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The website is back.  Color even me surprised.

Usually my call for Best Picture comes the same day as the nominations are announced, mostly because of my Big Old Oscar Theory, such named because I thought of it one day and never tried to conjure up something better.  Over ten years I only missed once – picking Babel last year over The Departed

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– nailing such underdogs along the way as Crash and Shakespeare in Love before the mainstream media started picking up on their potential as an underdog spoiler.  Yeah, I’m good.

It’s last minute, but for this year go with No Country For Old Men edging out There Will be Blood.  Juno’s a longshot, and I’ll be rooting for it, but don’t count on it.

My skills never crossed over to lesser categories, but I’ll make picks anyway:
Best Actor: Daniel Day-Lewis, There Will Be Blood
Best Actress: Ellen Page, Juno
Supporting Actor: download U-571 Javier Bardem, No Country For Old Men
Supporting Actress: Cate Blanchett, I’m Not There Hard-Boiled psp
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Director:

Coen Brothers, No Country For Old Men
Adapted Screenplay: Paul Thomas Anderson, There Will Be Blood

Original Screenplay: Diablo Cody, Juno
Animated Feature: Ratatouille

There are two films inside of Bella, one of which wants to tell a cute, joyful story about a Hispanic family in New York City. The other wants to preach to us about the evils of abortion, and in the limited amount of time that latter consumes it still manages to fatally injure the appeal of the first.

Jose is the head chef at his brother Manny’s restaurant, and when one day Nina, a waitress, shows up late for the third time in a week and is unceremoniously fired. Abandoning his kitchen duties to follow her, he finds out that she was late because she was late; stopping to purchase a home pregnancy test before her shift, she felt it was more important to tend to her needs than her boss’s and the result is her termination. Jose sympathizes, especially when he finds out she has no plans to keep the child, and as she frets over her sudden loss of income and growth of stomach he quickly finds her a new job at another restaurant and decides to treat her to a whirlwind day around the city.

Three levels exist to the film. The first is simple and quite entertaining, as Jose and Nina, co-workers for quite some time, really get to know each other for the first time. Tooling around the city, thy eventually end up at the house of Jose’s parents and time spent with his colorful mama and papa. The dinner that follows is one of those fun, loving gatherings with a lot of good food (the scents float off the screen) and a little bit of excellent dancing, with Jose’s family, especially his father, comprised of your typical close-knit ethnic folk that seem to exist only in fiction yet simultaneously, somehow, feel as real as our closest friends; think My Big Fat Greek Wedding, only more realistic and interesting. These are well-written, exquisitely played characters that are a joy to spend time with, and in as little time as we’re gifted to spend with them they establish themselves as easily the best part of this film.

Unfortunately, the second part of the movie, an exploration of how Jose went from pro soccer player to restaurant chef, starts to weigh down the film, and while it isn’t uninteresting it still seems cloying and thrown in for unnecessary dramatic weight. It could be seen as a story of redemption, but that just undercuts the motives behind the third portion of the movie. Worse still is that third portion, where Jose takes on a not-so-silent mission to convince Nina to keep her child. His motives may be noble, even correct, but the film’s portrayal of it simplistic and uninteresting, almost as if we can’t possibly disagree with the conclusion and need no convincing that such a simple chain of events could lead in this direction.

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It’s not an accident that the waitress, a Caucasian speaking little, broken Spanish is named “Nina.” The few scenes where Jose appeals to her to keep her child play like a poorly written afterschool special or Lifetime made-for-TV movie, with stark dialogue that Tammy Blanchard, who otherwise acquits herself quite well in the roll, spits out as if she wants to get the monologue over with so they can get back to the better film. Here she stops being this interesting character we’ve been able to observe and becomes Just Another Woman, a mouthpiece spouting the usual concerns of the pro-choice lobby. You almost begin to wonder if Planned Parenthood lobbied the WGA for a writing credit.

I spoil little by revealing that she keeps her girl; this is what the picture intends from reel one, and as the day passes it becomes more and more obvious to us. Having such an expected conclusion, though, is not as insulting as how the film gets there, painting a rather cliched picture of the differences between a pro-life and pro-choice thought process. You can see the wheels turning in Nina’s head as she sits down to the family dinner at Jose’s, an otherwise joyous and fun scene that’s unfortunately present for the primary purpose to hammer home the idea that perhaps if she had grown up in such a welcoming home she would have no thoughts of terminating her pregnancy. Her subsequent stories on the beach reinforce this, highlighting the differences between her childhood and that of Jose as she marvels at the difference between experiences that night and her single-parent teenage years. The coupling of the poorly written Roll of Abortion Excuses spouted by Nina, which continue here, and the polar opposites of their respective upbringings serve to firmly establish her as nothing more than a pro-choice straw man, and impeach any other value the picture may serve to offer.

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That all said, Bella’s worst crime is to betray all of its wonderful elements and subsequently lose your interest. Like Ratatouille earlier this year, the picture sucks you in with the smells floating out of its celluloid kitchen. It further snares you with the grand performances of the two leads and the intriguing mystery of Jose, and even more with his playful family that we end up wanting to spend much more time with. All this is aided by excellent work from director (who also co-scripted) Alejandro Gomez Monteverde who uses the city well as a backdrop, painting Jose into familial neighborhoods and Nina into a stark, empty apartment that speaks to her state of mind. All of this sets up a grand slice of entertainment that slowly devolves, and by the end your mind wanders and you begin to feel betrayed. A subtle pro-life film would be fine; being of that mindset, I personally would be up for such an effort. Bella The Man from Earth psp isn’t concerned, though, with sneaking its message through as much as hammering you over the head with it. In a poorly made film this would be disappointing. In such a well made one, it’s unforgivable.

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**½ (out of four)

Peter’s Big Old (Basically Useless, Except It’s Always Right) Oscar Theory divides the five Oscar nominees into five classes, of which only one should produce a winner. That would be the “Frontrunner” class, which holds the top two pictures. Under that is the one film with an “Outside Chance,” followed by the two with “No Chance.” Of the top two films, one is a clear favorite and rarely ever loses. Usually the Favorite Wins, though occasionally (1999, 2003, 2006) the underdog wins. For example, in ‘99 and ‘03 Saving Private Ryan and Gangs of New York had SO MUCH advance buzz that Shakespeare in Love and Chicago respectively steamrolled out of the Golden Globes and stole all the momentum. One could argue that in 1999 leading up to the awards Life is Beautiful had been bumped up to Frontrunner (Underdog) status while Ryan was out of the picture, but that is the whole point of the theory: it was next-to-impossible for LIB to win because at nomination time it was in a class that is impossible to take home Best Picture from. You have to have the momentum by the nominations, or else you’re out of luck. Being in the No Chance category is like having a #11 seed in the NCAA Men’s Basketball Tourney: is it technically possible to win? Yes. Will you win? Oh, hells no.

Once upon a time I saw all five films nominated for Best Picture.

Once upon a time I actually saw films.

(Once upon a time I actually blogged, as well, but that’s another story…)

The one thing I have remained consistent about is my ability to pick the winner of Best Picture, upset or not. Admittedly, it isn’t a relatively hard thing to do if you A.) pay attention to the press each film gets, and 2.) understand that it’s not about which is the better film, but about which film Academy voters are most likely to vote for. This is why I picked Crash

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last year long before it started to get noticed (read: before the Golden Globes.) I could just tell.

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That all said, 2007 is 2001* all over again. There isn’t a looker in the bunch; did my absence from the multiplexes cause there to be no more really good films? I would admit personal bias and confess that perhaps my guru, Roger Ebert’s, hospitalization and lack of reviews for the last half (the most important half, awards-wise) of the year just makes it seem like there’s a dearth of legitimate nominees. But I don’t seem to be alone in my opinion.

Maybe that’s unfair. Maybe it’s just the films lack excitement…sizzle…whatever.

There’s also no clear frontrunner. Shit.

No, I did not simply list them in (almost) alphabetical order.

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I really don’t know what to think. No film has the buzz; Departed is getting the “Scorsese Will Finally Win!” press, but not as much as for Gangs of New York,, and we all know how that one ended. Then again, this is the first film of his that really doesn’t have legitimate competition. Babel could draw the Crash artistic vote, but it’s not getting the press. Little Miss Sunshine could be the rare populous champion, but I don’t see it. Letters and Queen are just happy to be here.

So I guess we’ll go with Babel off the strength of the Globes win and the fact that the Academy likes to taunt Martin Scorsese. But I fear that my nine year winning streak may be coming to an end.

Previous years below. Best Picture winners are noted in bold; my pick is noted with an asterisk. Notice how you always find the two together.

* Gladiator sucked. Brockovich sucked. Chocolat was not nomination worthy. Neither was Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon. Traffic was good, but not as good as Almost Famous, State and Main and Wonder Boys, all of which were ignored by the Academy.

CARS CARS CARS CARS CARS CARS CARS CARS CARS CARS CARS CARS CARS CARS!

There’s a reason why Pixar has only put out six films in the last decade while Dreamworks Animation craps out several a year. Quality over quantity.

Forty years ago that Interstate didn’t exist. The town got bypassed just to save ten minutes of driving. -Bonnie Hunt, “Cars”

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“Cars” is due out June 9th, and I have higher hopes for the film than any other since, well, “The Incredibles.”

Higher hopes, in fact.

Forget for a moment that the animation is at least three years ahead of what Dreamworks can render (and two years ahead of what they can even imagine; witness the waterfall and the stadium shots with “the wave” made of headlights from the linked trailers to see the pretty.) That I can look forward to any piece of entertainment that prominently features Larry the Cable Guy is a miracle, but then again, Pixar is a miracle maker. It’s about the story and unique, interesting characters, not cute gags and voice actors; while Dreamworks trots out Will Smith and Ben Affleck, Pixar employs Albert Brooks and Craig T. Nelson (not to mention Sarah Vowell), all who promptly put the aforementioned to shame. The idea of “Cars” first disappointed me when we knew next-to-nothing about it (in late ‘04, when “The Incredibles” was hot) but the more I hear the more I love. The more I can’t wait until the very first screening in the area, the one I’ll be at.

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I am of course biased in my anticipation of “Cars.” Your best source for Route 66 news on the web is going apeshit over Cars, and god bless him for it; the film was originally titled “Route 66,” as it takes place on the Mother Road, and lost its designation only to avoid confusion with the 1960s CBS series (that had little, if anything, to do with the Main Street of America.) But that’s the supreme example of Pixar’s superior intellect and work: would Dreamworks ever touch such a subject? Animators from Pixar, including Honcho John Lasseter himself, toured parts of the road in the southwest to get an idea of what the historic highway had to offer, and elements of Route 66 (the Cadillac Ranch, the Wigwam Village) can be found in the fictional “Cars” Route 66 hamlet of Radiator Springs.

The point: there’s love and knowledge and care in this film. I can tell you this and I haven’t even seen it yet. Meanwhile, Will Smith is a hip-hop fish. David Schwimmer is a cowardly giraffe. Save Shrek (and who knows what the third film will have to offer,) why does anyone give Dreamworks their money, or even the time of day?

Friday, June 9: give Pixar your money, please.

This may be the worst production house ever.

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Anyone who sees/saw any of these films in a theatre deserves to be shot on sight. Seriously.

Cars is coming.

Pixar. John Lasseter. Route 66. Oh my.

And it’s release date is my negative-first wedding anniversary – June 9, 2006.

Oh my.

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Note to self:

Don’t watch The Day After while working on scanning photos of your and your fiancee for your wedding website. Especially not the part in the second act where Denise realizes she can’t remember her fiance’s face and collapses into her unused wedding gown. Not fun. Not at all.

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Peter’s Big Old (Basically Useless) Oscar Theory divides the five
Oscar nominees into five classes, of which only one should produce a winner.
That would be the “Frontrunner” class which holds the top two pictures. Under
that is the one film with an “Outside Chance,” followed by the two with “No
Chance.” Of the top two films, one is a clear favorite and rarely ever loses.
Usually the Favorite Wins, though ocassionally (like in 1999 and 2003) the underdog
wins. There, Saving Private Ryan and Gangs of New York had
so MUCH advance buzz that Shakespeare in Love and Chicago
respectively steamrolled out of the Golden Globes and stole all the momentum.
One could argue that in 1999 leading up to the awards Life Is Beautiful
had been bumped up to Frontrunner (Underdog) status while Ryan
was out of the picture, but that is the whole point of the theory: it was next-to-impossible
for LIB to win because at nomination time it was in a class that is
impossible to take home Best Picture from. You have to have the momentum by
the nominations, or else you’re out of luck. Being in the No Chance category
is like having a #11 seed in the NCAA Men’s Basketball Tourney: is it technically
possible to win? Yes. Will you win? Oh, hell no.

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Oh my, I have been more out of it than usual this year. The Oscar nominations
unfairly snuck up on me, making my prediction much later than usual (read: not
the very same day the nominations are released. Bad, Peter! Bad.)

But we can keep this short and sweet.

I’ve never picked Best Picture wrong, and I’m not about to start. All the buzz
you’ve heard over the last week is correct: Crash will become my third
“Underdog” to upset the “Favorite” and win Best Pic.

This is nothing against Brokeback Mountain, which I’ve yet to see (as
of this writing, I’ve only screened Crash and Good Night, and Good
Luck.) Paul Haggis’s film just has all the momentum, despite the Globes win
for the cowboys. Recall that Haggis scripted last year’s winner, Million Dollar
Baby, and with this stellar cast led by the under-honored Don Cheadle, all
the press belongs to the earlier release. The wind is dying from beneath Brokeback’s
sails.

Psycho release Don’t think this is helped by conservative backlash, though. Nor will the film
be aided by it. The Academy voters care little for what Bill O’Reilly or Pat Robertson
think. Brokeback will garner plenty of votes, but Crash, “old”
as it is, is grabbing new eyes and is really the fresher, more interesting film.
The fact that it addresses an issue does not hurt.

As for the others: Good Night has a outside chance as an issue film (and
because of George Clooney, who got a well deserved Best Director nod for the flick)
while Spielberg’s Munich is forgotten. Capote will get the Best
Actor Working Today, Philip Seymour Hoffman, his first (and not last, hopefully)
Best Actor award, and will be ignored in the main category (though I would relish
a win for Catherine Keener taking home Best Supporting Actress for the film as
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well; she’s such a delight, as she showed last year in The 40-Year Old Virgin.)

So bank on Crash. Am I nervous about my streak being snapped? Perhaps
a bit. Just a bit. But I’d still put money on Haggis.

Previous years | Best Picture winner (and Peter’s pick for Best Picture)
in bold text.

A minor cold developed within my body the past several nights (noticeable primarily thanks to a sore throat, albeit a barely irritating one) and was believed by yours truly to be nothing more than a small nuisance. Hogwash. Today I awoke with the headache that devoured Akron, a mammoth pain that said, “Yeah, Peter, your really head hurts. Really.” Disaster! Certainly enough to derail work today.

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By now the hurt has subsided, but minor effects of the cold remain, enough to keep me sidelined. This has led me to a new standard of boredom:

“I was so bored, I watched First Daughter!”

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Note: this one’s going to show up on My 50 Favorite Films list when I revise it later this year.

There’s such joy in this film, and it’s palpable. I get this buzz sometimes from films – a high that permeates through me as I walk out of the theatre, forcing my lips into an ear-to-ear grin. I’m reminded how much I love film, and why. This film gave me that buzz like none other I’ve seen so far this year.

The 40-Year-Old Virgin is ribald and raw and wants to ride that line between acceptability and outright crassness at times, but unlike most of its contemporaries there’s no animosity here. Everyone’s having fun at the expense of no one – this is a remarkable feat when one considers the movie’s title.

Steve Carell plays the title character, Andy Stitzer, a warehouse associate at a Circuit City-clone that spends his downtime obsessing over the myriad collectables lining his apartment walls and, of course, never having sex. This is discovered by three co-workers (Paul Rudd, Seth Rogen and Romany Malco) during a late night poker game, and his new buddies promise to get Andy laid. This involves dragging Andy to clubs and date-a-minute sessions, tutoring him on the art of the seduction of the drunk, and pushing him to talk to anything remotely attractive that enters the shopping mall. This includes a young blonde who works at the bookstore next door (Elizabeth Banks, the Parker Posey clone from Spider-Man 2) who Andy is prompted by one buddy to “ask only questions” to. Never actually respond. This works.

Enter Trish (Catherine Keener.) She runs a “Sell your stuff on eBay” store across the street from where Andy works, and her neurotic confidence is the perfect compliment to his reserved inexperience. Embarrassed that she hid her three kids (and one grandchild) from Andy, Trish has a plan: get to know each other. No sex for twenty dates. Andy, struggling to reveal his deep, dark secret to this dream girl, jumps at the chance.

The 40-Year-Old Virgin succeeds by making this all as laid-back and friendly as one could imagine. The three buddies are excellently cast, played well by unknowns (save Paul Rudd, who we rarely see.) Rudd is surprisingly sweet and understandable as he aches for the girlfriend he dumped two years prior, while Malco channels Dave Chappelle well as the player who never saw a ho whose ass he couldn’t tap. Rogen is the wild card, saving his ribald side for what Andy casts aside. None of these characters are empty shells, merely walking avatars for dialogue that help to further the plot, as they would be in a lesser film. This is real support, and you’ll be seeing more of these guys in the future.

Carell and Keener carry the film, and their parts could not be recast better if you tried for twelve million years. The Daily Show vet is at his best yet here, balancing his oft-seen comedy chops with some true acting talent that bodes well for his future. As mentioned, he’s not here to make fun of this Andy he plays, but to inhabit him, show him off for us so we can understand – and enjoy his company, as his co-workers grow to do as well once they get to know him. Keener, meanwhile, is still the most underrated actress in Hollywood, an incredible statement to make six years after her breakout role in Being John Malkovich. A decade ago she was starring in indy films like Living in Oblivion and Walking and Talking and proving herself better than any material any writer could provide for her. She’s still on that level, creating a sexy and sympathetic companion for Andy that allows us to understand why he gravitates towards her rather than the buxom blonde his friends would rather him hook up with. What an incredible actress.

I spoil little by revealing that The 40-Year-Old Virgin

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doesn’t carry his flower to year forty-one, and it’s Trish that plucks it. The film works logically towards this with only a few speed bumps: a few scenes, namely the chest-waxing escapade, run a tad long, and you could probably cut a few minutes overall off of the running time. It’s not perfect, but it’s damned near it, and Judd Apatow, best known for creating the TV series “Freaks and Geeks” and “Undeclared” should be congratulated on directing and co-writing (with Carell) an incredibly enjoyable film. Earlier this year, Wedding Crashers took better pedigree (Vince Vaughn, Owen Wilson and The Christopher Walken) and an equally high concept idea and attempted to balance crudeness and sweetness. It failed miserably. Thank you, Judd Apatow, for showing us how it’s done. Thank you for this wonderful movie that just wants to have fun.

Wedding Crashers also co-starred Will Ferrell. So did Apatow’s last credit; he was a producer for last year’s horrid Anchorman. This film I just reviewed features three of the main stars from that latter picture: Carell, Rudd and David Koechner in a small role. No Ferrell in this film, though, and it’s the only good film in the bunch. No coincidence there.

***½