The first wave of guilds—directors, producers, and actors—all supplicated down on their knees for The King’s Speech.
This ought to be chapter three in a series of prediction entries no longer than the amount of time it takes the orchestra to cut off the acceptance speeches of the winners in the short film categories.
I see no reason why this entry need be any longer than Ed’s post yesterday.
It’s like a perfect battle. New guard vs. old school. The power of youth vs. the experience of the established. Trash vs. class.
If you don’t think voters eat up amateur artistry finessed from injustice, then you’ve apparently forgotten about Born Into Brothels.
Rule number one for prognosticating the Best Original Screenplay category: Rule out Mike Leigh at your own peril.
It serves a worthy addition to the growing collection of critical and supplemental material on the making of a landmark film.
Colin Firth ain’t the only one riding The King’s Speech to an “overdue” Oscar win.
Ann-Margaret’s performance is like a rambunctious asterisk to Susan Sontag’s essay published the same year.
George Michael’s solo debut was one of the last pop blockbusters of the 1980s.
Is dance music really all about the vocalist?
Now, to be clear, Inception, which makes the juggled alternate realities of Back to the Future Part II seem complicated in comparison.
All season long, two prominent Oscar players have straddled the uncomfortable line between aligning with the supporting and leading categories.
This year’s slate of contenders indicates voters are ready to see the men behind the monsters.
No one slaps the f-stop out of pimps like Constance Towers!
Luchino Visconti’s The Leopard is more than a tad too pleased by its own spots.
Who is Keri Hilson?
The rouge of the Nazi flags is as prominent as the pink of Teresa Ann Savoy’s plush tush and the jaundice of various swinish johns’ bier guts.
Dare I say I miss the days when he was comparing his lover’s bush to a damp, swampy rainforest?
Are those sleek Light Cycles equipped to run on fumes?