Is the SAG Shake-Up An Oscar Signal?

The Social Network was clearly not in a position to win the Screen Actors Guild "Outstanding Cast" prize despite its glut of young new talent. It's simply not how the SAG awards work and simply not the way voting bodies recognize performances -- a band of young male stars is simply not how the cookie crumbles.

With a quick scan of the cast winners for the past dozen or so years, SAG has its specific taste -- it's either the best picture, or it's the smaller picture with the charming acting. The only two exceptions to this rule seem Traffic and Inglorious Basterds. But even with those exceptions, the only point of note seems their lack of charm. They are, after all, full of great performances and this is the acting award handed out by actors. The trophy itself is called "The Actor" for goodness sake. And the painstaking effort to say things like Female Actor and Male Actor! Is it controversial to use the word "actor" to signify that the person is a male? Has "actress" suddenly become the "male nurse" of the art world? It's not like Josh Duhamel was up there saying "And you're pick for most hip co-ed is..." Anyway... that's an entirely different conversation that's neither here nor there -- well, it's "there" I'm just not going to spend time going into it right now.

The point is that as much as a new crop of actors emerged with The Social Network, it is simply not going to win the SAG award in a room that gives best actress in a Comedy Series to Betty White. It's not going to take down any of its fellow nominees -- whether its The Kids Are All Right -- filled with former nominees and winners, The Black Swan -- same situation applies, or The Fighter -- which seemed the odds on favorite going into the night.

The problem for The Social Network is that the trophy went to The King's Speech -- much as it would have been to Fincher & Co's chagrin should the non-nominated True Grit have stalked in and Murkowski-ed the joint. Back in 1998, when the world was quietly awaiting Saving Private Ryan to storm the beach of Oscar victory, Harvey Weinstein and Ed Zwick's slick yoink  of the SAG Award seemed immaterial. Despite the great performances throughout Ryan (which should have won and I'll go ten rounds with anyone who thinks otherwise! Obviously these will be thumb wrestling rounds) was the world honestly going to say that Barry Pepper, Vin Diesel, and the gang were going to take the award over Judi Dench, Colin Firth, Joe Fiennes, Geoffrey Rush, and Gwyneth Paltrow? 

Cut to Oscar night 1998: was it a surprise when Judi Dench won the Oscar, followed by Gwyneth, followed by Tom Stoppard and Marc Norman -- if Steven Spielberg was still getting up there for Best Director -- after Ryan had already bagged Editing, Sound, Sound EFX Editing, and Cinematography? The Oscar still seemed in The Mission is a Man's favor. Sure, there were schmohawks like Sole down there on Wall Street betting "the field" against a Ryan victory. But even that wasn't a straight up assumption that Shakespeare would take it. No one thought so. No one. People were thrilled afterward and did ample revisionist emotional and predictive history, pointing out the signs -- but even the happy were shocked: it was a stunner. The icing on the stupefying cake was that the best picture presenter was Harrison Ford -- who else do you send out to give Spielberg his picture Oscar? It wasn't like Ben Affleck was doing the honors!

Here we are again 12 Award Seasons later -- Miramax has toppled -- and a charming little British film with Colin Firth and Geoffrey Rush has steadily increased the mailings getting louder and louder in its victories on the road to Oscar. Last night it had the very same success Shakespeare had: Leading Role (only this time "Male Actor") and Cast.

Is Harvey doing it again?


- Matthew J. McCue

The Screen Actors Guild Awards: Will Tonight Settle Anything?

The voting bodies of the Screen Actors Guild and the Academy are about as close you're going to get. The odd thing has been the years of absolute parity and those of marked discrepancy.

Perhaps as a signal of this trophy's personality, the inaugural telecast saw immediate inconsistency with the Academy -- Jodie Foster's "Messa-tay, chicka-bay" win for Nell as opposed to Jessica Lange's Oscar for Blue Sky.

Most notably in this particular award season is that dear Annette Bening took the SAG for American Beauty but the Oscar got Swanked. Swan or not, will the SAG settle it? Frankly, I think this one goes right down to the envelope in far more Kidman vs. Zellweger fashion than any of the former Bening vs. Swank battles of yesteryear.

The SAGs also seems to do little to settle contentious supporting categories. Not only have off the wall people taken the SAG trophy -- Robert Duvall A Civil Action -- in years past, the Actor has gone to a slew of folks who didn't win at previous ceremonies -- Kate Winslet for Sense and Sensibility, Johnny Depp's Jack Sparrow, Meryl Streep for Doubt. They've also had those years where people were mis-categorized and lost -- Jennifer Connelly for A Beautiful Mind -- and the years where people were mis-categorized and won -- Benicio del Toro for Traffic.

So what does tonight square? It seems the Actor only confirms consistency or corrects Globe wonky-ness. The categories are no longer separated, there are no runners-up. And if The Fighter takes ensemble, "Picture" will remain a mystery.... If it's The King's Speech, well, February 27th gets a bit of edge.

Annette -- my heart's with you.

- Matthew J. McCue

True Grit: Iceberg, Straight Ahead?

"Well, I'm sorry if the Coen Brothers don't direct the porn that I watch." - Superbad

When all is said and done and a feature film has it in the bag -- trophy after trophy -- time and again a Christmas release swoops in and nabs the gold. Shakespeare in Love and Million Dollar Baby being the most notable to pull off this specific feat in the past 15 years. There have been other upsets for sure, but usually they fall into the "everything was released Christmas week" category -- A Beautiful Mind... perhaps not so much an "upset" as "upsetting" -- or early releases that swoop back in and nab the gold, fittingly or not -- Silence of the Lambs, Braveheart, Crash.

Admittedly, Million Dollar Baby had the awards in the bag and coffin nailed on The Aviator by the Golden Globes. Shakespeare in Love's upsetting upset came at the peak of the Miramax campaign machine. This year's situation presents a particular conundrum because it involves a pair of American masters who have become such a brand-name of excellence, they can be referenced in Superbad with the guarantee that every teenager will know who it is. And yet, they didn't have a single Golden Globe nomination.

This makes the possibility of a True Grit win an unprecedented upset. A remarkably late arrival. A western -- only three have won before. The Coens just won an a mess of Oscars. Jeff Bridges just won an Oscar last year. Hailee Steinfeld is new on the scene. Damon isn't nominated. It's a remake. Oscar speaking, what most people remember about the original True Grit was that it was the film where John Wayne finally received recognition -- besting Jon Voight and Dustin Hoffman for Midnight Cowboy, as well as Richard Burton -- who would never win -- and Peter O'Toole who never won either, he waited for a much deserved honorary award. Many wrote off the original True Grit seeing this as an award injustice worthy of active ignoring.

And yet -- this little locomotive is gaining remarkable momentum and may topple the Facebook Flick if The King's Speech or Toy Story 3 doesn't beat Grit to it. Perhaps this is the ramblings of a madman who so wants the 10 nominees to explode in the Academy's face bringing back the "True 5." Perhaps this is the equivalent of all those who heard the Hurt Locker whistle on the wind but held out hope for Avatar or even let their mind wander to a realm where a Tarantino victory via vote split was possible. Duh.

Obviously no one wants True Grit to undeservedly win against Fincher's all around great movie. That is not the case. Few things upset me more than Oscar injustice -- but perhaps the tectonic plates haven't settled just yet.

So what makes Grit so great?


Simply put: the quirky perfection of The Coen Brothers. Here, in the old west, under clearly stated circumstances every bit of bizzar-ity seemed nothing more than iron-clad sure-as-heck realism. Whether it was a body dangling from a noose or a fur-clad medicine man wandering through the a flurry it was all a continued part of the seamless world The Coens built that seemed nothing more than the actual old West.  All that can be said for this auteurist duo's stamp is that it had style -- but never got in the way of the material.

To see Jeff Bridges in the hands of the Coens once more in a part that could be no less Dude than Gabriel Byrne in Miller's Crossing is a true statement of the talent of all parties involved. Matt Damon's under-rated role as Texas Ranger LaBoeuf proves his continued sound judgement in role selection. After Clooney has become a Coen regular and Pitt seems poised to do the same, it seems only right that Ocean's Eleven number three should jump on-board. His lacking a supporting actor nomination is a true surprise -- if I haven't mentioned that ten times already.

But the story here is Hailee Steinfeld. Besides Colin Firth's absolute excellence as King George VI, Hailee Steinfeld's feature film debut is the acting story of the year. It only takes a little bit of listening to realize that the direct, clipped, honest gusto of Steinfeld's Mattie Ross -- on the road to avenge her father's death -- is a role penned for a teenage Frances McDormand. Short of a DeLorean and a chest of Libyan plutonium, the Coens will never have the chance to place Joel's wife and their "go to muse" in a such a role -- but it sure doesn't mean they can't write one.

Selling of ponies and then using the profits to buy one back -- stuffing her hat with newspaper so it will fit -- plunging into the river to call you on your bluff -- or smiling happily at the posse campfire, hoping to tell a bedtime story -- this was a Coen woman with Franny McD sauce: strong-willed, forthright, never wavering, always just, and never permitting the laziness of men to blow her off with a half-baked lazy half truth. Hailee's uninterrupted forward momentum and her tongue's tip-top tapdance across mouthful's of Coen dialogue gave her the immediate shine of a seasoned veteran -- not a young smiling newbie who is, simply put, thrilled.

Whether Hailee will be able to Paquinize the situation is a question of the Rudin/Weinstein boxing match held in the shadows of The Fighter's supporting trophy lock-up. Melissa Leo seems to have it in the bag -- we'll see tonight how that shakes out at the Screen Actors Guild Awards. But should Steinfeld or Bonham Carter win tonight -- anything's possible for this little lady who, at the end of the day, far more than the man with the eyepatch, seemed the one with True Grit. 


- Matthew J. McCue

Black Swan: You Are the Wind Beneath My (Paranoid, Self-Destructive, Homoerotic, Nail-Clipped) Wings!

A film with this much camp will hopefully prompt cocktail parties for years to come where Natalie dances herself to pieces and Liza Minnelli re-records her classic with lyrics that sing your praise...

"Pack up all my care and woe! Here I go! Full psycho! Bye! (BYE!) Bye! (BYE!) Black Swan! (Doodle-ee-doo-doo-doo!)"

"It's my turn!" - Nat the Swan.

Darren Aronofsky arrived in my final year of undergraduate film studies. Pi was nothing short of a phenomenon -- there were stickers, there was spray paint, there was a new dude who had made a black and white film about a symbol! A mathematical one, actually. Yes, this seemed to be the Eraserhead of ... well ... Jewish Math? It was unquestionably great. It was clearly the work of a director from the new generation -- one who was going to last. But it was also about ... well... a ratio?

I snarkily walked away from that film focusing on the protagonist's repetitive recounting of his days staring at the sun -- quipping to my friends that I preferred Dana Carvey's angry old man whose only pastime was staring at the sun until his eyes burst into flames and people were roasting chickens on his head. "That's the way it was and we liked it!" Yes, I was a jerk.

This was firmly proven by the film that had me out in the streets hollering "All aboard the Aronofsky express! 'board! All ABOARD!" -- Requiem for a Dream. I saw the film opening day at Lincoln Plaza and spent much of the screening with my eyes so firmly closed and so tightly covered that the gentleman next to me legitimately asked me if I was all right. I've often thought he may be the very same gent who asked me the very same question in the very same theater during a screening of Quills. No. I was not all right. I may still not be all right. Between Ellen Burstyn's desperation to be in the warmth of the sun, Jennifer Connelly's a**-to-a** mayhem, and Jared Leto's arm -- man you just knew that thing was going to have to come off -- I was a wreck. I've never seen Requiem for a Dream or Quills again. I never will. Why would I do that to myself?

The Fountain came and went. Mickey Rourke took all the credit for The Wrestler despite the steady handed unwavering commitment Aronofsky had as its director, bringing Mickey Rourke to near Oscar victory -- a feat most would deem impossible. This was a Tarantino-like triumph -- done on Darren's terms.

Now, here we are with Black Swan, the most improbably artistic achievement in a year of rampant straightforward narratives. Black Swan is the dark, shadow-ridden, internal indie psycho-thriller, happily yanging it up to Inception's yin. Where Inception has slick, Swan has jaunty, hand-held, sloppy control. Where Inception has careful navigators of a psychological world systematically and calculatedly imploding, the Swan is a maddening, self devouring, maniacally mixed-up batch of mayhem -- clawing itself to pieces from the inside out.

Darren Aronofsky has pulled off a masterwork of deliberate camp, embracing everything the ballet psycho-thriller tradition has held to -- from The Red Shoes to Suspiria -- in a Lynchian trip that gives the impression it was accidentally made with a couple of cheap-o cameras when it is in fact the most deliberate, precise, self-sufficient cinematic flip-out we've seen in years.

Just look at the man's casual archetypal casting...

Barbara Hershey -- genius.

Winona Ryder -- excellent (I deeply love Winona).

Vincent Cassel -- who else could it have been?

Mila Kunis -- the female snub of the year.

All perfectly balanced on the bruised toes of the diminutive Natalie Portman. 

Won't you just be nice to her?

Natalie has long proven herself as one of the strongest actresses of her generation. Whether it was her initial role in The Professional where she won the world's heart and men's inappropriate attention... Whether it was her Golden Globe winning turn in Closer... Whether it was her split second screen time in Cold Mountain... Whether it was Amidala, Queen of Naboo, mother of Luke Skywalker... Or the very many mediocre movies we've all taken the time to boost simply because they included Natalie... Since the start, she has been a highly valued Hollywood commodity -- a Trump card awaiting the correct play.

Who knew it would be as the timid, would-be Lincoln Center star who tore herself to homicidal shreds under the pressure of a lead ballet role in the sympathetic trippy lesbianic wake of Winona Ryder's forced retirement? Who would conceive such a project around this darling weeper? This mother of Leia? This Wal-Mart birther? The stripper with a heart? Furthermore -- who knew she would not only take the role -- but take the role to its limit? 

The Award Season question, of course, is whether Natalie has actress locked away. Will Annette once again lose front-runner award position to a far younger star? Natalie is to the Swan what Sean Penn was to Milk and what the Swank was to Boys Don't Cry: the one who can take the trophy and claim victory for the entire production. Swan's lack of nominations in other categories leaves one wondering -- as I mentioned Tuesday -- whether it is a signal that the film has lost its forward thrust or whether two specific people -- Aronofsky and Portman -- have been given full credit for the entire film's success. Is this the director and his muse raising a champagne glass to their ballet triumph while the company waits in the wings? It damn well may be the case.

This campy wonder has me chomping at the bit for Aronofsky's next. How I wish he would adapt a major piece of literature -- tackle a myth or even a superhero story, caution thrown to the wind. He's earned it -- even if he's decided to maintain the mustache.

Swan... as a man with "Swan Lake" as his ringtone this past two years (admittedly, it's because of Billy Elliot and my deep love of the ballet) I must admit your greatness. I skitter over your nail-biting neck and neck race with my dear Mrs. Beatty. But I croon your praises as only an E.B. White trumpet could. Fly, Swan. Fly.


- Matthew J. McCue

The King's Speech: Hush, Hush, Sweet Regent!

The marvel of all of this is how pitch perfect Colin Firth's performance was in last year's A Single Man.

Of course, you can't expect the world to run out and see the Tom Ford film based on the Isherwood story about the sad gay English professor who eventually collapses on a mat. There's a Ulee's Gold-ness to that sort of film that compartmentalizes it right into Away From Her-ville: "Oh, I hear that's great." Synonymous with, "Of course I didn't see it."

Well, I obviously did see it -- alone -- opening day -- at the Paris. I loved it. But I'm not going to lie about walking directly out of the Paris, hanging a hard left, and going directly to the bar at Landmarc. Heavenly Father can that Colin Firth put your heart in a vise and just keep cranking -- but in a good, non-Casino way.

Obviously, last year belonged to Jeff Bridges -- the long overdue understated, underrated veteran who turned in an excellent performance in Crazy Heart -- a near tailor-made Oscar vehicle where he hit every nail square on the head. Colin smiled at his losing table, ceremony after ceremony, simply happy to be nominated -- it was, after all, the first time the Academy nodded Mr. Firth's way.

So here we are, one year later, Jeff Bridges has once again nailed his performance -- this time with the Coen Brothers. And yet... there is King Colin.

The King's Speech is the most gloriously tiny, heartwarming, heart-wrenching, Brit-house wallop of the year. Of course this is the work of the Weinstein Company. It's almost infuriating to admit! This is precisely the type of film they have so masterfully delivered time and again, year after Oscar-nominated year, whether under their current banner, or back at the Max. And as Colin Firth so graciously pointed out during his Golden Globe acceptance speech, the marriage of his career with Harvey Weinstein has been a wise and rewarding one.

Take a look at the list:

The King's Speech
Bridget Jones x 2
The Importance of Being Earnest
Shakespeare in Love
The English Patient


This is Mr. Darcy, time and again. This is a man who had audiences wondering why Kristin Scott Thomas would go wandering off with that Hungarian in the desert. This is the man who asked the world the most soul searching question of all: wouldn't you rather give up your life and be his Portuguese maid? And we answered with a resounding, "Yes!"

And now he is the King who "bloody well" stammers -- for so many tiny little human reasons, left with the throne after his proud brother abdicates, stuck staring Hitler eye to eye through the meshy web of a microphone. He's King Darcy now: apologetic, warm, grateful, proper to a fault, in need of a hug, honest with children, and a knock out in a tux.

And he's only a third of this perfect triad of performances.

I've spoken time and again in recent years about Helena Bonham Carter's deliberate decision to grab hold of the steering wheel and take a hard turn down crazy lane. This former belle of the Merchant Ivory ball was the smiling pre-Winslet of the early '90s-- the Ophelia before Kate -- happily strolling from A Room With a View to Baby Bast In the Oven (or what is more commonly called Howards End). Then -- somewhere after she and Kenneth Branagh decided to explore The Theory of Flight, Ms. Bonham Carter (Burton) warmly embraced on-screen lunacy. The Queen of Hearts! Lady Lovett! And in case she didn't mention it once or twice before she "KILLED SIRIUS BLACK!" So she returns without having missed a period piece beat, into the role of that most of us know as the Queen Mother -- seeking a speech therapist for her charming husband with such grace. How I wish an Oscar for you, madam.

Finally there is Geoffrey Rush -- the tippy top of top-shelf. After bursting onto the American radar with Shine there has been nothing but stellar work from Mr. Rush -- Shakespeare in Love, Elizabeth, Peter Sellers, Pirates of the Carribean, Munich, Exit the King -- and here he is again.  Here Rush is the understated genius who sees the King within the man and in graceful Dickensian fashion doesn't need a parade, doesn't need a fortune -- a thank you will suffice -- or "Knighthood" but only said in a way that shows how this Aussie can encapsulate a performance in a witticism. Supporting actor is a brutal category, it always is. Don't believe me? Take a look at the nominees for 1993 -- or any other year for that matter. For some insane reason the odds seem stacked against Mr. Rush in this year. Perhaps  a Weinstein campaign will straighten that out.

I shall say no more.

I so love this film. I demand you all see it.

- Matthew J. McCue

The (Particularly) Left Out.

There are plenty of folks who woke far too early this morning and waited for the phone to ring. Some expecting it far too much, like Steven Spielberg who was rumored to have an entire camera crew at his home, ready for the Jaws directing nomination he didn't receive. Others simply hopeful, waiting for the phone to ring, bringing with it the sound of a career change. To those folks, I offer my condolences.

I've already pointed out my surprise over the lack of Christopher Nolan's directorial nomination -- I'm sure being nominated as writer and producer served as some form of consolation. The same goes for Mark Wahlberg. Despite its multitude of nominations, Roderick Jaynes -- the Coen Brothers' editorial alias -- was omitted, as well. A stunner considering nearly every best picture winner in the history of film has at least been nominated in this category and at the moment (at least according to the buzz I'm generating) True Grit is at least neck and neck with The King's Speech if not gaining considerable ground of The Social Network.

I didn't have the chance to comb through the technical nominations thoroughly until this evening and it's surprising to see the various mini-scandals in these often overlooked categories.

The Black Swan is surprisingly under-nominated. I wonder about the ears of those who nominate in the sound editing and mixing categories. That film was nothing if not soundtracked to the max. Perhaps the fluttering Natalie Portman or the visuals of Darren Aronofsky caught too much of the audience's attention -- even if that audience consisted of qualified Academy voters. But for those of us who spent a good lot of the film with eyes covered, the soundscape was something else. I'm truly stunned.

I am also stunned by the lack of Kunis, despite what JAG may have to say about it. I'm hoping to see far more of Mila and a nomination in the next few years.

Andrew Garfield rests comfortably with a Spiderman contract. Matt Damon with a happy family and an Oscar. Both were true omissions.

But perhaps the biggest stunner to me is Waiting for Superman. Is there a documentary rule I know nothing about that barred this particular pic from making it into the elite five? Did it play on television? Did it miss a festival? Did it somehow botch its awards run technically? We can all love Bansky and Sebastian Junger as much as we like -- the former obviously being far more important than the latter. But Waiting for Superman seemed the non-fiction film we were all required to see this year. And yet it ends its run without the ability to say "Academy Award Nominee" -- that seems impossible.

Up until the awards I'll attack the picture nominees -- except 127 Hours...  I'm not joking, I won't see it. I'll go after the awards category by category. I'll lay out what pictures won my heart, my mind, and which I think will take home Golden Boys.

I thank those of you who have been reading and commenting. I'm looking forward to you all watching me completely miscalculate the winners -- wishful thinking always gets in the way. Hopefully you'll recall how well I did picking the noms! Can't that count for something?

- Matthew J. McCue

That Actual Nominees Are In!

Horn blares: Check. President of the Academy: Check. Supporting Actress Winner: Check.

The Picture Nominees:


Folks, I just went 10 for 10 on the pic noms. Needless to say -- I'm a little impressed with myself on this snowy January morning. Take that, Seasonal Affected Disorder!

Best Director:


So you're telling me Christopher Nolan doesn't deserve a nomination for Inception. If I may borrow some words from Anthony Hopkins turn in Legends of the Fall, "Damn and blast you!" This is nothing short of absurd. For some reason, Nolan is not in the in-crowd of Oscar-ville despite film after high-grossing film.

I knew the Coens would be here. I suppose I knew somehow David O. Russel had to fit into the mix -- despite my lack of enthusiasm for all things Fighter. I must say I'm blind-sided (and not in the be-wigged Sandy Bullock sense) that it was at Nolan's expense.

Best Actress:

That's 5 for 5, McCue.

Best Actor:


Well hello, Mr. Bardem I did not expect to see you here. You are a former winner and you are fantastic. Thus, this should come as no surprise. But, it is definitely the most surprising nom of the lot. I did not expect you to take out Mark Wahlberg if there weren't also going to be an appearance by Leo or (more probably) Ryan Gosling. I suppose Leo can rest comfortably in the fact that he is the bee's knees the world over. Ryan Gosling may dream of these moments to channel into his next deeply depressing feature film.

Mr. Wahlberg, on the other hand, is seeing his work as a producer pay off. Yes, everyone is going to simply keep talking about this -- but this is a major shift for an actor. It was one thing to be one of the producers of "Entourage." In some ways it was a fluke hit -- in others a slam dunk. But walking out of The Departed as the co-producer of Scorsese's new HBO series rather than the star of his next project shows the way Mark has carved his own path away from Leo. Is he taking the Warren route to Leo's Jack? Interesting.

Best Supporting Actress:


4 out of 5 ain't bad in this category either.

While I don't think Mila Kunis had a chance of winning -- I do feel for her this morning as Jacki Weaver slides back into the mix along with the no-surprise nomination of True Grit's Hailee Steinfeld. Weaver was winning awards throughout the opening of the season bagging multiple critic's trophies. Hailee, on the other hand, is what I would consider the story of the year -- even more than wee Natalie. Steinfeld truly carried the entirety of True Grit, putting up her dukes against two Oscar winners.

Steinfeld could damn well walk in the back door and pull a Paquin.

Best Supporting Actor:


4 out of 5 again.

Not Matt Damon, but the SAG nominated John Hawkes who slid in to knock Andrew Garfield out of the running. Hawkes is one of the many examples of the "much love" given to Winter's Bone by the Academy this year. He's an actor I know best from "Deadwood" where he was superb. I'm happy to see him get recognition here.

Adapted Screenplay:

And so the two most vulnerable of my picks fell directly to the two scripts I said could knock them. In my loose-grading teacher ways, I'm calling that a 5 for 5.

I'm just going to James Cagney it up, look back at my predictions and say, "There's only two ways this can go down, see?"

So the morning after my predictions, the Academy went Plan B: No Rabbit Hole. No Town. We'll take Toy Story 3 and Winter's Bone instead.

Sorkin still seems a dead-lock. But being in a screenplay category with the late in the game arrival of the Coen Brothers and the sentimental favorite Toy Story 3 -- the ol' button-hole cocktail party confessional film where your close Hollywood chums have had to say, "You know what's actually the best movie this year..." -- well it has to give that West Winger pause.

By the way, do you think Debra Winger would ever be daring enough to name a kid "West" or even "Wes"? Something to think about.

Best Original Screenplay:

So here is where Nolan gets his love -- and I wonder if this means it shall also be the place where he will get his award. He could well tumble to Cholodenko or Seidler. But finger's crossed.

As predicted the thickly bearded head of Mike Leigh did in fact poke itself on into the category. But who knew that Brit would punch his way through with enough buckshot to take out the Swan?!

No Kunis? No Script? This gives the Academy very few opportunities to recognize Swan with a collective trophy to acknowldege the pic in one shot. At the same time, it makes one wonder how much folks were blown away by Black Swan beyond Darren and Nat. An interesting turn of events both in this and the supporting actress category.

So What's the Story?


Glancing at the nominees across the board, it seems the clearest story here is that the Academy likes its own. With the exception of Jacki Weaver and John Hawkes -- both welcome new editions to the slate of nominees -- each time there was a slight surprise in a category, it was by a former winner or a nominated regular -- a good midday to you, Mike Leigh.

Look at the love for 127 Hours. I shall never see that movie, so expect neither a review nor a perspective. It may well be a masterpiece. I'll happily live in the dark on this one. But it comes as no surprise that Danny Boyle's Slumdog follow-up should get nominations straight down the line. Particularly when it includes the screenplay winner and a formerly nominated actor.

Javier Bardem -- surprising as his appearance may be -- is no stranger to the Kodak: a multi-nominee and former winner.

Michelle Williams and Nicole Kidman holding tough -- not a surprise when it's a former winner and a former nominee.

Much as it seems like wishful thinking in what may prove to be one of the more benignly non-dramatic award seasons in recent years -- I wonder what The Social Network team thinks of the amount of attention True Grit and Toy Story 3 received this morning. If there were an additional Damon nomination I would say we truly have a horse race on our hands. I wonder if the lack of Andrew Garfield is the "six of one, half dozen of the other" flip-side of that coin.  If The Fighter takes best ensemble at this weekend's SAG Awards -- that will remain a mystery.

Good stuff!

- Matthew J. McCue