I want to murder you and wear your skin to the screenings!Ha ha. uhhh...
I assure you that it's not a complaint. It's more like a question mark. It's just that I don't really understand the benefit of the annual studio dog piling, everyone leaping on critics and guild members and Oscar voters all at once, rubbing their legs frantically like desperate horny beasts. Why is everything ambitious,prestigious and golden also simultaneous? It's very strange.You see, today I'm still thinking about Meryl Streep as a bitter nun "Look at that. You blew out my light!" (Did I underestimate her work? Maybe. Were my expectations too high for 'the greatest actress of all time'? Probably. I already want to see it again) Meanwhile I'm trying not to think about those stupid vampires who stare at each other and us for hours upon hours and never think to do anything else. You're a vampire, idiot, kill something, drink blood, scare me. Meryl Streep is way scarier than you are. Do SOMETHING already! Anything... I'm begging you. Now I must leave both nuns and the undead behind.
I fear that all Oscar hopefuls will blur together. I won't be able to tell one film from the next -- it'll be just like a bleary eyed film festival only more middlebrow. By Thanksgiving I'll be imagining Harvey Milk sweeping prissy Nicole Kidman off her feet even as she ages backwards -- younger and younger she gets, all the way back to her shadowy past in Nazi era Germany when she fought Daniel Craig in the Belarus forest before her unhappy marriage to Leonardo DiCaprio (of Connecticut), a union which ended with his historic downfall by way of a 1970s television interview.
*
