Best Pictures: Dances With Wolves & The Lost Weekend

It's been nearly six months since the last episode of the tri-blog series Best Pictures From the Outside In. At this rate we'll be done in 2021! Literally. "Stay tuned!!!" Nevertheless we're finally back with a new installment pairing 1990's Dances With Wolves & 1945's The Lost Weekend.

Read it @ NICK'S FLICK PICKS

and comment on that discussion there.

Since those conversations are rarely about the Oscar field but just the winners, I thought I'd share a few quick words on 1990 and 1945 right here. I've noticed in my own lists over the years that the further back in time I go the more I agree with Oscar's choices. I'm guessing this is not a case of Oscar once having better taste (i.e. mine - haha) but simple math. I've seen more films from the modern era so the chance of disagreeing grows. For instance, Oscar's best picture field for 1990 was composed of...

• Awakenings
• Dances With Wolves
• Ghost
• The Godfather Part III
• Goodfellas

Which was almost nothing like my list at the time (though I hadn't seen Goodfellas) which went like so back in the day...

• Edward Scissorhands *winner*
  
• Ghost
• The Grifters
• Longtime Companion
  
• Postcards From the Edge

I'm not sure I could stand by the Ghost cheese 20 years later or Longtime Companion (I don't remember it well) but the other three have had staying power in my brain and in movie culture, too.

My decrepit ancient copy of Inside Oscar is filled with color markings -- I once used the book to track my film viewing. Certain years have highlight markings all over the film titles. The 40s are my weakest decade but strangely 1945 is all marked up. I'd rank the Best Picture nominees like so

1. Mildred Pierce (Such a goodie. Watch it before the Kate Winslet remake arrives)
   
2. Spellbound
3. Anchors Aweigh
4. The Lost Weekend
5. The Bells of St. Marys (the first sequel nominated for Best Picture and the only BP nominee from '45 that I haven't seen. But I didn't really care for Going My Way so I'm in no rush)

I love those first three so I'm fine with Oscar's list. But is that because I've seen so little else from '45? I wonder, if I saw 100 films from each film year before my time, would my taste rarely align with Oscar's? Have you ever wondered about the same thing? A "yes" answer means hidden gems and new favorites await you in every single film year should you only start to look for them.

Now, read our boozy bender with Kevin Costner over at Nick's Flick Picks.
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Golden Globes 01/17/10: Arrivals

refresh your screen periodically for updates

Nathaniel: I can't promise the live-blogging for tonight's Golden Globe Gala. But something will emerge from this internet ether eventually... a screenshot here or there, a cry of despair or jubilation, random comments from my party guests. Or maybe just a winner's list. We'll see. You're busy playing drinking games anyway. Perhaps a shot every time La Streep mugs a reaction shot?

Ricky Gervais is funny but I'm not really accustomed to hosts at the Globes. How will it go? The joy of the Globes is really watching the drunk reaction shots and glimpses of the seating arrangements. Not the banter / monologues. We'll see.

Everyone: Nathaniel look at Mariah's boobs!

Mariah is verklempt by her own cleavage!

Rich: That's actually demure for her.
txtcritic: They appear to have baby oil smeared all over them.

txtcritic: me no likey Jon Hamm + beard


Nathaniel: Eli Roth just interrupted a Penélope Cruz interview. This would only ever be acceptable under one circumstance: Her movie is sinking like a rock in awards season. Plus, this was obviously a Weinstein Co. moment. PS. I'm not a fan of Eli Roth but I do like him all cleaned up. It's very Brad Pitt all Clark Gable'ish in the final act of Inglourious Basterds "BON GIORNIO!"

txtcritic: Julia Roberts appears to be wearing the Nobel Peace Prize around her neck.

Nathaniel: I love Sophia Vergara on Modern Family. Ryan Seacrest asked her about the rain. "We're not M&Ms. We're not going to melt." She's adorable. And is wearing a color people don't usually were and that M&Ms don't come in.

Nobody Did It Better...

.

... than Tilda Swinton in Julia this year.

JA from MNPP here. You show me an actress' performance from 2009 and I will show you the shadow that Tilda's Julia casts across it, engulfs it with, and then takes it down in three swift gulps, perhaps letting out a valiant belch in a vague and half-remembered recognition of their effort.

I was reminded of this while reading Glenn's piece on the film at Stale Popcorn this morning and it made me angry. Angry! Angry that she's really nowhere near the Oscar's already insane echo-chamber of self-propelled hype this year. "Oh she won two years ago." "Oh her film opened way back in nowhere-land."

And? Tilda's Julia rips the cooking sherry out of Meryl's Julia's hand and bashes her in the head with it. She climbs into bed with Abbie's Fanny and invites that whinging Keats over for threesies (but then just throws up over the side and passes out, naturally). She stuff's Gaby's Precious in the trunk of a stolen car and then loses her in the desert.

She wins even though she's not trying.

And they're not trying, so oh well. Just another one of the greats that'll slip by because of whatever political nonsense they wanna ascribe to it. So I wanna know this: which early non-contenders from this year's race are bumming you out the most? See it is still early so maybe if I just shout about Tilda a bunch people will remember. Shout! This is me shouting! Shout about yours in the comments. No actor left behind! (Or director, or writer, or cinematographer... so on.)
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Puppets and Precursors

Given that precursor season is nearly upon us and I've always believed in full disclosure you should know that I recently joined the BFCA. Yes, the same group I have taken to task in the past for their insistence on equating "best" with "Oscar predictions". I've never understood that as an operating agenda but then... it's hardly endemic to them. In fact, each year I have to underline the difference between predictions and preferences several times over when people start saying things like "you think that's better than that?" while holding their nose. So many people think it means the same thing but it never does. When the two crossover it's an accident... a happy accident. Best is your own perceived meritocracy. Prediction is what you suppose a random group of other people might collectively prefer. I promise to vote by way of Best.

Swag watch: Bad Lieutenant companion book and Coraline alphabet cards

But I have sooooo many movies left to watch before the precursor deadlines arrive. When will I get to them all? Where did the year go? It's nearly December.

A couple of nights ago I attended a Coraline event -- don't think I'm all fancy, I had to invite myself! -- which was a lot of fun. I told Henry Selick I loved Coraline and was rooting for it in the Animated Oscar race which is true (I'm okay with the schmoozy stereotype of the 'I love your work' meet and greet, so long as I actually love the work).

<-- This fully posable puppet was on display and though you can't really see it in this iPhone pic, the young explorer has a thin line across her face at eyeline. Apparently there's hundreds of individual top and bottom halves of this face that they had to mix and match painstakingly to bring her expressions to life. And then they digitally removed the line where her face comes apart. If you've seen any "making ofs" you already know this but I hadn't and didn't.

I've always loved stop motion but I can't imagine the level of patience required for even the simplest scenes. It's enough to drive one to drink.

I had a blue cocktail, which they served with blue rock candy. I'm not sure what that had to do with Coraline but it was yummy. Talking to Selick I learned that he hadn't seen the Off Broadway Coraline musical (discussed here) but that he was a fan of its composer (Stephin Merritt from Magnetic Fields). The soft spoken director behind The Nightmare Before Christmas and James and the Giant Peach still hasn't decided on his next project -- he couldn't elaborate without jinxing -- but he's got three to choose from (a nice problem to have). I told him he should work on all three simultaneously a la Lord of the Rings. What? I'm greedy for good movies. I always want more.

Same goes for blue cocktails.


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Tilda Swinton in the Flesh

This weekend I had the opportunity to listen to cinephile actress Tilda Swinton reminisce about her career at the New Yorker Festival. I covered that beat (thrilling, rapid fire... oops, that was my heart) for Tribeca Film. Naturally, wrestling the goodies down to article form was a mite troubling, because she was so candid, interesting and worthy of plunking down money for... though I guess with these new blogging laws I should indicate that my ticket was comped.


I always love hearing Tilda talk about her first collaborator Derek Jarman (which she did, a lot... there wasn't much discussion of her recent forays into mainstream fare) but one of my favorite bits was her story about meeting Eric Zonca, her Julia director, in Cannes. He was drunk and they tried to sneak into a party that they were both turned away from... even though they were both Cannes officials. A brief clip from that film only reminded me that it's practically insane that people aren't screaming "Oscar Number Two!" for her sozzled blabbermouth trainwreck character in that film. You can just about smell the alcohol while watching that performance. No Smell-O-Vision required.

Justin Bond of 'Kiki and Herb' and Shortbus fame, a close friend of Tilda's, came out at the end of the night raving about the new Italian film I Am Love (Io Sono L'Amore)

It's the kind of movie you dream of seeing Tilda in

Hmmm, for me that describes every movie she's in.

I'd like to say you had to be there but that would kind of defeat the purpose of sending you over to read my piece. The New Yorker also has a brief bit on the event.
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I Dream of Celebrity

In slumberland I was at an exclusive celebrity shindig directly following a mega budget photo shoot by David LaChapelle that I had starred in (Thank you id! Be silent superego). Details are fuzzy but I saw/spoke with Jackie Beat, Judy Davis, Tahmoh Penikett, Rufus Wainwright, Terence Stamp and Marisa Tomei. One can't imagine the filofax that would contain each and all of them but it surely belongs to an oneirologist.

I shared a table with Olivia Newton-John and Cyndi Lauper who both smiled at me simultaneously. For a split second I was 10 and unimaginably happy but then I became my jaded adult self again. I tried not to mention that the dream would have been better if Madonna had been seated between them. The last thing I remember was chatting up Reese Witherspoon. I told her that her drink looked like a candy cane and she laughed. Her civilian guest glared at me, angry to see her meal ticket's attention temporarily diverted.

I didn't want to wake up.

Who is the last celebrity to make an appearance in your dreams?
(Not the daydream variety. We'd be here all day!)

Shot?

Oscar Did You Knows?

a few pieces of useless trivia for you!


...that in the elite community of actors who've won more than one Oscar, all thirty-eight of them with Sean Penn as the newest club member, the average wait for the second statue is 9 years. Kate Winslet for the win in 2017, baby! Of course, for some actors the love affair with the Academy is intense and feverish and the statues are back to back (Tom Hanks, Luise Rainer, Jason Robards, Spencer Tracy) as if the voting body wanted to seal the deal before they started showing... if you know what I mean. The most common wait time though is strangely but a 3 year span. That's happened to five goddesses of the silver screen (Glenda Jackson, Jodie Foster, Meryl Streep, Bette Davis and Olivia DeHavilland).

Only four actors have won three or more Oscars (Katharine Hepburn, Walter Brennan, Jack Nicholson, and Ingrid Bergman) and though most sentient beings expect Meryl Streep to become the fifth to achieve that rare honor, she'll set another record when she does. The longest wait after the second Oscar for that third -- well, besides eternity -- was Ingrid Bergman's 18 year delay. It's been 26 years since Streep's second win so she's already shown more patience than Bergman had to.

Penn's second win also makes him the fourth straight man to win the Lead Oscar for playing a gay man. He follows William Hurt in Kiss of the Spiderwoman (1985), Tom Hanks in Philadelphia (1993) and Philip Seymour Hoffman in Capote (2005) to that distinction. Now if they'd only give the Oscar to a gay actor playing a gay man for once. Sir Ian McKellen's loss for Gods and Monsters still stings. Especially since it's better than any of those performances.

[cue music] Onesies beats twosies but nothing beats three [/music]

Cuteness alert: Kate, Sean and Penélope reenact the Vicky
Cristina Barcelona menage a trois with their gold men.

I haven't double checked this statistic (where would one check it?) but I believe that Penélope Cruz is now only the second actress to win an Oscar for a film in which she engages in threesome loving -- the first being Liza Minelli in Cabaret (well, depending on how you interpret the events of Cabaret). Unless I'm forgetting someone. Which I might be.

These random pieces of trivia are brought to you by a ferocious hangover sponsored by Absolut Vodka. I shall try to collect myself for further Oscar post-show business.

Pour Me Another Link

Shots
Club Silencio "Diagnosing Jennifer Connelly"
Premiere Paul W.S. Anderson reveals how he got Joan Allen to star in Death Race. Among other things... But that's the important part, right?
ócio-pop intermezzo (yikes)
Acidemic pre-code Hollywood and Barbara Stanwyck in 10 Cents a Dance. (The opening photo is freaking me out since she looks too much like Jennifer Jason Leigh)
Hell on Frisco Bay on the new Korean queer film No Regret
Lazy Eye Theater "I Want Morgan Freeman to Deliver My Eulogy"


Barcelona Binging
Humanizing the Vacuum has a wonderful take on Vicky Cristina Barcelona. Have you seen it yet? You've been quiet about it people.
Cinephilia cracks me up. I won't give away the name she gifts Javier Bardem's "Juan Antonio" but it's choice.
NY Times Woody Allen's hilarious faux diary from the set

Scarlett came to me today with one of those questions actors ask, “What’s my motivation?” I shot back, “Your salary.” She said fine but that she needed a lot more motivation to continue.

Olympic Hangover
EW casts Usain Bolt in 12 movies. Hey, are they reading TFE or something?
Daily Kos has some words for NBC. Notice how they skimped on the Matthew Mitcham bio coverage they normally dole out. The only "out" Olympian and he proves a major upset to Chinese dominance winning a gold medal and it's like he just didn't really exist for them. For shame.

I'll Have What Anne's Having

<--- What is Anne Hathaway drinking? And more importantly, can I have some?

According to Tom O'Neil I drank her kool-aid a long time ago* (Apparently I drank it in that cheerleader outfit I keep stashed in my closet. Hey, don't judge. One never knows when Viggo Mortensen might stop by...) but I doubt this is kool-aid she's downing here. Cranberry & vodka? Ruby Red? The blood of young virgins to keep her looking 25 forever?

*he gets details wrong --I never once predicted an Oscar nomination for Nicole Kidman last year but the image he paints still cracked me up.

"Guest Starring" Josh Brolin

At the risk of getting cheesy with a Before They Were Stars moment, let's go back to the time when Josh Brolin was only James Brolin's son. It wasn't until his very recent amazing triple play (No Country For Old Men, American Gangster, Grindhouse) that he became a true star just as he was turning 40. Now he's in demand. He'll play the lead role in Oliver Stone's George Bush bio W. this October and then Harvey Milk's assassin in Gus Van Sant's Milk in November.

But guess what? When he was all of 19 years-old in 1987, he warmed up for that Bush role whilst guest starring on 21 Jump Street.


His character "Taylor Rolator" --what a name --was the villain of the the episode "The Future's So Bright, I Gotta Wear Shades." Taylor is an over-privileged rich boy who had everything handed to him by his daddy. [Bush warm up? check ]

But wait, there's more. It gets funnier / spookier.

Young Josh shows up as soon as the credits begin. He's one of three prep school heirs who are out drinking and partying with a high school girl from the non-wealthy side of town. A hilariously underlining song plays over the credits... I wish I could make out all the lyrics because it's unbelievable...

My blood is blue...of the upper caste... Whatever I wear, Whatever I say. People stop to notice me...
My blood is blue. [back up singers: So cool, so damn cool. So cool, so damn cool]
That's all we do so don't you make a fuss. We're not ... But most people regard us with a lot more trust ... political preference. What we do always sets the trend...
We believe our press when they say we're cool... And we're breaking the rules!

Oy. Music was not this show's forte. Anyway, the girl is not long for this world. This is a cop show so they have to start with a crime. We don't see what happens but we do see her dead body the next morning. But first, Brolin has to get her properly liquored up.


He's still in high school and thus not old enough to buy booze. He slips the cashier $100 and then gets rude and bossy on account of the tip he just gave. Taylor disregards the laws of the land and behaves like an incredibly smarmy asshole. [Bush warm up? check, check ]

We desert Taylor/Bush soon so that the leads of the show get some story time. Johnny Depp and his cop partner are middle class guys and they resent these rich boys. They go undercover at West Chedway (the school) to befriend them and find out what happened to the girl But Johnny in particular has a real chip on his shoulder about their wealth "6000 a year just to go to high school!" and finds the assignment difficult.

In class the boys are reading All The King's Men. (How subtle!) The teacher calls on Taylor about a plot point. I was so sure he wouldn't know the answer like that horrible horrible scene in Fahrenheit 911 when Bush sits there stupidly when NYC is under siege. Wait is Taylor/Bush praying for the answer? [ check ]

God apparently answers smarmy asshole prayers because he gives a perfect answer pleasing the teacher. He sounds totally intelligent. [Bush warm-up: nope ] Cop Johnny isn't so lucky. He is totally stumped by the teacher's questions.

But soon enough the 21 Jump Street boys infiltrate the rich kid circle and learn more about them along the way. Taylor is the president of the honor council. When asked if he can be bought, he simply laughs.

He's the figurehead. Are these other guys rehearsing for Cheney and Rove roles?

Handed leadership role --doesn't take it seriously. [Bush warm up? check]

Oh but there is one thing he takes seriously. He is also the "President of the Fun Club" When asked what the Fun Club means, his co-hort explains

Thrill seekers, risk takers, wealth makers. Also known as the royal we. Dedicated to competition and recreation.

Taylor/Bush adds on:

The man with the most toys wins. Plebes be damned!

He follows this charming mantra by snorting coke and chasing it with some Absolut.

Booze. Cocaine. Greed. Dismissive of everyone outside of his base. [ check x 4 ]

I can't go on.This is getting too depressing. Taylor and all his pals talk about their fathers constantly. They've got big daddy issues. In another moment in the show he makes a toast while they're drinking "Here's to taking over!" Argh. He's power hungry too. [check, check]

But since this is television and not the real world "Taylor Rolator" doesn't get away with all his crimes like real world politicians and presidents do. Brolin's Bush warm-up ends before this episode does.

In 21 Jump Street Taylor's money and lawyers get him out of the triple rape and murder charges, but he still doesn't live to see the end credits. The murdered girl's angry brother confronts him with a gun in the street.

What did you do to my sister?

Fade out on Brolin's expression dropping and the sound of a gunshot.

Since Young Brolin is so good at playing Taylor/Bush I'm thinking "What did you do to my sister country?" instead as I watch this. But never mind that gunshot (vigilante violence doesn't solve problems... and boy would we be better off now if our president had known that) --let's just get to the fade out. November 4th can't come soon enough.


Time for the next episode, don't you think?
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Hulk, Incredible ?

True story: I was drunk when I saw Ang Lee's Hulk ...which might explain why I liked it. Apparently, you weren't supposed to.

I am very seldom inebriated at the movies! It was a fluke, really. There was this jumbo frozen margarita and then another one and before I knew it I was in the Empire 25, hugging some startled friends who happened to show at the same movie but probably weren't expecting wobbly manhugs at the opening night of a superhero blockbuster. And then I was gobbling popcorn like I had not just eaten way too much Mexican food at El Azteca while I waited for Bruce Banner to get really angry. The next thing I remember was thinking 'why isn't he getting angry?' Then I think there were some mutant dogs and some CGI nudity that was just as prudish as actual flesh nudity in the movies. I do remember that. And then the Hulk started hopping around in the desert and I was 10 years-old again reading comic books.

And thus concludes my tequila soaked memories of that evening!

I recognized even at the time that Hulk had some problems -- like way too much time dilly-dallying before the action and the casting of Jennifer Connelly as the weepy girlfriend (seriously. does any actress need to branch out more?) --but I basically enjoyed it. So now they're trying a reboot with The Incredible Hulk. Here's the new trailer.



It doesn't do anything for me. I might be the only one thinking: Do Ed Norton and Liv Tyler really want to be the poor man's Eric Bana and Jennifer Connelly? I mean look at Julianne Moore trying to be Clarice Starling after Jodie! It's not always wise to take over a role that someone else originated. Not that you couldn't improve on Bana & Connelly in that movie, mind you. Clarice Starling was perhaps a bad analogy. It's more like Christian Bale taking over for George Clooney. Or maybe even George Clooney taking over from Val Kilmer. We'll see.

Maybe it doesn't matter who plays it. In Batman movies, the pointy cowl hides the man in the suit real well and CGI disposes of the actor altogether in Hulk. It's a paycheck for Mr. Norton either way.

more at twiigs.com...

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My Dinner With... Kathleen Turner

Piper @ Lazy Eye Theater sent me a dinner invitation. Only trouble was it was blank and it required me to actually do the inviting. But before I do, let's consider for a moment the audacity of M. Piper. He sent it to me on January 8th. I know right? Yes, just as the BFCA winners were celebrating and the DGA nominees were being announced... smack dab in the feverish build up to the Oscar nominations it did arrive. January! The nerve.

My friends all know not to try to engage me in actual attention-requiring conversations from mid December through late February (yes, I'm that good to my loved ones). But with Oscar season over, my brain is my own again. I can now enter the kitchen rather than taking my meals intravenously at the computer.

So this is what a kitchen looks like.

1. Pick a single person past or present who works in the film industry who you'd like to have dinner with and tell us why you chose this person.
I'm inviting Kathleen Turner to dine with me.

"I'd love to, Nathaniel. I don't care if this whole room of reporters knows about our rendezvous!"

I'm not inviting Kathleen because she's my favorite "lost" actress from the 80s, though she is (she hasn't made a movie since 2000). This is not because I am Oscar obsessed and she was the first talent I ever considered "snubbed" in my earliest throes of awards curiosity, though she was (I was confused that they preferred three farm wives to her LAFCA winning work in Romancing The Stone & Crimes of Passion). This is not because her "Martha" in the Broadway revival of Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf was one of the best performances I've ever seen and she (shockingly) made me forget all about Liz Taylor, though it was and she did.

No, it's a combination of all those things but mostly that I've just finished reading her bio Send Yourself Roses. I was disappointed to discover that it was only 261 pages long. I was hoping her oral profundities would last me through the rest of winter. I'm a slow reader but 261 pages of Kathleen is easy to binge on. Like her film career, this book was way too short.

With my invitation would come roses (no way should the great lady have to self-send) and a note that would hopefully quell her objections to meeting a crazed fan. It would utilise her own get up and go / face the music motto that she winds throughout the book's pages "...you just have to, don't you?"

2. Set the table for your dinner. What would you eat? Would it be in a home or at a restaurant? And what would you wear? Feel free to elaborate on the details.
Kathleen can wear whatever she likes. She's not into fashion. She's into comfort. Her feet bother her (rheumatoid arthritis + knee replacements. Ouch and sympathies) ...socks or flip flops are fine. I would actually hold the dinner in a rented van. No, no sillies --not like a Buffalo Bill type of situation. A van so that Ms. Turner and I could do service together for City Meals on Wheels in between bites. Kathleen is a good samaritan and I'd want to impress. It's been eons since I did something selflessly for someone else. Unless you count all this free promotion I do for celebrities like Kathleen Turner on this blog. Shush.

The trickiest thing about this dinner would be that I would have to have the table especially built so that it was just an inch or two too high. I want Kathleen, a large woman, to have to look up slightly to talk to me. This way, her patented head toss that delights me so would be sure to occur with great regularity as we scarfed our food. If the food was spicy enough maybe I could engineer some extra eye-flashing from her as well.

Kathleen believes in communal dishes. She says so in the book. So the first course would definitely be something we could get our hands into and share, like an African rice dish perhaps. I haven't worked out the entire menu but I'd theme the courses after her movies... can you eat alligator? Kathleen is not a recovering alcoholic as the tabs and her own vodka soaked public breakdowns had everyone believing. She is a self-moderating drinker but, all the same, no booze for this special night.

Kathleen's five best performances, give or take Crimes of Passion (which I
haven't seen in too long to judge) counter clockwise from top left: Body Heat (1981),
Peggy Sue Got Married (1986), War of the Roses (1989), Romancing the Stone (1984)
and Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf (2004-2007)

3. List five thoughtful questions you would ask this person during dinner.
I would ask 50 --can one ever have enough Kathleen, but do they have to be "thoughtful"? This meme is so strict. Here's a sampling.

1. Why didn't you write about your Oscar loss for Peggy Sue Got Married in your book Send Yourself Roses? You wrote about a few unpleasantries and some straight up tragedies and the way I see it an Oscar loss (when you deserved to win) surely fits somewhere between those polls of ewww. And yet in 261 pages ...nothing. You're torturing me! I fear I remember the night better than you.
2. Your candor has always been a great and rare gift, especially for an A lister. But, if there's one part of the book that feels like you're holding back it's the section on Crimes of Passion (1984). You do dish some stories from the set but once it comes to your first screening, your husband's subsequent anger and assumption that he could control your creative choices, and your own surprise at the same... the book suddenly feels cagey. Can you retrieve the missing 10 pages please. 20? There's more stories there, surely. I wish you had slapped him around a bit. Who marries an actress known for her screen-scorching sexuality and then freaks out when she uses it in the service of a role?... a truly outré role in a deranged Ken Russell movie, but still.
3. You've smartly realized how much better stage roles are for actresses of your calibre and age... but you've also expressed a desire to return to the movies. What kind of roles would you like to play? I've seen you on stage and you're an even better actress than you were when you were a huge movie star. Hollywood is missing out.
4. Can I audit your class at NYU "Practical Acting: Shut Up and Do It!"? I'm not an actor or an NYU student but I love the title and I'm willing to bet that you're an insightful coach. It'd give me great blogging material. You believe in charity. Give. To me.
   
5. Speaking of... Will you star with me in a YouTube response video called "I'm F#@*ing Kathleen Turner"?
   ...........I've already written the song.

4. When all is said and done, select six bloggers to pass this Meme along to. Link back to Lazy Eye Theatre, so that people know the mastermind behind this Meme.
okay, get cooking people... Emma @ All About My Movies, 14 or Candy @ Circus Hour, Gabriel @ Modern Fabulousity, Jackie @ Spectator, JA of My New Plaid Pants and Dave @ Victim of the Time.

All About My Weekend

I’m having a rough day today. I can still hear that evil giggling from the fourth frozen margarita last night. Oh yes, she knew she’d snuck past my three drink limit. Her cold heart probably cracked with glee as she went down, knowing she’d spend the entire next day f***ing me over.

Before she ruined the weekend, I watched a lot of moving pictures: Moulin Rouge! (well, pieces of it anyway…), Idlewild, Miami Vice, and an old drama with Irene Dunne, If I Were Free (1933). I even took in two episodes of the worst television series I think I’ve ever laid eyes upon, Dante’s Cove.

My favorite piece of the holiday’s weekend viewing was Pedro Almodovar’s Oscar winner All About My Mother. Nothing could mute the delight it gave; not the knowledge that Pedro would surpass it just three years later with Talk To Her, not that weirdly jumpy and protacted ending which I’ve always been puzzled by, not the theater filled with a particularly unruly elderly crowd (seriously it was like a geriatric brawl in there –total infighting about something or other), not the theater itself -- easily among the worst in Manhattan.

No, the only thing that managed to kill its lingering greatmovie buzz was that fourth ice queen. I couldn’t resist her. She was all gussied up with her trademark salt collar. Her friends had seemed so innocent and gone down so smoothly. She tasted great too, it’s true. But oh her poisonous heart.

All About My Weekend

I’m having a rough day today. I can still hear that evil giggling from the fourth frozen margarita last night. Oh yes, she knew she’d snuck past my three drink limit. Her cold heart probably cracked with glee as she went down, knowing she’d spend the entire next day f***ing me over.

Before she ruined the weekend, I watched a lot of moving pictures: Moulin Rouge! (well, pieces of it anyway…), Idlewild, Miami Vice, and an old drama with Irene Dunne, If I Were Free (1933). I even took in two episodes of the worst television series I think I’ve ever laid eyes upon, Dante’s Cove.

My favorite piece of the holiday’s weekend viewing was Pedro Almodovar’s Oscar winner All About My Mother. Nothing could mute the delight it gave; not the knowledge that Pedro would surpass it just three years later with Talk To Her, not that weirdly jumpy and protacted ending which I’ve always been puzzled by, not the theater filled with a particularly unruly elderly crowd (seriously it was like a geriatric brawl in there –total infighting about something or other), not the theater itself -- easily among the worst in Manhattan.

No, the only thing that managed to kill its lingering greatmovie buzz was that fourth ice queen. I couldn’t resist her. She was all gussied up with her trademark salt collar. Her friends had seemed so innocent and gone down so smoothly. She tasted great too, it’s true. But oh her poisonous heart.

The Whitakers vs. The Del-Mar-Twists

Reader Request
I received an e-mail last week from a reader named Jackson asking me a troubling question. He and his friend, I was quickly informed, both love Far From Heaven AND Brokeback Mountain (ohhh how I love my readers) and they want me to decide which is better. Solve that toss-up dilemma!

They were each Gold Medalists in their respective years in my personal awards (2002 & 2005). Normally I'm very averse to matchups between separate years. It's hard enough to make qualitative choices in one given year betwen 100 or so films (and yes, I am a bit behind in my screenings this year --shut up) let alone comparing entries from previous years. This is why I'm so slow to ever do "best of all time lists" --I love too much. I love too many.

Still, I took this reader challenge and watched this Focus Feature double. They share a same basic tragedy: multiple miseries springing from the denial of love. They share other obvious traits, too. Both received triple Oscar nominations for their brilliant performances --huh, what's that? Heaven only received one? Stupid Academy!

And then there's the little matter of gay. Heaven and Brokeback have memorable twin sequences wherein a wife goes nearly catatonic at the surprise sight of her "all man" husband macking on, well, another man. And speaking of homosexuality --it's a major element...though it is rarely articulated. They (that is characters in both films) refer to it as "this thing." Heaven, though, adds a rather brilliant touch in that the men aren't the only closet cases. Cathy Whitaker (Julianne Moore) is also hiding her true feelings for the man she loves (Raymond, her black gardener played by Dennis Haysbert) --so though the film isn't as audience accessible as the later iconic hit, it also reaches out with a wide intelligent embrace. This, the fear of love and society's ignorant backlash, is not just a gay concern.

I knew all of this already dear readers. But I was still surprised by the experience of watching them back to back. They make for fascinating twins. Fraternal, mind you, despite all of their identicals. Consider:

Period Piece. Heaven takes place in 1957-1958 or thereabouts. Brokeback begins just six years later but the similarities end there. These are entirely different worlds. The first is a spin on cinematic renderings of the era, the second using realism. Both have tremendous production values but Heaven's intrigue me more. Just how does this hyperstylized world so obviously speak directly to the 'now' whilst also paying tribute and critiquing the 'then'? It's an impressive balancing act.


Heavy Drinking. Within the first six minutes of both films the gays are drinking. The boys sure do like their booze. Further inebriated episodes follow for both Frank Whitaker (Dennis Quaid) in Heaven and Jack and Ennis in Brokeback. But in this bender matchup I'll take Brokeback since Frank's drinking tends to lead to public humiliations while Jack and Ennis's lead to roughhousing and, um, roughsex. If you include the girls in the mix, though, Heaven closes the bar. Heath acts the hell out of a hangover, but who can compete with that daquiri soaked girltalk scene?


The Great Wide Open. Heaven features stunningly designed yet highly claustrophic interiors with saturated colors and foreboding shadows. Brokeback's interiors are understandably drab. But notice how true love always takes place outdoors. Jack and Ennis are only happy in nature. Cathy and Raymond discover their love there, too. True love, you see, is completely natural. No matter what Mona Lauder thinks of it! In this pairing I am camping with the Brokeback boys. For obvious reasons.


Marry Me A Little. Heaven has just the one confusing marriage and painful divorce. Brokeback ups the ante with two doomed brides and grooms. I'm closer to Heaven here, which has a wittier take on its central marriage.


Hung Up On You. Both films have a heartbreaking telephone call just prior to their conclusion. Heaven's features a weary Cathy scheduling her divorce paperwork with Frank and carries a sharp sting. But this contest goes to Brokeback which is more like a gutpunch. It's one of those very complex scenes in which two characters (Anne Hathaway's and Heath Ledgers) total strangers say all sorts of things and hear all sorts of things without anything much ever being said. Awesome.


Clothes. A most endearing twin trait of these two grand movies is that they both place an enormous amount of emotional baggage onto an item(s) of clothing. Obviously Cathy Whitaker's favorite scarf, retrieved by her beloved gardener and then worn while watching him depart forever is the more beautiful piece to have in your wardrobe but emotionally those two old shirts hanging together, one inside the other for twenty years, wipe me out. Brokeback sure does know how to work the tearducts.

After three viewings, Brokeback packs a bigger emotional wallop. It has always been, obviously, the more accessible. But Heaven, after five viewings, still holds me completely in a cineastic-fantastic trance. I never ever want to fast forward. It doesn't make me choke up as much (at least not anymore on the fifth or sixth viewing) but I find its complex mix of tones to be so hugely ambitious and mostly successful that it ekes out the overall victory. Plus it has Patty Clarkson so... points for that.

Still and all --Far From Heaven AND Brokeback Mountain are superbly sung battle cries for true love lost to fear and ignorance. So is this contest even fair? It's practically a duet. It's like asking me if I prefer air or water. The film fanatic in me needs both movies to survive.

*

Which do you prefer, readers?
And can you guess how depressed I was after I watched them back to back?

previous reader requests: Dolly Parton in the Movies (for Dusty) Best Child Actors (for John T) Classics I Haven't Seen (for Glenn) Favorite Animals (for Cal) Cher (for David) and The Sound of Music (for Becky)

tags: Brokeback Mountain, Far From Heaven, movies, homosexuality, queer, Jake Gyllenhaal, Julianne Moore, Heath Ledger

The Whitakers vs. The Del-Mar-Twists

Reader Request
I received an e-mail last week from a reader named Jackson asking me a troubling question. He and his friend, I was quickly informed, both love Far From Heaven AND Brokeback Mountain (ohhh how I love my readers) and they want me to decide which is better. Solve that toss-up dilemma!

They were each Gold Medalists in their respective years in my personal awards (2002 & 2005). Normally I'm very averse to matchups between separate years. It's hard enough to make qualitative choices in one given year betwen 100 or so films (and yes, I am a bit behind in my screenings this year --shut up) let alone comparing entries from previous years. This is why I'm so slow to ever do "best of all time lists" --I love too much. I love too many.

Still, I took this reader challenge and watched this Focus Feature double. They share a same basic tragedy: multiple miseries springing from the denial of love. They share other obvious traits, too. Both received triple Oscar nominations for their brilliant performances --huh, what's that? Heaven only received one? Stupid Academy!

And then there's the little matter of gay. Heaven and Brokeback have memorable twin sequences wherein a wife goes nearly catatonic at the surprise sight of her "all man" husband macking on, well, another man. And speaking of homosexuality --it's a major element...though it is rarely articulated. They (that is characters in both films) refer to it as "this thing." Heaven, though, adds a rather brilliant touch in that the men aren't the only closet cases. Cathy Whitaker (Julianne Moore) is also hiding her true feelings for the man she loves (Raymond, her black gardener played by Dennis Haysbert) --so though the film isn't as audience accessible as the later iconic hit, it also reaches out with a wide intelligent embrace. This, the fear of love and society's ignorant backlash, is not just a gay concern.

I knew all of this already dear readers. But I was still surprised by the experience of watching them back to back. They make for fascinating twins. Fraternal, mind you, despite all of their identicals. Consider:

Period Piece. Heaven takes place in 1957-1958 or thereabouts. Brokeback begins just six years later but the similarities end there. These are entirely different worlds. The first is a spin on cinematic renderings of the era, the second using realism. Both have tremendous production values but Heaven's intrigue me more. Just how does this hyperstylized world so obviously speak directly to the 'now' whilst also paying tribute and critiquing the 'then'? It's an impressive balancing act.


Heavy Drinking. Within the first six minutes of both films the gays are drinking. The boys sure do like their booze. Further inebriated episodes follow for both Frank Whitaker (Dennis Quaid) in Heaven and Jack and Ennis in Brokeback. But in this bender matchup I'll take Brokeback since Frank's drinking tends to lead to public humiliations while Jack and Ennis's lead to roughhousing and, um, roughsex. If you include the girls in the mix, though, Heaven closes the bar. Heath acts the hell out of a hangover, but who can compete with that daquiri soaked girltalk scene?


The Great Wide Open. Heaven features stunningly designed yet highly claustrophic interiors with saturated colors and foreboding shadows. Brokeback's interiors are understandably drab. But notice how true love always takes place outdoors. Jack and Ennis are only happy in nature. Cathy and Raymond discover their love there, too. True love, you see, is completely natural. No matter what Mona Lauder thinks of it! In this pairing I am camping with the Brokeback boys. For obvious reasons.


Marry Me A Little. Heaven has just the one confusing marriage and painful divorce. Brokeback ups the ante with two doomed brides and grooms. I'm closer to Heaven here, which has a wittier take on its central marriage.


Hung Up On You. Both films have a heartbreaking telephone call just prior to their conclusion. Heaven's features a weary Cathy scheduling her divorce paperwork with Frank and carries a sharp sting. But this contest goes to Brokeback which is more like a gutpunch. It's one of those very complex scenes in which two characters (Anne Hathaway's and Heath Ledgers) total strangers say all sorts of things and hear all sorts of things without anything much ever being said. Awesome.


Clothes. A most endearing twin trait of these two grand movies is that they both place an enormous amount of emotional baggage onto an item(s) of clothing. Obviously Cathy Whitaker's favorite scarf, retrieved by her beloved gardener and then worn while watching him depart forever is the more beautiful piece to have in your wardrobe but emotionally those two old shirts hanging together, one inside the other for twenty years, wipe me out. Brokeback sure does know how to work the tearducts.

After three viewings, Brokeback packs a bigger emotional wallop. It has always been, obviously, the more accessible. But Heaven, after five viewings, still holds me completely in a cineastic-fantastic trance. I never ever want to fast forward. It doesn't make me choke up as much (at least not anymore on the fifth or sixth viewing) but I find its complex mix of tones to be so hugely ambitious and mostly successful that it ekes out the overall victory. Plus it has Patty Clarkson so... points for that.

Still and all --Far From Heaven AND Brokeback Mountain are superbly sung battle cries for true love lost to fear and ignorance. So is this contest even fair? It's practically a duet. It's like asking me if I prefer air or water. The film fanatic in me needs both movies to survive.

*

Which do you prefer, readers?
And can you guess how depressed I was after I watched them back to back?

previous reader requests: Dolly Parton in the Movies (for Dusty) Best Child Actors (for John T) Classics I Haven't Seen (for Glenn) Favorite Animals (for Cal) Cher (for David) and The Sound of Music (for Becky)

tags: Brokeback Mountain, Far From Heaven, movies, homosexuality, queer, Jake Gyllenhaal, Julianne Moore, Heath Ledger