Oscars

This year, more than any other, the nominations prove that the Oscars have no more legitimacy than the Grammys. Of the Best Picture nominees, I've only seen Frost/Nixon and Slumdog Millionaire. Frost/Nixon was excruciatingly bad, just like every other Ron Howard pile of crap. Ron Howard performs a Mayberry-weltanshauung-induced Disneyfication of every script he's ever touched; take a look at the IMDB list of what he's directed and try to tell me otherwise. Slumdog Millionaire, as I've already written on this blog, wasn't a bad film, but it suffered from what I think are some irresolvable conceptual problems. I will likely never watch Benjamin Button, because the cuteness of the title alone is enough to make me want to light saber Brad Pitt's face. I probably will watch Milk, although I can't imagine it will be better than the great documentary about Harvey Milk that came out in 1984. The Reader sounds kind of interesting, but I think it's time for a moratorium on Oscar nominations for films about Nazis. I couldn't be less interested in who wins what.

Brad Pitt and Frank Langella get nominated over Clint Eastwood for best actor? I would say "that's unbelievable," but, unfortunately, it's utterly believable. Langella and Pitt got nominated because of their makeup artists, not for their acting ability.

At least Werner Herzog got nominated for Encounters at the End of the World. I hope he wins and says something incomprehensible and crazy on stage.