. It’s only a few threads of my good conscious that are on board with saving Alexander’s life from a certain death – the more I try to find a reason, the more reasons I come up with as to why I’m perfectly justified in turning a blind eye.

“Nothing, we’re just discussing the one Dayo’s doing for all of us by getting rid of Alexander.” Jen’s mouth forms a slight ‘O’ as she nods. She then jabs a thumb over her shoulder, pointing behind her.

“Well, I could use one from you guys, if you don’t mind. The wind’s finally stopped, and I need some help unloading presents from my car.”

“You actually bought us shit?” Jack asks, resting a hand over his heart. “Jenny, I’m touched.”

“There’s still time to take it back.”

“Don’t be crazy.” The four of us slowly pull ourselves off of the couch, wrapping blankets or jackets around our shoulders and pursuing a pair of shoes as we start to make our way to the door. The snow is still falling down lazily in thick white clumps when I get a brief glimpse out the window, the sky behind it an odd shade of black.

“I’ll be out there in a second,” Jen calls. “I’ve gotta go find my keys.”

Jack goes ahead with opening up the door, a rush of cold air hitting me square in the chest. I instinctively pull the blanket a little tighter around my chest as I step outside. Everything has morphed into even more of a winter wonderland, the snow already a thick blanket on the ground and only growing by the second.

“Which car is Jen’s, you think?” Jack asks as he leads the way down the stairs, the snow crunching underneath his feet. I try to step in his footprints, cutting down the chances of slipping and falling.

“The nicest one, duh,” Jackie replies. “You know she didn’t roll up in a fucking Prius.”

“You drove a Prius for like, three years,” Leven reminds her. Jackie stops as she turns back around, making a face.

“Yes, because I was a high school sophomore, not an Academy Award winner.”

Leven nods in refutation, and I all but push Jackie down the next step so we keep moving. The less time I spend on these stairs, the higher the probability of me leaving here in one piece increases.

My feet start to sink into the snow by the time I reach the ground, the hems of my sweatpants brushing up against it. “I’m actually terrified to see the final total of how much snow this place has accumulated,” I mutter.

Jackie shudders at the thought. “We might never leave.”

“Which I’m sure would be right up Jen’s alley,” Leven adds.

The sound of the door up on the porch closing catches our attention. “Yo, Jenny!” Jack calls out. “Hit the button on your car already so I can grab some gifts and head back inside! It’s cold!”

“Yeah, no kidding.” Jen sounds an awful lot like Dayo.

Sure enough, Dayo’s bounding down the stairs as he shrugs on his ridiculous wintergreen flannel. He’s had it for ages, and I know this because I tried to sneak it into a donation box and a trash can on many different occasions when I’d stop by his place in LA. “You guys helping with presents?” he asks. I simply nod.

“Was Jennifer behind you?” Jack questions, peeking around from behind the trunk of what I think he’s established as Jen’s car.

“No,” he replies, coming to stand down next to me. “She said she had to go find her keys.”

“So,” Jackie says as she sidles up next to Dayo. “What’d you do with Alexander’s body?”

Dayo scoffs, rolling his eyes. “You really think I did something to him?”

Leven, Jackie, Jack, and I all respond in unison. “Yes.”

I hear the sound of the door to the house open up again. The porch lights are off, so we aren’t able to see who it is until they’re a few steps away from being on the ground. I figure out that it isn’t Jen this time again either before they even come into view – Amandla and Willow don’t exactly whisper at the quietest of volumes.

By the time Alexander, Jen, and Josh all come sauntering down the steps in two different intervals, I can’t do anything but roll my eyes at how gullible all of us are. I doubt Jen even bought us anything; the first class tickets probably cost enough to suffice as our Christmas. Ho ho ho, Merry Christmas, I think. Your present is a one-way trip to hell.

“Jen…” Jackie drags out warily. It’s a very good thing that Jen never got into gambling, because her poker face is absolute garbage. “Why are we all out here?”

“Is this Alexander’s funeral?” Willow asks. Alexander rolls his eyes, arms folded tightly over his chest as he leans up against the hood of one of the cars.

Somewhere inside her, Jen finds her gall and glares at all of us with steely eyes. “No,” she responds defiantly. “You guys – namely Alexander – screwed up my bonding exercises, that’s one thing. I wasn’t really taking that seriously.”

“You weren’t?” Jack repeats.

Jen’s face falls in a deadpan. “Jack, I flee from any and all organized activities. It’s why I left public school faster than you could say extracurricular,” she says. “But I thought if it was gonna get you asshats to talk again, then I’d suffer through it. And we were doing so well up until Ludwig over there opened his freakishly big mouth and went right for the fucking glue of the group.” I don’t know whether I should feel a small inch of contentment or offense towards that.

“So now you’ve forced my hand, resulting in my having to get creative.” Her arms cross as she pops out her hip, staring at us expectantly. “We aren’t going back inside until you idiots love each other again.”

Josh instantly bursts out into laughter. “Oh god, that’s a good one,” he says, wiping at his eyes. Jen however, doesn’t lighten up any. “Wait…are you serious?”

“Do I look like I’m messing around?”

“Jen, I thought we agreed we were partners in crime on this!” Josh whines.

“And you were a terrible partner in crime,” she retorts. “The only crime you’ve committed since showing up here is wearing that tacky ass shirt.” Josh looks down at his Charlie Brown Christmas sweater, frowning.

“This is ridiculous,” Amandla states, the mouthpiece of all our thoughts. “Seriously, Jen, let’s stop doing laps through the Nile.” With that, she brushes past me and heads right back up the stairs towards the front door. Jen doesn’t try to stop her, just stares blankly into the empty space as she waits for something.

I move to follow after Amandla once she’s made it up to the door, stopping only once I realize Amandla hasn’t actually made it inside yet. She’s tugging on the door just to meet resistance. It will not budge, no matter how hard she pulls. My eyes snap over to Jen, who’s got the beginnings of a rather smug smirk curling along the corners of her lips.

“What the hell?” Amandla yells out, echoing out into the night. “Why is this thing locked?”

“I told you!” Jen shouts back. “No one is going inside until I’m seeing a group hug so genuine it brings a frozen fucking tear to my eye!”

“Jen,” Leven says slowly. “You do realize it’s nearly midnight, there’s still snow coming down to add on the foot-and-a-half on the ground, and it’s, oh I don’t know, below freezing?”

“Well Levvy, maybe that’ll motivate all of you to get to singing Kumbaya a little bit faster.”

Amandla comes bounding back down the stairs, searching for a way to get up underneath the blanket I have draped around my shoulders. “This isn’t gonna go well,” she says to me quietly. All I do is nod.

Alexander sighs, dragging a hand down his chin. “Look, Belle, I’m sorry about earlier,” he says begrudgingly, as though the apology will cleanse him of all his sins and wrongdoing. “I spoke before I thought—”

“—not uncommon for you—”

“—stay out of it, Jackie,” Alexander growls.

“I mean, I tried, and look where that got us,” she defends herself. “You went airing out the details of Isabelle’s sex life, which I didn’t really care to know that much about.”

“Like you haven’t had a five-year subscription to mine, the way you run commentary on it!” Alexander fires back. Jackie’s hands only rise higher.

“Hey, I’m not the one who’s type is ‘how close of a knockoff Isabelle girlfriend can I find?’ She’s oblivious as it is, someone’s gotta look out for her, Douchewig.”

“God, why haven’t you let that nickname die yet?”

“We’re talking, we’re talking…” Jen muses in observation. “This is good.”

Dayo rolls his eyes. “Jenny, this is the exact opposite of good. You should have known that the minute you invited Ludwig we’d all go postal. He is the root of all our problems.”

“Excuse me!”

“You heard me, Ludwig!”

Already, I find myself starting to cower a little farther into the blanket huddle Amandla and I have created. I’ve never witnessed Dayo and Alexander get genuinely angry with one another – annoyance, yes, that was more common than anything, but nothing near this. Any second now, I’m waiting for Dayo to punch Alexander. Apparently, Jen senses this too as the tension begins escalating at a trajectory far beyond our control.

“Boys—”

Alexander seems to lose what little tact he has left, swiping a handful of snow off the hood of the car behind him and lobbing it right at Dayo. It hits the flannel, knocking him square in the chest. Dayo glares at him, and Alexander simply gives him a look that’s meant to challenge him.

Dayo takes it, happily retaliating with the biggest piece of snow he can pick up off Jen’s car and heave Alexander’s way.

“Words!” Jen screeches. “Use your words!”

“Gladly!” Dayo says, his voice dripping in feigned cheer. He scoops more snow off of Jen’s car, and with every handful he sends hurtling Alexander’s way, he emphasizes with a single word. “Would. It. Kill you. To. Not. Be. An asshole?”

“Would it kill you to let shit go, damn!?” Alexander yells as he ducks behind Jack’s rental car for cover.

“Dayo I swear to god if you dent the rental that is in my name, you are paying for it!” Jack shouts. Dayo pauses his snow assault on Alexander, flames dancing in his eyes.

“Is that just the wolf pack motto? Make Dayo pay for everything? Why wasn’t I informed of this before I signed my life away to the cult?”

“Ladies and gentlemen, the cheapest person on Earth,” Amandla groans, her arms wrapping around my waist so we optimize our body heat.

“What are you talking about, Dayo?” Jackie asks, shaking her head.

Dayo points an accusatory index finger at Alexander. “The real cheapskate over here loves to just rack up all the bills and then put my fucking name on them, and it got old! I drew the line when he parked my car in a ‘no park’ zone at that supermodel’s birthday party we crashed, and I had to pay for the ticket plus the tow truck’s drop on-site fee!”

Jen’s voice is dangerously quiet. “You mean to tell me that we have all been dancing around each other’s necks all awkwardly and shit because the two of you were fighting over a motherfucking parking ticket?!”

“IT WAS THREE HUNDRED DOLLARS!” Dayo roars.

Jen has finally reached her breaking point, lunging directly for the two of them with a handful of snow that she arms herself with. She chases them through the front yard, throwing snow at the both of them while Alexander and Dayo resume throwing it at each other. The rest of us stand there on what’s left of the sidewalk, watching the scene unfold. The winter wonderland has quickly evolved into a winter warfront.

“A parking ticket,” Jack repeats dully. “I had to play the middle man for six months because of a parking ticket.”

Saying it out loud seems to help him process, because no sooner do the words roll off his lips does he go running off into the snow to catch up with them, his war cry echoing out into the quiet nighttime.

“Dear god,” Jackie groans as she goes taking off after him. Secretly, I think she’s using Jack’s involvement in this whole mess as an excuse to throw a couple of balls of ice right at Alexander’s head. And maybe Jen’s, if the opportunity presents itself.

Amandla, Josh, Leven, Willow and I all look at one another, unsure of what to do from here. None of us have any dogs in this fight – up until Jackie tackles Alexander a few minutes later, attempting to literally bury him in the snow, and then we have to intervene.

Amandla and I decide it will at least take the two of us to pry Jackie off of Alexander, each of us grabbing a side and attempting to pull her away while still keeping the blanket remotely around us. Jack is bathing Dayo in snow, which Leven and Willow are trying to break up, and Josh is holding Jen by the waist to usher her away while she struggles to get back in the ring.

We acted more mature six years ago.

“Jackie, give it up!” Amandla spits, nearly pulling Jackie’s arm out of socket. I must not be on the same wavelength with Amandla in the way I usually am with Jackie, because I missed the transmission that left me to deal with Alexander, or at least, be the wall that keeps Jackie from going back for the vocal cords. At least I got the blanket.

One of Alexander’s hands come to rest on my shoulder, and I instantly whip around. I don’t even have to verbalize my confusion, the daggers whirling from my eyes as I glare at him send him back a step or two, hands lifted slightly in mock arrest.

“Hopeless!” Jen yowls as Josh drags her up the side staircase towards the porch. “You morons are hopeless! Not even Dr. Phil could save us!”

Josh finally lets go of her, Jen stomping towards one of the hanging plants on the porch. My guess is, she’s rummaging for the spare house key, since keeping it on her person would have been too obvious a hiding spot. She runs her hand through the pot, a small look of puzzlement washing over her face as she slides to the one next to it. She does the same thing, rummaging around for the key. Her eyes then start to grow wider and wider, moving to each individual hanging plant and performing the same thing. Her expression gives me no reassurance.

“Jen…” I say cautiously.

“Belly…” she calls down just as nervously.

“Why do you have that look on your face?”

“I don’t have a look on my face?” Her voice is squeakier than ever.

Amandla frowns. “You have a look on your face that says you’ve fucked something up.”

“Me? Moi? Psh,” Jen says, voice getting higher and higher each time as she deflects with the wave of her hand. “Naw. No. Never.”

“Jen?” Josh asks quietly.

“The fucking house key isn’t here!” she wails.

“The what isn’t where?!” Dayo repeats, voice strained. Poor Dayo. He’s come to the brink of his sanity being unraveled one too many times today – it wouldn’t surprise me if we had to go to the hospital tomorrow because he’s somehow managed to develop an ulcer in record time.

“I swear it was right here!” Jen shuffles back over to the hanging plant she started at, digging around inside of it in search for the key. “That was the whole reason I even went through with something as dumb as locking us out – it’s always a foolproof idea when you’ve got a spare key!”

“Nothing, I repeat, nothing is foolproof when it comes to us,” Willow states. “We defy the way of the natural universe. Foolproof plus us? Automatically cancelled out. We are the fools foolproof doesn’t work on.”

“Not helping, Wills,” Jen whines.

“So are we stuck out here?” Jack says as he dusts snow off of his jeans.

“No,” Dayo answers before Jen gets the opportunity to. “No, I refuse. This is not happening. We are not stuck out here. Over my dead body.”

“Frostbite is a silent killer,” I mutter.

Jen comes thundering back down the stairs, Josh right on her heels like the lost puppy he is. “Okay,” she starts, thinking out loud. “Alright. How the hell are we gonna get back inside?”

“Is there a back door?” Leven tries. “Every house has to have a back door.”

Amandla nods eagerly. “Yeah, and if you’re anything like Dayo, you leave it unlocked.”

“This one doesn’t,” Jen answers. “But there is a garage door down on the side of the house, it goes through the basement. We’ve got more than enough muscle to get it pried open.”

“So basically, we’re going to break back into your house,” Alexander reiterates.

“Do you have any other ideas?” Jen snaps. He immediately withdraws, quiet. She nods. “What I thought.” Pointing ahead, she begins marching around the side of the house. “Roll out, gang!”

We all amble along behind her, wading through the snow that’s brushing up against our ankles. Jack is still trying to shake snow out from inside his t-shirt, Dayo keeps grumbling about how we’ve gotten his flannel wet – he was going to grace us with its presence again by wearing it tomorrow – and Willow has given up on walking, hitching a ride on Josh’s back.

When we reach the garage door, which Jen neglected to tell us was in the pitch-black shadow of the house and down a fucking hill, she’s standing next to it expectantly. “Muscle,” she summons.

“What?” Dayo asks, hands settling on his hips. “You aren’t gonna give it a whirl?”

“I have the upper body strength of a linguine noodle.”

Alexander slides past me (he apparently decided to bring up the rear so no one could get any fun ideas and try to kickstart round two by jumping him) as he joins Dayo in front of the garage door. Manually opening one shouldn’t be rocket science, of course, but that is exactly what it will become knowing the two of them.

They start at the bottom, trying to at least get some separation between the door and the concrete. The rest of us stand back, remaining as quiet as possible while we watch them work. After a few minutes of trying and failing with that tactic, Alexander stands up. “Let’s try you down there and me up here, see if evening out the force works.”

Dayo stares up at him. “Dude, what kind of made up physics is that?”

“Well clearly your version wasn’t working out too well, I’m just trying to offer a fresh perspective!”

“Jenny, you sure we can’t just heave-ho Ludwig through a window?” Dayo asks innocently. “Pray for jagged glass?”

Willow rolls her eyes. “You two need more manpower,” she insists, taking up the spot in between Dayo and Alexander. “Alexander, get back down here, and on my count, push it upwards.”

“What?”

“Do what now?”

“Do you want to stand out here and freeze or do you want to make progress?”

Jackie interrupts them before they get a chance to answer. “Listen to her, knuckleheads.”

Dayo and Alexander both fall silent, and Alexander does as he’s told, kneeling back down. Willow counts them off. “One…two…three.”

There’s a loud groaning noise, metal screeching as the garage door lifts slightly off the ground. I have to admit I’m slightly amazed, if not at the fact that it actually worked but at the fact that Willow, the baby of the bunch was the one thing that made the significant difference.

Dayo and Alexander are both also astounded by this that they become entirely obsolete, staring at her in such amazement that they leave her to push the garage door up to a height we can all squeeze under all by herself. When she finishes it, she dusts off her hands and turns around to face us.

“What?” she asks when she sees how we’re looking at her.

“You might be tiny,” Josh finally says. “But out of all of us, you’re the biggest.”

The garage is dusty, pitch-black, and a safety hazard if I’ve ever halfway seen one. With every step, there’s something else to trip over – I nearly bite the dust on four different occasions, stumbling into bikes, skis, and a leaf blower that Jen claims belongs to her nephew. Amandla has to catch and steady me each time.

We all huddle around the door, each of us looking at it expectantly. Josh is closest to the door itself, his hand finding the handle. “C’mon miracle, c’mon Christmas miracle…” he mumbles, as if he’s getting ready to roll a dice. He then jiggles it, attempting to force it open.

Nothing.

“It’s locked,” Josh announces, and we all groan.

“Move out of the way, Hutcherson.” Leven pushes through our little clump, pulling a bobby pin out of her hair. “If this trick worked on a trailer unit, a Parisian hotel room, and the sketchy alleyway entrance to my apartment, it’ll work on anything.”

“Leven Rambin, my hero,” Jackie whispers.

It takes her a second, and I can hear the click of the lock even over the sound of Jack’s heavy breathing – he must be shutting down and going into hibernation mode. “Voila,” she says, pumping her fist in victory.

It’s a stampede to get inside, each one of us eager to be the first one to get in the presence of insulation, heat, and a dry ground.  

“Ah, heat,” Jack sighs contentedly as we all spread out in the hallway, taking off his t-shirt and a fair amount of snow falling to the floor when he does. My face scrunches up in contempt. “What, Izzy?”

“Not all of us are Jackie – we don’t appreciate seeing you shirtless.”

“Okay,” Jen sighs, resting her hands on her knees. “I am officially done trying to mediate with you fuckers. Done.” At that, we all breathe giant sighs of relief. She frowns. “You guys are awful.”

“Sorry, Jenny,” Josh says, reaching up to ruffle her hair. “Can’t fix something that’s not broken.”

“That’s a damn lie; we’re as broken as broken gets, and that’s on a good day.”

Jen hits the button to the garage door to close it back up, turning the lock back on the door. “If you guys want to be Grinches, then be my guest. You’re stuck here anyways, I think that satisfaction alone will suffice.”

“It ought to, you selfish, selfish woman,” Jackie mumbles.

“All I want for Christmas is for you to stop asking too much of us,” Dayo adds. “We’re the bare minimum kind of people. Not a single one of us is an overachiever.”

“Hey,” I protest, to which everyone glares at me.

Jack rests a hand on his hip as he pats my shoulder patronizingly. “Try as you might, Belly, but how well does that work out for you?”

Good point.

                                                          ...

I wake up the next morning to blue and red lights and the sound of someone using their fist as a miniature battering ram.

I don’t remember crashing on the couch downstairs in the living room with Jackie, Jack, and Amandla, but I can feel the after effects of it as I sit up slowly, my spine aching in ways I didn’t know possible. The Netflix home screen is glaring up at as from where we apparently forgot to turn the TV off last night, my eyes bleary.

“Mm…Jackie,” I mumble quietly, leaning over and shaking her. “Jackie.”

“Go away, Taylor,” she groans almost incoherently, her voice muffled by the blanket she’s got pulled up around her nose. I frown, pushing some of my hair out of my face as I glance back over at the door. The blue and red lights are a dancing blur through the frosted glass, and I can see the shadows of someone standing on the porch. Two and two very quickly equals four.

That wakes me up pretty quickly, and I duck down behind the couch. My shaking gets a lot more violent. “Jackie, wake the fuck up,” I hiss. “There are cops at the door.”

Both of her eyes fly open, staring up at me like a deer in headlights.

I stay hunched down as Jackie takes a tentative glance over the edge of the couch, almost instantly snapping back down. “Why the hell are the cops here?” she asks me.

“Like I know!” I whisper.

“Maybe they’ve come to collect Alexander,” she tries.

“For what?”

“Tax evasion? Underage drinking? Possession? Perpetuating incompetency via social media? Bad acting?”

I roll my eyes. “Be serious, Jackie.”

“I am – did you not see Grownups 2?”

I glance around the living room; Jack and Amandla are still sleeping peacefully, and no one else seems to be downstairs with us. The house, for the first time this entire vacation, is quiet. “What do we do?”

Jackie begins patting down her lap, searching for something. She spots her phone on the floor, bending in ways that would bring the circus scouts calling to get it. “What are you doing?” I ask as she starts typing furiously.

“Texting Jen,” she replies, and I stare at her like she’s lost her mind. “What?! We are bound to this couch – if they see someone moving around in here, they’ll call for backup or some shit, and the last thing I need this Christmas is to be apart of some accidental police standoff all because we started strolling around like nothing’s fucking happening!”

“Okay, first of all, you need to lay off the procedural dramas,” I tell her. “Second of all, what makes you think Jen is gonna hear her phone go off if she hasn’t heard the cops banging on the door?!”

Suddenly, we hear sounds on the footsteps, our heads snapping in the direction of the staircase. Down strolls Josh Hutcherson in a plaid robe, like he doesn’t have a single care in the world.

“Get down!” Jackie whisper-shouts through gritted teeth, catching Josh’s attention. He immediately hits the deck, the action so rapid that he slips and falls down at least three steps before grabbing ahold of the banister. The noise is somewhat loud, and I wince.

“What the fuck?!” he says, and Jackie and I both put our fingers to our lips. He starts again, this time quieter. “What the hell is wrong with you two?”

“There are cops outside,” I inform him.

“How the hell did you not see the lightshow?!”

“Cops?” Josh whispers. “Why are the police here?”

“You tell us!”

“Okay, there is no need to cop a ‘tude with me, Fuhrman.” He lifts himself up a little bit to see if he can get a glimpse out the window. “How did they even get here?” he asks. “There’s like, two feet of snow on the ground.”

“Maybe they attached their little lights onto a horse’s head,” Jackie says, turning to me for some sort of affirmation.

“Can we worry about their means of transportation later and focus on the real problem here? What are we gonna do?!”

Jackie sits up a little bit. “I nominate we send Josh to the door. He’s easily the most likable.”

Josh’s jaw drops in offense. “Why me? We could just send Isabelle, her cleavage in that tank top could get us out of any kinda warning we’ve bestowed upon ourselves.” It’s my turn to lose control of my jaw, it falling a little as I glare at him.

“Sexist much?”

“It’s not my fault you own very, very revealing clothing! I mean, you wonder why Ludwig’s so into you, have you looked in your closet lately?”

“Focus!” Jackie snaps her fingers. “Josh, you’re…the most decent out of all of us, you go to the door.”

“It’s not my house! I don’t think I’m gonna pass as a very convincing Jennifer, Jacqueline.”

The knocking returns, much more intense this time around. Jackie’s eyes forcefully shoot in the direction of the door before she looks back expectantly at Josh. “Go,” she mouths. He huffs, running a hand over the top of his head to fix his hair before he straightens back up, walking down the rest of the stairs with purpose. Nervously, but with purpose.

As he passes by the couch, he shoots Jackie a look. She rolls her eyes, waving him along.

“Remember, if all else fails, just say we’ve got Alexander Ludwig upstairs and we’ll happily hand him over,” she throws out last minute, before ducking back down.

Jackie and I do our best to lay as flat against the couch without waking up Jack or Amandla but still have a gauge on the unfolding situation of what’s happening as the door. It creaks open, Josh greeting both of the officers. Suddenly, breathing doesn’t seem so necessary.

“Are you the owner of this house?” a voice much deeper than Josh’s asks, and I feel my heart stop. Jackie has taken to squeezing my hand to alleviate some of her anxiety, and it takes everything in me not to slap her or yelp in pain. Her grip is like a vice.

“Um, I’m her…husband,” Josh replies slowly, and Jackie clamps a hand over her mouth to force the laugh back in. I roll my eyes at his response – Josh might be the most likable, but he’s also the worst liar. “Is everything alright?”

“We’re sorry to bother you this morning, Mister Lawrence,” an even deeper voice than the first says. Jackie’s eyes are closed as she uses every ounce of concentration she has to keep quiet. “We’re here on behalf of the alarm company.”

“Alarm company?” Josh repeats, and Jackie and I look at each other confusedly.

“Yes sir. Last night after midnight, your alarm system was tripped and the company reported a break-in to our district.” Jackie’s eyes widen – apparently, we’d had all the right ideas in trying to get back inside, but Jen had forgotten to disarm the fucking alarm system. That, or it just went straight ahead and alerted the cops, not even bothering to send out the warning shot. “The snow prevented an officer from getting here any sooner; we wanted to stop by and make sure everything was alright.”

“Oh, yeah,” Josh says after a beat of painful silence, false laugh falling from his mouth. “Yeah, silly me – the wife wanted me to get another box of ornaments out of the garage, and we never go out that door. I guess I forgot to disarm the system, too busy trying to please the missus. You know how that is, right fellas?”

Again, silence follows, and if I could, I’d melt into the couch cushions.

“Well, as long as everything’s alright here,” one of the officers finally concedes.

“It is,” Josh rushes to answer. “Really. Thank you, officers, for stopping by. You have a Merry Christmas now!”

Josh all but shoos the police from the doorway, and as I peer over the edge, I catch a glimpse of him delivering one convincing wave before he slams the door back shut. He keeps his nose pressed to the glass, waiting until they presumably leave. When they’re either far enough out of sight or gone, Josh spins back around, slumping up against the door.

Jackie and I pop back up from behind the couch, Jackie draping her arms over the top. “Any horses with little lights on their head?” she asks.

Josh ignores her entirely. “Jesus Christ,” he mumbles. “That went horribly.”

“Yeah, no kidding,” Jackie responds. “How the hell did we just…not realize we set off the fucking alarm?”

“Because we’re us, Jacqueline,” is Josh’s weary reply. “The better question is, why did we think that any of last night’s escapade would just go over scot-free?”

“Because we’re idiots,” I offer.

Josh simply nods, combing a hand back through his hair. Jackie perks up a little after a beat of silence has passed.

“Box of ornaments?” she asks.

A sly grin slips onto my face. “Mister Lawrence?”

“The missus?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Josh growls.

“You better go wake the missus up,” Jackie says. “Because you know the cops are gonna be back in a few hours, demanding to talk to the real owner of the house.”

“And don’t worry, Joshie,” I add. “We won’t tell Jen how you’re dying to be her husband.”

Josh doesn’t say anything else. He just flips us off, before tightening the knot on his robe and retreating back upstairs.

[thenicedolphin]

Oscars Analysis With Biting Commentary: 2017 Edition!

Better the day of than never, amirite??? The 5th annual Oscars post from The Nice Dolphin (see links here for 2016, 2015, 2014, 2013), where Matt always provides excellent, impressive, insightful, groundbreaking commentary, and Alex comes in flaccid, flubbing around, rambling about James Harden, Andy Dalton, and some scary movie that no one watched. It’s a tradition for the ages! Matt will be in regular font, and Alex will come in with the bold font.

Okay, first of all, say what you want, but if there’s one thing my takes AREN’T it’s flaccid. Anyhow, fun production note: Matt emailed me his musings at like 3am last night in hopes that I wouldn’t have time to take his shoddy, poorly-reasoned, informed-by-Buzzfeed opinions to task. Bad news, Matt -- ya boy is WIDE awake and ready to talk Oscars!

Best picture:

“Arrival”

“Fences”

“Hacksaw Ridge”

“Hell or High Water”

“Hidden Figures”

“La La Land”

“Lion”

“Manchester by the Sea”

“Moonlight”

I’ve seen all nine films this year. I think I once was sorta embarrassed by that, but at this point, I don’t care… I WANT THE WHOLE WORLD TO KNOW. We got some classics in this field, and I would say I generally appreciated all of these films, but we gotta hand some critiques out too. Buckle up.

I’ve seen five out of the nine nominees: Arrival, Hell or High Water, La La Land, Manchester by the Sea, and Moonlight. I’m watching Hidden Figures as I’m writing this, so that should tell you all you need to know about my level of interest in Fences, Lion, and Hacksaw Jim Duggan.

First, I want to talk about the 3 films that were originally the top contenders before La La Land took the frontrunner perch solo on a storm of bright colors and happy dancing. Leading into the season, we had La La Land, Moonlight, and Manchester by the Sea.

I watched Moonlight first (out of all of these films actually, cool story bro). Moonlight was hyped in the critic circles and fairly unknown to the public… this made for an interesting watch at a fairly general Regal theater. Let’s just say the crowd was NOT expecting it to be an indie film about a gay black man in Miami struggling with his identity and they were NOT digging it. Sorta a weird atmosphere to sit in, but that didn’t stop the movie from shining through with its brilliance. Moonlight is a great, great film. It’s a beautiful study of a tragically hurt and isolated lead character. It is full of unique, fully-breathed characters.

Moonlight is a film of three acts following the life of our main character Chiron, and in each act, we have Chiron played by different actors portraying different ages of his life. That shouldn’t work as seamlessly as it does, but Barry Jenkins somehow pulled that magic trick off. The actors look enough alike, and they have enough similarities in their wounded souls, to show that they are Chiron. It’s remarkable. As much as I love Boyhood, it sorta makes that film’s structure feel more like a gimmick. Who needs to film scenes over 12 years when you have a vision as strong as this?

More importantly, Moonlight’s story is so powerful, and so well-told. This isn’t just some story about a gay black male who is bullied and conflicted about his sexuality. This is that story, done in such a poetic and powerfully told way. The patience it has telling its story. The way each of the 3 acts ends. Moonlight is a film that haunts me when contemplating its best scenes. I don’t think it’s for everyone. It certainly wasn’t for everyone in that theater when I watched it. But I would vote it for Best Picture.

Moonlight is a FANTASTIC film and if there was any justice in the world (there’s not), it would win Best Picture. Director Barry Jenkins is a master behind the camera, showing the audience everything we needed to see and nothing we didn’t. Moonlight is at once heartbreaking, uplifting, uncompromising, and relatable. Nothing is phoned-in or painted in broad strokes. Jenkins withholds judgment as he lets his characters’ lives unfold against one of the harder backdrops in recent memory. Plus, I’ve always wondered what 50 Cent looked like as a child.

Also, I gotta hand it to the bully in the second act for mocking Chiron’s jeans for being “too tight,” even though they were your typical straight-leg variety. Taking something completely innocuous and turning it into a source of mockery is a classic bully move. Outstanding work here.

NOTE: as I’m writing this, our hip-hop correspondent Kavi D. texted me the following: “Moonlight > La La Land. But like Adele beating Beyonce, we know what’s going to happen tonight. Such a joke.”

But Moonlight probably won’t win. La La Land will. And I’m ok with that too! I really loved La La Land! I love the vision of Damien Chazelle (Whiplash was aces). I love musicals. It was really fun. The love story was pretty good! La La Land has flaws to be sure. The white-man-saves-jazz issue is hard to deny, even if you try to justify it with the fact that well, John Legend’s character is cooler than Gosling’s, and their band’s song is pretty good! Gosling and Stone aren’t Gene Kelly or Rita Moreno in terms of their singing and dancing abilities. In the end, I was still enamored with the film’s joy along with the story’s emotion. And that ending was great. How is Chazelle so good at ending his films?

La La Land’s other backlash is that it’s another movie about Hollywood, appealing to the Oscar voters. Some also think it’s winning on a gimmick, as the first original musical in a while, sorta like how The Artist was the first silent film of note in a while. Well let me tell you something… The Artist? Sucked. La La was way better.

The amount of love La La is getting does annoy me. I mean, I’m cool with it winning Best Picture in the end, but getting like 10-11 Oscars? Some of these other films deserve some love too.

/Locks the door

//Looks out the window

///Takes the phone off the hook (lol landlines)

////Re-checks the locks

I gotta be real here: La La Land SUCKED. Before we get into it, let’s cover the positives:

1. John Legend’s song - that was sick!

2. The montage at the end - that was real!

3. La La Land did manage to be a very serious movie while keeping the tone light and bouncy, which is no easy feat, so I can give it some respect for that. Everything else though…?

The music was terrible. I’m not a big musical guy to begin with, but I can certainly appreciate a catchy showtune. Here? Not a one to be found. Gosling’s creaky-ass voice grinding out a third reprise of “City of Stars” doesn’t cut the mustard.

The dancing was shitty. Whether it was those losers rolling on the hood of their cars in the opening number, Stone’s way hotter roommates bumbling around their apartment, or the leads irritatingly floating in the planetarium, everything looked stilted and unrehearsed. The “Dick in a Box” video had sicker moves.

The leads had zero chemistry and were completely unlikable. Fishface Emma Stone and Jazz Hero Seb were such bores, I couldn’t find it in my cold, black heart to care about either one of them.

Also, do we really need white-as-a-sheet Ryan Gosling lecturing us about saving “real” jazz music? Here’s the thing, Seb: Jazz is/was all about innovation and being on the cutting edge of music. So the fact that he’s obsessed with sticking jazz inside some snow globe time capsule is actually 1000% more harmful to jazz than John Legend freshening things up and pushing jazz into a new, modern direction.

Chicken on a stick up my ass, gump!

Personal note: each year on Christmas, my family goes to the theater to watch a flick. The past few years we’ve seen joints like The Wolf of Wall Street, Django Unchained, Fury, and The Hateful Eight. Real family-friendly stuff. Well, this year we let my sister pick and of course she picked La La Land.

For the record we ALL hated it, even my sister. This is only the second movie I’ve ever seriously considered walking out of (shout out to Adventureland, you piece of crap). Anyhow, I would like to thank La La Land for giving me this nugget to hold over her head for the rest of eternity.

The last of the original top contenders, Manchester by the Sea, made me cry numerous times. I mean, I thought that shit was gonna be sad, but that trailer definitely made me figure there was a little more levity in it than there was. This ain’t Good Will Hunting. I thought Manchester had some great acting, a story that really weighed on you, and had several scenes in particular that really devastated me.

Matt must’ve fallen asleep during the last third of Manchester because for about forty-five minutes it becomes a network TV sitcom, with Affleck helping lil buddy get laid and selling enough pints of blood (BAC .08) to buy a new engine for the boat.

But hey, this is a good-to-great flick, although it could’ve used a re-edit -- what, was Billy Walsh too busy working on the new season of Johnny’s Bananas? Manchester suffers from what I call the “Boston bloat.” Any film set in New England is automatically twenty minutes too long because it has to constantly remind the audience that it takes place in New England. It’s already called Manchester by the Sea! We don’t need close ups of analog TVs showing the Celtics or slo-mo shots of ugly white guys in various shades of grey and khaki shooting Irish Whiskey.

SPOILER ALERT: (Matt’s note: the next paragraph has massive spoilers)

Also, uh, is it just me or does Lee get off kinda light (in reality and in the movie) for essentially murdering his three kids? Like hey motherfucker, you did an awful thing maybe you should at least TRY to atone for it? The cops are like “you burned your house down in a drunken stupor and it claimed the lives of your three children -- we’ve all been there!” “Yeah! I torched my place last spring, lost two kiddos and the dog, a real shame.” I get that you’re tortured bro, but maybe think about someone other than yourself for once?

Also if this movie (and most NE-set movies) are to be believed, women are only good for banging; otherwise they’re shrill nags, out to ruin a good time. Exactly none of the women in this movie are given any sort of depth or character beyond “I want to fuck her” or “She won’t stop bothering me.” The movie even kinda blames Lee’s kids’ death on the mom!

And the climactic conversation between Randi and Lee? The crux is that even after all this time, she still wants to fuck him! She can’t resist his grubby, down-home, chawm! Pathetic.

Arrival is my favorite film that didn’t ever get in the talk for Best Picture. And why the hell not? It’s loved by many who’ve seen it, it was a popular box office hit. Arrival got on my radar early 2016 when I heard about the film starring Amy Adams and the guy (Villeneuve) who did the superb Sicario. I checked out the short story Story of Your Life by Ted Chiang, and it blew me away. Arrival takes a pretty challenging high-level concept and somehow manages to portray it well onscreen. When I read it, I thought damn, how are they gonna make that a film? But they did. Villeneueve is a true talent. Arrival is intriguing sci-fi with an ending that truly impacts you.

Arrival was the bomb! Great flick and an amazing adaptation of “Story of Your Life.” Matt’s right about the movie breaking down an insane concept into something that’s easy to understand while still delivering that emotional gut-punch.

Amy Adams had better rapport with the fuggin aliens than Stone did with Gosling, just sayin.

I’ve seen a few pieces mention Hidden Figures as a possible late surprise winner. While there’s no real chance at that, it’s cool to see the box office love it’s gotten. When I first saw the trailer for Hidden Figures, I thought it came off to me like standard Disneyfied civil rights fare (like 42, if you will). But then the critics’ reviews came out, and then my friends spoke of how good it was. And it is good! Hidden Figures has 3 strong leads in Henson, Monae, and Spencer. They have well-developed characters. They don’t need to have strong white heroes saving them – the white characters (primarily Kevin Costner, Kirsten Dunst, Jim Parsons), aren’t overly white saviors or overly mustachioed villains.  There’s some prejudice. There’s some goodwill from good people like Costner’s character or John Glenn. But these are supporting details surrounding the main stories of these brilliant black women facing the shit they had to deal with at the time. That’s good cinema.

Hidden Figures is sounding pretty good in the background right now, so I’ll probably go back and actually watch it at some point. I was initially put off because it looked like The Help in Space and I didn’t need to see another scene where Sandra Bullock tells a black mother what’s what. Apparently it’s not like that? That’s good.

Fences is a well-acted adaptation of a powerful play by the great August Wilson. Fences covers the story of a black family dealing with their issues, primarily stemming from the father, Troy Maxson, during the civil rights era. Maxson is a stubborn, difficult man, and that causes some strife in the family. It’s uncompromising and tough stuff to watch, and it’s really a challenge, in a good way, to the viewer. I’ll have more thoughts on it below with Best Actor, but I thought that it had a great story and a somewhat limited vision with its adaptation. The direction by Denzel could have been more creative, but its lacking transcendance from the stage reminded me too much of the Doubt adaptation.

Fences looked like Denzel sitting on a porch for two hours. That’s cool for Denzel, but I’d just as soon sit on my own damn porch.

Hell or High Water was a really solidly done film. Jeff Bridges, Ben Foster, and Chris Pine basically are the film, and they’re great. Really glad to see Pine get to do something good outside of his always strong role as Kirk. The story’s pretty straightforward - Foster and Pine play brothers trying to rob banks. Bridges and his partner are going after them. But it’s not Point Break, and the nuances of the clever dialogue, the creative characters, and the way the movie builds - that makes the film a special quality film.

This is a movie right here! I love me a modern western, and Hell or High Water delivered! The cinematography was gorgeous and bleak at once, really bringing home the message of the movie. It was good to see Pine bounce back from that atrocious Star Trek 3 film, and the banter between him and Ben Foster really pushed this movie to the next level.

I gotta be real though, the audience I saw this with was laughing a little too hard at Jeff Bridges’ racist-ass character. Kinda uncomfortable.

I was pretty dubious about Hacksaw Ridge. I think I found it to be somewhat cheesy and somewhat excellent. The first half of the film is basically cheesy goodhearted Andrew Garfield as he decides in life that he doesn’t want to hold a gun during WWII but still wants to help, and the struggles he faced trying to convince the Army to let him do that. At this point, it felt pretty cliche and lame to me. Then the battle scenes began, and I was pretty impressed and enthralled… what Garfield’s character, Desmond Doss, did was heroic and incredible. The film is strong when showing those aspects. It’s just a little held back by the stuff around that.

Hacksaw Ridge, the Finest Hours, Deepwater Horizon -- can we tell any of these movies apart? Do we care? Really happy for Mel Gibson though, getting to film another critically-acclaimed gratuitous bloodbath.

Lion was my least favorite film, and I’ve seen a few friends here and there who disagree with that. But I found it to be lacking. The true story is amazing, the emotions of that conclusion are powerful, and Dev Patel is my boy. But the story is poorly paced for me; at times, just a little too much focused on his childhood. At times, a bit slow and clunky in his search. That being said, that film made me cry still, because that story is sad and moving. And I got love for my girl Rooney Mara. But it was the least of the 9 for me.

Just go back and read my rationale for skipping that awful Life of Pi remake. I’m sure all the same arguments apply here.

I can’t speak too much of Best Picture snubs this year. I was pretty content with this field. EXCEPT FOR CAPTAIN AMERICA: CIVIL WAR; WHERE’S DA LOVE.

Captain America: Civil War was great...as long as Cap was off-screen. Dude is the most vanilla-ass leading hero we got out here. More Iron Man, Black Panther, Spider-Man, Ant-Man, really anyone else, PLEASE.

Allow me to play to type and suggest that The VVitch got snubbed! Along with The Lobster and Deadpool, some real contenders got left at the altar. Also, let it be known that Matt had a huge bone for The Accountant despite it looking like trash from day one. Apparently some non-studio-plant redditor promised it would be great. Once the reviews started trickling in though, Matt was inconsolable.

Best director:

“La La Land,” Damien Chazelle

“Hacksaw Ridge,” Mel Gibson

“Moonlight,” Barry Jenkins

“Manchester by the Sea,” Kenneth Lonergan

“Arrival,” Denis Villeneuve

Chazelle is the likely winner here, and it would be well-deserved. He had a great vision for La La Land, and his visuals and energy are such strengths in the film. I would also wholly support my dude Villeneuve getting some love here. He really put together a great film for a short story that deserved it. He has lots of patience getting to the points he wants to make, and he treats the audience as adults, not holding their hands.

Jenkins’ direction of Moonlight leads to some damn good poetry, so I gotta give him props too. Lonergan does good work, but I don’t really consider the strength to be in his direction but more for his writing (to discuss later). Gibson put together some awesome battle scenes, but man, he had some corny scenes building up to it.

If Jenkins doesn’t win this, I’m jumping out my window like dude from the Mad Men credits.

/moves into first-floor apartment

Matt touched on it earlier, but how stupid does Richard Linklater look now? It took him like two decades to make Boyhood, and Jenkins knocked out a better version in like a month! It’s like Linklater, bro, we have actors for a reason..

Apparently Chazelle winning is a done deal, but cmon! Jenkins told three PERFECT stories, tied them together with the exact right amount of narrative tissue and knocked it out the f’n park! But yeah, Chazelle sucked off Hollywood and made the smog-trap that is LA look halfway redeemable.

Lead actor:

Casey Affleck, “Manchester by the Sea”

Andrew Garfield, “Hacksaw Ridge”

Ryan Gosling, “La La Land,”

Viggo Mortensen, “Captain Fantastic”

Denzel Washington, “Fences”

This race has come down to Affleck and Denzel. I haven’t seen Captain Fantastic and have heard Viggo is pretty good. Garfield does good work in Hacksaw, though his accent is a little spotty, and I can’t get over how corny he is at times in the film. Gosling was better to me than Stone in La La Land, but I can’t quite say that either of their lead performances screamed “Best Actor/Actress” to me. I think the race should come down to Affleck and Denzel.

Casey Affleck was the frontrunner for a while until Denzel Washington won the SAG award, which shifted the momentum in people’s mind. Affleck’s history of sexual harassment has come up a bit leading up to the Oscars, and some think that has affected his chances here. I’m not sure how I feel about that. I think the accusations were likely true. I think if so, it’s fair to make the argument that you don’t vote for him here. It’s an award for who’s the best actor, but there isn’t strict criteria, and these are voters who have a right to show support for who they want to. If that means denying a vote to a sexual predator who was privileged in what he got away with, then maybe that’s what people should do. Constance Wu broke it down pretty well, as you can read here.

If I somehow had an Academy vote, I don’t know what I’d do. I think I might vote for Casey in the end. But that debate aside, I wanna talk about their performances now, and I’d say I thought better of Casey’s.

His performance as Lee Chandler really really impressed me. It’s one of my favorite acting performances of recent years. I’d take this role over other recent winners like my boy DiCaprio in The Revenant or McConaughey in Dallas Buyers Club. Affleck embodies this character, full of subtle sorrow and guilt and pain. I felt for him every step of the way, and I never felt like it was done with cheap acting or overly acted emotion (see: Sean Penn; Mystic River). Lee Chandler is the film, and Casey Affleck is the film, and he carries it all on his tortured shoulders.

I gotta agree with Matt. The entirety of Manchester by the Sea rests on Casey Affleck’s shoulders and he absolutely crushes his role. The pain and the patheticness that define Lee Chandler come through even in the film’s happier moments and Affleck never fails to show how Lee’s grief is hardwired into his DNA and informs all of his decisions, from where to live, to whether he should punch out the drunk Santa lookin’ guy at the bar (he does).

That being said, Affleck is a sexual harasser! So I’m not shedding any tears if he loses to Denzel, who is great and keeps me in good hands, insurance-wise.

Denzel is really good too. Casey is better. Denzel has a tough character to grapple with here. I think he might be hurt a little for me just because I don’t very much like the character of Troy Maxson. I felt like this when I first read the play for a class in high school, and I feel that way now. It makes it tough. Maxson is not a likable character. I like him less than your usual villain, and I think that’s always somewhat hampered my view of the story. Maxson is not good to his family, and he infuriates me in several ways. I know that in some ways that’s supposed to be showing the effects the time period had on a man like him, but some of his decisions in the story are too much for me to overcome.

That’s somewhat the brilliance of the story by August WIlson. It’s uncompromising and brutal. But it’s always been a tough pill for me to swallow and affects my view of Denzel’s performance. When I separate that take, I do think Denzel was excellent in the role though. One of his best roles in recent memory.

Lead actress:

Isabelle Huppert, “Elle”

Ruth Negga, “Loving”

Natalie Portman, “Jackie”

Emma Stone, “La La Land”

Meryl Streep, “Florence Foster Jenkins”

This category is hampered by the lack of Viola Davis, who pushed to be labeled as Best Supporting even though she’s very clearly a lead. Stone is the frontrunner, and she’s pretty good, but she didn’t blow me away. As mentioned before, I liked Gosling’s work more. I saw Jackie, and Portman was quite good in her portrayal. I would support her getting it too. But I’d be surprised to see the Academy give her a second Oscar this early on.

Amy Adams got robbed of a nomination here. She was the heart and soul of Arrival, and Louise Banks is a great protagonist. I thought she was wonderful in it. Why again is Streep nominated for everything she does? I feel like she could voice a 5-minute role in an animated film and still win Best Actress. Was she really better in Florence than my girl Amy? I’m dubious.

I haven’t made it to Loving yet so I don’t have a take on Ruth Negga. Huppert is apparently a dark horse for Elle; a film I haven’t gotten to yet that has a fascinating premise.

What the hell is always up with the movies the Best Actress noms come from? With a few exceptions, they’re always floating out on their own, like “Best Actress” is its own movie genre. Needless to say, I haven’t seen any of these besides La La Land, and that’s one I wish I hadn’t seen.

Supporting actor:

Mahershala Ali, “Moonlight”

Jeff Bridges, “Hell or High Water”

Lucas Hedges, “Manchester by the Sea”

Dev Patel, “Lion”

Michael Shannon, “Nocturnal Animals”

Mahershala is all you gotta know here. After some solid turns in House of Cards and Mockingjay, this charming-ass mofo is magic in Moonlight. Juan is one of the best supporting characters in recent memory. He has several brilliant scenes, not requiring overacting but just sheer nuance and charm. He makes such an impression on the film in not much time. He’ll win, and he’ll deserve it big-time.

After this year, they should rename this the Mahershala Ali Award for Best Supporting Actor. Ali is amazing as Juan, Chiron’s unlikely father-figure. He commands the screen in every scene he’s in, but like Matt says, it’s not with overacting or scenery-chewing, but with the amount and specificity of emotion resonating from his character.

Bridges is his usual awesome self in Hell or High Water, and I really dug what he brought to the table. Hedges is a quality support role to Affleck in Manchester, and he does good work as the young nephew struggling through his father’s death. He’s Boston as hell and he does it well. Dev is great too, even though he’s clearly a lead role. Glad to see him getting continued work after Slumdog and good to see him knocking it out of the park. Dude is jacked now! He ain’t no babyface lucky punk anymore.

I’ll give props to Hedges for staying focused on banging out two chicks at the same time despite his dad randomly dying. I love that speech he gives Affleck (“I don’t care that I’m an orphan! I can’t move to Boston -- I’m banging two chicks!”).

Bridges was cool; I always wondered what Bad Black would be like if he were on the other side of the law.

I love Michael Shannon. I haven’t seen Nocturnal Animals. But Shannon could make any role magnetic. He’s just sheer willpower tour-de-force. I don’t know what that means, but it makes sense to me.

Supporting actress:

Viola Davis, “Fences”

Naomie Harris, “Moonlight”

Nicole Kidman, “Lion”

Octavia Spencer, “Hidden Figures”

Michelle Williams, “Manchester by the Sea”

Viola Davis is remarkable and is so key to Fences. She’s great. I hope she gets the Oscar. And she probably would have won for best Lead too. Rose is a tough character to portray to me. She’s often reactionary to her husband, and she doesn’t have as much stage presence per se. But Viola brings that necessary gravitas and strength to the role to make it not just a one-person show. She’s lovable, tender, compassionate, etc. AND she does a good job explaining how she deals with/puts up with Troy. It’s a hell of a role.

If not for Viola in supporting, I would give the win to Michelle WIlliams. She’s really good in some key scenes in Manchester by the Sea. She’s emotional, tortured, hurt, and so relatable in the things she says and does. Otherwise, Naomi Harris really nailed it as Chiron’s mom during Moonlight (and in only 3 days of filming apparently!). Spencer was quite good in Hidden Figures (though I loved Monae more; I also just love Monae in general, what can I say). Kidman is good in Lion, but I can’t say she really knocked it out the park for me.

From what I understand, Viola Davis probably deserves an easy win here, but man, Naomie Harris was raw as hell in Moonlight. That scene where she shakes Chiron down for cash nearly made me call in sick to work the next day.

Michelle Williams in Manchester by the Sea was...not great, though I blame the material more than her. “But but but Lee! I still wanna fawk you! Let’s have lunch! We can get ya favorite chowdah!” She tried her best, but the dialogue was never going to let her rise above Southie Harpy #2.

Adapted screenplay:

“Arrival,” Eric Heisserer

“Fences,” August Wilson

“Hidden Figures,” Allison Schroeder and Theodore Melfi

“Lion,” Luke Davies

“Moonlight,” Barry Jenkins; Story by Tarell Alvin McCraney

Moonlight is bizarrely marked as adapted even though it was based off an unpublished play. Whatever. It’s an excellent story. I think it’s supposed to win, and I’ll approve of Barry getting his Oscar here.

Damn, I gotta agree with Matt again! This is truly a weird spot for Moonlight to be in. It’s like “oh shit, I adapted this movie from an idea I had once -- okay!”

I do wish Arrival could win too, because Heisserer’s feat is impressive considering the degree of difficulty here. Story of Your Life (Arrival’s short story) is a lot simpler than the plot of the film. Heisserer had to develop more of a global conflict to the story and had to figure out how to take plot elements from the short story and make it work on film (the short story is a lot more first person narrative; he did a lot to adjust that for the screen).

Still, no one has to be madder about Moonlight’s odd placement than the Arrival folks. They took an impossible-to-adapt short story and fuckin flamed it out into an amazing motion picture. Really impressive stuff.

Fences is cool because Wilson had that screenplay around for a while, and it got made after his death once a black director (Wilson stipulated that the director be black) finally was able to put the project together. And it’s a great story. Just not as deserving to me as Moonlight/Arrival.

Original screenplay:

“20th Century Women,” Mike Mills

“Hell or High Water,” Taylor Sheridan

“La La Land,” Damien Chazelle

“The Lobster,” Yorgos Lanthimos, Efthimis Filippou

“Manchester by the Sea,” Kenneth Lonergan

I still haven’t seen The Lobster and want to. I think Alex will vouch for it. Otherwise, this is a category where La La won the award at the Golden Globes, but I really hope it doesn’t win here. Manchester’s screenplay is so good to me. The way it intercuts between past and present, the way it slowly reveals different plot points, and the way it writes dialogue of sad scenes - that’s some good stuff right there.

I gotta go with The Lobster here. To call it’s screenplay efficient is a severe understatement. I previously lauded Barry Jenkins for showing audience exactly what they needed to see. In The Lobster, Lanthimos strips the entire endeavour down to the bare essentials. Why use three words when one will do? Shit, why even use words at all? Beautiful stuff, b.

On the other end of the spectrum is Manchester by the Sea, where every possible scene and/or conversation gets its moment to shine. This leads to a lot of great moments and conversations, but also to a fair number of middling ones.

Cinematography:

“Arrival,” Bradford Young

“La La Land,” Linus Sandgren

“Lion,” Greig Fraser

“Moonlight,” James Laxton

“Silence,” Rodrigo Prieto

Bradford Young can get it.

Dayum.

That Linus dude will probably win for La La, and it’ll be deserved. I just thought Moonlight had some hella cool shots. Also, Silence gets a nom here. I wanna see that at some point, even if it ended up not getting the love it expected to get.

La La Land will win here because Hollywood loves seeing itself glammed up for the silver screen and not as the tepid, plastic cesspool it is (note: I actually love LA, but am I wrong?).

Film editing:

“Arrival,” Joe Walker

“Hacksaw Ridge,” John Gilbert

“Hell or High Water,” Jake Roberts

“La La Land,” Tom Cross

“Moonlight,” Nat Sanders and Joi McMillon

Another La La win, probably suggesting its best picture victory.

I already burned my Billy Walsh joke, so I’ll just say this HAS to be Moonlight, right? I mean, it won’t be, but it’s economy in telling such a resounding tale defines Oscar-worthy.

Best documentary feature:

“13th,” Ava DuVernay, Spencer Averick and Howard Barish

“Fire at Sea,” Gianfranco Rosi and Donatella Palermo

“I Am Not Your Negro,” Raoul Peck, Remi Grellety and Hebert Peck

“Life, Animated,” Roger Ross Williams and Julie Goldman

“O.J.: Made in America,” Ezra Edelman and Caroline Waterlow

Really strong year for docs. I still haven’t gotten to the long, really-a-TV-documentary-series OJ, but I’ve heard such incredible things about it. The 13th was brilliant and would certainly deserve a win too. And I can’t wait to see I Am Not Your Negro.

Gotta confess, I haven’t seen any of these, but this looks to be one of the strongest years for docs in recent memory.

Animated feature:

“Kubo and the Two Strings,” Travis Knight and Arianne Sutner

“Moana,” John Musker, Ron Clements and Osnat Shurer

“My Life as a Zucchini,” Claude Barras and Max Karli

“The Red Turtle,” Michael Dudok de Wit and Toshio Suzuki

“Zootopia,” Byron Howard, Rich Moore and Clark Spencer

Zootopia appears to be the winner here, and it really was an impressive animated film to me. As I watched it, I was like damn those themes got a lot deeper than I expected for a kid’s film! Moana was really enjoyable too, though it didn’t quite reach the highs for me that some other recent animated classics have (I would put Frozen ahead of it, for instance).

Zootopia is my JAM. Love that sloth at the DMV. Moana was fine, but did nothing to distinguish itself from any other generic-ass cartoon.

No love for Sausage Party? Damn.

Best foreign language film:

“A Man Called Ove,” Sweden

“Land of Mine,” Denmark

“Tanna,” Australia

“The Salesman,” Iran

“Toni Erdmann,” Germany

The director of The Salesman, Asghar Farhadi, was not allowed to come to the Oscars after the executive order a few weeks ago, and then he decided not to come too out of protest. He also directed the incredible A Separation, which I finally recently saw. That film was so devastating and moving to me, and if The Salesman is comparable at all, it would certainly deserve a win here too.

Toni Erdmann is apparently going to be remade with Jack Nicholson, so I’m for sure curious about that too.

Give it up to Tanna, man. It was filmed in Nauvhal, which has like 4,500 native speakers.

Original score:

“Jackie,” Mica Levi

“La La Land,” Justin Hurwitz

“Lion,” Dustin O’Halloran and Hauschka

“Moonlight,” Nicholas Britell

“Passengers,” Thomas Newman

Original song:

“Audition (The Fools Who Dream),” “La La Land” — Music by Justin Hurwitz; Lyric by Benj Pasek and Justin Paul

“Can’t Stop the Feeling,” “Trolls” — Music and Lyric by Justin Timberlake, Max Martin and Karl Johan Schuster

“City of Stars,” “La La Land” — Music by Justin Hurwitz; Lyric by Benj Pasek and Justin Paul

“The Empty Chair,” “Jim: The James Foley Story” — Music and Lyric by J. Ralph and Sting

“How Far I’ll Go,” “Moana” — Music and Lyric by Lin-Manuel Miranda

La La will definitely win for best score, considering it’s a damn musical. Arrival should have gotten some love here, but the Academy dqed it because they were worried that this brilliant song used in the film would get confused as part of the original score. But the score is great on its own!

La La Land will win, which is garbage! As a Houston native, I will no doubt be pulling for Moonlight, as the whole f’n thing was chopped and screwed.

Two La La songs are nominated here, and City of Stars should likely win. I would love to see Lin-Manuel get the win here and complete his EGOT. How Far I’ll Go didn’t really stay with me the way other classic animated film songs have. Heck, I would rather have seen You’re Welcome get the win here.

Yeah, the two songs in Moana worth a damn (“You’re Welcome” and “Shiny”) got robbed, and both those LLL songs are trash. I gotta take a moment and recognize the special kind of horrible that is “Can’t Stop the Feeling.” I dare you to find a more written-by-committee, “Happy-”humping piece of corporate garbage that polluted the airwaves this year.

Does this mean I’m cheering for Sting? Fuck.

Also, Sing Street should have DEF got some love here. It was robbed. Sting got a nom instead? FOH.

Sound editing:

“Arrival,” Sylvain Bellemare

“Deep Water Horizon,” Wylie Stateman and Renee Tondelli

“Hacksaw Ridge,” Robert Mackenzie and Andy Wright

“La La Land,” Ai-Ling Lee and Mildred Iatrou Morgan

“Sully,” Alan Robert Murray and Bub Asman

Sound mixing:

“Arrival,” Bernard Gariepy Strobl and Claude La Haye

“Hacksaw Ridge,” Kevin O’Connell, Andy Wright, Robert Mackenzie and Peter Grace

“La La Land,” Andy Nelson, Ai-Ling Lee and Steve A. Morrow

“Rogue One: A Star Wars Story,” David Parker, Christopher Scarabosio and Stuart Wilson

“13 Hours: The Secret Soldiers of Benghazi,” Greg P. Russell, Gary Summers, Jeffrey J. Haboush and Mac Ruth

Kevin O’Connell apparently hasn’t won after 21 nominations, and he’ll probably lose to La La Land here. Well, I hope he somehow gets a win.

Let’s revisit a Matt quote from the top of the article: “Matt always provides excellent, impressive, insightful, groundbreaking commentary.” You’ve really outdone yourself here.

Last fall I was at WB Studios and they explained the difference between sound editing and sound mixing and I was like “Finally! I’ll have a real opinion when the Oscars roll around!” Well, I don’t remember what I learned that day, so let’s just give these awards to Arrival for that little pewpew sound of the aliens squirtin’ their ink.

Production design:

“Arrival,” Patrice Vermette, Paul Hotte

“Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them,” Stuart Craig, Anna Pinnock

“Hail, Caesar!,” Jess Gonchor, Nancy Haigh

“La La Land,” David Wasco, Sandy Reynolds-Wasco

“Passengers,” Guy Hendrix Dyas, Gene Serdena

Visual effects:

“Deepwater Horizon,” Craig Hammack, Jason Snell, Jason Billington and Burt Dalton

“Doctor Strange,” Stephane Ceretti, Richard Bluff, Vincent Cirelli and Paul Corbould

“The Jungle Book,” Robert Legato, Adam Valdez, Andrew R. Jones and Dan Lemmon

“Kubo and the Two Strings,” Steve Emerson, Oliver Jones, Brian McLean and Brad Schiff

“Rogue One: A Star Wars Story,” John Knoll, Mohen Leo, Hal Hickel and Neil Corbould

Rogue One had some good visuals, bro.

Damn, my X-Men couldn’t get a nod here? I guess the Academy is saving all their mutant love for Logan next year. Hail, Caesar! Is such a joke of a movie and represents Hollywood’s masturbatory tendencies at their worst. So it’ll probably take home an Oscar here.

I’ve heard Doctor Strange is like trippin off acid without trippin off acid, so if you’re trippin off acid when you watch it, it looks pretty normal. Yeah, I’m certain that’s how it works.

Makeup and hair:

“A Man Called Ove,” Eva von Bahr and Love Larson

“Star Trek Beyond,” Joel Harlow and Richard Alonzo

“Suicide Squad,” Alessandro Bertolazzi, Giorgio Gregorini and Christopher Nelson

Costume design:

“Allied,” Joanna Johnston

“Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them,” Colleen Atwood

“Florence Foster Jenkins,” Consolata Boyle

“Jackie,” Madeline Fontaine

“La La Land,” Mary Zophres

Apparently Matt died before he could finish this? Anyhow, Star Trek for makeup and hair? Except for that one chick, who was really lookin all that different? Give it to Suicide Squad, I guess.

Is the real Florence Foster Jenkins still alive? I wonder how she’d feel knowing that, in a twisted way, her awfulness was winning all kinds of awards. She’s probably dead, so it doesn’t matter, but still.