And the nominee is...

Well, the Academy Award nominations are out and though I'm disappointed Serenity didn't receive a single nom, I’m heartily relieved that King Kong didn’t get any major noms. There was buzz for Peter Jackson as Best Director that turned out to be just that—buzz. Thankfully. Have I mentioned already how bad I thought King Kong was? Just checking.

The nominations were as Brokeback-y as expected, but what a coup for George Clooney to snag three nominations. Miss Snark, the literary agent blogger I worship and who has a King Kong size crush on George, must be jumping up and down in her pink stilettos.

Now, I’ve made it a policy not to see any of the Oscar-buzz movies so as not to taint my predictions, but I broke that rule this year in catching "Good Night and Good Luck" when it was at the local dollar theater. (Surely you don’t think it played at Showcase—which has five locations within 20 minutes of me. They don’t show movies that anyone over 16 would like to see or that don't have "Part II" or "Big Momma's (fill in the blank) in the title. So for my Indie and small-budget movie fix, I go to the dollar cinema, which is admirably dedicated to presenting smaller—a.k.a. GOOD—films. But, as usual, I digress…). GN&GL was damned terrific, a movie that actually made you think; catch it at the dollar theatre near you!

Herewith are my predictions for Oscar night:
1. Ang Lee will break his back hauling all the statuettes Brokeback Mountain will receive.
2. Someone, probably the starlet of the month, will mispronounce David Strathairn’s name. It’s already been misspelled a million times, so why not?
3. Jack Nicholson will steal the coveted title of “most embalmed-looking celebrity” from Army Archerd
4. Someone will finally explain who Army Archerd is and why he haunts the Oscar’s opening ceremonies
5. Someone HAS TO ask, who is (supporting actress nominee) Amy Adams and what is Junebug? Because really, I don’t have a clue. That movie didn’t even play at the dollar cinema.
6. The Academy will let Mickey Rooney out of his cryo-chamber once again to plunk him in the fifth row next to Charlize Theron so they’ll have a bit of “Old (and I’m talking OLD) Hollywood” to glam up the joint
7. The Life Achievement award will go to yet another man named Sidney (Pollack, Lumet, Poitier, Greenstreet…that last one's a lie, but you get the point and double points if you know who he was!). Apparently the women who toil in Tinsel Town just haven’t achieved enough to deserve the nod. Or maybe there’s no chicks named Sidney in the biz.
8. George Clooney will sweep all three of his categories but will be unable to accept his awards because he and Miss Snark, who will brazenly crash the party, will be off canoodling in a corner. Near the bar.
9. And finally, someone will be wearing a really awful outfit. Or maybe a few someones.

Stay tuned for the Academy Awards on March 5th—I’ll have a complete run-down of all the fashion don'ts, Clooney-sightings, and Archerd-embalmings.

Janet – No power in the ‘verse can stop me!

Old Broads Rule!

I caught a snippet of the CBS Morning News today that made my Media Crap-o-Meter alert clang wildly. I'd just downed my daily Metamucil and was shambling my way to the treadmill with the assistance of my trusty walker when I heard a vacuous reporter introduce actress Vanessa Williams. She asked Vanessa about her new movie and commented that it must've been interesting to be one of the "elders" on the set, the voice of experience as it were. After I got my feeble hands to work the buttons to start the treadmill and encouraged my arthritic knees to bend, I glanced at the TV to get a gander at this ancient crone of an actress. Imagine my surprise when I saw that Vanessa was a mere sprite of...42. Yes, 42.

The interviewer (whose name I can't remember because I'm so old--47) piled on the ageist indignities by commenting that Vanessa looks pretty good for her age. Especially after having given birth to four children. Here the interviewer's voice became hushed, and she spoke of Vanessa's pregnancies as if she had stormed the beaches at Normandy or survived a rare cancer. No surprise...pregnancy seems to be considered a disease in Hollywood, one to be monitored and scrutinized in detail by the tabloids—"Jennifer's gained 8 pounds! Baby Weight Could Ruin Her Career!"--and to be recovered from quickly—"Thank Jesus you've lost the baby weight, Vanessa!"

The thing that bothered me most about the conversation? The interviewer would NEVER comment about a male actor still looking good at his age. She'd ask about his new movie, in which he plays a super spy trying to stop a bad guy from blowing up the world while romancing Hollywood's 20-something ingenue of the moment (cripes even 101-year old Harrison Ford still gets these roles!). She’d also most likely ask about the man’s supermodel third wife and the new baby they’d just adopted from a surrogate because, you know, his supermodel third wife didn’t want to endure the pregnancy disease.

Maybe Vanessa could write a book about how she survived the disease--four times--and manages to look so trim and taut at the one-foot-in-the-grave age of 42. She could call it, 'It's a Drag Getting Old, but There is Life After 40!' Unless you’re an actress of a certain age who just happens to LOOK it. Then you’re pretty much reduced to playing a stiff on Law & Order.

Janet - No power in the 'verse (not even a few wrinkles) can stop me...

King Kong--worst movie of 2005

Maybe that’s a bit extreme, but King Kong is still pretty bad. And waaaaaay too long.

Went with the family and, as usual, some of the kids friends. We were victims of high expectations: The critics were raving (raving mad, I now realize) and we loved the “Lord of the Rings” movies. Peter Jackson skillfully brought to life the epic aspects of the Tolkien stories. But King Kong ain’t an epic; it’s a popcorn movie. It's supposed to be FUN. Peter Jackson forgot that little detail and what he gave us was three fanny-numbing, joyless hours of surprisingly cheesy special effects (except for Kong), surprisingly bad dialog, chaotic action, and Adrien Brody’s schnozz.

Have I mentioned it was too long? My kids and their friends, teenage boys, the demo most prized by Hollywood, were BORED by the whole thing, even the action sequences—11 minutes of stampeding dinosaurs and 7 minutes (or was that 7 hours?) of creepy bugs chomping on unlucky extras in red shirts. I counted three bathroom breaks and one popcorn run during that scene.

The movie was also a muddled mess, the tone zinging from cartoony to pompous (well, not zinging, nothing moved any faster than plodding, except Kong). A ludicrous subplot has two characters engaged in supposedly allegorical but really pointless discussions about Conrad’s “Heart of Darkness.” Then they get eaten by giant bugs. Other characters are introduced then disappear, only to show up again to say something pithy before being squashed by rampaging dinos. Colin Hanks must’ve been on half-pay, because his character pulled the vanishing act several times (or maybe, like my kids and their pals, he got bored and took a bathroom break). It also appeared as if one character is beheaded (yeah, it’s a kid’s flick) but he appears hale and hearty later on, only to be stomped by dinosaurs. Me, I would’ve gone with beheading; faster, and with less bone snapping. But that’s just me.

Except for Kong, the characters were unappealing, paper-thin and weightless (no, I’m not talking about Naomi Watt’s perfect size 4). There was NOTHING to the characters, and as a writer I find that unforgivable. The movie can be 20 hours long and feature myriad beheadings and squashing dinos as long as the characters are interesting. Naomi Watts is gorgeous but empty (and, to digress, apparently couldn’t do ANY of her own stunts, including juggling rocks for Kong’s amusement—she simply moved her hands and they CGI’d the stones in. At which Faye Wray must be spinning in her grave--in Faye's day, an actress could cartwheel, juggle, sing, dance, smoke a cigarette with her butt, and scream in terror while still looking gorgeous!) The dreadfully miscast Adrien Brody (who decided HE's the 21st century Harrison Ford?) meets Naomi’s character in a way that was cliché when the first movie was made. Colin Hanks is wasted. Pop-eyed Jack Black looks as if he’s either channeling John Belushi or has a bad case of acid reflux. Only Kyle Chandler as an egocentric actor looks as if he’s having any fun. In fact, he almost steals the movie, except for one actor I can’t give enough props to—King Kong.

Kong was great; every moment he’s on screen is wonderful, engaging, involving. Too bad there were so many cutaways to stampeding dinosaurs and chomping bugs, too bad so much time was wasted getting to the island (one full hour—two pee breaks, one candy and soda run) to find that wonderful creature. The last hour of the movie is worth the money. You will weep—provided you’re still awake!

Janet - No power in the verse (or Skull Island) can stop me!

Just ranting...

Now that Christmas is over, I have an early ’06 holiday wish for those nattering nabobs of negativism on both sides of the “War on Christmas” non-issue. Next November, from Thanksgiving through new year’s day 2007, they should ALL be locked in a room. Together. Along with all those TV, radio, newspaper, blog, web-site "journalists" who provided them with an outlet for their meaningless point-counterpoint. With no electricity or cell phones. And a forever-looping recording of "Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer." That oughta do it...