Fuck the Oscars. Everything about them. Fuck the middle-of-the-road inspirational stories, and fuck the dresses, and fuck Jack Nicholson (who hasn’t been to one of these things in years, but still: fuck him and his indoor sunglasses and all his rapist buddies), and fuck the In Memoriam bit, and fuck the Academy.
Remember: the Oscars are just a good-looking trade dinner. People who make dental equipment have a big party every year, with a host and awards, and no one gives a shit about that. The Oscars are the same exact bullshit, just with bigger tits.
I won’t be watching, not as long as kung-fu movies and nature documentaries still exist, or books, or half-hearted masturbation: all of those things are better than white people congratulating themselves while pretending to give a shit about Chris Rock’s chastening remarks.
Plus–as usual–I have seen almost none of the movies up for Best Picture. This will not stop me from mocking them.
Bridge of Spies More like “Bridge of Sighs,” am I right? This is one of those movies in which people in skinny ties talk to one another in rooms with period dressing. The only way this film could be any fun at all is if you watch it imagining that Tom Hanks’ character became a diplomat after getting rescued from a desert island and he also had AIDS.
The Revenant Did you know it was cold when they filmed this? And that natural light and cameras and eating livers and KILLMEKILLMEKILLME. Admittedly, I’m amused by any discomfort Leonardo DiCaprio is put through, and I think if the Academy had any balls, they would recognize how desperately that little modelfucker wants an award and not give it to him so he had to keep doing these bullshit stunt movies. Have someone call Leo and tell him that he’ll win when he suffers for it. His next movie would be three hours of Billy punching him in the dick (BUT SHOT IN ALL NATURAL LIGHT OMIGOD).
Spotlight No. Actors pretending to be journalists AND terrifically shitty Boston accents. Also: this was supposed to be a movie about child molesting, and I read that they don’t even show the molestations. That’s like that Godzilla movie from last year that had eight minutes of Godzilla. You sold me a movie about priests raping children, Spotlight. Should be at least one or two scenes set in the rectory during a sleepover.
The Martian Damon’s a punk. Affleck could have been off that planet in ten minutes. Affleck’s Batman. Batman doesn’t get stuck on Mars. Also, for a movie named The Martian, there is no mention of the Illudium Q36 Space Modulator. (People seemed to like the book this was based on, but I hurled it across my living room ten pages in. Guy can’t write a sentence.)
Brooklyn The Beckham kid got a biopic? He’s a teenager. I don’t understand Hollywood.
Room I would rather spend two weeks researching, outlining, drafting, rewriting, and polishing a ten-thousand word longread about how the Oscars are racist and sexist and privileged and probably also waste water than see this movie. I would follow Further on tour before watching this film. I’d rather get in a Twitter war with a Trump supporter who calls people “cucks” than see this movie. Hard pass.
The Big Short They made a movie about Irving Azoff?
Mad Max: Fury Road Should win. The Revenant probably will, because Hollywood is full of turds, but Mad Max should. If you had to put money on it, which film will be remembered and rewatched by anyone except Film Fucks in the coming years: the one where the bloated former pretty boy sucks a bear’s dick, or Fury Road? (Another reason that Fury Road is better is that I did not have to look up the meaning of either word, whereas I may or may not have had to google “revenant.”)
I was going to do the actors and actresses, but I just looked up the list and then I got woozy from the lack of fucks. For a moment, I was running on fuck-fumes, Enthusiasts. Let’s pretend I did. They’re all white and pretty and, in person, much smaller than you’d think.
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