My friend and fellow film snob Rory the Movie Idiot used his faithful blog last week to promote "Into the Wild's" Hal Holbrook, the person he most wants to see take home an Oscar this Sunday. Naturally, I feel it is my duty to offer up a companion piece and campaign for the person I most hope to witness earn Academy hardware Sunday evening. You know who she is, of course. I ranted about her awhile back and then alluded to that rant and I could re-allude to it but, boy, that just seems silly.
Rather, I'll start fresh. So prepare yourself, dear readers, for a soiree of superlatives. A hodgepodge of hyperbole. An amusement park of aggrandizement. It is I, after all, and I know not another way. Other film critics can be cautious with their emotional vocabulary but I possess the opposite inclination. Cinema Romantico is a blog where caution is not merely tossed to the wind but tossed with utter glee. Cinema Romantico is a blog where a bit much is not enough. Cinema Romantico is a blog where it's everything and the kitchen sink. And Cinema Romantico is worried that Academy voters may have thought it wise to honor a woman simply for playing a man or rewarding a woman simply because she's old and it's her "time". I mean that not as a thuggish knock against the esteemed Ruby Dee but a rebel yell to voters to wake up and smell the coffee laced with arsenic. And I mean that not as a threat to potential Academy voters but a little joke to ensure they understand the seriousness of the votes they cast. These ballots are not foolhardy trinkets to be taken as lightly as a new Jessica Simpson album but treasured pieces of cinematic history. You can ensure a magnetic performance that invokes immortal Ingrid and conjures living legend Kate will take home a statue that was deserved not merely for some, shall we say, political purpose. And so I stand before the movie world today with the aim of laying down a point-by-point, in depth, leave-no-stone-unturned analysis of why the peformance of which I rant and rave doesn't just deserve an Oscar but screams out for it like Fay Wray in "King Kong". Allow me summon the movie gods' presence and ask them to make my thoughts clear and razor-sharp for if my argument suffers even a single blow this house of dime store cards could topple like a Colorado Buffalo Football Coach (present & past) when facing anything remotely resembling pressure. It is up to me and I must not fail. My words must hit hard, pack a certifiable wallop, underscore, highlight, convince, and transform while containing truth, poignancy, bombast, and color. Lots of color. They must form a picture within your head and the heads of all Academy voters requiring some sort of dissertation that can ease their minds into knowing the vote which they cast is sound like Albemarle. And so the time is nigh. I begin my voyage of persuasion. Let's get to it.
Wait....what was I talking about?
Friday, February 22, 2008
Why Amy Ryan Should Win The Oscar
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I'd Like To Thank The Academy,
Rants
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