The Academy Awards are a time-honored tinsel town tradition complete with red carpets, glamour, golden statues and of course, STARS! Every year, us cinephiles are treated to a dazzling 3+ hour extravaganza event that celebrates the impact that the art of film can have on our culture. It is a day that I, personally, hold dear.
See, I throw an Oscars party every year for me and the Gallery Gang. We’re all former Movie Gallery employees and we make snacks that are fun takes on the film titles. Es-Fargo, anyone? How ‘bout some Forrest Gumbo? Or what about the edible rods I made for The Crying Game? We munch out hardcore, dress up in tuxedo t-shirts, and take turns predicting who will take home those chesty gold beauties. Sometimes I’ll even plan a fun opening number like I’m Billy friggin’ Crystal over here. I can’t really dance, but the fellas aren’t judgemental and they can appreciate parody when it’s done well. Plus, my voice can bring the fucking house down. Probably why my high school choir director tried to give me a jump on our senior trip to San Antonio.
I guess that’s why I’m so fucking cheesed. This year’s nominees are fucking stupid and I’m not going to bother inviting Tripp and the boys over to watch this fucking group of chuds accept Hollywood’s most coveted prize. They really beefed it this year. I mean just look at these nominees and tell me you give one hot steaming log about the stories they chose to recognize this year.
Let’s start with Best Picture. I mean, really? Who the fuck even saw Butterscotch Parade? If I wanted to watch Casey Affleck be retarded, I’d just watch Good Will Hunting. They couldn’t have found a REAL mentally challenged professional bowler to play that part? And don’t even get me started on Peter Finds A Conch. So the seashell was supposed to represent him finally forgiving his father? Oooookay. I mean, honestly, I didn’t even think what his dad did was all that bad. If my dad taught me all about jazz, I’d be pretty stoked. So what if he also showed him how to score a little H and shoot it between his toes to make the music sound better? Who cares? Sorry you’re Dad was cool as shit, I guess? Peter’s a fucking pussy. The only saving grace was an all-time performance from Stephen Tobolowsky as the Dad though. But then, of course, these chodes fumbled the bag there too and didn’t even nominate my boy Stevie T. How the holy hell am I supposed to build a show-stopping song and dance around this bush league bullshit? Better off blowing my ball-wad into a peach again like it’s 2018. RIP Armie Hammer.
Shit’s unforgivable. And the acting categories are just as unbelievable. Everywhere you look, it’s Snub City, USA. You’re going to sit there on your pimply white ass and tell me that Penelope Cruz lisping her way through The Ghost of Anne Frank was a better performance than Maggie Gyllenhaal’s barista-turned-samurai in The Milkmaid’s Way? She left EVERYTHING out on that screen and she doesn’t even get a nod? Couldn’t be me, fam. And for the love of God, someone PLEASE explain how Richard Jenkins and Margo Martindale were overlooked for their roles as the sultry couple who tries to recruit Colin Farrell’s priest into a devil’s threesome in Thy Bounty? What shows more commitment to a role than full penetration?! The work they are able to do in that 9-minute continuous long take is some of the best I’ve ever seen, and I saw My Left Foot on opening night with Day-Lewis in the front row, still in character!
I am glad to see the baby from Crawl Me A River get a Supporting nod. She fucking crushed it. That heartbreaking scene where she drops her ba-ba in the water and it sails out of her sight and she screams like a banshee in heat and then shits her pants? Mes-mer-rizing. But it’s not enough to get me to compromise my principles and tune in to the entire show. Probably just throw on Thy Bounty, beat off with the boyz, and call it a night.
