OSCARS!

Man on Film, by Justin Aclin    

     Ah, springtime, when a young man’s fancy turns to love and Hollywood’s output turns to CRAP!  What a wonderful coincidence, then, that just as the worst films are coming out, our thoughts long to turn back to the best films of the previous year.  Yes, I’m talking, of course, of Oscar time.

            What is behind mankind’s obsession with Oscar?  (I say mankind because it extends beyond America.  I’m quite sure that somewhere right now, in the darkest corners of Africa, there is a pygmy tribe worshipping an idol shaped like a little golden man grabbing his crotch.)  Could it be because they are the only major award show who doesn’t have their collective head stuck up their ass?  As exhibit A, I direct you to the recent Grammy’s, where not only did Christina Aguilera win best new artist, but Christina Aguilera won best new artist!  I’d make fun of the Emmy’s, but the Simpsons do it so well and so often.

            So in light of this, Oscar actually looks pretty damn up with it.  I mean, sure, they should have nominated Uncle F***a instead of Blame Canada from South Park: Bigger Longer and Uncut, but the fact is they actually nominated a song, any song from that film.  Imagine if it wins.  We’ll be able to say “Oscar winner Trey Parker.”  If that’s not transcendent, I don’t know what is.

            So, what was good last year?  Well, I happen to think that 1999 was the best year for movies in a long, long time.  It was also the worst year for music since man first banged a rock against another rock in a rhythmical pattern, which I guess balances out a bit.  Up for the most Oscars is American Beauty, a film that has my two essential ingredients for a good movie: Five solid minutes of footage of a plastic bag, and underage breasts.  Seriously though, I love this film.  I actually think it could have gotten a few more nominations, especially for Wes Bentley as the charismatic neighbor who films plastic bags and underage breasts.  The first time I saw it the entire cast was in the theatre as part of the Boston Film Festival.  If that Trey Parker thing isn’t transcendent, seeing Kevin Spacey masturbate onscreen and knowing he’s in the room with you certainly is.

            Following American Beauty in terms of nominations are The Insider and Cider House Rules.  What do these films have in common?  I haven’t seen either.  Now, I hear The Insider is pretty good, but I was under the impression that Cider House Rules was getting lukewarm receptions from critics.  So how did it get seven nominations?  Because Harvey Weinstein sent a ham to each and every member of the Academy.  It was honey glazed and, I’m told, quite delectable. 

            Next there’s The Sixth Sense.  I honestly can’t think of anything funny to say about this that hasn’t been said already.  “Bruce Willis is a stiff actor!  I can’t pronounce the director’s last name!  That little kid is hot!”  It’s all been said before, so I won’t bother repeating it for you.  Finally there’s The Green Mile.  Now, The Shawshank Redemption, Frank Darabont’s previous film, is one of my all-time favorite movies.  However, something about The Green Mile didn’t quite do it for me.  I liked many parts of it, but I didn’t like the movie itself.  I would, however, watch three hours of Tom Hanks peeing painfully.  That just cracks me up.

            Of course, there were many great films that weren’t nominated for Best Picture, not the least of which was my second-favorite movie of the year, Being John Malkovich, which is nominated for three Oscars.  If Charlie Kaufman’s mind-bending script doesn’t get the win, I will drill a portal into Harvey Weinstein’s head so I can make the Academy do whatever I want.  (The above statement was complete satire and should not be interpreted as a threat by Mr. Weinstein, his lawyers or his hired goons.)  My third favorite film of the year, PT Anderson’s love-it-or-hate-it Magnolia, is up for four awards, and has a good chance of sending Tom Cruise home with his first ever Oscar.  We’re all pulling for Tom, because with an Oscar under his belt he can finally command the kinds of salaries that will enable him to straighten his crooked, crooked mouth.

            There are many other worthy movies nominated, like The Mummy for Best Visual Effects and the Martin Lawrence/Eddie Murphy opus Life for makeup.  Oh, I’m sorry, did I say worthy?  I meant ridiculously awful.  But of course there’s not enough space here to discuss every film.  So in conclusion, if anyone ever makes a movie about a portal that leads to the head of an underage actress wearing only a plastic bag who gets caught in a rain of frogs, I’ll be the first in line for tickets.