The Academy Awards were delicious. I enjoyed the show, the choice of movies, the actors featured, and most of Billy Crystal’s schtick. I especially enjoyed watching it at home with delicious popcorn and other treats and my delicious Amanda. Foregoing the bull-chit banter and bad hors d’oeuvres at some Oscar party is the way to go. Although I was aware of The Artist for eons before it came out and wanted to go day 1… life got in the way and so I vowed to go last night and nothing was going to stop me.
Look, I love John Goodman. We all love John Goodman. John Goodman is great! But all of a sudden he’s the biggest ticket to getting an Oscar for Best Picture. He was in three of the nominated films this year—Flight, ParaNorman, and Argo—and its the second year in a row that John Goodman has appeared in a Best Picture-winning film. Last year, of course, he had a small, silent role in The Artist. But don’t forget! He was also in Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, a movie so terrible that everyone was stunned to see it get a Best Picture nomination. The secret? John Goodman. I’m telling you, put John Goodman in your movie. You’re not going to regret it.
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As a writer for this august publication of record, it is my sad and solemn duty to report upon all of my editor’s gravest errors. In this case, it is his willful dismissal and obstreperous refusal to see the relative merit and entertainment value in Silver Linings Playbook (2012), which is so totally good enough to kill a few hours with, so watch your mouth, Tyler.
My esteemed editor registered his disgust on his personal Tumblr before bragging about his remarkable state of domestic bliss at present:
Ten minutes into this movie, I thought, “What the hell is this shit?” Five minutes later, Andrew turned to me and said, “I hate this.” We left about an hour later.
True love is sharing a hatred for overrated Oscar-bait movies, you guys.
First of all, “Oscar-bait”? The last thirty-odd Best Picture winners have been overwrought melodramas, not screwball romantic comedies. [Ed. note: "screwball?" More like blue balls. Also, please review Shakespeare in Love, Chicago, and last year’s winner, The Artist.] Secondly: you left an hour after you both agreed you hated it? Seats must have been pretty comfortable, dude. [Ed. note: We were in the front row. Perhaps that added to my discomfort? That and the choppy, extreme close-ups that David O. Russell employed foolishly.] Feels like you might as well have stuck it out to the end, where it becomes the exact kind of movie you like! [Ed. note: So, like, Wet Hot American Summer? Coal Miner’s Daughter? DO EITHER JANEANE GAROFALO OR SISSY SPACEK SHOW UP?] (Am I kidding? You’ll have to watch to find out.)
In conclusion, I’m not entirely sure what this man expected from the director of Flirting With Disaster, Three Kings, and I ♥ Huckabees. [Ed. note: Solid point. None of those are particularly good, either.] I thought Silver Linings Playbook was slighter than these but slotted neatly into the oeuvre itself, delivering the philosophical laughs and credible absurdities I’ve come to associate with David O. Russell’s work, and I certainly can’t see what in it would so offend as to drive one from the theater. [Ed. note: Well, there was the whole thing where Jennifer Lawrence was playing a role that could have gone to Miley Cyrus or, hell, Juliette Lewis if it came out fifteen years ago. Both would be similarly competent at delivering lines in which they explain their feelings rather than bothering to subtely show them.] But perhaps it’s not for me to say how my editor has strayed from the path—only to note that he has.
Follow Miles Klee on Twitter. [Ed. note: I wouldn’t recommend it.]
For nine years, John Goodman appeared to millions of Americans as Dan Conner, Roseanne Barr’s beleaguered husband on the sitcom Roseanne. It is a testament to the breadth and believability of his post-Roseanne roles that nearly a decade of constant exposure hasn’t pinned the actor to that one character specimen. Goodman has brought his heft and range to iconic roles, such as the overbearing Walter Sobchak in The Big Lebowski, the Polyphemus stand-in “Big Dan” Teague in O Brother, Where Are Thou?, and the curmudgeonly studio head with a heart of fool’s gold in The Artist. In Robert Zemickis’ Flight, one of the three movies Goodman stars in this season, the actor plays Harling Mays, a man whose personality, like that of many of Goodman’s characters, is expansive to the point of offensive and, although perhaps not good, always loveable. We asked Mr. Goodman to describe the process of becoming Mr. Mays.
My character is an oaf. He has no sense of his surroundings. He’s pretty much wrapped up in his own head, so he just stumbles around. I picture him banging off the walls of the corridor wherever he is. He’s like a medicated bear on both stimulants and tranquilizers. In that shot you’ve got there, he’s listening to the Rolling Stones. “Sympathy for the Devil,” I think. He’s a contemporary guy really hung up on the early ’70s, still living in that era, like a character out of Key West who likes to fancy himself a good ol’ Southern boy. Maybe he read too much Hunter S. Thompson. Or maybe he listens to too much Jimmy Buffet. He’s just a Parrothead–type of guy. In fact, he’s a pretty bad guy. He thinks he’s helping but he’s not. He’s what they call an enabler. He provides Denzel’s character with drugs, and he’ll be your friend until the money runs out.
Whether he is likeable, I don’t care. That’s not up to me to judge. That’s up to the audience. I just try to do what’s on the page and flesh it out with some details. I’m not trying to be mysterious, I just don’t understand a lot of what I do. I do, however, think it is a mistake to say that I bring a lot of my own quirks to the character. The hair, the outfit, the mannerisms—most of it is in the script. I just take whatever details the script provides and then try to go about it with my own observations of why. It’s also a mistake to say that I’m drawn to these types of characters. It just depends on the script. Now, it’s true: I’ve been cast as this type of character often. I did some quiet stuff on Roseanne, but recently I guess I’m just a loudmouth all the time.
It’s been a few months since the height of buzz over Uggie, the now-retired Jack Russell Terrier who won the hearts and minds of the masses with his riveting performance in The Artist, during which the pup got a memoir deal and attended the White House Correspondents’ Dinner. But today, Uggie returned to the limelight, frolicking along the red carpet at Grauman’s Chinese Theatre in Hollywood on his hind legs, to place his pawprints in the cement on the Walk of Fame.
What’s so surprising about this honor is not that Uggie got his due, considering all the buzz surrounding his performance and even a call for him to win a human trophy, but how, in nearly a century of cinema, is Uggie the first dog to get the cement-pawprint treatment? There’s the original Rin-Tin-Tin, who passed away in 1932 (several years after Grauman’s opened) and who was recently the subject of a rather fascinating book from Susan Orlean. Or Terry, the Cairn Terrier who played Toto in The Wizard of Oz (although Terry was honored with an autobiography called I, Toto and, just this past year, a permanent memorial at the Hollywood Forever Cemetery). Several famous equine superstars have left hoof-prints in the past, however, including Roy Rogers’ Trigger and Gene Autry’s Champion.
Anyway, here’s a clip from the Telegraph of Uggie getting his pawprints immortalized. Goodnight, everybody!
● Uggie, the award winning dog from The Artist, has been invited to attend the White House Correspondents dinner, where he has even arranged to have "a shake" with President Obama himself. [Huff Post]
● Bear Grylls has been let go from Man vs. Wild "due to a continuing contractual dispute," but he’s pretty sure he’ll survive. "Bear has loved the Man vs. Wild journey and looks forward to producing further cutting edge content again soon for his loyal audience," says his rep. [People]
● Baby Blue Ivy Carter’s shoe game is already on point with these adorable Marc Jacobs booties. [ONTD]
● Kris Humphries got Kim’s famous $2 million dollar engagement ring on steep discount. “Kris could have never afforded such an extravagant engagement ring for Kim,” Radar reports. "He paid $750,000 for the engagement ring. [Designer] Elaine Schwartz gave Kris the ring basically at wholesale cost." [Radar]
● Oops! Lindsay Lohan hit someone wtih her brand-new Porsche while driving away from the club. Luckily, everyone was fine and nobody seems to be pressing charges. [TMZ]
● American Idol contestant Jermaine Jones has been sent home prematurely after it was discovered that he concealed "multiple crimes," one involving violence. The Hollywood Reporter suspects his "dramatic departure" will go down on tonight’s episode. [THR]
● More important than having the "it bag" is having the "it dog," and in style this season are the "maltipoo" and "morkie," designer mixes that can go for anywhere from $3,800 to $65,000 and up. [Page Six]
After he was diagnosed with a mysterious illness we were told that Uggie, the breakout star of Best Picture winner The Artist, would likely never act again. But here he is in a commercial for Nintendo’s Nintendogs franchise looking as dapper as ever, though his shaking ailment is plain as day. Thankfully enough, it doesn’t seem to have hurt his penchant for being the cutest lil’ guy around. Watch it after the click via Vulture, by way of Kotaku.
It’s all pretty normal until that giant Mario comes in at the end and just stares at the capable canine. The silent interaction is kind of an homage to The Artist, no? Uggie even winks at the end! Too real.
You have been on a Netflix binge before, but not like this: With the service’s Starz partnership set to expire in less than two days, you’ll need all the hours you can cramming in episodes of Party Down and crying at Toy Story 3 for the last time. If you remember, Netflix’s price increase in 2011 coincided with a failure to lock up a new Starz deal, which is why more than 840 titles will disappear on Thursday. TV and Movies NOW has a handy list of everything you’ll be missing, as well as if it’s available on Amazon Prime (but come on, who has that).
The ‘flix has a handful of Weinstein Company titles like The Artist and Coriolanus eventually coming its way, which should dull the loss by a smidgen. Still, it’s a terrific bummer that so many quality titles will no longer be available to our entitled asses, like the immortal Billy Madison and Astro Boy. Howl’s Moving Castle, Scarface, Young Fankenstein, Double Indemnity, Patton, Vertigo, Apocalypto, Lethal Weapon 2 — I could go on and on and on and on. Call your friends for a Netflix party, or just pull your hoodie over your head and get to business by yourself. Remember, nothing that happens on Leap Day counts in the real world.
● J-Lo showed some nipple and a very skinny Angelina some leg; Sacha Baron Cohen rained Kim Jong-Il’s ashes down on Ryan Seacrest; Chris Rock told the evening’s only funny joke; and The Artist took five awards. Ladies and gentleman, the 2012 Academy Awards! [NYT]
● The newly single Russell Simmons made sure to get Katy Perry’s number before leaving last night’s post-awards festivities. [NYDN]
● Jay-Z and Beyoncé took baby Blue Ivy out for her first lunch on the town at Sant Ambroeus in the West Village. [Rap-Up]
● Dipset capo Jim Jones was arrested and mased after getting into a fight at Diddy’s big Foxwoods Resort and Casino bash. "This is gettin blown way out of proportion," he said on Twitter after posting the $40,000 bail. [TMZ]
● Rihanna has been shortlisted, along with Vivica Fox and Jordin Sparks, to star in an upcoming Whitney Houston bioepic. [DailyMail]
● Ever so lovely, Taylor Swift invited a teen cancer patient to be her date to the Academy of Country Music Awards with a post on his Facebook wall. ‘Like’! [TMZ]