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Appreciation: The Bad News Bears



Appreciation: The Bad News Bears

“All baseball pictures are about redemption of some sort” – Odienator

During these hot days of summer, a man will look for relief in baseball and beer, and no movie delivers baseball and beer better than The Bad News Bears. That’s the real beer of director Michael Ritchie’s 1976 original I’m talking about, not the nonalcoholic equivalent served up in last year’s remake. Bears is one of the finest American films of the 70s, and watching the remake only adds to my appreciation of its glory. Richard Linklater’s version follows the first one closely, yet still manages to go wrong at every turn—it even muffs some baseball fundamentals, like how to field a grounder down on one knee. The original never commits such errors. It is funny, tight and triumphant, and it clocks in at a brisk 102 minutes. Here then are nine reasons—enough to field a team—that make The Bad News Bears endlessly watchable 30 years later. Play ball:

1. Walter Matthau – Matthau gives one of his finest performances as Coach Morris Buttermaker, the boozy ex-minor league pitcher who’s had too many losses in life. He says he once struck out Ted Williams, “…1947, Vero Beach, Florida… spring training, around March 15.” But now Buttermaker could use a good win, and when the win comes tantalizingly close, he quickly degenerates into a man no better than his nemesis, Roy Turner (Vic Morrow), coach of the Yankees. Buttermaker’s realization that he’s gone too far is a wonderful moment of dugout drama; the camera lingers on the bloodshot eyes set in Matthau’s bulldog face, as the reality of his actions sinks in. It is a “there and back again” moment, and in this remarkably subtle movie it serves as a major character arc.

Billy Bob Thornton’s coach, on the other hand, is more of a bad boy than a loser. He’s a sexy ladies man who dresses… well, like Billy Bob Thornton out for a hip night in Hollywood. Linklater’s Bears makes Buttermaker an ex-major league who now works as an exterminator. I don’t know why—extermination is an active job that makes decent money. The 70s Buttermaker was a pool cleaner, a low rent job you can get drunk and still muddle through. Plus, Matthau’s a less affected curmudgeon; who else could sell a line like, “Now get back to the stands before I shave off half your mustache and shove it up your left nostril”?

2. Michael Ritchie – Ritchie is one of those directors I keep in my private collection of favorites—an unsung master whose inventive but appropriate camera angles and invisible editing are evident even in crap like The Island. Back in 1976, he was coming off a string of successes—Downhill Racer, Prime Cut, and The Candidate. He was the kind of director that creates a reality and then positions himself around that reality and transforms it into art. His easygoing subtlety makes Linklater, a subtle director himself, look clumsy. It takes Linklater three or four shots to achieve effects that Ritchie—working with cinematographer John A. Alonzo and regular editor Richard A. Harris—manages in one laconic take. On top of that, Ritchie’s film is a definitive sketch of California in the 70’s, from its opening crane shot of sprinklers watering a baseball diamond to its parting long shot of our underdogs celebrating their championship loss with beer on a field flanked by an American flag.

3. Tatum O’Neal – If I didn’t realize that I had a crush on O’Neal when I was seven, I should have. Now, watching her 30 years later my affection is as strong as ever. Amanda Whurlitzer is the perfect tomboy—watch her throw curveballs from the mound—and a total doll, too. Anxious to leave her tomboy days behind and jump into womanhood, Amanda wears espadrilles and runs her own business—selling star maps to tourists. The remake’s Amanda is a mushy nonentity; she sells clothes with other people. Ritchie’s Amanda had spunk back when the nation’s skyrocketing divorce rate was fresh news. Linklater’s remake compounds this offense by omitting touches that deepened the character. Gone is that lovely shot following Amanda leaving the dugout after Buttermaker throws beer on her, telling her that if he wanted her company he would’ve looked her up, he “wouldn’t have waited two goddamn years.” She walks across the field and the camera swirls around to catch her face in closeup, Bizet’s beautiful music playing, her warm tears shining; it’s a defining moment, merging realism and lyrical grace.

4. Jackie Earle Haley – Before he was Breaking Away and Losing It, Haley was bad news in the best way. As live-wire bad boy Kelly Leak, the actor is funny, sensitive, and tough as hell, sporting a premature wisdom that seems to have been beaten into him. He’s a total badass who catches Amanda’s fastball with his bare hand. The image of Kelly riding his motorcycle along a fence on opening day while chatting up a teenage girl in a white T-shirt and impossibly short cutoffs encapsulates most of my nostalgia for the 70’s. In Linklater’s version, Leak—played by Jeffrey Davies—is a mushy nonentity who doesn’t even smoke or ride a Harley; if the filmmakers were trying to go the teen idol route, they failed; their Leak wouldn’t earn a tiny photo in the back pages of Tigerbeat. Haley’s incarnation of Leak has a layered charisma; the actor is so astute that he can convey Kelly’s shattered vulnerability, and the tough facade that hides it, with a single look. One wonders what his home life must have been like, or if he even had one. “I got a Harley-Davidson,” he says, then adds hopefully, “does that turn you on? Harley-Davidson?”

5. The Kids – Seldom have kids been so natural on screen. They talk over each other, curse and fight, yet they still seem like kids, not miniature adults. Ritchie renders all his characters in quick, memorable strokes. There is Engelberg the fat catcher who bites into his candy bar for sustenance (“Couldn’t you have at least unwrapped it first?”); Ogilvie the statistician who, with the possible exception of Lupus, is the worst player in the league; Rudi Stein, the geeky wannabe pitcher on puberty’s cusp; Tanner Boyle, the preternaturally wiry scrapper whose cause is usually righteous (Tanner in the remake looks like an overstuffed Hanson); and Timmy Lupus, whose timidity and reluctance to get off the bench is heartwrenching, which makes his spectacular catch of a fly ball feel triumphant. (In the remake, Timmy doesn’t catch the fly ; an unconvincing CGI ball bounces out of his glove, to be caught by an additional character I refuse to mention.) Then there’s Miguel Agilar, whose diminutive stature translates into a nonexistent strike zone, and Ahmad Abdul-Rahim, the lone black player who is so hard on himself after the Bear’s first pummeling that he strips down to his underwear and climbs a tree. There’s even one kid actor who is the grandson of Gummo Marx. Can you guess which one? (I’ll give you a hint: he has curly blonde hair and hardly speaks.) In the remake, nearly every casting decision rings untrue, and as an ensemble, their energy could not be more awkward. Linklater’s facility for drawing out naturalistic performances is usually impressive, though this time he may have pushed too hard. Gary Cavagnaro, who played the original Engelberg, said in an interview that, “Everyone talks about the way we were able to ’act’. The reality was, we were a bunch of kids who were told ’pretend that your parents are not there and act like you would normally under that circumstance’. We were all just being ourselves.”

6. Vic Morrow – Testosterone-fueled Coach Roy Turner of the Yankees is a fine antagonist for Buttermaker. He is the Great Santini of coaches, but while Morrow’s performance is often scary, it’s never less than human.Though he’s an asshole, he’s more of an antagonist than a villain. Turner doesn’t want to talk about winning during a pep talk, but about losing, and how you have to live with it for the rest of your life. When he walks out to the mound and slaps his son down for trying to bean a batter, his anger flares at realization that anyone dared defy his authority; but there’s also genuine concern about the injury that might have happened. The remake re-conceives Turner as a comic weasel; luckily, Greg Kinnear makes the best of a bad situation and ends up coming off better than his costars.

7. Bill Lancaster – Burt Lancaster’s son got two screenplays produced—this one and John Carpenter’s 1982 remake of The Thing. That’s only two times at the plate, but he batted a thousand. It’s been said that Lancaster based Buttermaker on his father and Amanda on himself. I don’t know about that, but his script catches the tension between adults, who often try to live their unfulfilled aspirations through their children, and the kids who just want to play ball. Lancaster doesn’t go for any emotional home runs, just a line drive up the middle. Only two characters verge on caricature, Cleveland and Councilman Whitewood, but all in all, they don’t seem much more cartoony than some real people I know. Linklater gave Lancaster a screen credit for his original story, but unfortunately, credited screenwriters Glenn Ficarra and John Requa needlessly mangle many of his finer accomplishments. They cherry-pick a brief line about class-action lawsuits and embellish the scene with many more of the same; they alter good scenes with changes that miss the entire point—such switching an after-game celebration from a Pizza Hut to a German restaurant; they even try to explain the victory-in-defeat ending as if the first movie was over our heads. And in one interview, the writers freely admitted to knowing almost nothing about baseball; talk about a fact worth keeping to yourself.

8. Jerry Fielding – Rewatching Bears, I was delighted to learn that Jerry Fielding was responsible for the inspired raid on George Bizet’s opera Carmen that’s used for the score. While scoring several of Sam Peckinpah’s best pictures—The Wild Bunch, Straw Dogs, Junior Bonner—Fielding took a full-blown orchestra and made it sound subdued and ironic; he also scored a lot of television, including some of the most famous episodes of Star Trek (including the surreal western riff “Spectre of the Gun”). His excavation of Carmen provides each ballgame with its own dynamic of humor, suspense, and drama, and best of all, he knows when to keep silent; his work here might qualify as the best use of classical music in a Hollywood movie since 2001. The remake excises most of Fielding’s choices, and what it keeps it misuses.

9. It’s so quintessentially American – When I saw The Bad News Bears for the first time, I was younger than the kids who played the Bears. Those kids had a special allure because I lived in Japan and I wanted to know what was happening in America. A couple years later I moved to California and played little league ball myself, and everything was just as it was portrayed—the team chants, the Pizza Hut parties, the suicide soft drinks. It’s such an American story, and the movie captures so well that peculiar American attitude—an ingrained identification with the underdog that is patriotic and “fuck you” at the same time. It tapped a spirit that flowed on through National Lampoon’s Animal House and Bill Murray’s American Mutt speech from Stripes. For a truly American experience, find a copy of The Bad News Bears this summer and watch it. It will deliver on moms and baseball. The only thing missing will be the apple pie, but Pizza Hut works just as well.



Who Killed My Father Is Heartbreaking but Prone to Pat Sociological Analysis

Édouard Louis’s latest is strong as a portrait of a family unable to communicate through anything but volatile, toxic outbursts.



Who Killed My Father

Edouard Louis’s father has been an important figure in each of his previous works, even when he’s never seen or mostly at the periphery (as in The History of Violence). With his latest, Who Killed My Father, Louis finally turns to directly examining his most important, damaged relationship. Both in his previous books and interviews, Louis has repeatedly acknowledged this broken relationship, largely stemming from the author’s open homosexuality. Alongside this, Louis’s prior works have circled around a number of themes to which he returns here: the French political and working classes, the small-town prejudices that surrounded his upbringing and drove a closeted homosexual boy to escape to more cosmopolitan Paris, and the role of state power in producing social and physical illness.

With Who Killed My Father, Louis invites inevitable comparisons to Abdellah Taïa, another talented French writer who’s also gay and largely estranged from his place of origin, and also primarily an autobiographical novelist. Like Louis, Taïa incorporates his complicated relationship with a parent into several of his books. Taïa also connects that relationship, his writing, and his experience with the society he left behind in Morocco and the one he found in France. But what distinguishes his writing in, for example, Infidels or Salvation Army from that of Edouard Louis in Who Killed My Father is a strong sense of meaning. Taïa incorporates his relationship with his mother, M’Barka, to convey something more meaningful and developed.

Louis begins down this same road before clumsily inserting a political tract at the end of Who Killed My Father that doesn’t knit as effortlessly with parts one and two. The book situates Louis’s relationship with his father front and center as compared to his previous work. It’s clear that he’s exposing the painfulness of their relationship for the purpose of speaking about political power and its physical and social toll on those who don’t possess it, but Who Killed My Father stumbles in conveying its message adequately.

Louis’s account of his father’s suffering and violence toward those around him is both painful and sharp. Who Killed My Father is strongest when Louis is demonstrating his father’s most private acts of kindness, as when the father gives Louis a copy of Titanic for his birthday after trying to convince him to ask for a more “masculine” gift. After Louis realizes that his carefully planned tribute to the pop band Aqua at a family dinner has embarrassed his father, the man reassures Louis that “it’s nothing.” In the book’s first and strongest part, Louis expounds not only on the relationship with his father, but also excavates what might have made his father the man he grew up with. At one point, he recounts finding a photograph of his father in women’s clothes—undoubtedly some adolescent joke, but also inconceivable from the man who insisted to his son that men should never act like girls.

Regrettably, part one ends with a trite conclusion that says everything and nothing at the same time. In part two, the story attempts to braid together all the malignant threads of Louis’s family narrative. Louis recalls igniting a violent outburst between his father and older brother as a result of his mother shaming him for acting too much like a girl (“faggot” is what some others in the neighborhood more precisely call him). The insinuation hurts and angers him so much that he betrays his mother’s confidence on another family secret, setting loose a new wave of violence. Part two is short and important to moving Who Killed My Father toward some wider evaluation of the questions Louis begins the book with, but it ultimately fails to find its footing by pivoting in part three to an unearned polemic against the political classes.

Who Killed My Father is strong as a portrait of a family unable to communicate (except in brief moments of tenderness) through anything but volatile, toxic outbursts, but the book at its weakest when trying to ham-handedly force this narrative into some broad theorizing about power and society and structural violence. Part one aligned beautifully with a narrative of meaning more comparable to Taïa at his best. Unfortunately, the story quickly falls apart when Jacques Chirac is indicted for destroying Louis’s father’s body through changes in health care coverage. It’s not that the questions Louis ends with aren’t necessary and important ones; it’s that there’s so little threading the narrative together into anything cohesive. What was the point of the first two-thirds of the book? His father was cruel, occasionally loving, but never mind because the state is killing him? The life of the poor is one of abject powerlessness against an unremittingly powerful and callous “ruling class”?

Louis deserves credit for the attempt to tie it all together into some grander commentary on the political class and its ambivalence, but the conclusion is simultaneously glib and condescending. Perhaps Louis didn’t intend it, but the book’s conclusion drains away responsibility for the cruelty and bigotry of those like his father, and patronizes them as with a quick How could we expect any better of the noble, working poor? Is it the state’s or the ruling class’s subjugation of his father’s body that’s somehow also responsible for his inability to sympathize with gays or immigrants? Of course, the poor are subjugated by the rich and Louis has written more meaningfully about the implications of that relationship elsewhere. But in Who Killed My Father, he inadvertently demonstrates that the answer isn’t to sanctify them any more than it is to demonize them.

Édouard Louis’s Who Killed My Father is now available from New Directions.

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Through the Years: Madonna’s “Like a Prayer” at 30

To celebrate this sacred anniversary, we’re taking a look back at the single’s evolution over the last three decades.



Through the Years: Madonna’s “Like a Prayer” at 25

This week Madonna’s iconic hit “Like a Prayer” turns 30. The song is, by all accounts, her most broadly beloved contribution to the pop-music canon, landing at #7 on our list of the Best Singles of the 1980s. Even the singer’s most ardent critics can’t help but bow at the altar of this gospel-infused conflation of spiritual and sexual ecstasy, a song that helped transform Madge from ‘80s pop tart to bona fide icon. To celebrate this sacred anniversary, we’re taking a look back at the single’s evolution over the last three decades.

Editor’s Note: This article was originally published on March 3, 2014.

Pepsi Commercial

Following a teaser that aired during the 31st Annual Grammy Awards in January of 1989, Madonna premiered “Like a Prayer” in a Pepsi commercial during The Cosby Show, the #1 rated series on U.S. television at the time. Part of a $5 million sponsorship deal with the soft-drink company, the ad, titled “Make a Wish,” was an innocuous bit of nostalgia that would soon be eclipsed by the scandal surrounding the single’s forthcoming music video.

Music Video

Madonna dances in front of burning crosses and kisses a black saint in a church pew in this modern morality tale about racial profiling and pious guilt, prompting both the religious right and cultural critics, like bell hooks, to cry foul. Eventually, the mounting outrage caused Pepsi to pull out of their multi-million dollar deal with the Queen of Pop. The singer’s response was coyly defiant.

Blond Ambition Tour

Madonna’s first live incarnation of “Like a Prayer” was also her best. Sure, her voice was raw and unrefined (“Life is a misstaree, eve’one mus stan alone,” she heaves), but her 1990 tour performances of the song displayed a rapturous, almost possessed quality that she’s never been able to recapture.

Mad’House Cover

Dutch Eurotrash group Mad’House’s claim to fame is their blasphemous take on “Like a Prayer” from 2002. The glorified Madonna cover band’s version is stripped of the original’s nuance and soul, a tacky, mechanical shell of a dance track. Regrettably, this is the version you’re most likely to hear on Top 40 radio today. (Only slightly less heretical, the cast of Glee’s rendition of the song peaked at #27 in 2010.)

MTV On Stage & On the Record

Then notorious for forsaking her older material, Madonna dusted off “Like a Prayer” in 2003 during the promotion of her album American Life. Thirteen years after her last live performance of the song, even Madonna’s comparatively reedier voice and noticeably more limited range couldn’t diminish its enduring magic.

Sticky & Sweet Tour

After performing crowd-pleasing but relatively anemic versions of “Like a Prayer” during her Re-Invention Tour in 2004 and Live 8 in 2005, Madonna reinvented the song for her Sticky & Sweet Tour in 2008, using elements of Mack’s “Feels Like Home” for an amped-up techno mash-up.

Super Bowl XLVI

Madonna closed her record-breaking Super Bowl XLVI halftime show in 2012 with “Like a Prayer,” and though she wasn’t singing live, it was the closest she’s ever gotten to her ecstatic Blond Ambition performances. (For those lamenting the lip-synching, she would go on to reprise this version of the song, completely live, during her MDNA Tour later that year.) And if there were any doubt, a stadium of nearly 70,000 football fans waving flashlights and singing along is a testament to the song’s transcendent, all-encompassing appeal. The performance’s final message of “World Peace” seemed attainable, if only for a brief moment.

Met Gala 2018

Last year, Madonna dusted off her old chestnut for an epic performance at Vogue magazine’s annual Met Gala. The event’s theme was “Fashion and the Catholic Imagination,” which seemed tailor-made for both the Queen of Pop and “Like a Prayer.” Madonna slowly descended the steps of New York City’s Metropolitan Museum of Art in a shroud, flanked on both sides by a choir of monks, as she sang a Gregorian-inspired rendition of the pop classic. The performance also featured a portion of a new song, “Beautiful Game,” and a cover of Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah.”

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Oscars 2019: Complete Winners List

The 91st Academy Awards are now behind us, and the telecast told us just about nothing that we don’t already know about AMPAS.



Green Book
Photo: Universal Pictures

The 91st Academy Awards are now behind us, and the telecast told us just about nothing that we don’t already know about AMPAS. Which isn’t to say that the ceremony wasn’t without its surprises. For one, whoever decided to capture Lady Gaga and Bradley Cooper’s performance of “Shallow” from A Star Is Born in one single take that would end with the pair sitting side by side, rapt in each other and framed in Bergman-esque repose, should hereby be responsible for every Oscar ceremony moving forward.

For some, though not us, Green Book’s victory for best picture came as surprise. As our own Eric Henderson put it in his prediction: “Those attacking the film from every conceivable angle have also ignored the one that matters to most people: the pleasure principle. Can anyone blame Hollywood for getting its back up on behalf of a laughably old-fashioned but seamlessly mounted road movie-cum-buddy pic that reassures people that the world they’re leaving is better than the one they found? That’s, as they say, the future that liberals and Oscar want.”

In the end, the awards went down more or less as expected, with the only real shock of the evening being Oliva Colman’s stunning upset over Glenn Close in the best actress race. (Glenn, we hope you are on the phone right now trying to get that Sunset Boulevard remake to finally happen.) Black Panther proved more indomitable than expected, winning in three categories (none of which we predicted), and Free Solo pulling a victory over RBG that was the first big sign of the evening that, then and now, AMPAS members vote above all else with their guts.

See below for the full list of winners from the 2019 Oscars.

Black Panther
Bohemian Rhapsody
The Favourite
Green Book (WINNER)
A Star Is Born

Spike Lee, BlacKkKlansman
Pawel Pawlikowski, Cold War
Yorgos Lanthimos, The Favourite
Alfonso Cuarón, Roma (WINNER)
Adam McKay, Vice

Christian Bale, Vice
Bradley Cooper, A Star Is Born
Willem Dafoe, At Eternity’s Gate
Rami Malek, Bohemian Rhapsody (WINNER)
Viggo Mortensen, Green Book

Yalitza Aparicio, Roma
Glenn Close, The Wife
Olivia Colman, The Favourite (WINNER)
Lady Gaga, A Star Is Born
Melissa McCarthy, Can You Ever Forgive Me?

Supporting Actor
Mahershala Ali, Green Book (WINNER)
Adam Driver, BlacKkKlansman
Sam Elliott, A Star Is Born
Richard E. Grant, Can You Ever Forgive Me?
Sam Rockwell, Vice

Supporting Actress
Amy Adams, Vice
Marina de Tavira, Roma
Regina King, If Beale Street Could Talk (WINNER)
Emma Stone, The Favourite
Rachel Weisz, The Favourite

Adapted Screenplay
The Ballad of Buster Scruggs, Joel Coen and Ethan Coen
BlacKkKlansman, Charlie Wachtel, David Rabinowitz, Kevin Willmott, and Spike Lee (WINNER)
Can You Ever Forgive Me?, Nicole Holofcener and Jeff Whitty
If Beale Street Could Talk, Barry Jenkins
A Star Is Born, Eric Roth, Bradley Cooper, and Will Fetters

Original Screenplay
The Favourite, Deborah Davis and Tony McNamara
First Reformed, Paul Schrader
Green Book, Nick Vallelonga, Brian Currie, and Peter Farrelly (WINNER)
Roma, Alfonso Cuarón
Vice, Adam McKay

Foreign Language Film
Capernaum (Lebanon)
Cold War (Poland)
Never Look Away (Germany)
Roma (Mexico) (WINNER)
Shoplifters (Japan)

Documentary Feature
Free Solo, Jimmy Chin and Elizabeth Chai Vasarhelyi (WINNER)
Hale County This Morning, This Evening, RaMell Ross
Minding the Gap, Bing Liu
Of Fathers and Sons, Talal Derki
RBG, Betsy West and Julie Cohen

Animated Feature
Incredibles 2, Brad Bird
Isle of Dogs, Wes Anderson
Mirai, Mamoru Hosoda
Ralph Breaks the Internet, Rich Moore and Phil Johnston
Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse, Bob Persichetti, Peter Ramsey, and Rodney Rothman (WINNER)

Cold War, Lukasz Zal
The Favourite, Robbie Ryan
Never Look Away, Caleb Deschanel
Roma, Alfonso Cuarón (WINNER)
A Star Is Born, Matthew Libatique

Film Editing
BlacKkKlansman, Barry Alexander Brown
Bohemian Rhapsody, John Ottman (WINNER)
Green Book, Patrick J. Don Vito
The Favourite, Yorgos Mavropsaridis
Vice, Hank Corwin

Production Design
Black Panther, Hannah Beachler (WINNER)
First Man, Nathan Crowley and Kathy Lucas
The Favourite, Fiona Crombie and Alice Felton
Mary Poppins Returns, John Myhre and Gordon Sim
Roma, Eugenio Caballero and Bárbara Enrı́quez

Original Score
BlacKkKlansman, Terence Blanchard
Black Panther, Ludwig Goransson (WINNER)
If Beale Street Could Talk, Nicholas Britell
Isle of Dogs, Alexandre Desplat
Mary Poppins Returns, Marc Shaiman and Scott Wittman

Original Song
All The Stars from Black Panther by Kendrick Lamar, SZA
I’ll Fight from RBG by Diane Warren, Jennifer Hudson
The Place Where Lost Things Go from Mary Poppins Returns by Marc Shaiman, Scott Wittman
Shallow from A Star Is Born by Lady Gaga, Mark Ronson, Anthony Rossomando, Andrew Wyatt and Benjamin Rice (WINNER)
When A Cowboy Trades His Spurs For Wings from The Ballad of Buster Scruggs by David Rawlings and Gillian Welch

Costume Design
The Ballad of Buster Scruggs, Mary Zophres
Black Panther, Ruth E. Carter (WINNER)
The Favourite, Sandy Powell
Mary Poppins Returns, Sandy Powell
Mary Queen of Scots, Alexandra Byrne

Visual Effects
Avengers: Infinity War, Dan DeLeeuw, Kelly Port, Russell Earl, and Daniel Sudick
Christopher Robin, Chris Lawrence, Mike Eames, Theo Jones, and Chris Corbould
First Man, Paul Lambert, Ian Hunter, Tristan Myles, and J.D. Schwalm (WINNER)
Ready Player One, Roger Guyett, Grady Cofer, Matthew E. Butler, and David Shirk
Solo: A Star Wars Story, Rob Bredow, Patrick Tubach, Neal Scanlan, and Dominic Tuohy

Sound Mixing
Black Panther, Steve Boeddeker, Brandon Proctor, and Peter Devlin
Bohemian Rhapsody, Paul Massey, Tim Cavagin, and John Casali (WINNER)
First Man, Jon Taylor, Frank A. Montaño, Ai-Ling Lee, and Mary H. Ellis
Roma, Skip Lievsay, Craig Henighan, and José Antonio García
A Star Is Born, Tom Ozanich, Dean Zupancic, Jason Ruder, and Steve Morrow

Sound Editing
Black Panther, Benjamin A. Burtt and Steve Boeddeker
Bohemian Rhapsody, John Warhurst (WINNER)
First Man, Ai-Ling Lee and Mildred Iatrou Morgan
A Quiet Place, Ethan Van der Ryn and Erik Aadahl
Roma, Sergio Diaz and Skip Lievsay

Makeup and Hairstyling
Border, Göran Lundström and Pamela Goldammer
Mary Queen of Scots, Jenny Shircore, Marc Pilcher, and Jessica Brooks
Vice, Greg Cannom, Kate Biscoe, and Patricia Dehaney (WINNER)

Live Action Short Film
Detainment, Vincent Lambe
Fauve, Jeremy Comte
Marguerite, Marianne Farley
Mother, Rodrigo Sorogoyen
Skin, Guy Nattiv (WINNER)

Documentary Short Subject
Black Sheep, Ed Perkins
End Game, Rob Epstein, Jeffrey Friedman
Lifeboat, Skye Fitzgerald
A Night at the Garden, Marshall Curry
Period. End of Sentence., Rayka Zehtabchi (WINNER)

Animated Short
Animal Behaviour, Alison Snowden and David Fine
Bao, Domee Shi (WINNER)
Late Afternoon, Louise Bagnall
One Small Step, Andrew Chesworth and Bobby Pontillas
Weekends, Trevor Jimenez

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