The Academy Awards are my weakness. It's the one night I can sit and sanctomoniously yell at the TV and know I'm right, especially after a couple of glasses of merlot: "She's had work," or "He'd look hot in a wet paper bag," or "Wow! I had no I idea she was knocked up. Looks good on her." (I think preggers is the new black, by the way.)
Oh, there are the "fil-ums" for our consideration. I happen to love a number of the nominees, which means they'll get one award apiece (like when Charlie Kaufman won the award for best screenplay in 2004 with Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, and Sofia Coppola won the same award in 2003 for Lost in Translation). This year the two pictures that I like that are up for best screenpaly are Pan's Labyrinth and Little Miss Sunshine. My money says the former will not win. Fortunately, Guillermo del Toro is up for foreign-language film, for which I believe he is a front runner.
That brings me to the article I say today in the New York Times. Nothing earth-shattering or headline-making, but a decent read:
But as the Academy Award nominees for best picture suggest, it has been a terrific year for films about global politics. The culture clash between Japanese and American soldiers is at the heart of Letters; Babel ranges over several continents and languages to explore the anxiety and violence gripping the world.
And there is another, extraordinary group of Oscar films that grapple with explosive issues. The nominees for best foreign-language film are even more politically charged, and every bit as artistically successful, emotionally touching and accessible as the English-language candidates. Set mostly in the past, these films use a sneaky indirection that allows them to resonate with the most volatile questions of today.