Skip The Banter And Open The Damn Envelope

My Academy card is smoking after the last few weeks of screening every single Oscar-bait movie that’s still playing in local theatres. The slim pickings for worthwhile fare among the supposed top movies of the year just goes to show what a dismal year 2003 was for cinema in general. Some of the nominated “best” out there are anything but, and a few of the performances deemed worthy of a nod are so embarrassingly over the top they mark the absolute low point of careers that were hardly stellar to begin with. I’ll point you at Diane Keaton’s crying/writing montage in Something’s Gotta Give as an example of some screen time that should bar her from any awards show for life. Or you could just pop into the neighbouring cinema over at the multiplex and catch a few minutes of Cold Mountain to see Renée Zellweger playing the least convincing black woman since Halle Berry. Was there ever a time when they didn’t hand out Oscar nominations like beer tickets? Certainly you used to have to do more than flash your middle-aged tits (Diane Keaton, Kathy Bates last year), play yourself (Bill Murray), put on some eyeliner and do an impression of Keith Richards (Johnny Depp), direct an easily-solved whodunit (Clint Eastwood), or write a thirty-page treatment for something you’re just going to let your actors improvise anyway (Sofia Coppola).

Since the competition is so dismal, I can at least look forward to watching Peter Jackson fulfill my three-year-old prediction by going home with director and film for the third entry in his Rings trilogy. There’s no suspense to be had there. For a bit of intrigue I’ll have to amuse myself by waiting anxiously to see who made this year’s Oscar tribute to the fallen. The death list is always my favourite part of the show. It’s the last great popularity contest, when we’ll see who will get more applause (Katharine Hepburn or Bob Hope) and who will be deemed worthy of inclusion. Spalding Gray is missing and presumed dead. Will he get a mention? Leni Riefenstahl is dead and presumed burning in hell. Will she be acknowledged even posthumously? Place your bets now.

As you hope for some celebrity surprise nudity to make it past the network time delay, and await the announcement of best picture to cue you that it’s time to go to bed, remember that Oscar season for the 2005 awards has already begun. Yes, this week’s release of The Passion of the Mel means the race is on for next year’s top spots, setting the pace for the competition that will be dribbling out over the next ten months. We’re only in February, but we already have one movie that’s pretty much guaranteed some sort of nomination a year from now. It may have no bearing on Sunday’s show, but if this little opus of anti-Semitism seems like a sure contender, then maybe there’s hope for Leni to get her death list nod after all.

Awards Season

It’s Christmastime in the film industry – that fleeting moment spread over several tedious months when groups of card-carrying academy, union and guild members set aside their petty jealousies and secret hatreds to give each other a collective pat on the back for a mediocre job indifferently done. Yes, it’s awards season, represented most readily by the Oscars.

Today the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences announced their nominations of the films deemed most broadly appealing, least debated in terms of overall merit, and best indicative of a style and substance that hits a comfortable level of acceptable quality without being too innovative or intellectually challenging. The same people who brought you best-picture wins forDriving Miss Daisy, the audacious epic that dared show a black person and a white person actually being friends, Chicago, the murder-positive song-and-dance spectacle that provided the multi-untalented Richard Gere an opportunity to both sing poorly and dance ever more poorly, and A Beautiful Mind, which proved once and for all that insipid disease-of-the-week TV movies can no longer be claimed as sole property of the three-and-a-half major television networks, once again take it upon themselves to enlighten us simpletons as to which Hollywood movies were the good ones this year.

No one looks forward to this more than I do, because for me it can only mean one thing. Well, two actually. First, it means the garish train wreck that is the Oscar ceremonies is only a month away from horrifying and delighting me in ways that make me both fiercely proud and deathly embarrassed to be a film buff. I shudder with an almost orgasmic fervor, imagining what surreal nightmare of bad taste may be in store for me, disguised as a celebration of the cinematic crafts. Will it be able to equal my stunned amazement at the Lord of the Dance tribute to the art of film editing? Will it make me twitch and giggle as hard as when Rob Lowe and Snow White sang a firebrand duet of Proud Mary? Or will it make my vomit as copiously as when Whoopie Goldberg, in the single greatest moment of self-congratulatory bullshit in the middle of the ceremony that epitomizes self-congratulatory bullshit, couldn’t contain herself any longer and told the assembled audience of overpaid overhyped celebrities, “We’re so great”?

The second thing it means for me is free movies. As a member of Canada’s own Academy of Canadian Cinema & Television, I get to spend the next few weeks hopping from theatre to theatre, explaining to every dim bulb ticket machine jockey that yes indeed, my academy card entitles me to see all the Oscar-nominated movies for no cash down. Finally, I can sit through all those reputedly good movies I couldn’t be the least bit bothered to turn out for in the months leading up to this moment. Great movies, instant classics, modern masterpieces. Like the one…you know the one. It stars that guy, who was in the thing. And he, like, struggles against adversity and stuff. And guess what? He like, totally triumphs in the end. You know the one I’m talking about.

I can’t wait.

While you’re nosing around the site, check out the latest Longshot Comics Movie that adapts another one of 2003’s Hollywood releases. Suspiciously, this one didn’t get the Oscar nod. I can’t imagine why not. Oh wait, yes I can. Because it really really sucks.

Future updates of Movies in Longshot will be coming at the rate of one per week, so check in regularly.

You Won’t Hear It On Entertainment Tonight

These days in Montreal, we’ve been forced to share bodily warmth for reasons other than sex, suffering through the kind of winter weather that makes us want to shake our ancestors and demand, “Who told you to settle here!”

As your dangly bits turn black and fall off from frost bite, why not take a break from blow torching your water pipes and read my first ever famous-person eulogy?

1963-2003Finally, confirmation has come via the imdb, Anita Mui died of cervical cancer on December 30. For those of you who don’t know who she was (and why should you, since there hasn’t been a peep about it in Western media), Anita was one of the biggest Hong Kong stars ever. Imagine, if you will, Madonna with an acting career every bit as huge as her pop career – say the likes of a Nicole Kidman. Combine the two into one person, and I guess that’s the nearest approximation I can come to Anita Mui. Now imagine this person announcing one day, out of the blue, that she has cervical cancer and is going to fight it. And then the next thing you hear is that she’s dead. That’s a major celebrity fatality by any standards. I can only guess at the impact in Asia. Here, of course, not even a ripple. It’s even worse than the deafening indifference leveled at Leslie Cheung’s spectacularly dramatic rooftop suicide last year. He at least got some mention because a few people remembered him from Farewell My Concubine. As for Anita, the biggest heartbreak for me was knowing she was scheduled to star in this year’s Zhang Yimou project – another period epic I’m already salivating for after seeing his last one, Hero, which I suggest you find somehow.

If the weather lets up, make a run to your favourite well-stocked video store and celebrate Anita Mui with a tribute festival. I know I’ll be dipping into my DVDs for a look at Miracles, The Heroic Trio (the Hong Kong import, of course, not the butchered domestic release), its wonderfully bleak sequel, Executioners, Drunken Master II (again, not the domestic fuck-job), A Better Tomorrow III, and maybe one or two others I’m lucky enough to already have on hand. Drop by for a visit, the kettle’s on.

All You Can Eat Buffet

I’m facing one of those rare situations when my plate is actually full. For the next little while, I’ll have just about all the work I can handle. Fries With That? starting up for a second round of episodes would have given me plenty to do between pitching and scripting as it is, but I also made the foolish mistake last month of telling the Writer’s Guild I’d be perfectly happy to act as a first round judge for this year’s Guild Awards.

Being a first round judge means I get to sort through one category worth of submitted fodder in an effort to weed it down for the judges who will make the actual decisions about who won what. It’s just like a nostalgic trip back to my days working as a reader, only this time I’m not getting paid fifty bucks a pop. The only real advantage is that my evaluation amounts to a simple ranking between one and ten for each script. Easy enough to fake if I were so inclined, but I’m too responsible to fob off on the job like that. Besides, some of the scripts actually look interesting, and there’s a few entries from my favourite Canadian TV show to go through. Confidentiality forbids me to mention which show that might be before the awards are divvied out, but I expect I’ll be biased in favour of those particular candidates.

My day job doesn’t end there, though. I’ve got some repair work to do on a feature screenplay I have in development, a major magazine submission I’ve been putting off for too many months, two other big jobs that might be on their way down the pike once some phone calls are made, and of course the final touches on this web site before we go live.

Look, I don’t wanna sound like I’m bragging or complaining here. It took years of work to get this busy and I can only hope it keeps up. I should be grateful, really I should.

But dammit, there are some video games out there in serious need of playtime. What are the poor bastards going to do without me?