Like anyone who’s been covering what’s become, as the party line goes, “the closest Best Picture race in recent memory,” I’ve gone through many mental rewrites of this top-prize breakdown.
Will the Academy really go for a star-free, Sendak-esque allegory, whose rugged charms are tied to its loose lack of answers?
J.C. Chandor is able to mine potent workplace drama, and pluck tender nerves that are widespread among the current populace.
This season presents two Oscar contenders, Hugo and The Artist, that both bask in the dreaminess of cinema’s early days.