Belated Thoughts on The Hunger Games

This movie has the worst poster design of any $400+ million grosser ever.

I only just watched The Hunger Games (Gary Ross, 2012) last night, which can go in the 'better-late-than-never' camp right alongside my 'Best-of-2011' List.

Anyway, I'm an ardent fan of Jennifer Lawrence right now. Not only as an actress, and for that red Calvin Klein she wore to the 2011 Oscars, but mainly because she holds her own really well during talk show interviews. I mean really well, like in a way which makes me want to pack up and move to LA to have her as a best friend. But I digress. She has charisma, and the movie and the Suzanne Collins book series are a bit zeitgeist-y, and it didn't look as ridiculous as the 20 minutes of Twilight: New Moon (Chris Weitz, 2009) I saw in a hotel room in Bangkok where Kirsten Stewart just bit her lip a lot and Taylor Lautner had a stupid wig on.

The Hunger Games, with at least one riveting set piece involving a nest of mutant future hornets, falls firmly in the 'pleasantly surprising' category. Jennifer Lawrence's commitment to the role works wonders, even if it does seem to be no-more than a Young Adult Sci-fi reinterpretation of the resourcefulness she displayed as Ree Dolly from Winter's Bone (Debra Granik, 2010).

The stakes inherent in the plot inevitably become engaging because the central conceit of the nation's poor being sent to their death as grand guignol entertainment for the masses is a pretty riveting and scarily plausible one. And it's not hard to explicate within this the reality of young soldiers being sent to their death in war since time immemorial, which makes the plight of the participants in the Hunger Games sympathetic.

And for all the horrors of the dystopian future presented in The Hunger Games, none is quite as alarming as the quality of hairstyles. Between this and The Lovely Bones (Peter Jackson, 2009) I bet Stanley Tucci now displays significant pause before entering a wig-fitting.

IT'S LIKE A GAY TRIBUTE TO BEN-HUR WITH COSTUMES DESIGNED BY TEENAGERS

The costumes are overwrought in a way which over-accentuates  the whole French Revolution vibe of haves vs have-nots, and unfortunately they look cheap more than anything. Any self-respecting drag queen wouldn't be caught dead wearing half the clothes, even if it was to a Sci-Fi-Révolution française-themed Halloween ball. Actually, this slightly flimsy and decorous vision of the future nouveau-riche  is eerily similar to that depicted in that guilty B-Grade treasure Death Race 2000 (Paul Bartel, 1975).

And yes, things like Peeta being proficient at camouflage make-up because he decorates cakes, and Peeta being strong from throwing flour, and Peeta being attractive to Katniss even though he is clearly short, seem totally ridiculous! Don't even get me started on the fact that the people controlling the whole thing literally 'release the hounds' as a deus ex machina (meaning that between the mutant dogs and mutant wasps the film was this close to featuring 'dogs with bees in their mouth, and every time they bark they shoot bees at you'). But the film does such an endearingly yeoman-like job of establishing a context for everything that these flaws become easy to overlook, or at least push aside. Also Lenny Kravitz looks good in gold eyeliner, even if his benevolent stylist is basically the same character as the nurse he played in Precious: Based on the Novel 'Push' by Sapphire (Lee Daniels, 2009).

Add metaphor

I honestly think the film even reflects the politics of the 99% a little better, or at least more digestibly, than The Dark Knight Rises (Christopher Nolan, 2012), where everything just seemed so portentous (j'accuse I hear you say). The whole notion of using hope as a tool of propaganda for the underclasses is definitely handled in a way which seems more appropos to the text, even with the presence of art nouveau-inspired artisanal beards and President Donald Sutherland in a rose garden (the Count Dooku of the series, I'm guessing).

Wes Bentley + Future Beard = Cultural Relevancy (Don't squander it again)

Overall I appreciate the time taken to flesh out main characters, and Ross paces the proceedings fairly well. It's going to be interesting to see whether the sequels maintain this quality of entertainment, but for now I'm in. It's solid B-level entertainment, if not the B-Grade entertainment I would normally be more enamoured with.

And damn it, if they had just cast Emma Watson in a major role I could have dropped a wicked pun like The Hunger Gamines for the title of this article...

Accidental Movie Double

So I accidentally watched Ma Mere (Christophe Honore, 2004) and Savage Grace (Tom Kalin, 2007) in the same day once upon a time without even registering the incest as a common denominating factor.

Several years later I can still appreciate the beauty and fragility of both Julianne Moore and Isabelle Huppert, and their bravery in attacking their respective roles with sensuality. Which was the right choice for both characters, really. And while Savage Grace has the tacit advantage of being based on a true story involving tragic Bakelite heirs (you read correctly), both movies aren't much to write home about. They can't really spin much conflict, tension or pathos out of the whole mothers-sleeping-with-their-sons bombshell, which I found quite surprising. There isn't even a vein of perversion to render the sordidness at least compelling or melodramatic. By the time it happens in both films it just seems inevitable and rote. Did Hugh Dancy grow a moustache for nothing?

On an unrelated note next week my mother turns 65.
Happy birthday mum! I love you xxx

Elizabeth Taylor Eating Chicken (1966)

Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf (Mike Nichols, 1966) 

Starring Elizabeth Taylor as Martha and Richard Burton as George, this scene arrives early in the film adaptation of Edward Albee's play. And as soon as I saw Dame Elizabeth inhaling a chicken drumstick while trying to place a line of Bette Davis' dialogue I knew that I would rate the film very highly. It's a deglamorised role for Taylor, sure, but she invests so much character into every line reading and every slumping gesture that it ranks as one of her best embodiments of a diva on film. I mean, looking at the stills above, how diverse are the expressions conveyed whilst holding a late night snack?

Look at the still below, which is taken from when George and Martha come home drunk at the beginning of the film. Everything you need to know about their relationship, about Martha's dour assertiveness and her desire to rather be anywhere but home is nailed in one bitchy squint that greets the hall light switching on.

 

Woman was a goddess, and this is a vital screen performance that is utterly captivating and brilliantly quotable. And to end on a further high, if you click here and here you will find two of Elizabeth Taylor's chicken recipes. 

Could you imagine a better way of relishing this performance in the comfort of your home than with one of these (or both) as an accompaniment? I for one can't wait to go home and wave a drumstick around as I emote (which I do far far less than I would like to).

Academy Award Nominee Reaction Shots - Catherine Burns

Catherine Burns runs the gamut of emotional reactions, from nonchalant to bored via way of phlegmatic, at the 1970 ceremony. Nominated for Last Summer, Burns' entire reaction can be glimpsed in the video on youtube here. It was her moment to shine, and she chose not to, and I love her for it. It's so.... avant garde. Like glamorous performance art, like Daria goes to the Oscars. James Franco was trying way too hard to skewer the event when he hosted - a simple eye roll would have done. 

P.S. It would be remiss not to link to this video and not mention two things:

1) YAY GOLDIE

2) Raquel Welch could not have been more eager to hold the Oscar on the winner's behalf. She knew it'd be the only time she'd hold one of those bad boys.

This was inevitable (Plus a recent Muppets quibble)

I have yet to see The Iron Lady. I did however see The Muppets. This photo happened I guess because Miss Piggy basically plays Streep's Miranda Priestly from The Devil Wears Prada in the movie (which means she's essentially Anna Wintour), complete with Emily Blunt as her assistant. That or because Good Housekeeping was short of articles on actual housekeeping that month.

I digress.... I wanted to bring into focus my main criticism of The Muppets, which I so desperately wanted to like, and it basically revolves around this The Devil Wears Prada skit, which was cute, but rang alarm bells. It's a two-fold concern. Firstly, if this is a kid's film, what in the hell kids are they targeting that would get this reference? On the other hand, if this is meant to appeal to adult fans basking in a glow of childhood nostalgia, couldn't they have picked a less facile or obvious cultural reference? Maybe not. It was just a bit cringe worthy (not as cringe worthy as the Selena Gomez cameo).

This is by no means a dig at The Devil Wears Prada, I love that movie. It's just that the screenplay of The Muppets was almost as weak as Amy Adam's attempt to convince audiences that she was enjoying performing Me Party in the same movie.

ALSO. If you're going to drag Whoopi Goldberg and that human corpse Mickey Rooney onto a film set you sure as hell better fucking use them properly. Put them on the balcony with Statler and Waldorf where they belong, I don't care. Between two Sister Acts, The Lion King, and various sitcom appearances as herself, Whoopi was the patron godmother of my childhood and you better treat her right, because she sure as hell isn't gonna manage her own career.

I am woman, hear me yawn.

Albert Nobbs (2011)

Directed by Rodrigo Garcia

Story by Istvan Szabo, written by John Banville, George Moore and Glenn Close

Based on the short story  The Singular Life of Albert Nobbs by George Moore

Albert Nobbs is a dull film and I can’t for the life of me even comprehend how I would review it without major plot spoilers. You’ve been warned, or hopefully, spared. Which sucks, because I liked the advertising campaign that riffed on Rene Magritte’s Golconda imagery, and had high hopes that Glenn Close would really tear through this thing. Oh well.

Pretty much me watching the thing...

Glenn Close plays Albert Nobbs, a waiter at a hotel in Dublin at the turn of the twentieth century. Nobbs is a woman posing as a man in these circumstances, and why is pretty much alluded to by the screenplay as being a product of certain traumas and opportunity that occurred when Nobbs was much younger. Nobbs works undetected as a relative non-entity in the hotel, quiet and reserved almost to the point of annoyance. Just because the character is transgendered doesn’t make them engaging, sheesh. Anyway, Nobbs is thrilled to discover that a painter employed by the hotel, Hubert Page, is also a woman posing as a man. Page is boisterously played by Janet McTeer, and becomes some sort of a catalyst for Nobbs, who sees his loving relationship with a wife as aspirational. So, naturally, Nobbs looks towards PYT Helen Dawes, a maid at the hotel played by Mia Wasikowska, and fantasises about taking her as his wife and opening up a tobacconist. That also sells sweet meats (gross). Of course the arrival of the handsome and aggressive young Joe, Aaron Johnson (AKA Sam Taylor-Wood’s much younger husband) complicates this pipe dream somewhat when he takes on Helen as a bit of crumpet (the anachronism is somewhat apposite to this review). Sounds interesting right? WRONG. YAAAAAAAAAAAAWN.

Let’s begin by acknowledging this as a passion project for it’s lead Glenn Close, and one which she has harboured for approximately two decades since portraying the lead in a stage adaptation. Close co-wrote the screenplay, produced the film, and co-wrote the end-credits song sung by Sinead O-Connor. Because it’s set in Dublin. Also Albert Nobbs speaks with a cockney accent that borders on ridiculous. And holy geez, by the time the end credits dirge Lay Your Head Down (SPOILER ALERT! THE SONG TITLE IS OVERLY LITERAL because Nobbs dies after falling asleep with concussion, but not before dreaming of It’s-A-Wonderful-Afterlife) I wanted to tear up a picture of Close like it was the Pope… Which is saying something because I love her as an actress, Dangerous Liaisons  (Stephen Frears, 1987) being a career highlight for me. Earlier roles and performances have been imbued with a tenacity and verve, as well as a sympathy. Close is usually such a layered performer that it hurts to see her phone in a performance so hard, especially in something she’s been fighting to make for so long. Woman was Cruella DeVille DAMN IT.

Admittedly, this most likely stems to the screenplay, which merely illustrates events chronologically rather than work to reveal complexities or conflicts that may resonate between scenes and hint at character arcs, and the non-committal and plain direction by Rodrigo Garcia (best known for episodically structured films that work around large female ensembles, like 9 Lives and Mother and Child).

Frustratingly, there is a central conflict and conceit to Albert Nobbs - chiefly the danger and anxiety and risk of posing as a man in this period, and the societal limitations for women that may inspire such drastic measures, as well as the myriad gender and sexual politics that would shade these implied subtexts to the narrative - that the film itself seems unwilling or uninterested in developing with any kind of potency, urgency or hell, even emotion. Instead the film quietly sets it’s protagonist off into the night as some kind of pariah, wiping it’s hands neatly off of any obligation to honour it's intriguing premise with any sort of narrative provocation.

Maybe the sheen on the project has dulled over the years of fighting, which kind of shows in the lead performance of Close. Fatigue must have set in for her to tip her mannerisms so far into the restrained and reserved that they fail to register at all. It’s admirable that she should manage to pursue Albert Nobbs to it’s fruition, but ultimately if this was going to be the blunted result of all this labouring it would have been better off left unfulfilled. Also, Close never quite convinces as male or female in the role? Which I guess was intentional? Ku….dos? I know David Stratton said she looks like Robin Williams in this movie (maybe in Bicentennial Man), and I kind of see this.

Getting that movie confused with the tagline for A.I: Artificial Intelligence, I know.

Which isn’t to say that the film doesn’t have merits. Janet McTeer and the character of Hubert Page have far more material to work with, and it’s no surprise she blows Close out of her own spotlight. Her performance essays charm and swagger and confidence, that entirely reacts against the superficial cipher of Close’s Nobbs character. I haven’t in quite a while wished for a film to switch protagonists, but it’s clear a far more riveting and complex tale is to be told from Page’s perspective. McTeer, through voice projection and modulation alone, imbues trite line deliveries with revelations of her character’s past and intimations of her present idyll and happiness in her ‘unorthodox’ marriage. Close and her achieve a frisson of some kind of chemistry, but these scenes are bewilderingly few and far between. Am I wrong for wanting a tragedy along the lines of Boys Don’t Cry (Kimberley Pierce, 1999), only set in 1898? One with an informed and sympathetic queer voice directing it? Don’t kill off your protagonist and try to sell it to me as some kind of tragedy when there is nothing to invest in except for minor sympathy that they were a bit pitiable!

Such an inert passion project about a potentially intriguing queer topic  nonetheless manages to become interesting as it hijacks itself with unintentional camp value (although I wouldn’t be expecting an Albert Nobbs float at the next Mardi Gras for fear of inciting toxic narcolepsy). Let’s start with the puntastic name. Let me tell you the restraint it took to not title this review Albert Knobs. Because that’s almost how literal the plotting and pacing of this film is.

Secondly, there is a hallucinatory scene where Hubert and Albert (God I’m only just realizing the names are strikingly familiar and that Albert means knob in slang…) run around in dresses, and what I guess is meant to illustrate the complications of the characters’ transgender perspectives instead becomes sabotaged by my mind’s eye wandering off to images of Matt Lucas and David Walliams as two drag queens on the beach in Little Britain. 

'But I'm a lady' indeed.

 Props where they’re deserved, the actresses look suitably uncomfortable in dresses, and probably not just because they’re hideous. The dresses, that is. I know of a cute anecdote about Glenn Close that doesn’t involve her looking after Christopher Walken’s cats (they’re neighbours), but refers to how she likes to keep one costume per character from every film she’s done. I wonder if this number was a keeper for her or whether she opted for one of those jaunty Bowler hatted tops and tails numbers Albert wears when courting Helen on afternoon walks… You know, the type of outfit Diane Keaton wears to the Oscars.

What ensemble would YOU keep?

Speaking of costuming, Janet McTeer is dressed ridiculously as a man, with shoulders so broad they dwarf her head and Tobey-Maguire-as-douchey-emo-Peter-Parker-once-the-alien-symbiote-has-taken-over-in-Spiderman-3 haircut. 

She looks like a linebacker (when Close is content to look more like a Pez Dispenser) and it’s really off-putting until you see her knockers and realize that they’re massive. 

GIANT HOOTERS on a woman pretending to be a man. That’s the realism this film strives for, evidently. Good on it for trying though, because McTeer capably acts beyond the limitations her norks would otherwise have provided. Which begs the inevitable, yet obviously unanswered too-difficult question of ‘Why would a woman, in this era, think to pass off as a man if her boobs were thusly ample?’.

And yes, I realize I’ve used four alternative terms for breasts in a paragraph. Not bad.

So basically, in summary. (Al)BLERGH NO(bbs).

Nominated for three Academy Awards. Three more than Weekend (Andrew Haigh, 2011) was nominated for, because I expect this movie to be three times better at truthfully limning queer experience. DERP.

2.5/5

MVP: Janet McTeer, by a couple of mamaloogas

She was ROBBED I tell ya.

This made me literally LOL when I saw it on the Critic's Choice Awards website late last year. If you can see the mistake they made, surely you'll see it's an easy one to make. Both Michelle Williams' (Willii?) are amazing.

Speaking of the one above, why wasn't she allowed to be in the video for Beyonce's Party?It could have been a Destiny's Child reunion of sorts... And while I'm on the topic of that video, where is Andre Benjamin? J. Cole's verse is terrible, it's like he's sleepwalking through three quarters of it! Terrible. Way to ruin my favourite song off of 4....

Anyway I digress... My own ballot for the leading ladies of last year would look like so -

 

 Annette Bening trumps her co-lead Julianne Moore for her nuanced portrayal of the more unlikeable character, Nic, and for nailing the delivery of the word 'interloper' during a pivotal scene. When this mother bear figure asserts herself it makes for an electrifying conflict of fear and vulnerability laced with self-assertion and authority. 

Kim Hye-Ja also excels as 'Mother' in a role that would probably inspire overacting and overreaching for audience sympathies by a lesser actress. Instead, she negotiates the many arcs and contradictions of the character with dexterity and fierce determination which cannot be anything but entirely sympathetic and pathetic in equal measure. As her character reaches further into pits of desperation and uncertainty, Hye-Ja never lets you forget that mother is entirely in charge, at any necessary cost, which is as thrilling and terrifying as it is pitiable. But what makes this performance remarkable is that you never once doubt for a second that what the character is doing is not motivated by love (and guilt and fearful protectiveness - so many layers) for her child. Plus bonus points for dancing. 

Catherine Keener uses her remarkably weathered face and body language to create a portrait of mother and antiques dealer Kate, swimming in a sea of defeat which is incredibly endearing, but without sacrificing a complexity to the character that suggests she is more than capable of seeking out salvation from her current anomie. Catherine Keener is a familiar presence and a welcome one, and in this movie more than any other I just wanted to hug her and buy her a coffee, her despair is so intangible and palpable at the same time. 

Gabourey Sidibe is blistering in her debut performance, miles away in demeanor from her ebullient personality she has displayed in interviews. Her Precious is no doubt defined by the misery of her surroundings, but Sidibe's performance, way more than the scripting, suggests a redemptive arc to the character. The performance is entirely convincing, and given depth by nuances that come from an empathetic performer. 

Tilda Swinton as Emma Recchi conveys the most remarkable of transformations with the most expert grace and precision; watch her controlled matriarch thaw before your very eyes and convince you that the food and sex she's experiencing are enough to sacrifice everything you've ever known for, and feel the excitement of guilt and transgression simultaneously. All in Russian accented Italian, nonetheless. 

Finally, Michelle Williams' Cindy has the difficult task of convincing you that she has fallen both in and out of love with Ryan Gosling. Please. The fact she pulls it off, ranging from luminous and radiant to bitter and distant, is a near miracle, even if she convinces considerably more in the former zone rather than the latter. What she is able to improvise with her on-screen partner, creating a twee yet sincere portrait of a pixie-ish dreamboat, through charisma and awkwardness alone that is entirely in character, is thoroughly endearing.

I love actresses.

FYC: Best Actress in a Leading Role 2010

Did you know there is a strange little rule in the Academy Awards regarding the eligibility of Foreign Films getting nominations? Every year countries from around the world choose to submit a single title each for consideration in the Best Foreign Film category at the Academy Awards. Generally a film has to open for a one week qualifying run in Los Angeles in order to be up for Academy Awards consideration in other categories, like Director, Actor, Screenplay, etc.

Unless it is submitted for foreign film consideration, then it doesn't need to have the one-week run in order to get Oscar nominations. However if a foreign-language film submitted by their respective country fails to get a nomination in the Foreign Film category it can still be eligible for nominations in categories in the year of it's eventual release in Los Angeles wherein it meets qualifying criteria. If it does get a nomination for foreign film then it can't be eligible for nominations in other categories the following year.

In the past this hasn't been an issue for a film like Woman of the Dunes (Hiroshi Teshigahara, 1964) nominated for Best Foreign Film by the Academy in 1965, and then for Best Director in 1966 once it had opened to the general public. The bizarre rule I described is only a recent complication added to the arcane regulations of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences; meaning that quality foreign films generally get shafted in categories apart from the one they're condemned to. The actual rules concerning which films can be selected by which country are also unnecessarily complicated too, but let's not go there.

This digression into the politics governing the Foreign Film branch of the Oscars is of relevance to news regarding my pick for the best film of 2010, Mother, director Joon-ho Bong's exhilarating subversion of thrillers, noir and procedural police-investigative genres. The film was South Korea's submission for the foreign film branch of the Academy last year, following it's critically acclaimed unveiling at the Cannes Film Festival in May 2009. The film failed to get nominated, and was eventually released in the United States March 2010.

Earlier today the Los Angeles Film Critics Association (LAFCA) voted upon its end-of-year awards, and the results included the relatively surprising decision to award Hye-ja Kim Best Actress for her sympathetic and captivating work in Mother. The 69 year-old Korean Actress is a virtual unknown outside of her home country, where she is regarded for her television and stage work (she even played the title role of Sister Aloysius Beauvier in a Korean production of Doubt, the same role taken by Meryl Streep in John Patrick Shanley's 2008 film adaptation), but is certainly an inspired selection by the voters; a no-brainer really if you regard the exquisite detail and complexity she energises the film with. Congratulations also to the film being considered Runner-up for the Best Foreign Film category, too. Congratulations all around!

This is causing me to be indescribably optimistic that perhaps as an esteemed pre-cursor to film industry awards, this win will propel Hye-ja Kim into the race for a Best Actress nomination at next year's Academy Awards. It would mean great things for the film, and hopefully secure it a larger audience outside of film festivals, arthouse cinemas and Korea, basically. The film is so good it deserves this. However, I will choose to ignore the relative obscurity of some of the LAFCA's winners in previous years (including Yolande Moreau for Best Actress in 2009 for Sértaphine (Martin Provost, 2008)) as signs of their esotericism and intellectual snobbery towards American Studio productions more likely to attract awards momentum, in order to make this point.

Basically, even thought this post will have no eventual effect on any outcome which may occur, I hereby submit Hye-ja Kim's performance For Your Consideration as Best Actress in a Leading Role 2010, to the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences. She's eligible! The film, which has no apparent awards campaign mounted, is available on DVD and Netflix! Also Asian performers are so routinely ignored by big-name awards bodies, that this nomination would definitely constitute as some form of affirmative action!

Foreign language film nominations create the illusion that your organisation is sophisticated; that you voters care about the medium as an art form and is not enshrined in the agit-prop politics of the corporate studio system! I would be more than happy for you to use this film to demonstrate this cause.
Plus, I want to see her on the Los Angeles Red Carpet in a pretty dress being interviewed by flummoxed American reporters who have no idea who she is. Maybe it would even lead to stunt casting in future Hollywood projects as an elderly, wizened neighbour, or better yet, a villain! This would make me so incredibly happy. So very, very giddy with joy and wonder. You have precedence, fools!

It would be like Ida Kaminska's nomination for The Shop on Main Street (Elmar Klos, 1965), back when your organisation appeared to have taste and acknowledged films with subtitles. Think of the possibile repercussions a simple number one on your ballot may have.

Nathan, out.

Can you feel it?

The Academy Awards circuit is currently in full swing. It's the most wonderful time of the year, particularly for those who have an uncanny knack for retaining obscure facts, and who have never wanted anything more than to own an Oscar. Since the age of 12 when I first discovered the table listing Academy Award winners in my World Book Encyclopedia I have always had a particular curiosity with the ceremony and its statistics. It still feels absurd to me that they would pit professionals against each other in such a competition, in that it feels counter-productive to the artistic merits of the industry. If excellence was truly meant to be celebrated, surely they would just have a ballot for winners and disregard the embarrassment of the nomination process? Couldn't they just have five winners in each category voted by their peers?

I guess this would mean we miss out on the best part of the whole thing though, which is clearly the pageantry of it all and its attempts to be taken seriously as a celebration of art... The tension inherent in having four celebrities having to display loss and failure in such a public display is a sadistic stroke of genius. And who doesn't love a good frock? Or seeing A-listers stumble through embarrassingly weak live material and auto-cue readings?

I can't help but become seriously emotionally invested this time every year. I absorb and retain facts like I did when I was six and dinosaurs were my obsession. It's my vice, and a sure sign of a mild autism. These useless statistics have just about as much cultural relevancy as my dinosaur facts too, the only difference being that if I can play my cards right regurgitating these useless facts one day I may end up being a presenter from the Academy Awards red carpet. Oh to dream and dream big! After all, if I can't beat them, I can surely hope to at least join them, right? Suck it Richard Wilkins. I look better on camera and would most certainly have a better rapport with legendary actresses and auteurs alike. God bless the internet too while I'm at it, and its plethora of movie awards focused blogs and losers with more time than me insiders, for making me feel normal with this bizarre fetish of mine.

Nathan.