#oscarpredictions

[ryanjdonovan]

DONOVAN’S OSCAR PROGNOSTICATION 2024

Truth -- that seems to be the theme for the films at the Oscars this year.  What is truth?  Is there such a thing?  Can it ever truly be known? (Anatomy of a Fall)…  Is it perception? (American Fiction)…  Is it fluid, subject to interpretation? (Poor Things)…  Is it disputable? (Nyad)…  Is it timeless? (Past Lives)…  Is it colored by history? (Oppenheimer)…  Is it clouded by memory and nostalgia? (The Holdovers)…  Is it based on perspective, bent by fame? (Maestro)…  Is it subjective, controlled by a narrative or manipulated for personal gain? (May December)…  Is it controlled by power? (Barbie)…  Does it get rewritten? (Killers of the Flower Moon)…  Does it become forgotten or ignored? (The Zone of Interest)…  Is it purple? (The Color Purple)… (Okay, I struggled with that last one.)

At a time when we doubt that anything is true, how can we believe in the Oscars themselves?  It's still secretive and opaque.  At least the cronyism this year has been discretely kept behind closed doors, as it should be, as opposed to transparently flaunted on social media (like last year with the Andrea Riseborough nomination scandal).  So this year, if the Oscars are going to be manipulated, at least they'll have the decency to hide it from us.

Here's one truth that's irrefutable: My 25th annual Oscar predictions are guaranteed 100% accurate.  So read on… and get ready for some unpopular opinions.  Think I loved masterworks from celebrated auteurs, like Oppenheimer, Barbie, Killers of the Flower Moon, The Zone of Interest?  No!  Overrated, all of them.  Film snobs (and Mattel executives) are sure to castigate and shame me for my treacherous viewpoints… because they are unwilling to accept the truth. 

Fact Check = True: You can follow me on Letterboxd: https://letterboxd.com/ryanjdonovan/

BEST PICTURE:

SHOULD WIN:  The Holdovers WILL WIN:  Oppenheimer GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  May December INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  The Taste of Things

It's a big year for characters that have been name-checked in retro popular music: Oppenheimer (in Sting's 'Russians'), Leonard Bernstein (in R.E.M.'s 'It's the End of the World as We Know It', Barbie and Ken (in Aqua's 'Barbie Girl').  Unfortunately for The Zone of Interest, there are very few pop songs about Nazis…

Oppenheimer will win Best Picture.  That is certain.  But should it?  Maybe the better question is: Have we been tricked?  Tricked into thinking this is the most important film of the year?  Into believing that the only acceptable way to see this film is in 70mm IMAX on the biggest screen possible, when 90% of the film is people talking in small rooms?  Into believing that this is dazzling, dynamic filmmaking because the editing, sound design, and score make it all (again, 90% talking) so seemingly intense?  Into believing the most complex and destructive calculations that the world has even known can be written down and solved on a solitary blackboard or a single sheet of paper?  My answer: Yes, we have been tricked.  Now, I think it's a fantastic movie, and it deserves a lot of the recognition it's getting.  And I'm exaggerating my assertion that we've been tricked… but only a little.  Other than the One Big Explosion, was it really critical to see this in a format that only existed in 11 states (fewer than 20 theaters) in the entire country?  I can't believe I'm being heretical of the theatrical experience, but… no, it wasn't.  If you just saw it on a regular movie screen, was that okay?  Yes, you can be forgiven for your cinematic transgression.  (And, for all the hoopla about the technical perfection of the theatrical film print, I still had a hard time hearing the dialogue, which has been true of all of Christopher Nolan's recent films.)  I can't shake the notion that the film is relentlessly propulsive… but also very boring.  The sound, the way it's cut together, and the music (and let's be honest, the nudity) essentially manipulate the audience into believing the story is more interesting than it actually is.  Without those elements working overtime, would we be nearly as captivated?  Would we even care about the outcome of the trial or the hearing or the tribunal or the security clearance inquisition or whatever the hell is going on?  Honestly, I wouldn't even put Oppenheimer in Nolan's all-time top 5.  An apt comparison -- but superior film -- is Dunkirk: historical events, thrumming sound design, thriller pacing, time-hopping story, Oscar acclaim.  However, that film has real stakes and drama, not senate committees and conference rooms and smirched reputations (the atomic bomb, of course, notwithstanding).  Similar to Oppenheimer, during the first watch, many of the filmmaking elements in Dunkirk call attention to themselves, and the film tends to get in its own way.  But on subsequent viewings, those initially-troublesome aspects pay off, and the viewing experience vastly improves.  Today, I'm willing to call Dunkirk a masterpiece.  Maybe the same will be true with Oppenheimer.  I guess I only have to watch it five more times to find out. 

So, my personal pick for what Should Win is not Oppenheimer.  Unfortunately, I can't really decide between my top three films: The Holdovers, Anatomy of a Fall, and Past Lives.  It keeps flipping.  Ask me on a different day, and I'll give you a different answer.  Such distinct movies.  They couldn't be more disparate in the ways that they appeal to me.  Okay, I've made a decision… for today anyway.  Here I go again, voting with my heart instead of my head…

My choice is The Holdovers.  (I can hear your disappointment.)  Many would argue this is exactly the kind of dusty film we should be getting away from for Best Picture, and that my endorsement is the best evidence for why it shouldn't win.  Fair.  My cerebral choice would be Anatomy of a Fall -- that's the film I've spent the most time pondering over after the fact.  But The Holdovers speaks my language.  That's the best way I can describe my personal connection to it.  I wasn't alive in 1970 and I didn't go to prep school and I don't know what my history teacher smelled like.  But somehow it resonates.  This is probably the Alexander Payne movie with the most heart and the most sincerity -- and that earnestness mixed with all the gleeful bitterness and sarcasm that you expect from Payne is what makes it so gratifying.  For me anyway.  Everybody else apparently prefers to watch bombs explode.

Masquerading as a domestic drama and a legal procedural, Anatomy of a Fall is actually a puzzle -- inviting and challenging, frustrating and rewarding -- and we're not even sure we have all the pieces.  This is a good thing.  As we go through the steps of the dramatic conflict and courtroom proceedings, we are compelled to pick up pieces along the way, and try to make sense of how they fit.  We're even put through the paces as if we are being judged ourselves -- we endure the details and subjectivity and inhumanity of a trial.  (And not just any trial, a French one.  Which is nothing like American trials we see depicted in movies and TV.  It's bonkers.  I have no idea if it's accurate, but it seems that storytelling and conjecture are much more important than facts and evidence.)  For me, it's an apt allegory for any conflict where there are multiple perspectives and selective facts (e.g., anything online, or every episode of Judge Judy); I find the older I get, the more I feel this way.  By the end of the movie, when trying to draw a conclusion, we don't even know if we can trust the puzzle pieces that we've collected and stitched together.  And we're forced to confront the realization: Maybe we can never know the truth… or, more distressingly, maybe there's no such thing as the truth.

Past Lives, the least assuming of all the nominees, might feel slight compared to other films that tackle more 'important' subject matter.  (The problems of three little people don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world, or so they say.)  The 'what might have been' theme is tried and true, but this movie puts a different spin on it, with the Korean concept of "in-yun" -- a kind of timeless fate between people.  And the sweeping love story doesn't rely on shortcuts (overt sexiness or titillating dialogue or suggestive imagery) or manipulation (sentimental music or emotional close-ups).  First-time director Celine Song gives the naturalistic film space to breathe and time to think.  A prime example (Spoiler Warning, for those who have not seen the film) is the final exchange between Nora and Hae Sung, which is truly exquisite.  They talk about what their relationship will be (in this life and future ones), and she says she doesn't know.  Initially, I heard his restrained response as "See ya, then" -- a deflated resignation and farewell.  But as it sunk in, I heard it as "See you then," as in "I'll see you in our next life" -- not as a goodbye, but as a resolute promise that he'll wait for her forever.  Subtle and deeply affecting.  (So, what about Nora and her husband Arthur, then?  I'm still a cynic, of course; this film did not thaw my cold heart.  They seem hopelessly tired of each other… and they don't even have kids yet.  Sorry guys, time to start thinking about the next past life.)

It's a little hard to describe to someone why I like Poor Things without sounding like a depraved lunatic.  "It's a really sweet coming-of-age story about a young woman who runs away from her domineering father -- who conducted experimental surgeries on her and an undead baby -- and has a sexual awakening that takes her across an otherworldly European hellscape, leading her to a life of prostitution and revenge.  Her numerous dalliances, which are graphic and sexual but not actually sexy, could be perceived as statutory rape since she has the mind of a child.  It's really great.  Hilarious."  Of course, the film is more than that, but it's a little hard to put into words.  I can't say I relate to any of it, but the perverse humor, fanciful sensibility, and fairytale/nightmare mash-up strike a chord somehow.  Maybe its power is in allowing the viewer a wide range of interpretations -- control or chaos, losing religion or finding faith, shunning love or welcoming it -- it's all there.  A couple things hold it back from being a truly superior film for me, specifically the dark turn in the final quarter (I get the point, but I don't need it) and the occasional bluntness (using a chainsaw when a kitchen knife would do.)  Overall a rewarding experience, but it's clearly not for everyone.

American Fiction has one of the toughest challenges of the nominated films: how to balance its many themes while still making their place in the story feel natural.  It's not a breezy list: death, family trauma, financial strain, artistic integrity, stereotype fetishization, heartbreak, commodification of pain, self-serving elitism, professional disrespect, societal expectations, alienation -- mostly as they pertain to race.  The film succeeds incredibly well.  Despite the personal and touchy subject matter, it's inviting, not hostile.  And despite its density and potential weight, it's thoughtful and light on its feet.  (Categorizing it as a comedy, which has been the case during awards season, is a bit misleading; half of it is satire, with plenty of humorous moments, but it's also a drama that avoids getting bogged down.)  Best Picture is not likely where the film will get rewarded, but I have a feeling it won't go home empty-handed. 

When Killers of the Flower Moon debuted, it seemed like it might have good chance at unseating Oppenheimer as the favorite.  And while there were plenty of rapturous reviews (though it's unclear how much of the fanfare was Scorsese-worship and how much was genuine love of the film), it never quite got there.  While admirable and epic and filled with exquisite craftsmanship, it feels somehow lacking.  True, the themes of evil in the hearts of men and descent into hell are undeniable and fuel every single scene (at an hour and a half in, the situation is already pretty execrable… and then they announce the KKK is coming).  But the overall story itself doesn't quite justify the 3.5-hour runtime.  The complex web of deceit and corruption might be more compelling if every character perpetrating the crimes wasn't such a moron.  The ensuing investigation isn't exactly a chess match; it's more of a game of checkers against a five-year-old.  (Bonus points to the brainiac who asks a lawyer if it's legal to adopt children and then murder them for financial gain.)

The Barbie trailer declares that the movie is for people who love Barbie and people who hate Barbie.  But what about people who have never cared one way or the other about Barbie?  Because that's me.  So maybe not surprisingly, I neither love nor hate the movie.  It's funny, engaging, and enjoyable.  But I never saw it as a contender to vie for Best Picture.  If you've been absorbing pop-culture satire anytime in the past 60 years, you know Barbie-as-metaphor is not a novel idea -- sketch comedy, music, The Twilight Zone, movies, etc.  (How quickly we forget about Tyra Banks.)  The movie has a lot of things to say, has been a huge success, and obviously means a lot to a great many people.  But I, ever the curmudgeon, like to look with a more cynical eye: Is this a pro-consumerism movie?  Or an anti-consumerism movie?  Or a movie masquerading as pro-consumerism in order to satirize unabashed consumerism while actually convincing us of the virtues of anti-consumerism but underneath really just being a vehicle to sell merchandise for a large corporation?  (Hint: Do you think Barbie doll sales increased in 2023?)  Where are the lines between self-awareness and subversion and hypocrisy?  Only Twitter knows for sure.

“A work of art does not answer questions, it provokes them; and its essential meaning is in the tension between the contradictory answers.”  Oh boy.  That's exactly what we want to see at the beginning of a movie, right? -- a clear indication that it will leave us confused.  That quote, from Leonard Bernstein, is what opens the film Maestro.  And sure enough, it delivers on that promise: almost no answers.  As someone who knew next to nothing about the legendary conductor ahead of time, I don't know what I was expecting to get out of this experience.  And despite spending two hours with the character, I don't think I really know much now.  Does that mean I wanted a more traditional biopic, a Behind the Music episode, or a film adaptation of his Wikipedia page?  Sadly, maybe.  The movie has its fans, and nabbed several nominations, so clearly some people are responding to it.  I'm sure director/star Bradley Cooper knew there was no way to please everyone.  (Maybe that's why Steven Spielberg pawned it off on him; Spielberg had planned to direct, but handed the keys to Cooper after seeing A Star Is Born, and stayed on as a producer.  Incidentally, Spielberg actually has more nominations for producing (13) than directing (9); this film makes him the most-nominated producer ever.)  Don't expect this film to factor in the race -- as soon as Cooper missed out on a directing nomination, its Best Picture chances were dead in the water.

I'm not quite sure what to say (or how to feel) about The Zone of Interest.  Through unique sound design (what you hear rather than what you see), it's a film that highlights the atrocities of the Holocaust by presenting it with an unsettling sense of normalcy, as seen through the daily lives of the Nazi family that lives next to Auschwitz.  The banality and ignorance are the point.  The idea seems to be that anti-shock value is even more disturbing than shock value.  But it's not sneaky, it's overt.  (Case in point: the flourishes -- like the red screen, the reverse negative, or the loud screeching sounds -- which may or may not be there just to wake up any dozing audience members.)  It's easily the most polarizing of all the nominees.  Whether you appreciate the film probably depends greatly on how effective you think the approach is.  Personally, I find the technique and the structure -- and therefore, the film -- confounding, preventing me from fully connecting with it.  It strikes me more as an experience than a narrative -- novel and provocative, yes, but not successful in terms of story.  (And it may or may not be pointing a finger at modern-day museum cleaning ladies, I can't be sure.) 

My pick for Ingloriously Snubbed is The Taste of Things, which was France's submission for Best International Film (instead of Anatomy of a Fall), but shockingly didn't end up making the cut for Best Picture.  It's a 19th-century French romance between a mature monogamous couple, set in a rustic country kitchen, cooking gourmet cuisine the entire time, with no violence, swearing, or enmity. In other words: porn for my wife.

Here is my unsolicited ballot with all the Best Picture nominees, from best to worst:

The Holdovers

Anatomy of a Fall

Past Lives

Oppenheimer

Poor Things

American Fiction

Killers of the Flower Moon

Barbie

Maestro

The Zone of Interest

BEST ACTOR:

SHOULD WIN:  Cillian Murphy (Oppenheimer) WILL WIN:  Cillian Murphy (Oppenheimer) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Leonardo DiCaprio (Killers of the Flower Moon) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Ralph Fiennes (The Rat Catcher)

After months of being neck-and-neck with Paul Giamatti, Cillian Murphy has emerged as the front-runner for his work in Oppenheimer.  (Though it's not a sure thing; there's always at least one curveball on Oscar night.)  While Murphy and Giamatti both give bravura performances and are singularly perfect for their roles, Giamatti could probably do his Holdovers character in his sleep (or while eating a cheeseburger at In-N-Out).  Murphy, meanwhile, gives a performance unlike anything we've seen from him, making it seem like more of a revelation.  He certainly benefits from the year's best cinematography: framed like a portrait, wearing his hat and coat like a superhero outfit, paranoia frothing over his hard-edged face, and fish-eye-lens shots in close-up rendering him like a deer in headlights.  There's also the drama-versus-comedy bias at the Oscars, of course.  But in the end, voters will choose Murphy for delivering a career-defining performance and being the center of mass in the movie of the year.  (Then again, you could use the same description for Margot Robbie in Barbie, and we know how that turned out with the Academy.)

The central figure in The Holdovers is what you might get if you put "Paul Giamatti as a teacher" into an A.I. engine.  It is, without a doubt, the Paul Giamatti-est Paul Giamatti role ever.  And it is totally my jam (which is definitely a phrase that people still use).  After their magical collaboration in Sideways, it's hard to believe it's taken Giamatti and director Alexander Payne almost 20 years to team up again.  (Then again, I realize "grouchy Paul Giamatti star vehicle" is probably not high on many studios' wish lists.)  Readers of this article over the years (both of you) know he's a first-ballot Snubbed Hall of Famer: American Splendor in 2004, Sideways in 2005, and Should Win / Will Win for Cinderella Man in 2006.  And so, of course, this year I'm picking… someone else to win.  As much as it betrays the very fabric of my being, I think I have to endorse Murphy for Best Actor.  In terms of Oscar bait, Giamatti is missing a key element: The Big Emotional Speech.  You can almost picture it -- at the end, when he praises his student to his parents in front of the headmaster -- it could easily be a three-minute swooning monologue, full of lionizing epithets, clever wordplay, and inspirational Greek quotes, providing dramatic salvation for the boy while heartbreakingly sacrificing his own career, eliciting cheers as you uncontrollably and elatedly shout at the screen through tear-filled eyes, "O Captain!  My Captain!" or "You're the man now, dog!"  The Big Emotional Speech would have secured the Oscar immediately.  But that doesn't happen.  Payne doesn't subvert it (as you might expect), he simply avoids it.  That's not Payne, and that sure as hell isn't this movie.  True to life, Giamatti effectively sacrifices the Oscar by dutifully serving the film.  Like the Hall of Famer he is.

With American Fiction, Jeffrey Wright finally relinquishes the title of Greatest Living Actor to Never Be Nominated.  (On the ladies' side, Emily Blunt does the same with Oppenheimer.)  You may recall that I accurately predicted a nomination for Wright two years ago (never mind the fact that I said it would be for a different film this year, Asteroid City).  With Fiction, Wright elevates the already-crackling material in a way that I don’t think anyone else could.  He seems extremely at ease with his character, despite the fact that the character is not at ease at all.  His is probably the most believable portrayal in this race, a person you might know in real life.  (Like, I would probably be his despised neighbor, Phillip.)  He has some momentum here at the end of Oscar voting, having the most recent movie and winning the Indie Spirit Award, but it won't be enough to pull him ahead of Murphy or Giamatti.  (I'm sure he'll take solace in the fact that I have him in a virtual three-way tie with those two actors for Should Win.) 

If the Best Actor award is for who wants it the most, Bradley Cooper would win hands down for Maestro.  The man is campaigning hard.  If you've seen or heard one of the 5,000 interviews he's done this season, you know what I'm talking about.  How Leonard Bernstein was speaking through him.  How he trained 36 hours a day to be a conductor.  How he was handpicked to direct the project by God (a.k.a. Steven Spielberg).  In each interview, he makes sure to weep at least once and tries to work in the story where The Hangover director Todd Phillips told him he wished he believed in himself as much as Phillips did.  To his credit, it all seems very earnest.  I truly believe that handwritten notes from Michael Mann make him cry, and I truly believe that he very much wants to accept an Oscar.  As for the performance, it's transformative, but often feels like it slips into caricature, especially in the second half -- it's like Joe Piscopo doing Frank Sinatra, with Ben Stiller's Maury Finkle and Rick Moranis's Merv Griffin sprinkled in.  And as far as character motivation, I'm not entirely sure -- he seems to have two pursuits: getting summer to sing in him and humping anyone with nice hair.  As actor, writer, and producer of the film, Cooper adds three nominations to his previous nine.  But at the end of the night, the hardest-wanting man in show business will be 0 for 12, I'm afraid.  

After years (decades!) of admirable work in supporting roles, it's nice to see Rustin's Colman Domingo get recognition in a star-making turn.  It's just a shame it's not a better movie overall.  The screenplay aside, the film has the immobility of a walled-in stage play, with performances that play to the back row.  (Maybe not coincidentally, director George C. Wolfe has a highly-accomplished career in theater.)  Everyone in the ensemble seems to be overdoing it by about 10% (even Jeffrey Wright, who's so great in American Fiction), with a striking lack of naturalism (especially when compared to, say, Past Lives, which got zero acting nominations).  As such, Domingo, playing real-life activist Bayard Rustin, feels a bit broad early on; but he's at his best in the final act, when the performance rises to meet the poignance of the events in the film. 

Ralph Fiennes, my Ingloriously Snubbed choice for The Rat Catcher, is the best argument for why performances in short films should be eligible for Acting Oscars. 

BEST ACTRESS:

SHOULD WIN:  Emma Stone (Poor Things) WILL WIN:  Lily Gladstone (Killers of the Flower Moon) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Natalie Portman (May December) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Juliette Binoche (The Taste of Things)

As we come down to the wire, it seems that Lily Gladstone is edging past Emma Stone, for her heart-wrenching role in Killers of the Flower Moon.  They've been deadlocked most of the season; just a few days ago I would have said Stone had the slight edge.  But the Screen Actors Guild award tips the race in Gladstone's favor.  Really, it's still up for grabs, but if I were wagering, I wouldn’t bet against Gladstone.  And while she gives a strong and effecting performance, she's not quite my top choice -- though it has more to do with the film itself.  Despite being the lynchpin of the movie, I don't quite believe the love story between her character and Leonardo DiCaprio's.  Her character seems too savvy and too emotionally mature to fall for DiCaprio's halfwit baloney.  And because that relationship is so essential to the narrative (and true to life, according to their descendants), and because it allows the viewer to understand how so many awful events in the story take place, my disbelief causes much of the film to fall apart.  And unfortunately, it's holding me back from fully endorsing her performance.

Emma Stone gives an astonishing, hilarious, and frank performance in Poor Things, as her character goes on a globe-trotting adventure of self-discovery and sexual awakening.  (She could be the protagonist of the Seinfeld movie-within-the-show, 'Rochelle, Rochelle'.)  She's my slight pick for Should Win over Sandra Hüller, based on the high level of difficulty in her role: She has to portray the mental and physical evolution of a child growing to adulthood in a woman's body (as well as portray a lot of "furious jumping") -- and despite the inherent bizarreness, none of it ever comes across as false.  Her journey feels shocking, but also inevitable.  Despite being manipulated by her 'father', she follows in his footsteps, using increasingly-scientific curiosity and methods to evaluate things, people, and experiences.  (You know, she's something of a scientist herself.)  Having won already for La La Land, many voters will be happy to give the award to someone else.  But for my money, Stone's Poor Things performance blows La La Land away.  (And I still hold a grudge against La La Land for crapping on A Flock of Seagulls.)

Watching Sandra Hüller's character, who's accused of murder in Anatomy of a Fall, she's like Schrödinger's Cat -- she's both guilty and not guilty.  She skillfully draws us into her perspective while somehow keeping her distance; we empathize with her, but we never know what she's thinking.  Upon that intimate unknowability, she adds more complex layers -- love for her son, knowing that she'll be judged in the public's eye even if she's found innocent, and arguing a point that she doesn't believe (or says she doesn't believe) for the sake of her defense.  It's a remarkable turn from an actress largely unknown in the United States.  Hüller may benefit from double-dipping (she's also fantastic in The Zone of Interest), but voters are clearly considering this a contest between Lily Gladstone and Emma Stone. 

In another year, Carey Mulligan might get my vote for her performance in Maestro.  Director and co-star Bradley Cooper has been vocal about Mulligan being the true star of the movie.  She's a formidable foil for Cooper in the first half, though she risks veering into affectation.  That changes in the second half, when the film ratchets up, and Mulligan's performance ascends, becoming more naturalistic and bare -- and as a result, more connected to the audience.  It's a showcase for the breadth of her talent.  Through it all, she more than holds her own in the cacophony of argumentative dialogue that gives the film its signature melody. 

Why are we doing this?  Why do we keep doing this to poor Annette Bening?  Nominating her again when she has no chance to win?  She doesn't need our charity.  Her fifth nomination (for Nyad) feels like an unnecessary courtesy, especially given the number of other deserving actresses this year (more on that later).  To be fair, at the outset of Oscar season, this seemed -- on paper anyway -- like a great shot for Bening to finally land the trophy: a biopic of a complicated real-life character, a unique story about a mind-boggling accomplishment, a punishing physical performance, a commentary about age and perseverance, and a potential showcase for emotion and drama.  Unfortunately, the movie itself, about long-distance open-water swimmer Diana Nyad, is less than amazing, and her performance probably suffers because of it.  She finds better footing (swimming?) in the second half of the film, however, when stilted dialogue and imitation give way to more authentic emotion.  A bit of a surprise when nominations were read, Bening will have to hope for another crack at Oscar glory in a better movie.  Regardless, I suspect she's doing just fine without us.

As for my pick for Ingloriously Snubbed… Thought I was going to say Margot Robbie for Barbie?  I actually preferred her (abbreviated) performance in Asteroid City -- her scene was my favorite in the film.  I have a few actresses I'd nominate over Robbie: The official choice is Juliette Binoche (The Taste of Things), but Greta Lee (Past Lives) and Zar Amir Ebrahimi (Shayda) would also be worthy inclusions. 

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR:

SHOULD WIN:  Robert Downey Jr. (Oppenheimer) WILL WIN:  Robert Downey Jr. (Oppenheimer) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Charles Melton (May December) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Willem Dafoe (Poor Things)

There's little doubt that Robert Downey Jr. will win his first Oscar for Oppenheimer.  Voters are responding to an overwhelming sense of "it's his time", "the movie is awesome", and "he gives a great acceptance speech" (oh, and "his performance is good").  A question they may ask, before casting their vote in the supporting category, is whether they think Downey has an Oscar-winning lead performance in him sometime in the future.  (If Dolittle is any indication, probably not.)  Personally, I'm not quite sure who to endorse, in a group of solid if not electrifying performances.  (See Ingloriously Snubbed for my real pick.)  It's maybe more of a process of elimination, but ultimately I land on Downey too.  It's not exactly his most dynamic or captivating performance ever, but for a supporting role, he delivers the goods without going all 'Downey'.  And, I'm not going to lie, I'm rooting for him too… I mean, he does give a great acceptance speech.  (One lament about Oppenheimer's supporting roles: I wish they would have gotten Gene Hackman out of retirement, just so he could say the word "Oppenheimer" in his signature growl -- à la his Oppenheimer Funds commercials of yore.)

Just a few short years ago, I gave Robert De Niro a rare double-helping of Gloriously Omitted (for The Irishman and Joker) and suggested he hang up his holster.  I'm happy to say the calls for his retirement were premature.  Killers of the Flower Moon is the best De Niro in years (decades?) and his first well-earned nomination since 1991's Cape Fear.  It's vintage De Niro, full of menace and manipulation -- a schemer who's just wise enough to know that he doesn't have to outsmart everyone, just the guy next to him.  (In a movie landscape full of shared universes, is it possible this role is a Louis Cyphre origin story?)

It seemed inevitable that voters were going to include one of the standout supporting performances in Poor Things -- either Mark Ruffalo or Willem Dafoe.  While I would have picked the other one (see below), this is probably the silliest, most dynamic, and (intentionally) funniest Ruffalo we've ever seen.  (No "They knew!" grandstanding here.)  It's unlike any part he's ever played, and his odd vocalizations serve him well in the role.  Despite being the 'adult' in his relationship with Emma Stone's character, he really nails the I-didn't-get-my-way pouting that every parent knows well.  While effective, it ultimately feels like he's play-acting a bit, instead of authentically inhabiting the role, so voters won't be swayed to give him the award.

Well, one doll we know won't be represented in Barbieland is Oscar Winner Ken.  Ryan Gosling is more than game in Barbie, but this is probably the film's least likely shot at a trophy.  Maybe Gosling's Ken can use his clicky-pen doctor powers to explain to me what the point of the Mattel sub-plot is and what the corporation is doing in the movie.  I don't mean what Mattel represents, I mean what they literally do.  Like, how do the Patriarchy Ken dolls get manufactured so fast?  The Ken revolution (and corresponding mass production) seems to happen in the span of a day, without any involvement from the company.  Does Mattel make dolls, or do the dolls somehow self-manifest based on the actions of the Barbieland characters with Mattel just reaping the benefits?  Basically, I don't understand any of the Mattel movie logic.  (And Will Ferrell clearly doesn't either.)

Sterling K. Brown was a bit of a late-breaking surprise for his part in American Fiction.  After three Emmy awards and a bunch of recent nominations -- so many nominations -- it seemed inevitable that an Oscar nod was going to happen for him sooner or later (though his movie career has taken longer to fully launch than expected).  While he has no real shot to win, his nomination is likely an indication of things to come.  (An even surer sign that he's made it is that he's created sworn enemies -- the sincerest form of flattery in Hollywood -- in Charles Melton and Willem Dafoe, two actors that were hoping to get his slot.)

Speaking of Charles Melton… I am, apparently, the only one on planet Earth that is not blown away by Melton's performance in May December.  I understand that as a victim of trauma at an early age, his character is supposed to be stunted and withdrawn.  But where viewers and critics alike find his performance mesmerizing and chilling, I find it… well, oafish and flat.  ("Yes, of course it is!" the Internet yells at me.  "That's because he's broken inside, you inconsiderate monster!")  Okay.  I get it.  Actually, I don't.  The performance doesn't strike me as particularly nuanced or engaging.  ("But he has an emotional breakdown in front of his son who's half his age but twice as mature!  The fact that they're totally baked and weirdly sitting on the roof of the house make it all the more poignant, you cretin!")  Sigh.  Every commenter out there anointed him the Oscar winner long before nominations were announced.  ("He's so perfect they should rename the category after him!")  I was unconvinced.  And so, it turns out, was a large portion of the Academy.  What will hindsight say?  I've watched the film again, and, with everyone so passionate about the authenticity of his performance, I'm willing to admit that I may be wrong about it.  On second thought, no.  I'm not.  And so I dub him Gloriously Omitted.  (A couple silly honorable mentions: Brendan Fraser, for showing up to yell for 10 seconds in Killers of the Flower Moon; and Jesse Tyler Ferguson, for treating Cocaine Bear like it's a sequel to Wet Hot American Summer.)

There's only one choice for Snubbed: Willem Dafoe in Poor Things, as the Scientist, or as the Father, or as Dr. Frankenstein.  (Or as God, if you like.)  In fact, he'd be my choice to win the Oscar over all the actual nominees.  His performance feels strangely authentic, despite the fact that his is probably the most audacious and ludicrous in the movie.  There's no note of novelty in his performance (which is something I can't say about his screen-mate, Mark Ruffalo).  It's as if Dafoe's long history of weirdo characters has led him to this wonderful culmination of superlative oddness.  Some other smaller performances worth mentioning: Tom Conti in Oppenheimer (I seem to be the only one who likes his goofball Einstein), Rhys Ifans in Nyad (the shaggy, underrated soul of the impossible quests), and Milo Machado Graner in Anatomy of a Fall (the gifted child at the heart of the film). 

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS:

SHOULD WIN:  Da'Vine Joy Randolph (The Holdovers) WILL WIN:  Da'Vine Joy Randolph (The Holdovers) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Julianne Moore (May December) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Viola Davis (Air)

The two leading contenders are the ones that (not coincidentally) have the best and most complete parts in their respective films.  The first is Da'Vine Joy Randolph, the runaway choice for her role as a grieving yet tender mother/coworker/road-trip-buddy in The Holdovers.  She's arguably the third lead in the film, with her own standalone story and well-developed characterization.  Typically a comedic actress, she gives her character a sense of faded warmth and vitality in the wake of recent difficulties.  She's never been my official Snubbed choice, but she's been in consideration for standout performances in Dolemite Is My Name and The United States vs. Billie Holiday (not to mention as the comically fed-up but dogged investigator in Only Murders in the Building).  (Good thing I'm not giving awards for Best Accent -- I'm not really sure what's going on with her occasional Boston inflection in The Holdovers.  She evidently didn't study Ben Affleck's Dunkin' Donuts Super Bowl commercial.)

Danielle Brooks similarly benefits from a fantastic part in The Color Purple, and she fully capitalizes on it.  The film brims with supporting roles that voters probably considered for nominations, but Brooks brings a unique (and welcome) energy to the film; each scene she's in changes the dynamics of the entire piece.  Her nomination is a no-brainer, encapsulating pretty much everything the Academy likes in a supporting performance.  She gets to sing, dance, and throw a punch -- but the role and screentime are less than what Randolph has to work with, so she won't realistically challenge for the prize.  But getting her own catchphrase ("Hell no!") isn't a bad consolation. 

Barbie has been called a lot of things -- smarter and dumber minds than mine have seen to that -- but one thing that stands out to me is that it's a sneaky coming-of-age story.  But unlike director Greta Gerwig's previous films (Lady Bird and Little Women), we realize halfway through that it's a coming-of-age story for the mother character (which makes it a coming-of-middle-age story, I guess?).  So the film in many ways is just as much about America Ferrera's character as it is Barbie herself.  I think that is a big reason why so many people (and voters) have responded to her performance, beyond her "Woman" monologue.  However, Ferrera's best performance of the year may have been trying to look impressed while co-presenter Kevin Costner awkwardly fumbled his way through an excerpt of her now-famous monologue at the Golden Globes.  Yikes.  (Bonus points to her for spoofing the speech in the Oscars promo video with Jimmy Kimmel.)

I think voters may have been grading on a curve when nominating Jodie Foster for Nyad.  It's a competent performance, but I personally don't think it's anything out of the ordinary; the fact that it's in a middling film with underwritten dialogue doesn't help.  I suspect that since she doesn't appear in many movies anymore, voters were enthused to see her on-screen, and lazily gravitated to her, over less-conventional performances from other actresses.  She'll get a True Detective bump (like Matthew McConaughey, Mahershala Ali, and Rachel McAdams before her), but she's no threat to collect her third trophy. 

While it's helpful to be graded on a curve, it's even better to be part of the snowball effect.  Case in point: Emily Blunt in Oppenheimer.  There's no real way to sugarcoat it: the nomination is week.  There's simply not much for her to do.  But Oppenheimer is rolling through town, and it's carrying a lot of people with it.  So her nomination has seemed inevitable since last summer.  The only surprise is realizing that she's never been nominated for anything else (like The Devil Wears Prada, The Young Victoria, Into the Woods, Sicario, A Quiet Place, Mary Poppins Returns, or The Girl on the Train).  Despite being her only nominated role, Oppenheimer probably won't even make the highlight reel of her career.  (At least her character has more to do -- albeit with less consequence -- than Rami Malek.)

The year had a lot of fun and interesting smaller roles, many of which weren't actually in contention for the Oscars, but are worth mentioning: Viola Davis is the obvious choice for Air, but it's certainly not her most memorable work.  Sandra Hüller (in The Zone of Interest) is a bright spot in a film I otherwise didn't love.  Kerry O'Malley is memorable in The Killer for what is essential a cameo.  (I hope she had a stunt double.)  Kate McKinnon is perfect in Barbie.  (I'm waiting for an announcement of a Weird Barbie spin-off.)  And Teyonah Parris: I'm not necessarily citing her role in The Marvels, but after doing action, horror, and drama, I would recommend a big-budget rom-com -- she has the best (and most under-used) smile in Hollywood. 

BEST DIRECTOR:

SHOULD WIN:  Justine Triet (Anatomy of a Fall) WILL WIN:  Christopher Nolan (Oppenheimer) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Bradley Cooper (Maestro) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Alexander Payne (The Holdovers)

This is the strongest lock of the night: Christopher Nolan for Oppenheimer.  But there is still intrigue with this category… specifically, after winning every single award of the season, how long can Nolan continue to pretend to be surprised and grateful and humble?  I don't think he can keep it up.  I think on Oscar night, upon his crowning achievement, he'll finally say, "We all knew I was going to win, I'm better than all these hacks, and it is long overdue."  A little honesty and pompousness would be refreshing.  (After many months of officially giving no comment on the Barbenheimer phenomenon and clearly having no patience for all the viral marketing nonsense, maybe he will finally tell us what he really thinks of Barbie.)  Perhaps he'll reveal how autobiographical his film actually is.  I'm not the only one who strongly suspects that it's a meta-commentary on the world at large not understanding his films and the negative reviewers not appreciating his genius.  (Lydon Johnson might as well be giving J.R. Oppenheimer a gold statuette instead of the Fermi Award at the end of the film, years after having his Inception Security Clearance revoked.)  And of course, Nolan is the obvious choice for Should Win… right?  I mean, how could he not be?  …Right?  Or…

…But then there's Justine Triet, director of Anatomy of a Fall.  While her film may lack the spectacle of Oppenheimer, she finds subtler ways to make it engaging and keep the viewer glued to the screen.  Through twisty psychology, magnetic performances, alternating points of view, DIY detective work, confounding legal proceedings, and shifting blame (plus a dog who may know more than everyone else), she keeps us highly invested while daring us to doubt the main character.  The film is long, but effectively so; Triet puts the viewer into the center of the arduous situation, frustrating us along with the protagonist.  It's a balancing act that could collapse at any time, but Triet keeps it all together.  So for the effect she has on the viewer, and the way she orchestrates all the components to tell the most engrossing story, I choose her for my Should Win.  (But if I'm being honest, that probably won't keep me from rooting for Nolan, one of my favorite directors over the past two decades.  Had he already won for Dunkirk, like I said he should, then I wouldn't be conflicted.)

From a visual perspective, I probably like the look of Yorgos Lanthimos's Poor Things best of all the Director nominees.  A Victorian fever dream with production design on steroids, the visual style matches the absurdity of the characters and the journeys they're on.  Elements that shouldn't go together end up meshing in a lovely but jarring, unique but familiar way.  It's a Frankenstein movie that evokes the aesthetic of a different monster movie -- Francis Ford Coppola's Dracula.  There are also strong influences from The Wizard of Oz and Alice in Wonderland, of course.  The city of Alexandria is straight out of Dr. Seuss's 'Oh, the Thinks You Can Think' (I was half expecting to see the Vipper of Vipp).  Much of the iconography seems heavily influenced by the Follies numbers in The Great Ziegfeld from almost 90 years ago.  And then it throws in some retro-future steampunk elements, just to irritate the European History teachers.  (I'd love to hear what Paul Giamatti's Holdovers character would say.)  I can't say I loved Poor Things quite as much as Lanthimos's previous effort, The Favourite, but he's become a must-see director for me. 

Killers of the Flower Moon gives Martin Scorsese his 10th Best Director nomination, vaulting him past his old nemesis Steven Spielberg for most by a living director.  (William Wyler is the all-time king, with 12.)  As Scorsese nears the end of his career, many thought this would be the grand finale and score him an elusive second statue, putting him in elite company.  But Christopher Nolan, his new nemesis, said, "Not so fast."  Were it not for Oppenheimer, I could easily see Scorsese winning; Flower Moon is one of his best-looking films (it looks a hundred times better than The Irishman).  It's also one of his best-sounding films -- without being able to lean on the Rolling Stones, he got a magnificent composition from Robbie Robertson (who passed away a few months ago), the kind of foreboding score that I really respond to, that isn't overly-manipulative or doesn't do too much heavy lifting (<cough> Oppenheimer <cough>).  It's also probably the most sensitive film he's made in years; instead of focusing primarily on the FBI investigation (which would have been in his wheelhouse), he refocused the story on "love, trust, and betrayal", after hearing input from members of the Osage Nation.  However, one hang-up I have is the radio-play ending, which felt awkward and blunt.  There's something dissatisfying about not seeing the characters meet their fate.  Maybe that’s the point… or maybe editor Thelma Schoonmaker said, "We gotta wrap this up."

This year's unconventional nominee, Jonathan Glazer, is an acquired taste, and certainly not for everyone.  With his résumé of button-pushing films (Sexy Beast, Birth, Under the Skin), he's not exactly a family-friendly director.  (My generation knows him as the director of Jamiroquai's iconic 'Virtual Insanity' video in the '90s, which won him an MTV Moonman Award.  Maybe he's going for a MEGOT?)  Glazer has jokingly referred to his film The Zone of Interest as "Big Brother in the Nazi house" -- which is not totally inaccurate.  A more serious comparison might be Jeanne Dielman…, or other European observational 'slow cinema' films.  Glazer goes to great lengths to make the film the inverse of what you might expect from a Holocaust film; visually, it's not graphic or assaulting or visceral, but thanks to the sounds he puts in the background (the "second film", he calls it), it is those things in your imagination.  The film goads and baits the viewer in ways no other film in my memory does.  I'm afraid to say it doesn't totally work for me, at least not as intended.  I can't help but feel like it's a lot of pretense lacquered onto subject matter that probably doesn't need it.  Glazer is clearly an artist of immense talent, who refuses to conform to conventions… which is another way of saying that he's probably a producer's nightmare.  I'm guessing in school he was often told how much potential he had by frustrated teachers threatening to fail him.  I just hope he someday channels that potential into a film that works for me (preferably one that includes a catchy tune, funky dancing, and a trippy moving floor).

I'm not sure if Maestro is well directed, but it's certainly very directed.  I'm guessing I'm not the only one that has director Bradley Cooper on the Gloriously Omitted list.  The film is full of pizazz and talent, but what's perhaps more fascinating than the film itself is the irresponsible psychological excavating we might do about its author.  How much of it is self-examination of Cooper himself and his thirsty quest for artistic recognition?  Only his therapist knows for sure, but I'd wager that the movie teaches us more about Bradley Cooper than Leonard Bernstein.  Honorable mentions to David Fincher for The Killer, doing less of what he does best, and Todd Haynes for May December, doing… well, I don't know what the hell he's doing.  (More on that in Original Screenplay.)

Under the singular direction of Alexander Payne, The Holdovers is like a warm, scratchy wool blanket at grandma's house -- despite the discomfort and awkwardness, it's so cozy and so familiarly specific that you never want to leave.  I'm a sucker for his analog-film aesthetic -- I relish Payne's version of the 1970s more than other retro nostalgia-porn, like Licorice Pizza or Dazed and Confused.  His omission was my biggest disappointment on nomination day, and is my easy Snubbed choice.  Other worthy contenders include Celine Song for Past Lives and Anh Hung Tran for The Taste of Things.  Song, a first-time film director, frames her shots in Past Lives like an old pro.  Perhaps my favorite is when the Greta Lee character (the center of gravity in the film) leaves the two men alone together.  The shot starts wide, as if it's unmoored by her departure, and calls attention to her absence.  But then as the men talk and make their own connection, the frame becomes anchored, centering on them and slowly pushing in.  But just subtly -- perfectly.  On the other end of the spectrum, Tran's sweeping camera work in The Taste of Things heightens the culinary experience that is the soul of the film.  While extremely complex and painstakingly choreographed, it feels effortless and looks natural, never calling attention to itself.  He also eschews a musical score, so the camera highlights the sounds of the gourmet kitchen -- and those sounds effectively become the score, providing surprising rhythm and melody. 

BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY:

SHOULD WIN:  Arthur Harari, Justine Triet (Anatomy of a Fall) WILL WIN:  Arthur Harari, Justine Triet (Anatomy of a Fall) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Christos Nikou, Stavros Raptis, Sam Steiner (Fingernails) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Alex Convery (Air)

There's an interesting phenomenon with the nominated writers this year: three of the films are written by domestic partners (Anatomy of a Fall, May December, and Barbie).  And appropriately (or alarmingly), those films also happen to include major conflicts between the sexes.  (I had assumed Greta Gerwig and Noah Baumbach had hashed everything out during Marriage Story.)  Anatomy of a Fall, written by Arthur Harari and Justine Triet, seems like it would be cause for concern for the couple.  Do we think a story about a woman who may or may not have killed her husband with zero remorse is a red flag?  I can imagine their writing style… 

Justine: [At the keyboard.]  Arthur: [Turns up music.]  Justine: "The husband is listening to his annoying music… and then he mysteriously falls off a third-story balcony to his death!"  Arthur: Shall I turn down the music, love? 

Assuming they haven't killed each other before then, I expect Harari and Triet will collect the Original Screenplay Oscar together. 

But it's far from a lock.  The script for The Holdovers (written by David Hemingson) has a good chance to sneak in.  It has the uncanny ability to make me nostalgic for things I've never known, places I've never been to, life before I was born, and experiences I've never actually wanted. 

Another strong contender and possible spoiler is Past Lives, the story of a love that defies the limits of time and distance… or the story of an Uber that shows up just a little too quickly.  Writer/director Celine Song, with her first film, handles the script with the delicacy of someone with decades more experience.  The film deals with the ideas of fate and free will, not just in this lifetime but across many lifetimes.  It also references another fantastic screenplay: Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.  That film is specifically mentioned by a character, but its themes of repeating connections and the inevitability of love (even when relationships fail and heartbreak is inescapable) also reverberate throughout the story and dialogue of Past Lives.  Eternal Sunshine won Best Original Screenplay 20 years ago; even if Past Lives doesn't win, it's a worthy successor. 

After watching Maestro, I'm still wondering what Leonard Bernstein has to do with the end of the world as we know it.  The script, written by Bradley Cooper and Josh Singer, is probably the least compelling of the bunch here.  I'm equally fascinated and frustrated by the dialogue; it's like Bernstein's music -- boisterous, abrupt, busy, discordant, jarring, overlapping… and, probably intentionally, difficult to fully understand.  Aside from never saying what they actually mean, characters talk over each other and -- more crucially -- past each other.  I get to the end of a scene and wonder, What did I just listen to?  What are they fighting about?  I heard words, and yelling, and disagreement, but I don't actually know the meaning of what they said to each other.  The characters do not seem to be confused, but I am.  If the dialogue in the film isn't for you, at least you can smile at the Snoopy Thanksgiving Parade Balloon metaphor (which, like life, literally goes by without Bernstein seeing it). 

May December (directed by Todd Haynes, written by Samy Burch and Alex Mechanik) was at one time a strong Oscar contender in several categories, but ended up an also-ran.  Its lone nomination is for screenplay, and for me, it's a hard one to wrap my head around.  How to interpret the melodrama-run-amok that we see onscreen?  Upon a second viewing, it's clear that there's more than a healthy zesting of camp (if you're not sure, remember that Haynes is the guy that made Superstar: The Karen Carpenter Story -- with plastic dolls).  Here's my theory on how to reconcile the film (if you haven't seen it, skip this paragraph): We are not seeing reality; we are seeing the movie that Natalie Portman's character (the actress) is picturing in her head.  She is imagining the events of her research and interaction with the family as a melodramatic episode.  In her mind, she's picturing it play out as if it's her idea of a prestigious Oscar-type film.  But since she's not very talented, she's imagining it in an over-the-top, overly-performative, amateurish way.  So to Portman's character, it's supposed to be sophisticated, but it comes off (to us) as campy -- dramatic music, overt sexual tension, deceptive wife, boy-toy husband, evocative imagery, a lisp for a character tic, and herself as the sly (but ridiculous) seductress.  Since she doesn't have a deep imagination, she rips off other movies -- specifically her favorite prestige movie from her formative childhood: The Silence of the Lambs.  So she infuses the story with all kinds of Lambs elements that, of course, don't work at all in this narrative: butterflies, 1990s thriller score, a pet-shop stockroom that looks like Buffalo Bill's basement, a dark X-ray lab, face-to-face interrogation, characters looking into the camera.  But she's no Jonathan Demme, so her version of it is terrible, of course.  She thinks she's Clarice Starling, but she can't outwit Julianne Moore's Hannibal Lector.  (The film even casts Moore, who played Starling… but not in the original; instead she was in the second-rate, non-Demme sequel.)  We get to the end and see Portman's character has been deluding herself, stuck in a purgatory of basic-cable mediocrity.

If I name Asteroid City as my choice for Gloriously Omitted, will my Wes Anderson Fan Club membership be revoked?  It's… (choosing my words carefully here)… not one of his best.  I would probably go easier on the movie if 1) he hadn't included the scene with Adrien Brody and Margot Robbie, which is easily the most electric scene in the film, and made wish he made that movie instead, and 2) he hadn't also made The Rat Catcher, which I love, in the same year (see: the Adapted Screenplay category).  To be on the safe side, I'll go with Fingernails (written by Christos Nikou, Stavros Raptis, and Sam Steiner).  What a great premise.  What a boring execution.  The pitch: In an alternate reality, true love can be scientifically tested by ripping the fingernails off two people and putting them in a microwave-looking-thingamabob.  The experience: Dull people sitting around doing their mundane jobs or watching TV and passively doubting or projecting their feelings, failing to make us believe any of these mopes could possibly be in love with each other.  It should have been a lot weirder or a lot shorter -- it could have made a helluva Black Mirror episode.  (As it is, it's still better than any of the actual episodes in the latest season of Black Mirror.)  Honorable Mention unfortunately goes to celebrated writers Dustin Lance Black and Julian Breece for Rustin's script.  The film takes a dynamic figure playing a pivotal role in landmark events in history, and makes the experience feel educational instead of cinematic.  The screenplay often verbalizes the subtext, and makes it text.  You can practically hear a producer's reductive notes coming through in the stale dialogue.  A missed opportunity.

BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY:

SHOULD WIN:  Tony McNamara (Poor Things) WILL WIN:  Cord Jefferson (American Fiction) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Julia Cox (Nyad) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Wes Anderson (The Rat Catcher)

All the scripts in the Adapted category are smart and challenging, and interrogate what we think (or what we think we think) about well-established events, people, and perceptions (and toys).  A favorite among voters this year (and the likely winner) is American Fiction, the first film written and directed by Cord Jefferson.  All the films in this category confront the preconceived notions in different ways, but I think American Fiction does it more elegantly that the others.  My only reservation about the script is the ending.  (Some spoilers here.)  We come to form a relationship with Jeffrey Wright's character and become invested in his story.  So it's a letdown when we get a satirical resolution, instead of a sincere, meaningful one.  (I realize that's the point -- the character doesn't get to finish his own story, and he's succumbed to the idea of simply giving paying audiences the pandering ending that they think they want.)  We're left to question not only what happens to him, but also whether he's at peace with his choices.  Like the character himself, we feel a bit unfulfilled.  But I suppose that's life. 

Oppenheimer has yet to win a major screenplay award during the Oscar run-up, so despite it steamrolling through most categories, it's looking less and less likely to win here… but don't count it out.  With Christopher Nolan a sure bet to collect trophies for Director and Picture, voters will likely use this category to spread the love around.  And I agree with them; screenplay is not Oppenheimer's strongest suit.  Despite all the timeline chicanery, it's mostly a courtroom drama (never mind the fact that characters keep saying it's not a court).  More than that, it's a courtroom drama with low stakes.  Do we really care if Oppenheimer loses his security clearance?  Nolan's screenplay acrobatics try to trick us into thinking we care.  But we do not.  (And his framing device, despite being an attention-grabber, is ultimately inconsequential.  But don't tell Rami Malek that.)  In the script's defense, what I think Nolan is really trying to do is reclaim -- or at least reframe or question -- important (and very consequential) events in history.  And he succeeds in that.  (One final script critique: The movie goes out of its way to make the Trinity test extremely intense, but my wife will tell you, the most harrowing part of the movie is the relentless sound of the poor crying baby.  Good lord.)

If you're looking for a potential upset, the intense nomination-snub backlash for Barbie could propel it to a win here, as a way to reward writer/director Greta Gerwig (and co-writer Noah Baumbach).  The concept of a toy or doll coming to life is not exactly a new idea, so the core idea for Barbie is not terribly original.  Think of Pinocchio, The Lego Movie(s), The Nutcracker, Small Soldiers, Wreck-It Ralph, Mannequin, Annabelle, Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, Ted, Child's Play… even Barbie herself in the Toy Story movies.  They all yearn for (and usually get) agency over their own lives, and 'write their own story'.  (Well… the screenwriters, like Gerwig and Baumbach, actually write their stories.)  Within that construct, Barbie manages to take on some big ideas about humanity, womanhood, mortality, and feet.  When it comes to screenplays with fantastical premises, I tend to get hung up on the in-movie logic.  A small sampling: What's the relationship between the Barbieland Barbies and the actual toys?  Is there one Barbieland Barbie for every single toy?  If so, there would be over a billion of them, and many of them would theoretically look the same.  And Margot Robbie wouldn't be the first doll to be outgrown and discarded.  Or is it one Barbieland Barbie for every toy model?  If that's the case, then that would mean that thousands of people have a toy that corresponds to Margot Robbie, not just America Ferrera.  So wouldn't those people all have influence over her?  Why is Ferrera the only one impacting her?  But then how to explain Weird Barbie?  Per the movie, Weird Barbie started as a standard model (maybe the Margot Robbie model?), and then got played with too rough.  If it's one Barbieland Barbie for each individual toy, shouldn't there be a ton of Weird Barbies?  And shouldn't their faces all look like the other standard Barbies that they originated from?  Or if it's one Barbieland Barbie per model, then how did a single toy being mangled cause an entire model (with thousands of corresponding toys) to become Weird?  (And I wonder why people hate watching movies with me.) 

With movies, I have a tendency to laugh at things that are audacious, even if they're aren't conventionally funny.  It's an expression of shock and bemusement, more than actual humor.  As a result, I'm often the only one laughing in a movie theater.  (Which just thrills my wife.)  And so I spent a lot of time laughing at Poor Things (written by Tony McNamara).  Don't get me wrong, the film is hilarious, wickedly so… but, understandably, not everyone appreciates the humor.  But the audacity is where it truly excels and sets itself apart.  In a category where any of the films could win, this is my pick for what should win.

I've already written at length about my lack of connection to The Zone of Interest (written by Jonathan Glazer).  It's hard to judge the screenplay, when the directorial style overwhelms any real sense of story.  Strong narrative is paramount to me.  And this isn't that.  To be fair, tidy storytelling and artful subtlety are not the film's aim; decrying complicity is.  But Glazer's choice of contrasting audio and visual is a risky gambit, and the film is not as affecting for me as others covering a similar topic.  I guess the important thing is that it calls into question whether we really remember the atrocities as an urgent warning, or if we breeze past them like a dusty museum piece -- just another rote, distant history lesson.  (It can also be perversely seen as an outside commentary on the hollowness of the "American Dream", but I don't personally buy into that reading.)

This is probably unfair, but I'm giving Gloriously Omitted to Nyad, written by Julia Cox.  It's hard to tell if the clunkiness is in the writing or directing or producing (or all of the above), but it's there nonetheless.  If you've ever seen an underdog sports movie, you know the beats, you've heard the dialogue, and you've seen the cliches.  The directors, Elizabeth Chai Vasarhelyi and Jimmy Chin (another married couple!) are acclaimed documentary filmmakers (Oscar winners a few years ago for Free Solo), but this is their first narrative feature.  So maybe not surprisingly, they deftly handle the physical feats but not the human drama.  The good news is, the script and direction become more comfortable in the second half, and it's hard not to get the feels when the ending hits the right notes.  (But then again, the real-life protagonist, Diana Nyad, has been accused of making a lot of stuff up about her accomplishments.  So there's that.)

If I made the rules, Wes Anderson's short-film adaptation of The Rat Catcher would be eligible here, and I'd be clamoring for a nomination (thereby restoring my recently-revoked fan club membership).  For feature films, Ingloriously Snubbed goes to Anh Hung Tran for The Taste of Things.  At the screening I attended at the Chicago International Film Festival, the writer/director had a wonderful and brutal description of a script: he called it a "dead body", only becoming alive once it receives the language of cinema.  For his buoyant script, I respectfully disagree. 

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"Oscar Predictions 2023: Who Will Win Best Actor? Our Final Verdict!"

Its final predictions for the 2023 Academy Awards in the Best Actor category. With a focus on who might win the coveted prize. That there are several high-profile actors who could make the cut this year, including Benedict Cumberbatch, Joaquin Phoenix, and Leonardo DiCaprio. Other notable mentions include Will Smith, Adam Driver, and Peter Dinklage, who have all delivered impressive…

[dualredundancy]

In this week’s episode David and Kyle take on special guests Nick Boyle, Marc DeSisto and Nick Rojas from The Good, The Bad & The Watchable podcast in predicting the very unpredictable Oscars. In this special episode they try and forecast who will take home the Oscar in all the major categories for the 95th Academy Awards.

We discuss (in order) best original screenplay, best adapted screenplay, best supporting actress, best supporting actor, best actress, best actor, best director, and best picture.

#Oscars #Oscars95 #Oscars2023 #OscarPredictions #OscarNominations #OscarNoms

[jontheblogcentric]

I don't often post about my blog here, but tonight is Oscar night! Yes, I did see all ten Best Picture nominees. And yes, I did post my predictions for who will win tonight: https://wp.me/p1dnwv-3Aj #AcademyAwards #Oscars #94thOscars #OscarPredictions #MovieLoversUnite (at New Westminster, British Columbia) https://www.instagram.com/p/CbntHR9PzbL/?utm_medium=tumblr

[outnowpodcast]

Out Now Bonus: 94th Academy Awards Prediction Special with guests Mark Hobin & and the lovely @write2recite. Hollywood’s Biggest Night! (Link in the bio.) #Oscars2022 #AcademyAwards #OscarPredictions #March2022 #movie #film #podcast #podcaster #podcastersofinstagram #podcastlife #outnowwithaaronandabe https://www.instagram.com/p/CblY_11P7NM/?utm_medium=tumblr

[trentanimation]

#throwback to #oscar weekend 4 years ago! I feel so lucky to have been a small part of the crazy talented team that won the Oscar for #frozen . I'm also happy to announce that we're hard at work on #frozen2 ❄️😊Do you have any animated favorites for this year? I loved #coco ! #disney #disneyanimation #pixar #oscars #oscars2018 #disneyfrozen #olaf #anna #elsa #animated #animatedfeature #movies #movie #oscarweekend #gold #team #cganimation #computeranimation #pixaranimation #predictions #oscarpredictions #love #pic #picoftheday #photooftheday

[amovieadaybyurzoladaniela-blog]

"I wish everyone was as sick as you." Call Me by Your Name (Luca Guadagnino, 2017) DoP: Sayombhu Mukdeeprom

[break-the-stereotype]

Here are nine movies I believe could go on to win great acclaim in 2020 and maybe some Oscars in 2021 too!!! #oscars2021 #academyawards2021 #movie #film #movies #films #wendy #onward #irresistible #soul #intheheights #tenet #frenchdispatch #manysaintsofnewark #trialofthechicagoseven #oscars #oscar #academyawards #oscarpredictions https://www.instagram.com/p/B8fTxmLnDrz/?igshid=i1uukevrs540

[cjverg]

CALLED IT! So happy Parasite won not 1...not 2...not 3...BUT 4 Academy Awards! It was my favorite film last year (non-comic book related), and I knew it would win big! Stories and movies like that winning made me believe original ideas can come from anywhere and win accordingly. Hopefully, I can do it, too. #Parasite #academyawards #oscarpredictions #bestpicture #bestdirector #bestforeignlanguagefilm #bestoriginalscreenplay https://www.instagram.com/p/B8X5twNFQ-S/?igshid=d039xpbmmxnb

[freegreatmovies]

Oscar predictions so far: Best Sound Editing: Dunkirk Best Sound Mixing: Dunkirk #dunkirk #dunkirkfilm #dunkirk2017 #christophernolan #soundediting #soundmixing #imax #70mmfilm #dolbydigital #oscarpredictions #65mm #worldwar2 #warmovies #academyaward #soundeffects #sounddesign (at Dunkirk, France)

[ryanjdonovan]

DONOVAN’S OSCAR PROGNOSTICATION 2023

These are my 24th annual Oscar predictions, which don't mean much, except that the Oscars turn 95 this year.  So that means that I've been writing this article for more than a quarter of the entire existence of the Academy Awards.  That's an institution that started in 1929 and predates mainstream movies in color, World War II, the Great Depression, the Empire State Building, the end of Prohibition, and the Star Spangled Banner as the official national anthem, and is nearly as old as talkies.  It's older than nonagenarians Client Eastwood, James Earl Jones, Gene Hackman, and Robert Duvall… and almost as old as Everything Everywhere All at Once's James Hong. 

When I think of the effort and dedication that have gone into crafting these articles over the past 24 years, I can't help but feel… not proud… what's the word?  Pathetic.  Yes, pathetic.  And regretful, and depressed, and wasteful.  All those years… it's sad, really.  Had I applied myself to some fruitful endeavor, I probably could have made something of myself.

And you… If you’ve been reading these since the previous millennium, you have my sincerest apologies.  I feel bad about all the goals you may have been able to achieve, had you spent time nurturing your passions instead of reading my indulgent, hacky, blathering write-ups.   Honestly, I had much higher hopes for both of us. 

But, there's no sense in stopping now!  Please squander more of your precious life and read on for my fearless predictions.

Also, you can follow me on Letterboxd: https://letterboxd.com/ryanjdonovan/

BEST PICTURE:

SHOULD WIN:  Everything Everywhere All at Once WILL WIN:  Everything Everywhere All at Once GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Empire of Light INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Glass Onion

I thought this day would never come: The movie that I think is the best movie of the year is going to win Best Picture.  That film, improbably, is Everything Everywhere All at Once.  The concept of this movie winning the big prize last spring was laughable, but it's steadily gained steam, and is now the heavy favorite.  I couldn't be happier, or more surprised.  Sure, there have been years where the film that I thought Should Win did in fact win; but those were limited to just the nominees -- and usually, my favorite film is not nominated.  We can finally all rejoice and celebrate the fact that the Academy got this one right.  (Well, let's not congratulate ourselves too much.  There's plenty of other things the Academy will get wrong this year.)  Everything Everywhere isn't just the best film of the year, it's the one that you feel the most.  That's its superpower.  Somewhere in the overstuffed cocktail of alternate realities, genre mash-ups, laundromats, and tax returns, it's infused with basic, grounded emotions, which shine through in every single scene.  Even a scene with two rocks is emotional.  But more than that, the sentimental swells don't feel manipulative.  The film somehow manages deal with so many different themes and dovetail them in without feeling forced, by hiding them inside subverted genre set-pieces.  Trying to overexplain why I love the movie will only serve to undermine it.  What's great is that no two viewers have the same experience; everyone hones in on different aspects and themes that resonate with them.  Each person finds different things to love about it.  Fanny-pack bludgeonings are not your thing?  Then maybe you'll like a toy-poodle-whip attack.  Or a vengeful robo-grandpa.  Or flapping hotdog fingers.  (See?  I shouldn't overexplain it.)  The best I can do is say is that it's simply a modern masterpiece. 

I love Top Gun: Maverick, but let's get this out of the way right off the bat: It is not better than the original Top Gun.  It isn't.  So just stop.  (I swear -- while choking back tears for Goose -- this isn't just the nostalgia talking.)  But the real question: Can it win Best Picture?  You know, the Academy Award for the most prestigious movie of the year, joining the upper echelon as One of the Greatest Films Ever Made, with the likes of The Godfather, Schindler's List, Lawrence of Arabia, Casablanca, and Gone with the Wind?  Well, if you had told me back in June that it would be nominated for this award, I would have said you were crazy.  Yet here we are.  And yes, there is a decent chance it will win.  Why?  One: It's awesome.  Two: It has the benefit of being a movie that everyone has loved, and you can't say that about any of the other nominees.  (Even people who dislike action movies, fighter jets, or men with mustaches like this movie.)  Three: It may not be any voter's #1 choice, but it will probably be #2 on almost every preferential ballot, and if there's no other clear favorite, that could be enough to win.  Four: It's a sneaky way to give Tom Cruise an Oscar without giving him one for acting; the self-perpetuated, self-serving narrative that Tom Cruise Saved Hollywood -- Nay, Saved Democracy! -- is oddly pervasive and shamefully compelling.  Five: It's okay to hate the bad guys in the movie!  Because they're… well… nameless and faceless and country-less.  If we can all agree to hate the same generic enemies, then everyone is happy and everyone wins… especially Tom Cruise.

I’m a little leery of directors making semi-autobiographical 'this is why I became a filmmaker' movies -- especially ones that have a variation of the word “fable” right in the title.  The risk is that it's going to be effusive and self-indulgent.  And The Fabelmans, from Steven Spielberg, is those things, frankly.  (Though, thankfully, not as indulgent or unnecessary as his West Side Story remake -- now that was a movie I didn’t need in my life.)  But The Fabelmans is an enjoyable peek into the maestro's psyche, and it's been a huge hit with critics, audiences, creatives, and people with crazy uncles named Boris.  (And the cameo encounter at the end is inspired, and apparently 100% true.)  However, I can't help but be underwhelmed.  Maybe it's because, for me, coming-of-age stories either resonate or they don't.  Or maybe that it's a fairly trite, low-stakes movie, lacking the gee-whiz-ness that we've come to expect (unfairly, perhaps) from the master of spectacle.  Either way, for a Spielberg film, it somehow feels pedestrian.  (Though I think many will argue that's the point -- identifying the humanity in the filmmaker we've all built up as being super-human.)  As for the film's Oscar chances, in the fall, it was a slam-dunk to claim Best Picture.  It's been slipping back over the past couple months, and is now considered a long-shot, but can't be counted out completely.

Surprising as it may seem, I was not yet writing my annual Oscar article when the original version of All Quiet on the Western Front won Best Picture in 1930.  With a new version nominated this year, could it be the first title to win Best Picture twice?  The film won the top prize at the BAFTAs (British film awards), has nine total Oscar nominations, and has the muscle of Netflix behind it, so it's not out of the realm of possibility.  The easy comparison is 1917 -- same war, same horrors, similar lone-soldier perspective, but different side of the battlefield (1917 also had most of the same nominations as All Quiet).  But they have different trajectories: 1917 was an early front-runner that faded late in the race (eventually losing to Parasite), while All Quiet was a bit of a surprise on nomination day, but has been surging since then.  Ultimately, war films these days are a tough sell for Best Picture (looking at you, Saving Private Ryan), in part because they tend to be bombastic testosterone overload, and in part because of the argument that any depiction of war glorifies it (which I don't understand; I doubt anyone that's watched All Quiet or 1917 can be anything but horrified).  I expect All Quiet will make some, ahem, noise (sorry, couldn't resist) in other technical categories, but won't threaten Everything Everywhere for Best Picture. 

If you've ever been to the Aran Islands off the western coast of Ireland, you know the deal: beautiful land and lovely people, but cold, rainy, and bleak (not to mention terrible cell coverage).  And after visiting, it might not surprise you that boredom on those remote isles could drive people to: harbor grudges against lifelong friends, make irresponsible predictions about neighbors dying, talk about horse shite for two hours, or cut off their own fingers and throw them at someone's front door.  Welcome to The Banshees of Inisherin.  There is a lot of support for this film with critics, but with the Academy, I don't think it will be enough to sway a victory.  The film, set in a fictional part of those islands, seems like should be a fun, chatty little film about fellas repairing a fractured friendship in the Irish countryside during a bygone era.  It is not.  It certainly starts out charmingly enough, but devolves into an increasingly spiteful contest of acrimony and one-upmanship.  There's a distinct sense that the filmmaker isn't just being cruel to the characters, but also has disdain for the viewer.  And most irritatingly, the ending feels like a slap, because the whole movie seems to be driving toward some kind of finality (absurd as it may be), but it just… doesn't.  Thematically, I suppose it makes sense.  Writer/director Martin McDonagh has talked about this being an allegory for the Irish Civil War in the 1920s (which is happening over on the mainland, where the characters are barely aware of it), so he's clearly not aiming for a simple or definite resolution.  'What was the point of all that?' might just be the point.  Though personally, I think the overall story (ceaseless frustration, confounding escalation, and taking drastic, irrational measures which ultimately have no effect) is a better allegory for parenting: "Please don't poke your brother."  Poke.  "I'm telling you, don't poke your brother."  Poke.  "This is your last warning, don't poke your brother."  Poke.  "There will be consequences if you poke your brother again."  Poke.  "FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, I WILL CUT OFF ALL MY FINGERS IF YOU POKE YOUR BROTHER ONE MORE TIME."  (Guess what happens next.)

I feel bad for not loving Tár -- a film about a world-famous conductor, played by Cate Blanchett, slowly (then quickly) unraveling -- partly because it's gotten the highest critics scores of any nominated film, but mostly because I've been shamed by my favorite podcasters, who have unanimously declared this the best film of the year.  Why don't I adore this film?  What am I missing?  What's wrong with me?  Ahh… that last question -- that's probably the one that writer/director Todd Field wants you to ask, as he squeezes his protagonist through a crisis of the soul.  It's potent stuff, so why didn't it fully connect with me?  Don't get me wrong, despite my lack of enthusiasm, I want movies like this to exist, and continue to get made.  I guess I just want them to be more accessible, or feel like they've actually gone somewhere with the story.  There are a dozen things are dropped into the story, that remain too vague to really put a finger on, or that completely disappear altogether.  Without saying too much, I felt like I was curiously watching every corner of the frame, catching fleeting glimpses of things that never return.  (I never thought I'd compare this film to Three Men and a Baby, but I'll be damned if I wasn't searching for the boy in the curtains.)  Trying to explain this all to my wife, she skeptically asked, "Is this movie like Black Swan?"  "No!  I mean… okay, it's a little like Black Swan."  But where that film has a tangible payoff, Tár, for me, does not.  (To be fair, acolytes claim that you need to watch the film twice, perhaps three times, to fully appreciate it -- which is great if you have six or nine hours on your hands.)  Tár will be the top choice for some Academy voters, but for most, it's too cold and bewildering to contend for the big prize. 

For a few months, a big argument for giving Best Picture to Top Gun: Maverick was that it was the highest grossing movie of the year, and therefore the most beloved.  Well, people shut up about that pretty quick as soon as Avatar: The Way of Water passed it at the box office.  Yes, it's brought in the most money, but it's far from the most loved film of the year.  In theory, there should be plenty about it to love; after all, it's basically a collection of director James Cameron's greatest hits: take the previous movie (Avatar), mix in more deadly creatures from another planet (Aliens), add mysterious underwater things (The Abyss), blow up a bridge (True Lies), throw in Kate Winslet (Titanic), and -- I wish I was making this up -- trap our heroes on a gigantic sinking boat.  Voila!  Avatar 2: Even More Stuff.  (I assume we can expect killer cyborgs, flesh-eating piranhas, and Tom Arnold in next three sequels.)  To be fair, the movie is a fun ride, and the technical advances are admirable.  But when you combine the computer graphics, the jerky 3D, the high frame-rate, the questionable acting, and the basic plot from an episode of The Smurfs, it often just looks like one long video game cutscene.  But on the plus side, all parents are happy to see that even with a different species on an alien planet in another galaxy, kids are still disobedient back-talkers.  P.S. -- My kids thought the movie was called Avatar: The Wave of Water… and now I think that would be a much more logical title.

The story of Elvis Presley has been told on-screen ad nauseum, especially his early rise when his gyrations sent many schoolgirls (and a few schoolboys) swooning in the aisles.  And the latest adaption got the blessing of his family, which means he'd have to come off as fairly saintly and misunderstood.  So Elvis needed something extra to make it a unique experience.  Enter notoriously bombastic director Baz Luhrmann.  What he gives us is a movie that is more of a visual spectacle than an accurate representation.  The film is a series of impossibly-heightened life-altering decisions, intercut with soaring musical numbers so dizzying that we quickly forget that the facts presented may be muddled with fiction.  We can't really take anything at face value; but then again, the music is so good, we don't really care.  It's also the kind of rags-to-riches-to-Vegas story that's easy to make fun of.  (I mean, the preposterously bag wigs alone.  And Tom Hanks… oooo, Lordy… we'll get to him later.)  At its best, it's fascinating and sad.  But ultimately, it's an average movie gussied up in glitz and glamour -- a bloated Vegas act meant to charm the masses.  Colonel Tom Parker, for better or worse, would be proud.

Women Talking is certainly the most accurate movie title of the year.  The film, written and directed by Sarah Polley (adapted from the book of the same name, and inspired by a real event), tells the story of women living in a remote Mennonite colony who band together to discuss how to collectively handle a series of rapes by men in the village.  It's tricky, delicate, abhorrent subject matter.  But the film focuses not on the horrifying events, nor on the response, but instead shows the decision-making process in between -- frankly, the part that most movies would skip over.  In doing so, the film becomes a story of how to survive, how to come together, and how to thrive.  Once upon a time, this film was a leading contender across most categories; there was even talk of it sweeping the Supporting Actress category (on the strength of performances by two former Girls with Dragon Tattoos).  But critical and audience responses were tepid (for the few that actually saw the film), so it only ended up with a couple nominations.  It won't factor into the Best Picture race, but with its other nomination for Adapted Screenplay, there's a chance Polley won't go home empty handed.

How would you like to be trapped in a life-or-death situation with the dumbest, most selfish people from around the globe?  That's Triangle of Sadness.  It's a fun satire, to be sure, but its aggressive eat-the-rich (or is it throw-the-rich-to-the-pirates?) rhetoric is also preachy, unoriginal, tiresome, intentionally frustrating, and simply too long.  (Not surprisingly, it's the worst-reviewed film up for Best Picture.  Also not surprisingly, it won the Palm d'Or at Cannes.)  To give you an idea of what you're getting into, one sequence includes both a spirited discussion of American Communism versus Russian Capitalism, and a barf-o-rama that would make Lardass from Stand By Me proud.  It aims to please the Parasite crowd, but does so with the subtlety of a sledgehammer (or, literally, a hand grenade).  What it boils down to is this: rich or poor, old or young, beautiful or ugly, left or right -- stupidity trumps all.

I'm still a little surprised that Glass Onion didn't make the cut here.  (But obviously having more than two "fun" movies would be too many.)  I also would have put The Woman King, The Whale, and maybe The Menu into the ten contenders. 

One transparent awards-bait film that everyone agrees shouldn't have made the cut is Empire of Light.  I don't know what the film is trying to say, other than going to the movies is the best way to cure vague mental illness. 

Because nobody asked for it, here's my list of the Best Picture nominees in order from best to worst.  (Consider this my preferential ballot, since the Academy for some reason won't accept mine.)

1. Everything Everywhere All at Once 2. Top Gun: Maverick 3. All Quiet on the Western Front 4. Tár 5. Triangle of Sadness 6. Women Talking 7. Avatar: The Way of Water 8. The Fabelmans 9. The Banshees of Inisherin 10. Elvis

BEST ACTOR:

SHOULD WIN:  Brendan Fraser (The Whale) WILL WIN:  Brendan Fraser (The Whale) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Will Smith (Emancipation) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Felix Kammerer (All Quiet on the Western Front)

I realize that picking Brendan Fraser for the best male lead performance is no longer cool.  It's a very 2022 opinion.  Since then, Fraser's performance in The Whale has gone out of style, replaced by Austin Butler.  And then replaced by Colin Farrell.  And then replaced by Butler again.  And then came Paul Mescal.  And now Butler again.  But I'm sticking by my choice for Should Win (and Will Win).  This roller coaster is nothing new to Fraser.  Over the course of this Oscar season -- and over the course of his career -- he has been cool and uncool, popular and unpopular, in demand and out of luck.  There's been backlash, and backlash to backlash, and reclamation, and re-examination, multiple times over.  So while it's completely surprising, maybe it shouldn't be surprising at all, that he's at the center of the Best Actor race.  For my money, I think he gives an overwhelmingly powerful performance, one that would come through even without all the prosthetics and makeup.  And I like the movie a lot too, which almost feels like a hot take these days.  I prefer it to most of the Best Picture nominees.  This latest Darren Aronofsky film is the kind of "dark" movie that works better for me than The Banshees of Inisherin or Tár or even frankly Elvis; it has a tenderness that I find missing in those films (and missing from most Aronofsky movies, actually).  The Whale is challenging, that's for sure; it's full of contradictions and paradoxes, that are difficult to articulate and even more difficult to reconcile.  But there's also something beautifully simplistic about it, and that stems directly from Fraser's performance.  Whether you think Aronofsky has compassion for the character has been hotly debated (I think he does); but it's clear that Fraser -- the man and the actor -- definitely does.  And that compassion is what I think voters will respond to the most, giving him the edge.

But only a slight edge.  In fact, if you're betting, you should probably pick Austin Butler, for the oh-so-creatively-titled film Elvis.  He's the one more oddsmakers are picking.  Butler is the first person to be Oscar-nominated for playing Elvis Presley.  But is he the best ever?  The coolest?  The smoothest?  The most inspired?  I'm not sure he can lay claim to any superlative.  A small sampling of former Elvi includes: Kurt Russell, Don Johnson, Jonathan Rhys Meyers, Ron Livingston, Val Kilmer (!), Jack White (!!), Frank Stallone (!!!), and of course, probably the most superlative of all, Bruce Campbell.  (For my money, the best may have been lesser-known Drake Milligan.)  Butler is good, but he's not Oscar good.  Especially early on, his impersonation is more John Travolta than Elvis Presley.  But his performance really takes off in the second half of the movie, during Elvis's decline (though he can never quite summon the deep baritone that Presley had during the Vegas years).  We will debate the 'Best Elvis' forever (actually, other people will debate it; I don't really care).  But there's no disputing the 'Most Intense Elvis': Michael Shannon in Elvis & Nixon.  Disagree and he'll put his blue suede shoe right up your a--.

Maybe for the intelligence-impaired like me, they should have called it "The Wailing-Spirits-that-Foretell-Death-in-Irish-Folklore of Inisherin".  Take my advice: If you go see a movie with the word 'banshee' in the title, make sure you know what it means ahead of time; the movie will make a lot more sense.  We're talking, of course, about The Banshees of Inisherin, and the lead, Colin Farrell, has a strong case for taking the Best Actor prize.  While he may not have the genuine goodwill or performative audacity of Brendan Fraser, his boyish likability has gone a long way with voters, and unlike Fraser, he's headlining a widely acclaimed film (both he and Austin Butler have the advantage of anchoring films up for Best Picture).  Farrell has found another gear, doing the best work of his career recently (The Lobster comes to mind; Dumbo does not).  In Banshees, he wields an effervescent charm, comfortable with the unnaturally lyrical, playful dialogue, (mostly) tempering what could be an annoyingly theatrical role.  He treads the line between lamentable and pitiful.  He's the naïve voice of reason; he is all of us in recent times, just trying to ignore bad news and get through by having a beer.  That said, this performance is not quite my cup of tea -- or my pint of Guinness -- especially when paired with a flawless seasoned pro like Brendan Gleeson, so Farrell wouldn't get my vote.  There are plenty of far-fetched things in the film, but Farrell effortlessly lifting a 350-pound dead animal like it's a pillow takes the cake. 

Many people think Bill Nighy's nomination for Living is a make-up for Love Actually.  Those people are wrong.

I'm not seeing what the Academy is seeing in Paul Mescal's performance in Aftersun, a film that's long on subtext but short on actual text.  I would describe his performance -- as a doting (and mysteriously troubled) dad on a vacation with his pre-teen daughter -- as capable, even tender, but not necessarily award-worthy.  I can see why people are praising the film (which ambitiously attempts to capture the undefinable moment when kids start to see their parents as real people, especially their flaws) but it just doesn't reverberate with me.  (That's probably because, as a parent, I have no flaws.  I also don't allow my 11-year-old to hang out unsupervised with drunken, horny young adults late at night.)  Frankly, the most relatable part for most parents is when another dad carts off his screaming child from the water park, chiding the boy for "ruining everything for everyone as usual".  And, is it just me, or when the daughter starts talking about being under the same sun as her distant father, is she ripping off the song lyrics from An American Tail?

There are several other actors that I'd slot into this category ahead of Mescal, chiefly Felix Kammerer (in All Quiet on the Western Front); but also Gabriel LaBelle (as the young Spielberg stand-in from The Fabelmans), Ralph Fiennes (in The Menu), or even Adam Sandler (in Hustle).  (The prospect of Sandler doing another acceptance speech in his Bobby Boucher voice would be reason enough to nominate him.)

Tom Cruise is a very strong second place for Gloriously Omitted.  (For a hot minute, everyone was certain that he would actually score an acting nomination for Top Gun: Maverick.  We dodged a bullet there.)  But in an absolute shocker, Will Smith is the top choice, for Emancipation.  Of course, Smith was never going to get a nomination this year.  Obviously.  Right?  I mean… is it obvious?  Let's think about this for a minute.  (Why are we still talking about him?  Hear me out.)  Pretend, if you will, that last year's ceremony didn't have all the hullabaloo.  (I'm trying to figure out how to write about Smith without using the word "slap", so I settled on the word "hullabaloo".  You're welcome.)  In the months following, Smith would have been riding high, the reigning king of Hollywood, with several high-profile projects making headlines (starring in Bad Boys 4, producing Cobra Kai and Bel-Air, unwillingly appearing in Jada's never-ending social media feed).  Then late in the year, Emancipation would have been released, a dramatic opus with massive prestige appeal, featuring Smith attempting a superfecta: portraying a real-life figure rebelling against slavery, playing a pivotal role in the American Civil War, taking on a difficult (iffy?) Haitian Creole accent, and -- the pièce de résistance -- wrestling an alligator underwater.  In other words, textbook Oscar fare.  Honestly, it's not hard to imagine a world where Smith would have gotten another nomination for this role, and maybe -- I truly believe this -- a second consecutive Oscar.  The real shame is, Smith's specter overshadows the fact that Emancipation is a legitimately good film, with quality work done by many people.  Why oh why couldn't Smith have just taken a year off??  So close to the fallout, the film was tainted, and nobody was going to vote for this film on principle alone.  But a year from now, with a little more distance (and Smith tucked away out of the spotlight), the film could have realistically been recognized for, say, Antoine Fuqua for Best Director.  Or cinematography.  Or production design.  Or any of a number of craft categories.  But by releasing the film this season, any chance of Oscar attention was torpedoed. 

Also, I can't help but call this out…  In case you're wondering how many people Will Smith needs around on set to help him try to win an Oscar, here's a sampling of his entourage on Emancipation (and these are just the ones with official credits in the film): Assistant to Mr. Smith, Executive Assistant to Mr. Smith, Production Assistant to Mr. Smith, Acting Coach to Mr. Smith, Acting Coach Assistant to Mr. Smith, Dialect Coach to Mr. Smith, Hair Stylist to Mr. Smith, Assistant Hair Stylist to Mr. Smith, Makeup Artist to Mr. Smith, Special Effects Makeup Artist to Mr. Smith, Makeup Production Assistant to Mr. Smith, Costumer to Mr. Smith, Trainer to Mr. Smith, Driver to Mr. Smith, Security Guard to Mr. Smith (x2), Historian to Mr. Smith, Chef to Mr. Smith, Chef Assistant to Mr. Smith, Religious Consultant to Mr. Smith, and of course, Wilderness Survival Expert to Mr. Smith.  (I swear, I did not make any of these up.)  Maybe these are the people that really deserve the Oscars.

BEST ACTRESS:

SHOULD WIN:  Michelle Yeoh (Everything Everywhere All at Once) WILL WIN:  Michelle Yeoh (Everything Everywhere All at Once) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Natalie Portman (Thor: Love and Thunder) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Viola Davis (The Woman King)

Michelle Yeoh and Cate Blanchett have been trading the lead back and forth, based mostly on the insights of "experts" who don't actually know anything.  (Hey, don't look at me.)  As the precursor awards (the most accurate predictors) roll in, Michelle Yeoh is emerging as the favorite, but not by much.  It's still up for grabs, but I think the Screen Actors Guild award tips things in Yeoh's favor.  Personally, I don't have a strong preference; they both do incredible work in very different roles.

But since I have to pick one, Michelle Yeoh is my Should Win pick by a narrow margin; she's also clearly who I'm rooting for.  In Everything Everywhere All at Once, Yeoh is doing more than we (uncultured Americans) have seen her do -- especially comedy.  She plays somewhere between six and six hundred roles in the film, and even within a single role, she tackles sci-fi, romance, action, adventure, slapstick, gross-out, martial arts, fantasy, superhero, and drama, as well as comedy.  She quite literally does everything everywhere.  Maybe Yeoh will compare notes with fellow nominee Ana de Armas, both having played ass-kicking allies of a certain martini-drinking superspy.  Will they debate which co-star was a better James Bond -- Brosnan or Craig?  (Hopefully they both say Connery.)

One of Cate Blanchett's biggest hurdles is herself -- or more accurately, her Oscar history.  Having won twice already, voters will take a long look before giving her a third one, which would put her in the company of only seven other actors.  (Even Blanchett herself seems to be suggesting that she doesn't need another trophy, instead talking up others actresses while on the publicity tour.)  Victory or not, her role in Tár will go down as one of her best.  Say what you want about the movie (I probably would have been very underwhelmed were it not for her), it's Blanchett doing what she does best -- cold, wiry, in command (with a haughty accent to boot) -- in every single scene.  As an orchestra conductor, her expertise is sound, and she's obsessed with things that don't sound right (real or imagined).  It's weirdly relatable: I zero in on every stupid little creak and hum in my house and assume the ceiling is falling down or an appliance is breaking or a pipe is leaking (and I'm right more often than I care to be).  Her austerity is an organic extension of the movie itself, and her paranoia makes it difficult to tell where the real world ends and her mind begins.  In a movie that probably won't win any other awards (compared to Yeoh's Everything Everywhere All at Once, which is a heavy favorite across the board), will Blanchett's performance be enough to win?  One more thing in her favor: She also voiced Spazzatura the monkey in the animated nominee Guillermo del Toro's Pinocchio. 

What to make of Andrea Riseborough's nomination for To Leslie, a tiny film very few people had heard of, let alone seen, that made only $27,000?  (That's literally one theater for one week.  If you saw the movie before the nominations were announced, and you are not Riseborough's cousin, I am officially impressed.)  If you want hot takes, Twitter has mountains of them.  And if you want all the tawdry details of exactly how this happened, there are plenty of online articles out there.  But basically, her indie film had no publicity budget, so instead a no-cost social media campaign was launched on her behalf, and it shockingly resulted in an Oscar nomination.   Personally, I'm conflicted.  On one hand, it's impressive to see a tiny film get rewarded without spending millions on a slick campaign like the studios do.  It's like the ultimate grass-roots, word-of-mouth success story.  Wouldn't it be nice if all nominees had to do it on their own, without the corporations and publicity machines pumping endless dollars into what is essentially a shamefully political popularity contest?  Imagine a performance being recognized -- gasp! -- based solely on its own merit.  It's remarkably refreshing.  On the other hand, this wasn't exactly organic.  People didn't just happen to stumble upon this film and good-naturedly recommend it to their friends.  This was much more calculated (and yes, publicists were heavily orchestrating this plan, too).  Basically, the filmmakers and the "team" (I'm not singling out Riseborough, because I don't know how much she actually had to do with it) figured out that with roughly 1300 people in the Actors' branch of the Academy, you only need about 200 votes to secure an acting nomination.  And so they enlisted some famous friends to host screenings and throw parties and post about it (all using lazy copy/pasted text) -- and effectively wrangle a couple hundred of their colleagues to vote.  Looking at the number of recognizable faces they got to post about it, it was probably very easy to get 200 votes.  If influential, Academy-friendly celebs like Gwyneth Paltrow, Charlize Theron, Edward Norton, Jennifer Aniston, and Kate Winslet each get 20 people, they're half way there.  If you're a pessimist, it's nothing more than Tinseltown cronyism.  It's basically the same (but weirdly inverted) tactic employed so successfully by Miramax years ago, with social media instead of advertising dollars.  Is it better or worse than the big-studio tactics?  Debatable.  But it does show that in a post-Harvey, new-media, international Hollywood, a few powerful people can still move the needle.  And A-Listers can essentially pick their friends.  Now, are we reading into this too much?  Probably.  Sure, it's neat that a little indie movie can muster the support to get the awards recognition that it (may) deserve, but ultimately, I don't think I want Paltrow, Norton, and Winslet manipulating the Oscars and handing nominations to their pals.  (By the way, the Academy loves this stuff, despite the fact that they say they don't.  Controversy generates conversation, which generates interest, which keeps them relevant.  If everyone agreed on everything, and nobody ever freaked out (and nobody wrote long, tedious prediction articles ever year), the Academy would become unnecessary.)  As for the film and the performance themselves: The film is not great, but Riseborough is.  As an addict and a mother trying to get her life on track, her character feels very familiar and very real; she's like someone we've all interacted with, tried to help, or relied on -- for better or worse.  But is it worthy of an Oscar?  The performance doesn't strike me as that much different from similar roles in other movies, so I'm not sure I would single her out.  And the backlash won't help her in the voting (unless… there's a backlash to the backlash… which is probably inevitable).  For Riseborough's sake in the long term, I hope she's remembered for the performance, and not the noise that's overshadowed it.

Michelle Williams is another great example of the chaos and unpredictability that is the race for Oscar nominations.  If you're smart, unlike me, you'll ignore all the drama and wildly inaccurate predictions until the nominations are announced.  For her work in The Fabelmans, Williams raised a few eyebrows when she campaigned for Leading Actress instead of Supporting Actress (it's not a trivial decision; establishing yourself as a Lead instead of Supporting, whether you win or not, is extremely important in future casting and contract negotiations, especially for actors over 40).  Regardless, she was a front-runner early in the season (Spielberg + drama + eccentricity + four previous noms + a striking haircut + Dawson's Creek cred).  As Michelle Yeoh and Cate Blanchett emerged as critic and fan favorites, the buzz on Williams died down.  Then, after precursor awards and other strong performances, word was that she had fallen out completely.  Finally, when nominations were announced, Williams had somehow avoided the Andrea Riseborough shrapnel and claimed a spot.  (Viola Davis and Danielle Deadwyler were not so lucky.)  For me, the film is melodramatic, and the characters (Williams's in particular) largely serve to amplify that, probably to their detriment.  For voters, her competition is extremely strong (and she has the added obstacle of viewers not really liking her character), so it's clear she won't win.  But… could she have won in Supporting Actress?  Yes, I think she probably would have.  On the other hand, did you see the scene of her buttering the toast??  The worst toast-buttering I've ever seen.  I can't endorse an award for that.

Ana de Armas is probably the most polarizing nominee in any category, for her searing portrayal of Marilyn Monroe in Blonde (which was supposed to be Netflix's big Best Picture show pony).  Reviews for de Armas have been positive, but reviews for the film itself have been… decidedly not.  Personally, I'm not sure this film says anything that Elton John hasn't said already.  As a historical document, this movie is probably a waste of time.  But as an exploration of the anguish of a mental prison, exacerbated by being on public display and exploited by countless stakeholders, suitors, husbands, and hangers-on (not to mention a President of the United States of America), the film can be quite compelling.  But, for most of us, probably not enjoyable.  Marilyn learns early in acting class to picture herself outside her body, and uses that tool to externalize and dissociate trauma.  And there's plenty of trauma.  If the movie is successful, it is mostly due to the fervid performance by de Armas.  She's fantastic in the film -- and not just her ankles, as Colin Farrell would have you believe.  Trying to judge how "realistically" she portrays Marilyn falls apart pretty quickly; plenty of impersonators have had a closer physical resemblance, and the voice becomes less believable as the movie goes on.  But that's beside the point.  She's going for a hyper-stylized version of Marilyn, a play on what we've seen and how she might have felt -- a composition of imagery and memory, not reality.  It's a commentary on the enigmatic nature of Norma Jeane Mortenson and the cult of Marilyn Monroe.  And it's effective… the way a root canal is effective.  (If you're looking for a good time at the movies, you should probably stick to Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.)  de Armas was an early front-runner in the fall, but as reviews shredded the film, she seemed to slide out of contention altogether.  But after some late awards attention, I was happy to see her sneak in as a bit of a surprise.  But don't expect her to contend for the prize.

So if the ploy hadn't worked for Andrea Riseborough, who would I like to see here?  I'd vote for Viola Davis, who anchors The Woman King as a fierce and compassionate warrior, which features fight choreography as good as any Marvel movie (and whose real-life soldiers helped inspire the Dora Milaje in Black Panther).  I would also mention Zoe Kazan in She Said, who hasn't gotten the same attention as her co-star Carey Mulligan, but is very much the emotional driver of the film.  And Olivia Colman is one of the few bright spots in Empire of Light (but she's had plenty of recent awards attention, so she can afford to take a year off). 

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR:

SHOULD WIN:  Brendan Gleeson (The Banshees of Inisherin) WILL WIN:  Ke Huy Quan (Everything Everywhere All at Once) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Tom Hanks (Elvis) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Paul Dano (The Fabelmans)

When Ke Huy Quan wins Best Supporting Actor Everything Everywhere All at Once, it will probably be the feel-good moment of the night.  When the film came out last spring, there was plenty of buzz about his welcomed return to the screen, his youthful buoyancy still shining through.  (His last Hollywood role had been Encino Man (!) 20 years ago.)  Any awards chatter was for co-star Michelle Yeoh; an Oscar nomination for his quirky performance seemed like an impossibility.  As the year wore on, and the film remained in the conversation, his nomination felt possible, then realistic, and then inevitable.  Now he's the heavy favorite to win, against seemingly the longest odds.  It's the kind of underdog story we all love, and is practically the plot of the movie itself.  And he's not just trading on nostalgia; initially his performance hits us with the familiar (he still sounds a bit like Shorty and Data), but soon it shifts as the role expands, and the brilliance of his casting becomes apparent.  As the emotional center of the film, he's clearly the one I want to win the most.  But I admit he's actually not my pick for Should Win (though it's very nearly a toss-up).  Which brings me to…

Has there ever been anyone more perfectly suited for a role than Brendan Gleeson in The Banshees of Inisherin?  (Other than perhaps Shelley Duvall as Olive Oyl in Popeye.)  Instead of being cast, it's as if he existed fully-formed, sipping a pint in the Irish countryside (woolly vests and all), and the movie was created and filmed around him.  (That may not be much of an exaggeration -- writer/director Martin McDonagh wrote the part specifically for him.)  He seems to simply live this performance, my personal pick in this category.  A consummate character actor for decades -- while also playing roles as varied as Winston Churchill, Mad-Eye Moody, and Donald Trump -- this is, in my humble (yet correct) opinion, a career best.  He effortlessly conveys a lifetime of baggage that he doesn't need to (and refuses to) explain to us.  His character is confounding and selfish; his motivations that are inscrutable and illogical at best, cruel and dangerous at worst.  Like the landscape around him, he is harsh and unforgiving.  And yet we still want to spend time with him, just as his puppy-like best friend does.  (Gleeson gets extra credit for actually playing fiddle, and even composing the titular song.)  Unfortunately for me, his brilliance gets overshadowed by the muck of the final act of the movie.  As the story becomes repellant, his character almost literally cuts off his nose to spite his face.  (Maybe 'cut off your fingers to spite your frenemy' was a common phrase in 1920s Ireland, I'm not sure.)  As playwrights are often wont to do, McDonagh doesn't go easy on his metaphors.  Gleeson's biggest hurdle in claiming Oscar gold isn't, however, the unpleasantness of this movie, nor is it front-runner Ke Huy Quan; it's his costar, Barry Keoghan.  While voters adore this movie and its performances, Gleeson and Keoghan will inevitably cannibalize each other's votes, each boasting vocal supporters.  As much as I adore the performance, when it comes to the film itself, I can't help but channel Gleeson's plainspoken character: "I just don't like it."

So what to make of Barry Keoghan as Dominic, who's repeatedly dismissed as the "dim" one on the island in The Banshees of Inisherin?  Well, much has been made of his performance, by critics and moviegoers alike, but I'm not totally on board.  By way of comparison, Keoghan amps up the affectations and mannerisms, while Brendan Gleeson gives a much more naturalistic (and for my money, impactful) performance.  On my first viewing, I thought Keoghan was aggressively hammy, leaving no line of dialogue un-goosed, whose presence I felt was a little manipulative and mostly unnecessary.  Without question, he was taking an awfully big swing.  (I also spent a disproportionate amount of the run-time trying to determine if he has eyelids.)  But I'll admit, upon a second viewing, I saw there was more to it; not nuance exactly, but an additional layer.  Much of that is in the writing, but Keoghan taps into it in unexpected ways; he knows where he's going, and he doesn't necessarily care if the viewer goes there with him or not.  It's the fate of the character -- and of the performance -- to be misunderstood, at least initially.  But when you see that Dominic possesses a sort of invisible, simplistic wisdom, and is feeling things he can't express, the performance comes alive.  (It doesn't hurt that he has the most acrobatic dialogue in the film.)  That said, he's near the bottom of this category for me.  He has no shot of winning of course, but he'll do plenty to wreck Gleeson's chances.  Feckin' Dominic.

Brian Tyree Henry was a bit of a surprise nominee for his role in Causeway, an Apple+ movie very few people have seen, and even fewer have been talking about.  Its lack of notoriety is a bit of a shame; for talky character dramas, I'd take this film over The Banshees of Inisherin any day.  And Henry is a significant part of why it stands out.  Not unlike Brendan Gleeson's, it's a comfortable, lived-in performance that doesn't call a lot of attention to itself.  Unfortunately for Henry, he doesn't benefit from having the One Big Scene he'd need to truly contend for the prize.  Oddly, that's probably the film's biggest strength: its measured, realistic feel.  In a story that could easily drive straight into the melodramatic, the film remains restrained.  (Jennifer Lawrence plays the main character, home after a severe injury in the military in Afghanistan, who meets Henry, a local mechanic, and they go on a journey of physical and mental healing together.)  It's a slow burn.  There aren't otherworldly stakes; sure, the characters have health issues, but the real stakes are friendship.  (To which the marketing team undoubtedly said, "Are you kidding me?"  I'm sure the filmmakers had to fight off all kinds of pressure to juice up the drama.)  Unfortunately, it's a double-edged sword: The ending is probably too restrained; the final act doesn't quite come together, and the film feels largely unresolved.  

How often do you hear someone say, "This movie could use more Judd Hirsch?"  Well, that's the most definitive thing I can say about The Fabelmans.  As someone who saw every episode of Dear John during its original run on TV, and counts Ordinary People as one of his favorite films, I'm definitely cheering for Hirsch.  But he's only in two scenes!  Dammit, Steven Spielberg, let the man cook!  It would be a gas to see 87-year-old Hirsch collect the award (notably, he's the only former nominee in the group), but if I'm being honest, this is not an Oscar-worthy performance.  I mean, he's in the movie for all of five minutes, and mostly yells and stomps around and dispenses unrealistic and irresponsible life advice.  (And might be… a ghost?)  It's a little silly.  But also, I wanted more of it.  And the best part of it is, supposedly the hallowed movie that made the legendary director think of Hirsch for the role was… Independence Day.  Simply incredible.  (Meanwhile, erstwhile fugitive Randy Quaid is still waiting for his Spielberg call.)

But as much as I dig Judd Hirsch, they nominated the wrong guy from The Fabelmans!  Did they see the same movie I did?  Paul Dano is clearly the more meaningful performance.  With an understated performance (especially when compared to his other 2022 role, as the Riddler -- who's actually more of a yeller than a riddler), he moors the film emotionally and narratively, a welcome counterbalance to the louder performances in the film.  Other standouts this year include: Eddie Redmayne (The Good Nurse), Micheal Ward (Empire of Light), Adrien Brody (Blonde), and Zlatko "The Croatian Burt Young" Buric (Triangle of Sadness). 

In Elvis, Tom Hanks does a fantastic impersonation of Jiminy Glick; but of Colonel Tom Parker?  Not so much.  Other Glorious Omissions include Ray Stevenson in RRR, Ben Foster (who's trying to corner the market on adversarial sh-theels) in Emancipation and Hustle, and Miles Teller (or pretty much any of the lifeless clowns playing fighter pilots) in Top Gun: Maverick. 

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS:

SHOULD WIN:  Kerry Condon (The Banshees of Inisherin) WILL WIN:  Angela Bassett (Black Panther: Wakanda Forever) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Alison Doody (RRR) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Janelle Monáe (Glass Onion)

But how will Martin Scorsese feel?  That's a question that nobody is asking, regarding the Best Supporting Actress race.  Angela Bassett is the favorite to win for her performance in Black Panther: Wakanda Forever, and if she does, she'll be the first person to win an Oscar for acting in a Marvel movie.  (As it stands, she's the first acting nominee.)  I only bring up Marty because someone inevitably will, after the much-ado-about-nothing feud that he unwittingly sparked a few years ago when he off-handedly opined that comic book movies were not cinema.  (The controversy is so stupid that it makes me nauseous, but on the other hand, I do like stirring the pot.)  Bassett is certainly the fan favorite here, not just for the comic-book devotees, but for movie-goers in general.  The only previous nominee in the group (for What's Love Got to Do with It almost 30 years ago), she's been doing undeniable work for decades.  In Wakanda Forever, she achieves many of the hallmarks of an Oscar-winning performance, nailing a pivotal role in acclaimed movie that has significant heft and poignance, where she is largely the emotional center.  If I'm being honest, it's not a career-best performance, but I'll be more than happy to see her claim the prize. 

Speaking of fan favorites and venerable veterans, Jamie Lee Curtis scored her first nomination for Everything Everywhere All at Once.  It's probably a bit of a career achievement recognition, but not an unwelcome one.  She's clearly having a blast, both in the movie (as a ridiculous, curmudgeonly, dragged-up tax auditor slash alternate-universe mutant love interest), and on the press/awards tour (whooping it up as her co-stars rake in the accolades).  She even has the year's most fun character name, Deirdre Beaubeirdre.  In terms of winning, it's never a good thing to compete against someone from the same movie; it's even worse when your competition is as unforgettable as Stephanie Hsu.  Fortunately, Curtis isn't here to win, she's here to party. 

Somehow, Stephanie Hsu's character in Everything Everywhere All at Once is even more ridiculous than Jamie Lee Curtis's, but much more of the film's central conceit and  emotional heft revolve around her.  She's the beneficiary of some of the film's most gonzo gambits, and steals every scene that Michelle Yeoh and Ke Huy Quan don't.  When she's not using sex toys as deadly weapons (a certain pair of clubs comes to mind), she's tapping into a heart-wrenching ennui that feels very grounded and real.  Despite being the least known of any of the nominated actors prior to this film, her versatility, costumes, and choice of breakfast food have made her one of the most memorable.  I expect her first nomination is just the beginning. 

My personal pick is Kerry Condon, the put-upon (but decidedly not dull, despite her reputation) sister in The Banshees of Inisherin.  Critically, she's our proxy, our way into the confounding quarrel between men and the idiosyncratic goings-on in the town.  The film, via Brendan Gleeson's character, explores the themes of legacy (creating art, late-life crises, having purpose in one's life, leaving something that will last, etc.) in an inelegant way, which by the end hinders the viewing experience.  Condon's character, on the other hand, explores the same themes in a much more elegant (and subtle) way; and as such, Condon makes great strides toward (almost) rescuing the film.  Her character, unlike so much of the film, has clarity of purpose.  I credit the story for that, of course, but Condon's performance is also largely responsible.  It makes her scenes, which are too few, immensely refreshing.  It doesn't hurt that she's the only sane one on the island.  And the only wise one.  Her wisdom is never more evident than when she exits the film well before the ending -- a valuable lesson for all of us.

There are plenty of things about The Whale that have been criticized: the story, the casting of Brendan Fraser, the performances of minor characters, the melodrama, the believability, and the ending.  But the one thing everyone praises is Hong Chau, who plays Fraser's nurse and confidant.  She brings a strong sense of humanity to the story -- not just kindness, but anger, frustration, humor, resentment, and heartbreak, too.  She's not exactly the audience's avatar, but she enables us to tap into the many conflicting feelings from scene to scene, and the film is much better for it.  She's also gotten a boost from double-dipping -- playing a fun, pivotal role in The Menu as well.  She has a lot of supporters, but in this stacked category, she was probably the last one to make the cut. 

One actress I would have liked to see make the cut is Janelle Monáe, for her sneaky performance in Glass Onion.  Another standout this year was Thuso Mbedu in The Woman King.  And what about Kelly McGillis and Meg Ryan for Top Gun: Maverick??  They should be the top choices as Ingloriously Snubbed -- not from the Oscar race, but from the movie completely!  #JusticeForKellyAndMeg

Alison Doody's cringeworthy performance in RRR just makes me nostalgic for her character Elsa in Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade.  Sigh. 

BEST DIRECTOR:

SHOULD WIN:  Daniel Kwan, Daniel Scheinert (Everything Everywhere All at Once) WILL WIN:  Daniel Kwan, Daniel Scheinert (Everything Everywhere All at Once) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Baz Luhrmann (Elvis) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Joseph Kosinski (Top Gun: Maverick)

The unlikeliest prestige film of the year is helmed by the unlikeliest directing duo.  Daniel Kwan and Daniel Scheinert (often credited as the single entity "Daniels"), bring an usual sensibility and playful DIY aesthetic to their brilliant opus Everything Everywhere All at Once.  I can't tell if they share the same brain, or if they each bring completely different and unique sets of perspectives that somehow mesh into a cohesive (yet deliriously messy) vision.  However they do it (and I don't think even they can explain it), it works.  (For a primer, watch their early music videos and short films, like Pockets and Dogboarding, most of which are under three minutes long.)  Emotional absurdity -- or is it absurd emotionality? -- is their specialty.  With Everything Everywhere, by far their most ambitious undertaking to date, they make the preposterous relatable, endearing, intimate, and sentimental.  In doing so, they craft the best movie of the year, with the best directorial effort of the year.  And so the unlikeliest directing duo will soon be known as the unlikeliest Oscar winners.

The Fabelmans is, in part, Steven Spielberg's apology to his father, who he blamed for his parents' divorce for many years -- which is why the father in so many of his early films is absent, irresponsible, or a child-eating shark.  Which begs the question: Had he known the truth, would Spielberg have been a lesser, perhaps terrible, director?  Maybe E.T. would have stayed home; maybe Richard Dreyfuss would have just eaten his mashed potatoes; maybe the Ark would have remained unraided; maybe Jaws would have stuck to seafood.  Thank goodness for childhood trauma, I guess?  (Humorously, and tellingly, he said of making The Fabelmans, "This is like a 40 million dollar therapy session.")  Until recently, giving Spielberg the Best Director Oscar seemed like a perfunctory exercise: A career-capping reward for his most personal movie (about making movies, no less) seemed like too good an opportunity for voters to pass up.  But now, not only is he not the unanimous choice, he's not even the favorite.  And I'm helping lead that charge -- I don't think this is even in Spielberg's top 10 directorial efforts.  I realize that I sound like an underqualified a-hole troll trying to impress online idiots with a contrarian take: "Meh, Spielberg isn't that good".  But the point is that he is that good, and this movie should be better.  In this story, his avatar learns he can tell the truth with the camera; then he learns he can bend the truth with the camera; finally, he learns he can create magic with the camera.  I just wish he had created magic when making this movie.

Many have viewed Tár as a commentary on the famous and the powerful -- using an orchestra conductor as the conduit to a world most of us know little about, but reflecting a hierarchy that feels disturbingly familiar.  That's all valid, but I'm actually fascinated by the allegory to filmmaking itself -- the conductor as a stand-in for the director.  (Not surprisingly, the director and the writer of the film are the same person, Todd Field.)  In a profession where the credit "a film by" is often used in place of "directed by", the portrait of a megalomaniacal conductor is fairly apt comparison.  Seen through that lens (pun partially intended), it's interesting to see Fields's thoughts (or fears?) on the matter.  (As a filmmaker, the parallels must not be lost on him.)  In the movie, the conductor is theoretically controlling everything -- at least she believes she is -- but the further we probe, the less we see she's actually in control of.  The control is an illusion, an instrument of a rigid but brittle power structure.  Ultimately, the true lack of control is exposed, and all hell breaks loose.  I'm guessing Field, or any director, could relate.  (And we've all seen movies where that's clearly happened to the director.)  Would Field suggest that this is a truism of directing any film?  Or a cautionary tale of what could happen (and what has happened) to other directors?  Or would he simply say, "It's about a conductor, you idiot"?

I'm out.  I'm out on Martin McDonagh.  I've tried, I really have.  In Bruges.  Three Billboards Outside Ebbing, Missouri.  I even watched his 2006 Oscar-winning short film, Six Shooter.  My reactions have ranged between unimpressed to downright repelled.  I thought his latest, The Banshees of Inisherin, would turn it around for me.  And for the first half of the film, it did; I was ready to repent and declare that McDonagh had finally won me over.  But then the chopping began.  And I realized it was all a trick.  While the film is more palatable than Three Billboards, it's still mean-spirited and off-putting enough to make it official: I dislike his films.  He's so deft at writing rich characters and compelling scenes; wouldn't it be grand if he just told a nice, pleasant story?  Or if another director made a more conventional film out of one of his scripts?  Of course, McDonagh has no interest in doing those things.  I can only imagine that his mind is filled with the dark stuff, and the film would be impure if he filtered any of it out.  Damn him and his artistic integrity.  Critics are doing backflips for this guy, and I can't figure out why.  I suppose it could be his ability to imbue his films with the sense of holding opposing opinions in one mind.  More than likely, each viewer believes they identify with one of the main characters -- the one that values today, or the one that values tomorrow.  Frustratingly, I think that McDonagh is saying that each of us is really both at the same time… and there's no painless way to reconcile that.

The increasing internationalization of voters in the Academy has resulted in more nominees from overseas, especially in the Director category.  This year's big beneficiary is Ruben Östlund, a semi-surprise in this group for Triangle of Sadness (which also scored noms for Picture and Original Screenplay).  He has a strong Nordic sensibility, but also takes lots of cues from American filmmaker Robert Altman.  Much more popular abroad, Triangle of Sadness hasn't really struck a chord with North American audiences.  Perhaps this is because Östlund largely treats his characters as generic stand-ins for classes and stereotypes, rather than treating them as individuals.  By the same token, the film strikes me as less malicious than, say, The Banshees of Inisherin, because it is more blunt and broad, and takes aim at groups instead of unique people (and as a result, I find it a bit more palatable).  His filmmaking style is often overtly combative, using techniques to restrict what the viewer is able to take in (scenes shot from a great distance, muffled dialogue, characters partially or completely out of frame).  The general consensus is that Östlund's nomination is more of a reward for the culmination of his last three films (a trilogy of sorts) -- the previous two, Force Majeure and The Square, were much more highly regarded -- so don't expect a victory for him here. 

Why no Best Director nomination for Joseph Kosinski, the technical force behind Top Gun: Maverick?  If you ask me, he's the one we should credit with rescuing the theatrical movie experience.  (And maybe his team of digital artists who magically de-aged Tom Cruise by 30 years.)  Kosinski is my narrow Snubbed choice over All Quiet on the Western Front's Edward Berger (I had predicted Berger would grab the typical international director slot over Ruben Östlund).  There are plenty of other directors worth mentioning, including Antoine Fuqua (Emancipation), Sarah Polley (Women Talking), and Robert Eggers (The Northman). 

Can a movie be over-directed?  Based on Baz Luhrmann's Elvis, the answer is a resounding yes.  Baz never met a shot he couldn't muddle up by shaking the camera, zooming and whip-panning, superimposing junk on top of it, and generally loading it up with artifice.  My hands down pick for Gloriously Omitted.

BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY:

SHOULD WIN:  Daniel Kwan, Daniel Scheinert (Everything Everywhere All at Once) WILL WIN:  Daniel Kwan, Daniel Scheinert (Everything Everywhere All at Once) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Sam Mendes (Empire of Light) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Robert Eggers, Sjón (The Northman)

What a loaded category.  In most other years, four of the nominated films would probably be the favorite.  (Apologies to Triangle of Sadness.)  This year, it will realistically come down to two films: Everything Everywhere All at Once and The Banshees of Inisherin. 

Mystifyingly, the award that Everything Everywhere All at Once deserves the most is the one it's least likely to get.  The screenplay categories are the ones that are often used to spread the hardware around -- especially if the Picture and Director winners are expected to align, and the directors are also the writers. So while Everything Everywhere (written by Daniel Kwan and Daniel Scheinert) is the most original screenplay, and the best screenplay, and the most fun screenplay, and the most emotional screenplay, there's a strong chance The Banshees Of Inisherin will win here as a consolation prize.  And that would be a goddam, low-down, filthy disgrace, I tell you.  The films couldn't be more different, but they surprisingly take on some similar themes.  Specifically, I think Everything Everywhere deals with midlife crisis more interestingly, complexly, and elegantly than Banshees.  (Admittedly, the one thing Everything Everywhere is missing is a donkey.)  Who will actually win?  It's coming down to the wire, so it's pretty much anybody's guess.  But I'll say that the Everything Everywhere's unique blend of reverence and irreverence will tip the scales. 

I really don't know what to make of the script for The Banshees of Inisherin (written by Martin McDonagh).  I can't say that it's bad, but I also can't get past the unpleasant experience of the final act (which is, of course, completely intended).  McDonagh is undoubtedly a gifted scriptwriter; I've said before that while I don't like his films, his scenes are impeccably crafted, and his lyrical dialogue simply hums.  This script in particular has a purity to it, as well as a commitment to themes that feel true to the author (even if the story's contours and destination don't suit me).   But I don't know what he's trying to achieve.  Sure, it's a war allegory.  But there has to be more to it.  Is it a grief metaphor?  (I have some theories on the ending -- or non-ending -- that are a little far-fetched but seem logical to me; however, the Internet tells me I'm wrong.  I won't do any spoiling of the ending here.  But buy me a beer, and I'll give you an earful.)  Is it saying that man can't escape his nature?  (The characters on the island are literally and figuratively removed from the Irish Civil War on the mainland.  But they’ve got their own little interpersonal civil wars, which seem just as important, just as trivial, and just as confounding.  Their tiny haven seems like a deliberate microcosm of the greater population, despite being completely isolated.  After all, Inisherin translates to "Ireland island".)  Or simply that the Irish are drunkards that like to fight and swear?  (The film doesn't exactly offer evidence to the contrary.)  I just don't know.  The best way I can reconcile it is to consider it a folktale, one that's been retold and exaggerated and reinterpreted over the course of 100 years, with an absurdist ending that can be customized to whatever the storyteller wants to convey.  "Let me tell you the sad tale of the rowin' Irish lads and the Banshees of Inisherin…"

Todd Field has written three feature films in his lifetime (including In the Bedroom and Little Children), and all of them have been nominated for Best Screenplay.  When he finally writes one that isn't, just imagine how disappointed his family will be with his failure.  Like his previous nominations, this one for Tár won't result in a victory.  But it won't be for lack of effort.  Critics can't stop praising this screenplay, even if they can't agree on what it means or what it's saying.  I'm not able to agree (or disagree) because I haven't got a clue what it means or what it's saying -- and that's perhaps my biggest problem with it.  It's a mystery that remains a mystery (for reasons unknown, or maybe just unclear); instead of a reveal, we get shadows and ripples, mostly.  It's a little frustrating.  Despite the overarching narrative, to me it feels more like a series of essays than a complete story.  It doesn't every really crescendo (at least, not in a way that feels earned); it feels like it's missing a critical coalescence in the final act.  This is all completely intentional by the writer, no doubt.  It's all there, I'm sure; he just doesn't want us to find it, at least not in the conventional way.  Are the characters discussing music and composition, or sex and orgasms?  Are we seeing things objectively, or from the main character's perspective, or someone else's?  Will our conductor be haunted for the rest of her life, or has she paid her penance and will now be at peace (despite living in professional purgatory)?  "You're just stupid," the fervent supporters would certainly tell me, right after Googling what the story really means.  Despite my misgivings about this film, I loved Fields's previous films, and am eager to see what he tackles next.  (I just hope he dumbs it down for me.)

They say 'Write what you know'.  Maybe The Fabelmans, Steven Spielberg's autobiographical coming-of-age story, should be an argument against that.  I can't help but question whether Spielberg is the right person to write and direct his own biopic.  The script (co-written by frequent collaborator Tony Kushner) is, disappointingly, a very conventional drama; but it also gets too cute and corny when it shouldn't, and gives some very young characters some very unrealistic dialogue.  It's like a long, mediocre episode of The Wonder Years (but with fewer uses of the word "butthead").  It's fictionalized, but not as much as you might expect.  (Maybe it should have been more fictionalized.)  Ultimately, I'm not sure what the script is saying, other than 'My parents got divorced so I became a filmmaker'.  Believe it or not, it's Spielberg's first Oscar nomination for writing, but alas, it won't be his first win.

Reactions have been mixed to the script for Ruben Östlund's Triangle of Sadness.  What the story seems to strive for and what it actually achieves are, unfortunately, very different.  What it aspires to: a clever, incisive examination of class and classism -- society's inherent flaws laid bare, pitting capitalism, socialism, Marxism, sexism, elitism, and all the other -isms against each other, under contrasting sets of circumstances.  What is actually is: White Lotus meets Below Deck -- with more arrogance, less subtlety, and the same amount of feces -- playing out in hyper-speed to a logical, imploding conclusion (which is, of course, Lord of the Flies). 

My pick for Ingloriously Snubbed, the electric script for The Northman (written by Robert Eggers and Sjón), has a lot going for it: revenge, destiny, and naked sword-fighting inside a volcano… but mostly deadbeat dads.

My Gloriously Omitted choice: Sam Mendes usually doesn't write the movies he directs; Empire of Light is a good example of why. 

BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY:

SHOULD WIN:  Edward Berger, Lesley Paterson, and Ian Stokell (All Quiet on the Western Front) WILL WIN:  Sarah Polley (Women Talking) GLORIOUSLY OMITTED:  Andrew Dominik (Blonde) INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED:  Dean Fleischer Camp, Nick Paley, Jenny Slate (Marcel the Shell with Shoes On)

Women Talking (written by Sarah Polley) is heavy, heady stuff, dealing with the philosophical, the theological, the moral, and the ideological… but not necessarily the practical.  While the central deliberation is fascinating (it's like 12 Angry Men, but with characters deciding their own fate), I tend to focus on the logic in movies (always a dumb thing to do), so I'm very curious about what would happen next.  Where will the women go?  How will they live?  Will they find income, or try to live off the land?  How far could they possibly get before the men track them down?  Will they get double-counted in the census??  (You know, important stuff.)  Since the film is primarily dialogue, and the subject matter is so weighty, the film feels very "written", and as a result is getting a lot of attention for its screenplay.  It's the favorite to win, but its lead is shrinking by the day.  We'll see if it can hang onto the lead come Oscar night.

Spoiler, for those who have never heard of World War I: All is not quiet in All Quiet on the Western Front.  The German film (written by director Edward Berger, Lesley Paterson, and Ian Stokell) is based on the classic novel of the same name, penned by a German combat vet.  Some updates have been made to the new film version, making the tale of a young Central Powers soldier at the end of the war even more harrowing and heartbreaking.  The attention to detail is captivating -- especially a remarkable sequence about the cycle of a soldier's uniform, hauntingly symbolic of the systematic, unending death.  If anything has a chance of beating Women Talking in this category, it's this script; if you ask me the day before the ceremony, I might well predict this as the winner.

Let me get this straight: Top Gun: Maverick, a masterful and pioneering technical achievement in aerial filmmaking, is not nominated for Best Director or Best Cinematography, but despite banal characters and a wafer-thin plot, it is nominated for Best Screenplay?  That's the Oscars for you.  Maybe I'm not being fair.  Maybe I'm holding screenwriter Christopher McQuarrie's pedigree against him -- after all, he won an Academy Award for writing The Usual Suspects, one of the best scripts of the last 30 years.  (Alas, he wrote that solo; he teamed up with a cabal of writers for Maverick.)  But then I think of how the Maverick script oh-so-subtly informs us about Rooster and who his father might be… while he's sporting a mustache, shades, Hawaiian shirt, and white t-shirt, using an avian call sign, literally playing 'Great Balls of Fire' on piano.  We get it; they probably could have stopped at the mustache.  And for those of us dummies who are still unclear, the script throws in flashbacks, old photos, and Maverick looking traumatized for several minutes.  "Ohhh, I wonder if that guy is related to Goose…"  Then there is the huge missed opportunity for fun dialogue.  "I feel the need… the need for speed", "Take me to bed or lose me forever", "The Defense Department regrets to inform you that your sons are dead because they were stupid", "Negative Ghost Rider, the pattern is full", "Yeehaw, Jester's dead", and "Bullsh-t, you can be mine" are all fantastic lines that are not in this movie.  And no dialogue in it comes close to the original film's.  Forget about an all-time classic like, "Your ego is writing checks your body can't cash."  (Though to be fair, I've spent years trying to figure exactly what that means.)  I just don't think "I am good, I'm very good" is catching on.  Oh also, the story manages to work in Penny Benjamin, the admiral's daughter that Maverick slept with years ago, mentioned in the first movie.  Penny is now played by Jennifer Connolly, age 52.  That means that she was 16 during their first romance in 1986.  Congratulations screenwriters, you've made Maverick a pedophile.

Remember those times in college or early adulthood when you hang out in cheap bars with pals that you spend all your time with, bond with, confide in, make plans with, and share big dreams with?  You know, the ones you're certain will be your best friends for life?  And then you get a little older, and you realize that, in fact, those people have become pretty irritating and annoying?  Like, it turns out they're just the worst?  And you feel like you want to kill them in a highly premediated, theatrical, convoluted, yet somewhat comedic kind of way?  Uh, no?  Well, someone in Glass Onion does, so I'm officially not alone.  Welcome to the confusing Adapted Screenplay category, where two original stories are officially considered "adapted" instead of "original" solely because they are sequels.  This tale of treachery and murder (written by Rian Johnson) is one of those non-original original adapted screenplays.  It might not be quite as dazzling as the predecessor, Knives Out (also a screenplay nominee, my snubbed choice for Picture and Director, and one of the best films of 2019), but it's a worthy heir, very clever and extremely fun.  It's maybe not so much a mystery as, well, an onion, revealing layers and new information as the movie progresses.  (Some argue that it irritatingly eschews the rules of a whodunnit by withholding necessary information from the viewer.)  I just have one piece of advice for those who are fed up with their friends: If the world's greatest detective is with you, maybe wait until, you know, after he leaves before you murder one of them.

Living is an adaptation of a story that's already been told by Akira Kurosawa (in the film Ikiru) and Leo Tolstoy (in the novella The Death of Ivan Ilyich), so it has some pretty big shoes to fill.  It doesn't hurt that the writer is Kazuo Ishiguro, who's no slouch himself (Nobel Prize winner, author of books like The Remains of the Day and Never Let Me Go, and screenwriter of several movies).  Living probably won't have quite the legacy that Ikiru does; but then again, that film didn't get any Oscar nominations.  Take that, Kurosawa!

I'm picking Marcel the Shell with Shoes On (written by Dean Fleischer Camp, Nick Paley, and Jenny Slate) for my Snubbed slot.  It's a wonderful, simple story about the wonders of simplicity, about connections past and present, about people loved and lost, and maybe -- just maybe -- the meaning of life.  (Honorable Mention goes to the script for She Said, written by Rebecca Lenkiewicz.  But honestly, I can't believe they didn't get Ben Affleck to do the voice of Harvey Weinstein; his impression -- which is not as much of a hit at parties anymore -- is uncanny.)

In 10 years' time, will Blonde (written and directed by Andrew Dominik) be considered shameless exploitation or high camp?  Right now, it's really hard to tell.  The harrowing portrait of Marilyn Monroe is very serious subject matter, but is also highly fictionalized and shellacked with glitzy flourishes.  It has the schlock of a Russ Meyer film, but the prestige of being an adaptation of a revered Pulitzer-finalist book by Joyce Carol Oates.  (It's actually not even the first adaptation of the book -- there was a barely-remembered CBS mini-series in 2001 starring Poppy Montgomery.)  The film is leaden with symbolic imagery; the NC-17 content is meant to evoke the dizzying, gut-wrenching experience of being Ms. Monroe, but often comes off as either vile or silly, including (but not limited to): facial and genital body horror, drowning children, scary mommies, domestic abuse, living photographs, unabashed nudity, national monuments as giant phalluses, Hollywood as a literal burning hellscape, kneeling in the Oral -- ahem -- Oval Office, and of course, a talking fetus.  Subtle, this script is not.  (Dominik even said prior to its release, "There's something in it to offend everyone.")  I'm sure there will be an online reclamation of this film at some point, but for now, it will have to live with my Glorious Omitted commendation. 

[dualredundancy]

In this week’s episode David and Kyle take on special guests Nick Boyle, Marc DeSisto and Nick Rojas from The Good, The Bad & The Watchable podcast in predicting the very unpredictable Oscars. In this special episode they try and forecast who will take home the Oscar in all the major categories for the 96th Academy Awards. We discuss (in order) best original screenplay, best adapted screenplay, best supporting actor, best supporting actress, best actor, best actress, best director, and best picture. #Oscars #Oscars96 #Oscars2024 #OscarPredictions #OscarNominations #OscarNoms

[jontheblogcentric]

Yep it's #OscarNight tonight! If you want to know my predictions for the winners, go to https://jontheblogcentric.org/2020/02/08/my-predictions-for-the-2019-academy-awards/ #academyawards #oscars2020 #92ndacademyawards #academyawards2019 #wordpress #wordpressblogger #shamelessselfpromotion #oscarpredictions #92ndoscars (at New Westminster, British Columbia) https://www.instagram.com/p/B8WvtgagZ0W/?igshid=9tl8om57v32j

[weekendwarriorblog]

The Weekend Warrior’s Best Picture, Director and Screenplay Predictions

Yeah, I’m definitely running a little late on these predictions – what else is new? -- but duty calls over at Below the Line, and it’s been particularly busy covering all the below-the-line stuff for awards season. Let me say that there’s a lot of amazing technical and artisan contributions to last year’s best movies, and it took me getting a job writing about them to fully appreciate the work.

Before we get to my Best Picture predictions, mainly as far as the nominations, we have to talk about three other related categories i.e. the screenplay and director nominations. Of course, having good acting performances in a movie never hurts – the acting branch is the largest in the Academy, after all -- but plenty of movies over the years have gotten a Best Picture nomination without the SAG Ensemble precursor. But all those precursors exist for a reason.

Key: CC = Critics Choice Association, GG = GGs, WGA = Writers Guild, SAG = Screen Actors Guild

ADAPTED SCREENPLAY

A few of the precursors for this category include all the various critics groups and the Critics Choice Association, as well as the Golden Globes (who combine the screenplay categories), the Writers Guild of America (with one caveat, which we’ll get to), BAFTA and very importantly, the USC Libraries Scripter Award. BAFTA has not announced its nominations yet – that’s March 8 or 9 – but they have released a number of longlists, which may or may not matter much, since this category will eventually come down to five Oscar nominations.

WGA is a little weird because a number of the screenplays both in this and the original category were not deemed eligible since they weren’t written under WGA guidelines.  The Scripter also nominated the HBO movie Bad Education, although it wasn’t eligible for the Oscars, having already won Emmys. A couple movies that one might expect to see in the adapted category, Emma and The Personal History of David Copperfield, were deemed eligible for the WGA though they’re still eligible for Oscars. More surprisingly is that Nomadland, one of the year’s favorites for Best Picture, wasn’t eligible for the WGA.

It’s still too early to determine if this is the easier or harder of the categories.

Borat Subsequent Films (WGA)

The screenplay for the first Borat movie received an Oscar nomination as well as a WGA nomination in the adapted categories and having already gotten a WGA nomination in a category where other stronger screenplays weren’t deemed eligible, this could follow suit. I’m not sure that this sequel seems as groundbreaking, and it might have a tougher climb when it comes to Oscars.

The Father (GG)

Florian Zeller adapted his own play into his directorial debut feature, which has received great notices so far, mostly from critics and the Hollywood Foreign Press, as well as SAG, all of whom have lauded performances by Anthony Hopkins and Olivia Colman. Unfortunately, Zeller’s screenplay wasn’t eligible for WGA, but being based on a play makes it seem like it would appeal to writers in the Academy.

First Cow (Scripter, CC)

Kelly Reichardt’s latest period film, co-written by Jonathan Raymond, has been receiving raves and nominations from critics all of last year, although it missed out on a WGA nomination despite being eligible. The movie definitely has its fans, and its Scripter nomination is a nice feather in its cap, although it has much stiffer competition for an Oscar nomination.

Hillbilly Elegy

Ron Howard’s movie based on J.D. Vance’s novel is likely to get at least one acting nomination and maybe another for its makeup, but with such awful critical reviews and no early love from any notable group, the screenplay written by Vance and Vanessa Taylor is likely to get lost in the shuffle.

Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom (WGA, Scripter, CC)

August Wilson is a playwright greatly respected by writers, and there’s a good reason why it’s been nominated by the two key groups for this category, the WGA and the Script. Having almost guaranteed nominations for two of the actor bringing the script, written by Ruben Santiago-Hudson, to life won’t hurt either, so I feel this is a guaranteed Oscar nominee.

News of the World (WGA, CC)

I’m a pretty big fan of Paul Greengrass’ first Western, co-written with previous Oscar nominee, Luke Davies (Lion), as their adaptation of Paulette Jiles’ novel is quite stirring. The Writers Guild felt the same way, although USC did not, and its CC nomination is surprising since critics didn’t really rally around the movie. This is one that might be able to sneak in if the Academy as a whole gets behind the movie.

Nomadland (Scripter, GG, CC)

Chloé Zhao’s film based loosely on Jessica Bruder’s book has become one of the most lauded and acclaimed movies of last year, and other than being ineligible for a WGA nomination, it’s lined-up so many screenplay nominations from various groups that this is a gimme for an Oscar nomination in this category.

One Night in Miami (Scripter, WGA, CC)

Kemp Powers’ adaptation of his own little known (?) play is quite a powerhouse from the way it was delivered by its four stars and put together by first-time narrative feature director Regina King. There’s little question that this movie wouldn’t have worked even slightly without Powers’ writing as a basis, warranting its three nominations.

The United States vs. Billie Holiday

Some might feel that this Lee Daniels film isn’t up to snuff with some of the other movies up for this category, although it’s a fairly decent translation of the historic material being presented. Still, this is also fairly late in the game which might make it tougher.

The White Tiger (WGA)

A bit of a late-breaker finding fans in the industry -- mostly from directors on Twitter -- is Rahmin Bahrani’s adaptation of Aravind Adiga’s novel, which premiered on Netflix in January and found enough fans to garner a WGA nomination. 

Predicted Nominations: The Father, Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom, News of the World, Nomadland, One Night in Miami (Possible spoilers: First Cow or The White Tiger)

In my opinion, this is Nomadland’s category to lose, and the only other screenplay that seems like it could pull off an upset win would be Kemp Powers’ brilliant screenplay for One Night in Miami.

ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY

Another always-interesting category, especially because we have a couple truly original screenplays and a couple based on historic events, some fictionalized, and trying to figure out which ones will connect with the writing branch of the Academy. The number of screenplays deemed ineligible by the WGA meant that a few strong screenplays didn’t get that important precursor.

Ammonite

While Francis Lee’s movie got some early critical attention when it premiered during the early September festivals, that love for the movie has fallen by the wayside and with no nominations for either of its leads actors – Kate Winslet or Saoirse Ronan  -- the screenplay (ineligible for WGA) probably won’t get attention either.

Da 5 Bloods

One would think that the follow-up to the movie that won Spike Lee his first Oscar in the Adapted Screenplay category would be in the conversation for Original Screenplay but oddly, it’s not, despite lots of critical love since this hit Netflix last July.

Judas and the Black Messiah (WGA)

Somewhat of a late-comer to the awards season is Shaka King’s movie about the murder of Chicago Black Panther leader Fred Hampton, as played by Daniel Kaluuya. While Kaluuya is getting raves for his performance and the WGA included its screenplay by Will Berson and Shaka King in its five nominees, it just hasn’t really delivered the buzz and hype to get it through to Academy voters. Maybe that will change with it playing on HBO Max for a month.

Malcolm and Marie

Sam Levinson’s semi-controversial two-handed drama came into the game a little late, although it reads as much like a play as some of the adapted screenplays above, notably The Father and One Night in Miami. Its stars John David Washington and Zendaya have yet to get much in terms of advance nominations, so this might be a movie that just hasn’t connected.

Mank (GG, CC)

This passion project from David Fincher is a screenplay written by his late father, Jack Fincher, that the Oscar-nominated had been wanting to make for decades. It finally happened thanks to Netflix, and the movie’s leading performace by Gary Oldman as Herman Mankiewicz and Amanda Seyfried’s portrayal of Marion Davies are getting enough attention that the elder Fincher’s screenplay could be nominated despite not being eligible for WGA.

Minari (CC)

The Academy loves a good narrative in this category, and you can’t get much better than Lee Isaac Chung telling this semi-autobiographical story about his own childhood as a young boy with Korean immigrant parents trying to make it as American farmers. People love this movie, and it seems like Chung’s screenplay is likely to get attention even if the love the cast has gotten from critics and SAG doesn’t translate to acting nominations at the Oscars.

Never Rarely Sometimes Always (CC)

This amazing indie film by Eliza Hittman was released the weekend when the pandemic hit the country, but it was seen by enough critics at Sundance and beforehand to have a lot of critical support. In fact, some (like me) might presume film critics completely tuned out once movie theaters closed since this received a lot of critical notices at the end of the year. It’s a powerful film with a great screenplay, although that doesn’t mean that the writers branch will feel the same as film critics.

Palm Springs (WGA)

Another movie from Sundance that found fans among critics, as well as a WGA nomination for the screenplay by Andy Siara, is this comedic sci-fi premise that took a Primer-level premise and combined it with a romantic comedy, starring Andy Samberg and Cristin Milioti. It has a lot of fans but enough to get the attention of the Academy’s writers branch?

Pieces of a Woman

This heavy drama from Hungarian filmmaker Kornél Mundruczó and his longtime collaborator, writer Kata Wéber, seems to have dwindled in terms of buzz, partially and possibly because one of the stars, Shia LaBeouf, has been accused of abuse and essentially cancelled. It’s a shame because it’s a fantastic script that really allows the two leads and Ellen Burstyn to shine as actors.

Promising Young Woman (WGA, GG, CC)

Yet another movie that grabbed attention at Sundance is this debut by Emerald Fennell, which may be one of the strongest revenge thrillers in terms of script in quite a few decades. It’ sa true original which gives it a distinct advantage in what is otherwise a fairly tough category. Having a WGA and a Golden Globe nomination for its screenplay also won’t hurt.

Soul

Disney-Pixar’s latest, co-written and co-directed by two-time Oscar winner Pete Docter and One Night in Miami’s Kemp Powers, is on the fast-track for a possible Oscar win for Animated Feature. Although the WGA doesn’t allow animated films in this category, the Academy does, and in fact, Docter’s screenplay for Inside Out was also nominated. It feels like every time there’s a well-loved Pixar movie, people expect an Oscar nomination for the screenplay, but that’s because Pixar screenplays have been nominated six times over the past 20 years, always in the original category (vs. sequels, which would be adapted.)

Sound of Metal (WGA, CC)

There’s no question that much of what makes Darius Marder’s film work comes down to the performance by Riz Ahmed and the efforts by the technical team. Still, it’s a great script written by Marder and his brother Abraham (based on a story by Derek Cianfrance). One of Ahmed’s previous films, Nightcrawler, received an Oscar nomination for filmmaker Dan Gilroy, showing that the Academy writers branch do appreciate originality in this category. That’s why it’s called “Original Screenplay,” I guess.

Trial of the Chicago 7 (WGA, GG)

Aaron Sorkin is a previous Oscar winner with two other nominations, all in the Adapted Screenplay category. For whatever reason, and despite the amount of time this movie takes place in the courtroom depicting a well-documented trial, this is being considered an original screenplay. Due to Sorkin’s reputation and status as a screenwriter, this is almost guaranteed an Oscar nomination, and while most oddsmakers would put it fairly high to wind, look for some of the young upstarts like Promising Young Woman or Sond of Metal to not go down without a fight.

Predicted Nominations: Mank, Minari, Promising Young Woman, Sound of Metal, Trial of the Chicago 7

This is a HUGELY competitive category, almost insanely so, and while a wise person might give Sorkin’s Trial of the Chicago 7 script the best odds at winning just due to the nature of its screenplay, there could be a surprise in this category come Oscar night if it’s not deemed as “original” as the work by newer filmmakers.

BEST DIRECTOR

If there’s any one category that helps define the Best Picture race more than any other, it’s this one. If there’s any precursor that’s more important than any other one, than it’s the Directors Guild (DGA) who haven’t announced their nominations as of yet – that’s also on March 9. There have only been a few examples of a Best Picture winner that didn’t at least have a nomination for Best Director. It’s now happened twice in the last ten years with Argo, for which director Ben Affleck wasn’t nominated, and Green Book, for which Peter Farrelly wasn’t nominated by the directors’ branch. (Incidentally, Affleck was nominated and won the DGA award, while Farrelly was nominated for DGA but lost to Alfonso Cuaron, who also ended up winning his second Oscar for Roma.)

Either way, this is going to be an interesting category, because it’s the first year where there not only may be TWO women directors but possibly even TWO women of color. The times are definitely changing for the better for everyone who complained about Greta Gerwig not being nominated last year for Little Women… or was that two years ago? Man, time is just flying right by.

Lee Isaac Chung – Minari (CC)

One of the two most popular movies that came out of this year’s Sundance is this family drama from a director who based his movie on his own personal experiences as a child, similar to previous winner Alfonso Cuaron when he made Roma. The question is whether the DGA and directors chapter of the Academy feel that it’s a directing achievement and not just a great script and group of actors.

Emerald Fennell – Promising Young Woman (GG, CC)

Similarly, this amazing thriller by a first-time director has been wowing critics and audiences alike since its debut at Sundance, and it’s been finding even more fans over the past few months with awards voters watching closer to filling out ballots. In some ways, this movie is very much this year’s Black Swan, a movie everyone talks about and that should translate well into industry awards for Fennell. Of the “dark horses,” Fennell seems like one of the better bets.

David Fincher – Mank (GG, CC)

One director who is no stranger to awards season is also considered by many to be one of the America’s greatest filmmakers, and yet, he still hasn’t won an Oscar for his directing despite being nominated for two consecutive films, The Curious Case of Benjamin Button and The Social Network. Mank hasn’t gotten nearly as much advance buzz as the latter but still has strong support from the Golden Globes and Critics Choice, so it’s up to the DGA now to see if they’ll include Fincher in their Top 5 nominations. It feels that if any director might get bumped by a dark horse, it’ll be Fincher.

Paul Greengrass – News of the World

Personally, I think this Western is one of Greengrass’ greater achievements as a filmmaker but other critics don’t feel the same, and I’m not sure that not having that advance buzz and hype is gonna help get Oscar voters to watch this compared to some of the others, and that’s really what Oscar season is all about. Who watches your movie. Although it’s been a while since the last awards-worthy Western, some Oscar voters might feel this is just too much like Old School Oscars. Of course, the older voters in the directing branch might be very happy about that.

Regina King - A Night in Miami (GG, CC)

Another movie that has been helped greatly by premiering during the early September festival and continuing to win over fans in the months since then. It certainly won’t hurt that the movie’s easily watchable on Amazon Prime Video and heavily promoted on Fire TVs, Fire Sticks, etc. Remember that it’s often as much about voters having access to a good movie like this than just the movie being good. I can’t imagine the directors in the Academy chapter not being impressed by King’s work as a first-time narrative filmmaker, although there may be some trepidation due to her primary career as an actor ala Ben Affleck for Argo a few years back.

Spike Lee – Da 5 Bloods (CC)

Spike Lee is easily one of the most respected African-American filmmakers, and yet, it took him 30 years after Do the Right Thing to even get a directing Oscar nomination for 2019’s BlackKklansman. Many feel that Lee is achieving another high point in this career (i.e. most critics) although I disagree and think this is only a better Lee movie compared to the 6 or 7 awful movies he made before BlackKklansmn. (Anyone remember She Hate Me or Red Hook Summer or that terrible Oldboy remake? I rest my case.) Personally, I don’t think Lee will get nominated (nor will the screenplay) and that will give Da 5 Bloods less of a chance at a Best Picture nomination.

Aaron Sorkin - Trial of the Chicago 7 (GG, CC)

Although Sorkin is one of the most celebrated screenwriters and playwrights from the last two or three decades, he’s yet to be celebrated as a director, and that’s only because Trial is only his second feature as a director. It’s quite an impressive venture compared to his first movie, Molly’s Game, due to everything from the staging of the actual trial to all the footage from the protests and the performances he got out of a fairly large cast.

George C. Wolfe - Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom

I’m a little surprised Wolfe, a renowned stage director who has won Emmys and Tonys, isn’t getting more credit for directing the Oscar-caliber performances from the entire cast, particularly Viola Davis and the late Chadwick Boseman, but apparently, critics think that this movie directed itself. I feel that the movie has enough fans to get a Best Picture nomination, but sadly, Wolfe won’t get any of the credit for making it so great. Remember that this category gets its nominees from members of the director’s branch and despite Wolfe’s many achievements, he might just be too Broadway to get credit for this film.

Chloé Zhao - Nomadland – (GG, CC, plus winner of NY, LA, Boston and many other film critics groups)

The director who has won more critics’ awards than any other director and is likely to be a favorite to win the Oscar is the filmmaker who wowed so many with her second movie, The Rider, and has only gotten better by working with name actors like Frances McDormand and David Strathairn on her new one. Nomadland is an amazing film that’s universally loved, and Zhao is aiming to be the very first woman of color to win Best Director if there’s anything right with the world.

There are only five directors who have received both Golden Globe and Critics Choice nominations, and it seems very likely that this group of five will also be picked by the DGA, barring any surprises.

Predicted Nominations: Fennell, Fincher, (Regina) King, Sorkin, Zhao (Possible spoiler: Chung)

Like with Adapted Screenplay, this should be Chloé Zhao’s to lose. Anyone else wins and it will a pretty major Oscar night shocker.

BEST PICTURE

As usual, there’s more than ten movies in some form of conversation as a possible Oscar Best Picture nominee but that’s because there are a lot of good movies but only a few truly great movies that every single person agrees with. This year’s nominations might very well come down to the three or four movies that end up as people’s 1st place choices in the preferential nomination ballot.

There are a few precursors to keep an eye on, most notably the GGs and Screen Actors Guild Ensemble, but there have been plenty of Best Picture nominees and maybe even a few winners that have skirted those precursors to still get a nomination.  Heck, we’ve had a few recent Best Picture winners that weren’t even nominate for SAG Ensemble like Green Book and The Shape of Water.

Da 5 Bloods (CC, SAG Ensemble)

Spike Lee has gotten a lot of love from the critics for his first Netflix movie, a Vietnam War heist drama about a group of soldiers who return to Vietnam to retrieve a cache of gold they’ve buried. Da 5 Bloods won a number of critics awards and has generally gotten some overall love, but not from the Golden Globes and neither Delroy Lindo nor the late Chadwick Boseman have been in the conversation other than from critics and a couple SAG nominations. Because of this, this seems like one of the weaker offerings and a possible omission for Best Picture.

Judas and the Black Messiah

As mentioned above, Shaka King’s historical drama arrived fairly late in the game but maybe that will benefit it since it will be seen most recently (and on HBO Max, most likely) and therefore remembered when filling out the ballots. Frankly, I feel this has a better chance at getting a nomination than Lee’s movie just because it feels like a stronger overall film, plus it feels a lot more relevant and timely.

*Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom (CC, SAG Ensemble)

The second film based on an August Wilson play after Denzel Washington’s Fences is likely to find just as many fans in key branches, particularly acting and some of the technical branches, and though I’m not sure how many might pick them as their #1 movie of the year, it stands a good chance at getting enough #2 or #3 votes to get into the nominations even without director George C. Wolfe being nominated, which is a shame. To me, this feels like a mid-

*Mank (CC, GG)

Fincher’s period drama is going to be a huge player in the below-the-line i.e. technical categories, so it shouldn’t be a surprise if a movie that celebrates old Hollywood finds its fans in the Academy whose members just love to celebrate…well… themselves. Maybe not a frontrunner to win but definite nominee.

*Minari (CC, SAG Ensemble)

Lee Isaac Chung’s movie has found a lot of fans, and it ticks a lot of boxes that could help get it into the Best Picture nominations, being many people’s favorite movie of the year and that could be the case within various branches of the Academy as well. I’m not sure this will receive that many individual Oscars but should all be collected into a pretty good placement. (The only reason it isn’t the Golden Globe Drama nominations is because it was deemed a foreign language film and therefore, it’s likely to win in that category.)

News of the World (CC)

When I first saw Peter Greengrass’ Western, I was so blown away that I was sure that it was destined to be an Oscar frontrunner but with little critical support (other than Critics Choice) and only support from WGA and SAG (but only for newcomer Helena Zengel), this is gonna have a tough time getting into a Best Picture race if it ends up only being 7 or 8 nominees. The movie’s best bet is is if it gets below-the-line support for some of its crafts, which seems very likely.

*Nomadland (CC, GG)

By all accounts, Chloé Zhao’s Nomadland has become the bonafide frontrunner with numerous accolades from critics groups, but as we’ve seen way too many times with movies like The Social Network and Roma, the Academy sometimes agrees with the critics but sometimes rebels. While Nomadland may not seem like a typical Best Picture from the Academy, neither was Moonlight and a few others, and few will be surprised if the Academy goes with this over others. It’ll be interesting to see how the movie fares with Golden Globes and Critics Choice, but it also probably won’t matter since it will need support from ALL chapters of the Academy.

*One Night in Miami (CC, SAG Ensemble)

Regina King’s movie based on Kemp Powers’ stageplay has found a good deal of support because it shows a piece of history while also being timely with what’s going on in the world today. With great writing and acting, that’s two chapters that should support the movie, as should the directors and other Academy chapters, and that should guarantee a nomination, although it might end up splitting votes with movies like Judas and the Black Messiah and Ma Rainey’s Black Bottom (presuming that both get nominated).

*Promising Young Woman (CC, GG)

Emerald Fennell’s thriller starring Carey Mulligan has been finding its fans among critics and the industry alike, and it’s the type of unforgettable movie that’s likely to make it into many Top 5 lists for the years. Heck, it was (and is) my #1 for 2020, so I can imagine it should get into the Best Picture category even if it has a tougher climb to winning.

*Trial of the Chicago 7 (CC, SAG Ensemble, GG)

Sorkin’s latest movie as a director is a retelling of an infamous trial in the late ‘60s of a number of protesters of the Vietnam War (finishing that circle) and Sorkin put together such an amazing cast to tell this story that it’s no surprise it’s been getting acclaim from critics and likely from Sorkin’s pals in the industry.

The movies with an asterisk (*) above I feel are sure things to get nominated for Best Picture, and that adds up to 7. There’s a chance that one or two of the other three movies can get in, but there’s no guarantee there will be ten Best Picture nominees this year.

Most Likely to Sneak In:

The Father (GG) Sound of Metal (CC) Soul First Cow

It’s Dead, Jim:

Pieces of a Woman The Prom (GG) Hillbilly Elegy The Midnight Sky Malcolm and Marie

The thing is that we won’t get any real answers for Best Picture until the DGA and PGA announces their nominations since these are two industry guilds in line with SAG that helps to show in which way the Academy voters might sway. I’m not sure that whatever wins the Golden Globes in the drama category (the only real race that matters) on Sunday or the Best Picture winner at Critics Choice (probably Nomadland or Promising Young Woman in a shocker) will make much of a difference since the Academy will still have nearly two months to watch. On March 15, the Oscar nominations will be announced and barring any surprises, we’re gonna have 7 to 10 Best Picture nominations but still only 5 that might win the Oscar… and we might not even know what those movies are after Green Book and Argo wins without a Best Director nomination! Crazy year, huh?

That’s it for my Oscar predictions, although I’ll probably post something updated as we get closer to April, and my Golden Globe predictions will be on Twitter.