Avery Tries to be a Critic: 'Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children'

Happy October! Halloween is in the air, and what better way to kick off the season than a good old-fashioned Tim Burton creep-fest! Miss Peregrine certainly delivers on the creepy front, after all. Monsters with white eyes and razor-sharp teeth consuming plates of children's eyeballs to gain immortality? Sounds like classic Halloween fare to me! And what better time to get back into the swing of writing (I know, I know, I have been totally MIA all summer...sorry!) than Halloween season, when horror movies abound, nostalgia for our classic favorites is high, and the weather is perfect for staying inside curled up with a glass of wine/tea/cocoa/pumpkin spice latte--okay, I wouldn't personally be caught dead with the last one, but to each their own--and a damn good movie?

First of all, a disclaimer: I have been a Tim Burton fan since before I knew I wanted to be a director. Sleepy Hollow was my first horror movie, and the film that sparked my desire to get behind the camera. Frankenweenie is one of my all-time favorite shorts. I used Edward Scissorhands as the inspiration for one of my final projects in college. I can't let a Halloween go by without at least one viewing of Corpse Bride, Beetle Juice, or The Nightmare Before Christmas. I have a Jack Skellington wallet, for Pete's sake. Speaking of which...

I know, I know. It's a miracle I never got my ass kicked in high school.

Even with all that having been established, trust me when I say that you don't have to be a die-hard nerd for Burton to love Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children, nor do you have to be a fan of the original novels to follow the plot. I wouldn't advise taking small children to see this (those hollowghasts are actually less creepy than their human counterparts, thanks to the masterful acting of Samuel L. Jackson & Co.) but Burton's usual knack for taking something that would typically terrify a grown man to tears and making it fun is in full use here and it makes for a hell of a lovely, heartfelt film.

One thing I'd like to address before we begin. I adore Burton, but I know he has flaws. I can't stand his adaptation of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, I generally like to pretend Dark Shadows just never happened, and much as I love the man, I will own here and now that he is flipping TERRIBLE when it comes to interviews. He really is. I love him, I really do, but without an editor or a really, really good interviewer to coax coherent sentences out of the man, he is useless.

So, a few days ago, an interviewer asked Burton why the cast of Miss Peregrine was mostly white and Burton, as Burton tends to do when asked sensitive questions in interviews, made himself look like a doofus at best, and a complete ass at worst. Now, I understand what he was trying to say. Namely, that he and his casting director were casting for talent, not trying for affirmative-action, check-off-the-list, "cast a black, Asian and Latina person each just to make myself look good" casting. But he made himself look like an idiot by replying, "Well, I didn't think white people needed to be cast in Blaxploitation movies!" If there ever was a statement that called for a good old-fashioned "No shit, Sherlock," that would be it.

But, in defense of my favorite director: He cast Samuel L. Jackson in a role that, in the book, did not define the character's race one way or another. He did that on purpose. He didn't go "well, I HAVE to cast a black dude, it might as well be him," he was more like "That man is a damn fine actor and I will put him in my movie because it just won't be complete without him." If y'all weren't busting Kenneth Branagh for only using Idris Elba in Thor, maybe cut Burton some slack here, okay?


Which brings me to my second point. People will actively look for excuses to hate Tim Burton just because he's Tim Burton, in the same vein that people will look for excuses to hate just about anybody that they don't like. Anyone who's posting Tim Burton's (admittedly stupid awkward) reply to a badly-phrased interview question with captions like "well here's another reason to hate him!" most likely already isn't a fan. Please, people, PLEASE give the movie a chance before you slam it.

And please, PLEASE stop putting the onus all on a single director to "diversify" our films! There are so many fantastic movies coming out this season with highly diverse casts...Loving, Hidden Figures, A United Kingdom, Queen of Katwe, the Rocky Horror remake and the new season of Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. to name a few...and it's not fair to bust one director for failing to make his film look a little more Orange is the New Black and a little less Camp Rock. Tim Burton is not doing anything to purposely hurt anyone. It's time the witch-hunt for anyone who says something stupid to be ended. We've got enough to worry about right now without scrutinizing a guy who's notoriously awkward in interviews and his badly-phrased declaration of his love for Blaxploitation movies.

So! Now that that's out of the way, on to the movie itself. For anyone not familiar with the story, Miss Peregrine follows a teenager named Jacob as he learns a jolting truth about his heritage after witnessing his grandfather's traumatic death. On advice from his parentally-enforced therapy sessions, he treks to Wales to find the home for "special" children where his grandfather grew up, expecting an elderly matron and a new crop of kids...only to discover a pack of gifted children and teens his age under the strict but loving chaperonage of the enigmatic, shape-shifting Miss Alma Peregrine. Confused yet? Wait until you learn the variety of monsters hunting the innocent Peculiars: tentacled, ten-foot sightless hollowghasts, who are both immortal and mortal at the same time, and their white-eyed shape-shifting keepers known as wights. Still not overwhelmed? It gets better: Later books detail peculiar animals, time-travel concepts that would make Emmett Brown himself dizzy, and the concept of sucking one's second soul out through their foot in order to sap their powers. If you're looking for a quick, easy read, this ain't it.

But lucky for those who aren't into long, epic stories, Burton is more than willing to condense that material into a light-speed 127 minutes. The movie may be two hours, but it goes by so fast it certainly doesn't feel it. The Jane Goldman-penned script takes the ambiguous ending of the first book and gives it more weight, all without cutting off the possibility of future sequels should they decide that Hollow City and Library of Souls into feature films. For fans of the book, yes, they do change a fair bit, but within the spectrum of the film it does work. I personally viewed the film as an alternate-universe tangent of the books, a what could have happened here sort of ending, because that's basically what Burton did: asked "what-if" and went with it.

The highest strength of the new script, however, isn't the epic battle between the hollowghasts and wights, the Peculiars, and...the Jason and the Argonauts-esque pack of skeletons? whatever; just go with it--it's the heart and soul that Burton puts into the film. What made Miss Peregrine so special in book form was the way that Ransom Riggs delved into the weight and pain of what it feels like to be so visibly and thoroughly different that you never had a prayer of fitting in. Burton, no stranger to not fitting in, turns that pain into a celebration and invites everyone who's ever felt out of place to cheerfully flip the bird to their tormentors. The penultimate showdown between the Peculiars and the hollowghast-wight crew has the dual value of being both visually pleasing and incredibly cathartic, as the Peculiars take no prisoners and show, for the first time in broad daylight and well outside the safety of their home, their vast array of talents.

And since it's a Tim Burton film, being visually pleasing in general is a given. (Well. Unless we're talking about Chocolate Factory or Dark Shadows, but every genius is bound to have one misstep or two; think of those as Burton's answer to Hitchcock's Marnie.) The very Oscar-worthy costumes have already inspired a collection at Hot Topic and while they may not be copied quite as much as the fashions of Suicide Squad this Halloween, they will no doubt be resurrected come next year's crop of Comic-Cons. The set design is a bit less classically Burton than one may be used to, and with a backdrop of oceanside beauty to temper the gothic-with-a-hint-of-Victorian design of the "Peculiar" world, it's certainly much sunnier and warmer than, say, Batman Returns or Beetle Juice, which works in the movie's favor when the dark turn comes and deadly creatures called hollowghasts come to threaten the innocent peculiars. My compliments to Colleen Atwood, Gavin Bocquet, and literally the entire VFX team, because this film is a thing of beauty.

Now, even the greatest movies usually have at least one flaw, major or minor, and Miss Peregrine is no exception. Every critic is saying that Jake and Emma's love story needed a few more "beats," and I have to agree. They pretty much went from total strangers to on the verge of kissing in about two scenes, which--and I hate to be one of "those people"--is not at all how it happened in the book. Also, I hoped that watching the film would bring to light why the kids' powers and ages were switched around. You see, Olive and Bronwyn's ages and personalities, and Emma and Olive's abilities, were swapped out, much to the confusion and unhappiness of many fans, and I thought, well, perhaps there's a reason for that--but there really isn't. Not that it takes anything away; Emma and Jake still flourish, and Bronwyn still manages to dazzle us with her freakish strength, but it gives reason to throw in a sudden romance between Enoch and Olive that I can't imagine would've been approved by Ransom Riggs. And for the record: in the book, Emma's firepower is not so potent that she has to wear gloves to keep from burning her friends, a la Elsa's gloves in Frozen. C'mon, Burton. These are peculiar kids we're talking about here, not Rogue from X-Men.

And the "consuming eyes" rather than consuming souls does not seem to add much other than a certain creep factor. In the book, peculiar children are eaten alive by the hollowghasts, which enables the monsters to regain human form. Once they get that form, they're done--no more flesh meals are needed. And it's not even the flesh so much. It's the souls; peculiar individuals are considered to have a "second" soul, not a recessive gene, that enables their abilities. Consuming a plate of eyes, after all, might seem more visually dynamic than consuming souls, but ooh, imagine what Burton could've done with that--a freaky, sharp-toothed Samuel L. Jackson consuming a child's soul? I'm shivering just thinking about it. Talk about a missed opportunity.

Last but not least...I love the music, but I missed Danny Elfman. Sorry, Mike Higham and Matthew Margeson, but it's a fact--Tim Burton and Danny Elfman is a match made in cinematic heaven. Now, with that being said, I am glad he's branching outside his usual creative partnerships. This is his second movie in a row without Johnny Depp, and I must say it's lovely seeing Burton use other actors. He may have shoved Eva Green into the bad-villain backseat in Dark Shadows, but here she is used to her full potential. Asa Butterfield is adorable as Jake, striking the perfect balance between insecure and fiercely protective, an attitude that can best be summed up in the scene where he takes up Miss Peregrine's crossbow to protect his new friends from a hollowghast. He might be the worst shot in human history--seriously, was this kid trained in marksmanship by Lucas's Stormtroopers?--but dammit, he will kill that thing or die trying if not-trying means certain death for the Peculiars.

I said it in 2012 with Frankenweenie and again in 2014 with Big Eyes, and I was tragically wrong both times, but this time, I think it might be true: this could be Burton's year. I know it's dumb to keep putting faith into the Academy when they've gone out of their way to overlook him in the past, and I know it's crazy to hope--but in the end, Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children strikes the balance between "too Burton-y" and "not Burton-y enough" (seriously? y'all are going to slam him for being too much like himself and then when he delivers Big Eyes complain that he didn't put enough of himself into the movie? REALLY?), and that might just be enough for critics and Academy voters to finally figure out that, hey, we have been deliberately ignoring this mad genius for way too long.

In my 2015 review for Big Eyes, I said the film was Burton's love letter to aspiring artists. Miss Peregrine, in a way, reads like part 2 of that. In Big Eyes, Burton sends a message of comfort to budding artists, assuring them that even if critics hate their work, it doesn't matter as long as it reaches its intended fanbase. In Miss Peregrine, he sends a bigger, all-encompassing message to all the outcasts, artists and logicians alike: you are not alone. And as any Burton fan knows...in the end, that's the most important thing he has to say anyway.

Avery tries to be a Critic: 'Snowden'

You may not like Oliver Stone's work. You may not agree with the guy politically. But there's one thing you must admit: the guy very possibly has the biggest, brassiest set of balls in the film industry. Granted there are a few competitors for that title (Michael Moore, Kathryn Bigelow, David Lynch, and Lars Von Trier all come to mind) but Stone, as far as I'm concerned, is currently in the lead. Your move, Hollywood. Your move.

I know, I know. I'm supposed to be reviewing the movie, not gushing about the size of Mr. Stone's, well, stones. But Snowden really could not exist if Stone didn't have guts to spare, and it certainly wouldn't be half as good had it been made by a meeker, more politically-correct filmmaker. Just like Black Widow had to be played by Scarlett Johansson, Snowden just had to be made by Oliver Stone.

We all know the story. The NSA was collecting piles and piles of data from the phones of unsuspecting civilians, all in the name of stopping potential terrorists. The plucky Mr. Snowden, former true believer of all things Republican, came to the rescue by info-dumping on a handful of ambitious, freedom-fighting journalists, and proceeded to promptly and professionally get the hell out of the United States, bringing a hell of a new meaning to the oft-repeated political cry of "if you don't like it here, then leave." A lot of my friends professed shock when the story broke. I wasn't shocked. Make no mistake, I don't agree with spying on unwitting civilians who have, for all intents and purposes, broken no rules...but was I surprised that the government had gone so far? No, not really. But no matter which side you're on, you can't deny that it was a game-changer. Suddenly we all knew Big Brother was watching us and suddenly, you got to have an opinion on whether or not Big Brother should be watching us. All thanks to one guy who, as legend has it, one day said "Enough is enough."

Watching Snowden, you can't imagine a more perfect combination of story and director. Edward Snowden is a subject tailor-made for a filmmaker like Stone: he walks the fine line between patriotism and defiance, loves his country but isn't afraid to break a few eggs in the hopes of improving that country, and has that perfectly charismatic combination of nerdy awkwardness and quiet assertiveness. It's like Snowden was just lying there in wait in Russia, just dreaming of the day when Stone came along to bring his story to cinematic life. It's perfect...

...But it probably is not, when all is said and done, Oscar material. And that's okay.

Let's start with the myriad of things that the film does right. First of all, the acting is phenomenal. If Snowden does manage to snag a nomination, it will undoubtedly be for Joseph Gordon Levitt's spectacularly understated performance. And when I say understated, I mean it. The man is so wonderfully nondescript, you almost forget it's Don John the Movie Star underneath the classic nerd glasses. There's no breast-beating moment of heroism here, no eloquently-wailed monologue about how he'd do it all over again if he had to just for the pleasure of saving the homeland. In so many war films--and this is one of the problems I had with American Sniper--there's a dramatic moment where the leading man (almost always a man) makes a speech that would make Malcolm X green with envy, a moment that is almost always constructed purely to show the actor's chops and has very little basis in the reality of what a human being would actually do in that situation. The geniuses behind Snowden, thank the Lord, resisted that temptation.

Now, I'll grant you, the script has as much to do with the film's quiet realism as the actors. Even the moments that would seemingly call for a screaming epiphany don't give in--the scene on the mountain hike wherein Snowden reveals that he's stopped taking his epilepsy medication comes to mind--and instead fall back on dialogue that would sound natural even if not spoken by consummate professional actors. One of the scenes that most impressed me was the fight in the Japanese apartment when Snowden demands that his girlfriend take down her nude photos and she resists, culminating in a screaming argument that, in any other film, would be a showstopper for all the wrong reasons. Here, it plays like a natural fight: it starts over something so seemingly tiny, escalates until the real reason of the fight is revealed, and culminates in a heartbreaking moment of truth. It's a wonderful marriage of acting and screenwriting, and the kind of thing that makes me want to watch the film more than once.

But oh, I do wish the cameraman had been in on those little meetings wherein the actors, director, and screenwriter decided to make things as chill as possible. There were moments that made me wonder if it was the cinematographer, and not Snowden, who was suffering a seizure. In fact, the moments that showed an epileptic seizure from Snowden's point of view were among the least-dizzying in the film. An action movie like Hardcore Henry demands the frequent use of handheld camera; an espionage thriller with more emphasis on the espionage than the thriller part does not. On the way out of the theater my exasperated moviegoing partner demanded why, in the name of all things holy, they felt the need to use so many handheld camera shots, to which all I could do was shrug and reply, "Maybe the Steadicam broke?" It's the only explanation I have, because when the tripod or Steadicam is used effectively, the shots are beautiful.

But I can excuse the odd artistic choices in camerawork for the film's merits. Unfortunately, most of what I love about the film, will be what the Academy ultimately hates about the film. The political dialogue in Snowden gets intense at times. Stone never has been known to pull a punch, and this film certainly is no ground for pussyfooting. Intense debates about human rights are held, and it's blatantly obvious where the filmmakers' loyalties lie. I remember reading The Handmaid's Tale in college and getting to the line about the difference between "freedom to" and "freedom from." On the one hand, you could be free to do whatever you like; on the other hand, you could be sheltered, but kept free from all possible harm. That's the debate at the heart of Snowden, and you'd have to be deaf, dumb, blind and live under a rock to not know that Stone, like the film's subject, firmly believes that we all have the right to decide exactly what kind of freedom we'd like to have. And that will prevent the film from reaching its full potential, because unfortunately, the number of people in the world who are genuinely frightened of hearing any viewpoint with which they might not agree is quite staggering, and you'd be crazy to not think that there are at least a few of those on the Academy voting board.

Granted, they have every right to decide that this film's message is too inflammatory for their tastes. And they're certainly right if they proclaim it's biased. I haven't seen a political film this one-sided since I watched Bowling for Columbine. Trust me, folks, American Sniper or Zero Dark Thirty are more balanced than this film, and even they were stopped short of snagging Best Picture or even getting a nomination for Best Director; therefore it stands to reason that Stone will be snubbed too. And for good reason: there's literally no room for choice in a movie that is supposedly all about giving people the choice of whether they want to be watched or not. It's funny, isn't it? We're watching this movie about freedom, but the way the film is structured, you have no room to question whether or not Snowden is a good guy; you are shown and told that he is, and that's that. So if the Academy does decide to snub Snowden based on that...well, it's their loss, but at the same time I really can understand why they'd go that route.

And yet...maybe that's okay. Maybe this film really isn't meant to be what some reviewers are already scathingly referring to as "Oscar-bait." Because at the heart of it, Snowden follows the Bridge of Spies philosophy of, "well, maybe the rest of the world hates my guts, but so what? I know I did the right thing," and I have to believe the director did that on purpose. Stone didn't make this film hoping for Best Picture, but you can bet he was sure as hell hoping to reach into some hearts and minds with this piece of work.

And if you need proof of that? Just look at the ending. There is no victory at the finish line, no triumphant moment where Snowden flies into the U.S.A. and shakes President Obama's hand, no medal of honor, no dramatic profession of amnesty. Instead, Stone waits for Gordon Levitt's gentle, stammering end-of-film monologue to peter out, and then proceeds to flip the biggest bird in the history of cinema by bringing Snowden on-camera for the final few shots of the movie. Think about that: Stone went to Russia and put on film the face of a guy who has spent so much time hiding his face, who is on the run from the United States government, who is considered a political enemy, who literally cannot come home under penalty of the law--just to prove a point. My God, if you don't think that took a big, brass set of balls from both men, you are straight-up wrong.

So like or hate Stone, like or hate Snowden...whether you think they're heroes, or just a couple of politically-charged nutcases, you have to admit one thing: they are brave as all living hell.

The bright glow of memory

There aren't too many movies that I can watch over and over without ever getting sick of them. Almost every movie I've ever seen has at least one part that I go "meh...we can skip that." But of the 10 or so films that I can watch without ever tiring of them...two of them star Gene Wilder.

I can't remember how old I was the first time I ever saw Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, but I do remember that I almost shut the TV off when Violet Beauregard turned into a blueberry. I'd begged to stay up past my 9:00 bedtime to watch the movie on ABC Family, and then promptly regretted it when Augustus Gloop went up the chocolate pipe. But I do remember my first look at Gene Wilder--how much I liked his purple Wonka coat, how reassuring his low voice was, how much I wanted to pet his soft, curly hair, how his blue eyes reminded me of my dad's. I'll never forget that first look, because for the rest of the movie I was alternately fascinated and scared--except for my first look at the chocolate room. To this day, I still tear up at the sound of the opening notes of "Pure Imagination," and until today, I couldn't for the life of me have told you why.

Looking back, that was one of the defining moments for me as an artist. I'd never read the book, so that was my introduction to Willy Wonka, and that movie, to me, was exactly what I wanted to make--again, I couldn't have told you that at the time, but now I know. It was a little quirky, a little weird and a bit scary, but there was so much beauty there, so much mystery and so much hope. And at the center of it all, a weirdo, a most lovable weirdo, who I could love and be a little afraid of at the same time.

Years later I read the book and could not picture anyone else, any other actor in the world, as Mr. Wonka. Gene Wilder, with his perfect combination of calm and excitement, of threatening discipline and loving reassurance, with all his quirks and secret little smiles and perfectly straight-faced delivery of lines like "If the good Lord had intended us to walk, He wouldn't have invented roller skates," he was Wonka, plain and simple. I love Tim Burton--you all know I do--but no one, not least of all Johnny Depp, could ever embody Willy Wonka as Gene Wilder did, and no movie could ever replace Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.

As is the case with most of the people and things I now love, it took me a while to recognize the genius of Gene Wilder and the movies he chose to be in. Young Frankenstein and Willy Wonka scared me; Blazing Saddles and Silver Streak went over my head. But over time, I learned to love him. The first time I saw Young Frankenstein, I cried before the opening credits were even over, but by the time we moved to the suburbs when I was twelve, Halloween season wasn't complete without it. When I got to Interlochen, I got teased more than once for preferring "funny" versions of movies that everyone else thought were classics, being called "immature" for preferring, for instance, Stir Crazy to The Shawshank Redemption. I didn't mind. Wilder's humor appealed to me a lot, far more than the dramatics that everyone else referred to as the only quality cinema.

I've always had particular taste when it came to comedy. Again, if you show me something like Stir Crazy, I will laugh myself sick; put on Superbad or This is the End, I'm bored in five minutes. I've sat stone-faced through movies that had my friends in stitches--but I have yet to see a Gene Wilder film that failed to make me laugh at least once. Am I picky? Old-fashioned, when it comes to humor? Undoubtedly, but I don't care.

Mr. Gene Wilder, you have made me laugh more times than I can count. I spent so much of my childhood and adolescence learning humor from your films. You were a brilliant actor, but more importantly you were, as far as I'm concerned, a genius and a sweetheart. You deliberately kept your illness a secret to protect the kids who grew up loving your movies. And for that, you will forever have my admiration. Thank you, thank you for being the kind of person a kid could look up to, for giving the world so much joy and for living such a great life. You so deserved your fame--and now you deserve your rest. Thank you for everything. You will not be forgotten.

Avery tries to be a critic: 'Suicide Squad'

Somewhere out there, high up in a bar in Wayne Tower, surrounded by sycophants and scantily-dressed barmaids, an exec for DC Entertainment is sitting with an exec from Time-Warner, and they are doing consolation shots as they collectively wonder how in the hell Suicide Squad is failing so miserably. Perhaps they are comforted, if only a little, by the fact that so many DC fanboys and fangirls are lobbying to shut down Rotten Tomatoes and Metacritic for panning the film so badly. At least they have the satisfaction of knowing that their steadfast fanbase of dude-bros, gamers, die-hard Batfans, and barely-dressed Harley Quinn/Poison Ivy cosplayers will stand by them no matter how ridiculous the films they keep putting out may get...

But what they can't figure out is why their new targets--the Marvel fanbase, or those in-betweeners who are loyal to neither DC nor Marvel but just like comic movies in general, or the people who couldn't give less of a damn and don't follow the comics at all but just want a fun movie to watch on their night off--are so opposed to Suicide Squad. They just cannot understand where they went wrong with their new would-be box office smash.

Wails the DC exec, "I did everything right! They complained our movies weren't enough like Marvel, so we made it like a Marvel film! We took a host of quirky, lovable outlaws and stuffed that cast with star power. We had Margot Robbie and Cara Delevingne for the male fanservice, and Will Smith and Jared Leto for the ladies. We had a kick-ass soundtrack! We packed our script with hilarious one-liners! We had a dozen recognizable comic-book characters in one movie! We gave a hero from another movie a cameo! We put in a mid-credits scene! We even degraded our artistic vision of doom and darkness and gave them a happy ending! A happy ending, of all things! The love interest didn't even die! We did everything right! And they still complain that it wasn't good enough!"

And the Time-Warner exec downs his shot, unhappily pats his comrade on the back and mumbles, "I know, buddy. I know. They're just damn unreasonable."

I wanted, so very very badly, to love Suicide Squad. Marvel fangirl as I may be, I have always had a massive soft spot for all things Batman. Christopher Nolan and Tim Burton awakened my love for comic-book movies in the early years of my adolescence. The Joker is almost single-handedly responsible for my fascination with villains, which began to develop around the same time. I have not yet gotten up the balls to cosplay as Harley Quinn...I just don't think I'm anywhere near cute enough to pull that off...but maybe someday, who knows? I love all the Batman villains, but Joker and Harley have always topped the list. Yes, I am and always will be loyal to Marvel; their films and comics are just plain more my taste than most of what DC offers. (And if one more person questions why I love Captain America but can't stand Superman, I will slap them.) But I would never have even started watching superhero movies if my dad hadn't sat me down one day to watch Batman Begins.

So as you can imagine, I was thrilled when I heard about Suicide Squad. Less thrilled when I found out that they were using Batman V. Superman as a vehicle to set up Suicide Squad. And even less thrilled when I found out that this was their answer to the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Because here's the thing: as a film, on its own, Suicide Squad could have been bloody fantastic. But that just wasn't going to happen once DC hauled off and started blatantly competing with Marvel.

To accurately describe Suicide Squad to all the Marvel fans who were too indignant to see it, let me paint you a picture: imagine if, instead of beginning the Marvel Cinematic Universe with 2008's Iron Man, they had instead begun with Civil War. Actually, I stand corrected. Let's assume that in the DC cinematic universe, Superman = Captain America (ugh!), Batman = Iron Man, Enchantress = Loki, and Amanda Waller = Fury. So, accurately, they would have started with Captain America: The First Avenger, and then released Civil War (Cap vs. Iron man, right?) and then came out with Guardians of the Galaxy, but thrown in Iron Man and Loki cameos just for kicks. Okay, we all on the same page now? Good.

So, in this universe, Cap and Iron Man have no history, they just haul off and start fighting because...they can? And then Cap dies because...well, because they couldn't afford to stuff him into the next movie, I guess? And Fury decides the Avengers just aren't dangerous enough, so he decides to assemble the Guardians of the Galaxy instead. And for some reason he makes Loki part of the team. But then Loki goes bad, as Loki tends to do, so the shit hits the fan. And in the midst of all this, you've got a bunch of very, very confused fans wondering why exactly we should care about any of this.

As the intro to this review suggests, DC tried very, very hard to channel Marvel for this one. But they don't seem to understand that Marvel didn't just suddenly decide one summer to throw out Civil War, Avengers, and Captain America just because their fanbase was looking a little thin. They tested the waters with Iron Man and Hulk. When that went well, they gave Iron Man a sequel, to see if the fans really meant it when they said they wanted more. They did. So, Marvel gifted us with Thor, and they also managed to sneak in a Hawkeye cameo, which was considered one of the major hints that bigger things were ahead. By the time Captain America rolled around, they'd gained more than enough momentum to give us sneak peeks of The Avengers, and when that one finally hit theaters, the deal was sealed. Suddenly, Marvel wasn't just for boys or for nerds anymore. Suddenly, Marvel was universal. And they have since then proved that they are not only capable of walking the line between cute, laugh-along, family-friendly fare (Guardians of the Galaxy and Ant-Man, for instance) and DC-esque grit (Daredevil and Jessica Jones come to mind).

But that takes time. Marvel didn't walk off the train and demand to sit with the popular kids. Marvel built up our trust first. Marvel took the time to establish that they did not only care about money and popularity, but quality and connection. Marvel didn't just want to make millions, they wanted to set a new standard--and they did. They became the Disney of comic book movies, and then Disney acquired them because even Walt Disney Company, the biggest media conglomerate to ever walk this earth, knew a damn good thing when they saw it.

So, back to Suicide Squad. Well, I have to say, DC, you pulled it off...almost. You tried, I'll give you that. Your sound was good. For once I could actually hear what the hell your characters were saying, even during the action sequences, so kudos for that. You managed to not sexualize every female character, though I would like to know why, precisely, Harley Quinn decided to go to battle in her underwear. (Because she's literally crazy? Ok, I'll let you have that one.) Your casting was fantastic. I had my doubts about Jared Leto, but my God did that man bring it. In fact, Batman aside, I can't think of one role that was miscast. And your soundtrack was killer. AC/DC? Panic! at the Disco? Eminem? Yes please! Bonus points for using all three kickass songs from the trailers. And in terms of characterization, especially for Harley Quinn, I must say you knocked it out of the park...for the most part, anyway...and you even managed to drag a non-showy performance out of Will Smith. (This makes two films of his that I've seen now that made me rethink my perception of him as an every-role-the-same celebrity actor...well played, DC. Well played.)

But the list of good points ends there. First of all, the story is ridiculous. The initial plot is a rip-off of Age of Ultron, substituting Batman villains for the Avengers. Amanda Weller wants to create a team of supervillains, "in case the next Superman is a terrorist" (sound familiar?) and control them via the Enchantress, a thousand-year-old infinitely powerful being who is currently trapped in the body of a doe-eyed archaeologist. Of course Enchantress escapes, because this plan has Bad Idea written all over it, and releases her brother, an equally old, equally powerful being with an equally big bone to pick with humanity. You see, they used to be worshipped as gods by the humans (huh...this sounds awfully familiar too) and now, big surprise, they aren't pleased to be recruited for dirty work instead, so they decide to destroy the world. (I think I've heard this before...) So from there, it turns into Guardians: Weller calls in her team of villains, including but not limited to a former assassin, a humanoid with limited vocabulary, a weapons-crazy loose cannon, and someone who's lost their spouse and seeking revenge, to save the world from a genocidal maniac. (Does that sound familiar? It should.) Can't possibly see how this can further go down the path of disaster, can we?

It's the kind of story that takes a lot of balls to pull off, this basic premise of Suicide Squad. Balls, and a lot of time. And really, really good writing. You see, this is why I compared it to Civil War and Guardians of the Galaxy, because that is exactly what I think they were trying to do. They wanted to build a team of lovable misfits, make a statement about how the government creates their own worst enemy, bring home the point that villains are the heroes of their own stories, sneak in a few Batman appearances, and hint at bigger things to come. But they didn't do it right. The plot holes alone are enough to take what could've been a great movie and immediately drag it down to average level. And don't get me started on the liberties they take with canon. If the Joker ever actually went after Harley Quinn to save her life just because he cared about her, it's news to me. Which is probably the thing that, truth be told, really fried my cheese because the whole point of the Joker-Harley relationship in the first place is that it's not romantic, it's abusive.

Speaking of which, what the hell was the Joker even doing in this movie? He's he's not part of the team, and he's not the main antagonist, or even really an antagonist at all. He, like Batman, needed to be left to teaser/cameo status. Ian and I were talking after the movie about how awesome it would've been if no one had even known the Joker was in the film, and at the end of the film he magically shows up to bust Harley out of her cell. That, we agreed, could have--and should have--been the mid-credits scene. But it wasn't, and the Joker came off in the film less like the Clown Prince of Crime and more like Jack Dawson from Titanic. Which is a massive disappointment, because as I said, Jared Leto knocked it out of the park. If Heath Ledger were here, he'd probably raise a glass to Leto's performance...and then bring that same glass down and smash it on the director's head for making the Joker into a romantic hero.

So overall, I see what they were trying to do with Suicide Squad, and maybe they could've pulled it off, but they rushed it. I don't think production was rushed--the technical elements were very good, and the editing and post-prod sound were probably the best I've ever seen in a DC film--but the pre-production stage must've taken all of about two days, because the story was just not there. And if you ask any screenwriter, aspiring, professional, or Oscar-winning, they will tell you the same thing: if the story isn't there, neither is the film. And that's a damn shame, especially in this case, because Suicide Squad could have been a slam-dunk...but instead, it's just another in the endless sea of summer popcorn movies.

Avery tries to be a critic: 'Swiss Army Man'

Trying to explain the plot of Swiss Army Man is...difficult, at best. When I tried to tell my dad what we were going to see on the 4th of July, it came out something like this: "So...Paul Dano is trapped on a deserted island. And he gets rescued by a corpse. Except the corpse farts a lot. And the corpse is played by Daniel Radcliffe and he can talk, but not move. So Paul Dano kind of drags him around the wilderness and they become friends."

...yeah. Real Sundance material, that is. Except, surprise surprise, it is. And not only is it actual Sundance material, it's freaking beautiful. No, really. It's amazing.

I'm not sure what kind of mental state a person has to be in to come up with something like Swiss Army Man, but I applaud writer-directors Daniel Kwan and Daniel Scheinert for taking that crazy creative energy and harnessing it into the most unique film I've seen all year. There's a huge risk with independent films like this one. Movies like Swiss Army Man are so hit or miss it's terrifying to even write one, let alone film it and release it. Take a few steps to the right and you hit Boyhood; take a few steps to the left and you face-plant into Antichrist. Making an experimental film is like jumping out of a plane: there's a lot of ways to wildly screw it up, but only one way to get it just right--and even then there's a huge chance you won't enjoy the experience.

But when it comes together right, like it does in Swiss Army Man? It's brilliant. You have to be borderline crazy to make it work, sure, and that usually means you have to be (at least a little) crazy to enjoy it the way you're meant to. Because really, it's weird. You have Dan Radcliffe playing a corpse, for God's sake. A farting corpse. A farting corpse who vomits drinkable water, can propel himself like a speedboat with his own flatulence, and turns into a compass when he gets a boner. I mean, that's weird, right? And then you have Paul Dano teaching him how to be human? Like...what? What is that? But against all odds, it works.

What makes Swiss Army Man work is, above all else, the relationship between the two leads. Again, this sounds absolutely absurd on paper: castaway befriends corpse. It sounds like the kind of short film a caffeine-addled art student would come up with ten minutes before filming it. But Manny (Radcliffe) is so adorably sweet and completely rude that you can't help but love him. He can't remember how he died. He can't remember who he was before he died. He can't remember a damn thing about the world...but the instinct to be a friend seems to run deep with him, because he doesn't waste any time in helping Hank (Dano), first by getting him off the island and then by helping him survive in the wilderness.

But the real magic is the movie's total lack of ability to give a shit. And I mean that as a compliment, because really--how many movies have you seen this summer, or ever, really, where the message of the film is literally "Screw you, I do what I want," with no "but only within reason" or "but only if you're cute" or "but only if it's socially acceptable on a grand scale" counter-message? Hank spends the entire film trying to explain to Manny, in increasingly disgusting detail, that it's not okay to do a lot of things in front of other people. The cringe-worthy "no, you can't think about my mom when you masturbate" scene is wrong, but it's so funny we don't even notice until afterwards how badly we never ever want to have a conversation like that. And when Hank shows Manny a picture of a dark-haired girl on his phone, and Manny instantly falls in love with her and Hank figures out he can use Manny's boner as a compass home...it's not exactly everyone's cup of tea, this kind of humor, especially since you know it's going to end painfully for one if not both of them, but it's amusing and certainly different enough to keep an audiences interest.

The scene where Hank walks Manny through talking to a girl is particularly beautiful, not because Paul Dano looks adorable in a grass skirt (okay, he does) but because it's such an amazing breakdown of the way it feels to take a risk of such magnitude. Beat by beat, Hank explains that when you see someone you like, you can't just go up to them and say anything; you have to plan it out, you have to say just the right thing, make just the right move, you have to know when to approach and when not to, and you cannot let on just how much it means to you that they say the right thing back. It's a new perspective for Manny--but it's stomach-twistingly familiar to the rest of us. And it makes the heartbreak that comes a few scenes later, when we learn the real history of Manny's dark-haired crush, feel that much more earned.

And...well, that's pretty much it. There's no political undertones like with Zootopia, and that in itself is a rarity: a film that doesn't try to take a stand on a grand level, but just lets the audience draw its own conclusion. You could interpret Swiss Army Man in a lot of ways--it's telling us to be ourselves, it's questioning social rules, it's telling us to live every day like our last--but at its core, there's really only one meaning that you absolutely have to take away: life is really, really freaking weird. Maybe you haven't found yourself abandoned on a beach, lost in the wilderness, or building houses with your best friend who just so happens to be a talking, farting, boner-directing corpse, but life is weird and it's more than okay to embrace that weirdness, it's necessary. The last line in the movie is, literally, "WTF." Sums up the way the audience feels about the movie, to be sure, but more importantly it sums up the way the main characters think about their lives. And I think that's pretty damn cool.

In terms of the movie's technical aspects, it's beautiful. The cinematography is nothing short of magical, whether it's focused on Daniel Radcliffe's naked butt (which, surprisingly, is not as enticing as one would imagine it to be) or on the ominous landscape surrounding Hank and Manny. There are montages straight out of the most Linklater-esque indie blockbuster you could imagine, complete with tea lights winking in the background while two characters smile and dance in the foreground, dreamy sunlit characters entering the frame in slow-motion detail, and sparkling waves of water splashing across the frame and enabling lens flare. It's classic, but the beauty of the camerawork more than makes up for the cliché editing of the montages.

No, but seriously. This film is so Linklater, even Linklater would look at it and go "Bit derivative, don't you think?" But like every other choice the directors made that stacked the odds against success, it actually works. They manage to sneak in half the traits of last year's big winners: an all-star main cast (Spotlight), a beautiful, classic indie aesthetic (Room), a hella weird sci-fi edge (Mad Max), a focus on interpersonal relationships rather than SFX (Room, Spotlight, Danish Girl...I could go on), a bit of a homoerotic undertone to tie it all together (do I really have to say it?)...hell, they even manage to sneak in a bear attack that all but openly references that memorable moment in The Revenant. Again, friendly reminder that this is a plotline that would have worked quite well as a Monty Python sketch, shot with the beauty of Von Trier's Melancholia. And somehow that combination goes together like peanut butter and chocolate--who would've thought?

Whether you love it or hate it--there really isn't any middle ground on this one, trust me--you can't deny that Swiss Army Man is a unique experience. When the Oscars season rolls around this year, I have a feeling that this is one of those films that they just won't be able to ignore.

...I mean, they can't ignore it. They've already voted for all the individual elements, remember? Ignoring the big picture would be a crying shame. Especially when, all things considered, it's a damn good film.

Avery Tries to be a Critic: 'The Jungle Book'

So, Disney is hitting it out of the park lately, am I right? I was as skeptical as anyone else about all the live-action remakes (and no power on this earth could compel me to see another freaking re-interpretation of Cinderella), but we all know how Disney is: when they get it right, they kill it. I'd nominate The Jungle Book for the 2017 Oscars, but there's just one problem: I don't even know what category I'd put it in.

The thing about the "live-action" Jungle Book is that it is not, strictly speaking, live-action. It's not even motion-capture like A Christmas Carol. It's got the green-screen sets of Star Wars, but none of the live actors--none of the grown-ups, at least. The film is comprised entirely of loose props, CGI jungle, and CGI animals voiced by (and occasionally, visually referenced to) A-list actors. The movie is held together, at its core, by the performance of one eleven-year-old making his acting debut. Think about that for a second. Maybe what Avatar, the biggest movie that no one remembers, really needed was a little, big-eyed kid at the center of the eye-popping graphics to give it some real gravity.

Or maybe not. On second thought, maybe a kid wouldn't have fixed Avatar. But I maintain what I said when Ian and I left the theater: The Jungle Book actually does what Avatar tried to do. It's immersive. It's special. It's different. And most importantly, it has what other CGI-fests often overlook (yes, I'm looking at you, Harcore Henry): humanity. Which is, quite frankly, an odd compliment to give to a movie that's 99% computer-generated animals, but that doesn't make it any less true.

We all know the story. Kid gets lost in jungle, panther takes kid to wolf pack, kid grows up and by sheer virtue of his existence manages to piss off a tiger who hates humans, kid has to leave the jungle and, as would we all, he resists the idea of leaving the only home he's ever known. As a child I was in love with the original Jungle Book, as were a fair number of my friends. We all could identify with Mowgli in some way. Maybe, like me, we were reluctant to move when our parents sold the house. Maybe we preferred the company of animals to humans. Maybe we just plain loved being outside. Doesn't matter, the point is that we were all rooting for the kid.

Which brings me to the first major change in Jon Favreau's reworking. In the original Jungle Book, Mowgli is one of the most reactive protagonists I've ever seen. Think about it, does he ever really make any major decision on his own? The inciting incident is Bagheera telling him he has to leave the jungle. Then it's one string of rescues after another, culminating in a chance meeting with a pretty girl--hell, you know what, we might as well call it what it is: Mowgli, in the original 1960s animated film, is a freaking Disney princess. Even his big hero moment, tying fire to Shere Kahn's tail, comes at the suggestion of someone else. The vultures tell him to use the fire, he doesn't think of it on his own. It's brave, yes, but brave in a bratty ten-year-old, I'm-not-afraid-of-you-because-I-don't-know-any-better kind of way.

But in the new one, the kid isn't reactive, he's proactive. In the original Disney film, Bagheera has to literally drag the kid kicking and screaming from his home with the wolf pack. In Favreau's remake, Mowgli volunteers to leave to protect his wolf family. And this is just the first in a series of decisions that Mowgli makes to propel the plot forward. Almost all the events that just happen to him in the first film are direct results of decisions that he makes in this one. Even the fight with Shere Kahn, which in the original movie just sort of happens, is initiated by Mowgli rather than coming from a chance meeting. In the day and age of private pre-schools and heavy parental supervision, it's exactly the kind of thing kids need to see: a child standing up for himself and making his own decisions. It's empowering, and it is--to use the Disney word--absolutely magical.

Even the ending has changed to reflect Mowgli's true independence. What's so striking about that is that this new ending happens even while the film hammers home a point revolving around the true importance of family. Rarely have I ever seen a film that stresses independence and family at the same time, let alone a children's film with the same message--Matilda comes to mind, but few others. That Favreau managed to accomplish this is, in my opinion, frankly amazing.

I can't get into the parts that I truly loved without spoiling the whole thing. But without giving too much away, Christopher Walken makes exactly the perfect King Louie that we all knew he would, Scarlett Johansson can sing (if you are a Disney music fan and haven't downloaded "Trust in Me" yet, do it NOW), and if you loved Bill Murray before, you will even more now. And at the very center of it all is an 11-year-old kid, acting opposite puppets. There was no real set to speak of either; it all happened on a soundstage, with only the necessary props on-set--as in, the things Mowgli would have to physically interact with--and a ton of special effects filling in the gaps. But it's so easy to forget that during the entire process, Neel Sethi never interacted face-to-face with Idris Elba, Lupita Nyong'o, or Ben Kingsley because no matter what he's doing, whether it's facing down a tiger or sharing an emotional farewell with his wolf mother, the kid sells it. Interacting with something that isn't there is difficult even for a seasoned actor (see: the entire Star Wars prequel trilogy), but for a first-time child actor to pull it off? Incredible.

My one complaint with the film is that some of the character introductions feel just a little...rushed. This is a minor quibble, but it does happen twice: first, when Kaa is introduced. The whole scene is so beautifully done--and if you see it in surround sound, which I did, it actually sounds and feels like she's in the theater with you, which is terrifying and amazing at the same time--but it's the first and last time we see the snake in the whole film. In the original Jungle Book we at least get a sense, roughly, of who Kaa is as a character: selfish, snarky, and not quite savvy enough to actually get himself a meal. In the new one it's more like "oh hi, don't mind me, I'm dropping in for some exposition because we know I'm not really going to eat this kid lolz BYE." It shortchanges what could've been a really good character, and I say that because in Disney's first crack at The Jungle Book, Kaa was simultaneously great comic relief and a fairly threatening secondary antagonist.

And I wouldn't complain, except they do it in literally the very next sequence with Baloo. We go from "ok, I saved your life, you owe me" to "hey, we're bestest friends now!" Granted, it's a little more character development than in the original, wherein Baloo shows up, sings a song, and promptly becomes Mowgli's new father. But there's an emotional payoff later that would have felt more earned had their friendship not developed so instantly and unbelievably. With that being said, the movie quickly rights this mistake by having Baloo make a killer entrance in the scene with King Louie. If we doubt his attachment to the man-cub before, after that scene it's painfully clear how much Baloo's new pet human really means to him. So yes, these complaints are minor, and while the story may feel rushed at times, Favreau quickly makes up for these lapses with a one-two punch of emotional payoff--and, when the situation demands it, a cute wolf pup or two to remind us that Mowgli isn't the only innocent who needs protecting in this jungle.

I mentioned that it's easy to forget that the actors never really interacted, but you know what? It's even easier to forget that none of what you're seeing is there at all. I kept forgetting during the course of the film that no, these aren't real elephants or panthers or wolf pups. There are no real animals in the film at all. And of course it's just as well that there aren't, because if that wasn't the case I would really love to know where they found a snake the length and width of a McDonald's playplace tunnel (so I could never ever go there in my entire life), but it's a mark of how far CGI has come since 2009's Avatar, when James Cameron tried and failed to make a world so immersive that we forgot we weren't really on the Forbidden Planet (Pandora...good God, man, I could've come up with better names than that, and I was a freakin' sophomore in high school at the time). The Jungle Book succeeds where Avatar fails, precisely because in this case, the filmmakers aren't trying to create a whole new world. They're just trying to tell a story. And the way they tell that story is nothing short of absolutely beautiful.

What happens in film school...goes on the internet

It's been too long! Well, that's what happens when you start a new job, I guess. ANYWAY! A Jungle Book review is forthcoming, but first, a word from our sponsors...

A little background: when I was still in college, I had a lovely teacher who, for the purposes of this post, shall go by Professor Smartass because, well, that's exactly what he was. He looked like Sherlock Holmes and dressed like Don Draper, but oh good God the pure gold that came out of that man's mouth...I'm not kidding, we actually had a swear tally for him because he dropped f-bombs like they were going out of style.

So it didn't take me very long to decide to record his finer quotations and squirrel them away in my film theory notes for safekeeping. I don't know if I can use any of this in a movie script later, which is technically the purpose of stolen dialogue (a thing I picked up from another of my teachers, this one in actual film school), but it's still pure gold and that's all that matters. Here are some of Professor Smartass's best moments. (And yes, there is cursing in this post. Not very professional, I know...but neither is saying "f that" in the classroom. You'll see.)


"The quizzes were okay...the lowest grade was a 60, the highest was a 100. There was some decent bullshitting going on!"

"If I was sitting here and the wall started talking I would not think, 'Oh, that's probably a voiceover!'"

"You have a research plan due for a research paper, the prompt for which you have not yet received...that's fucked up!"

(On Easy Rider)
"They can't really do worse than Elizabeth Taylor in Cleopatra...so why not just give Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper $500,000 and a ton of cocaine and see what happens?"

(On Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind)
"The film is trying to ease us into this shitshow!"

"Have any of us gone to a store where we could ask them to erase our memories? I don't mean, like, a coffee house in Amsterdam, I mean they put, y'know, that giant metal sieve, or whatever they put on his head in that movie..."

"The Warsaw Pact caused countries to break away from Communism, because who the fuck wants to be a buffer?"

"It will ROCK YOUR DONKEY."

"In the mid-sixties--I almost said the mid-SEXties, in the MID-SEXTIES..."

(on Italian neorealism)
Student: The audience found L'Aventura boring as heck.
Professor: "Boring as heck"...I think that's the nicest way it's ever been put.

(on sexist advertising)
"All these women, scantily clad, are not only holding these giant phallic bananas, but at some point they actually dunk them into a vaginal fruit cup."

"Now, the problem is that most people don't know what the fuck they're talking about."

Professor: The 3rd cinema...third world? What were the other two?
Student: First and second!
Professor: And we have a winner for "Jackass Answer of the Year!"

(on Soviet Montage)
"Is there any other way to interpret that? No! Eisenstein doesn't give a shit! He's kino-fisting you in the face!"

"Life sucks...I dig it!"

(on Citizen Kane)
"They gave Orson Welles a rare offer: make whatever film you want, and we will not fuck with you."

(on a movie mob boss)
"He has all these suits, he steals Michelle Pfeiffer from his boss, he has a pet tiger at one point...so yeah, things are pretty fuckin' good for him, right?"

"She's involved in , you know, drugs, crime, guns, maybe some casual terrorism..."

"It's totally arbitrary, calling this concept 'Objectif'...it could have been named, 'pile of bullshit,' who knows?"

Professor: What are you doing, Kelsey?
Kelsey: Um. I'm playing with play-doh. (holds it up so he can see)
Professor: Oh, that's fine. I thought you were texting. Go ahead.

"Now, Krackauer's not fucking around!"

(on the variety of art today)
"So, we have Mozart, and then we have Paulie D."

"Unfortunately, that did not play out, and so we still have to watch Justin Bieber on television."

(on Hitchcock)
"He has experience with the shit hitting the fan."

"Hitchcock was a genius at this, he forced people to identify with these crazy-ass bastards!"

(On Jimmy Stewart in Vertigo)
"This dude is batshit crazy!"

(on the new wave)
"It was basically a total shitstorm for 20 years--and it was AWESOME."

"You get to walk out of the theater after the movie ends, go back to your job and go, 'whoa, hey, I didn't kill someone today!'"

(on German expressionism)
"So what, are we supposed to think 'Wow, they have really weird windows in Germany?'"

"The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari--I don't know if you've seen it, but it's about this sleepwalking crazy dude that kidnaps women."

(on class discussion)
"Shit might get a little dicey."

"To use the technical term, this is a janky-looking website."

"And I didn't know what to do, so I drew a picture of a hippopotamus and a truck."

...and now I'm homesick for college. Excuse me while I go e-mail my teachers and tell them all how much I miss them. :)

Avery Tries to be a Critic: 'Zootopia'

Okay, I'll admit what we can all already guess: I'm a Disney nerd. I have my Disney Likes and Disney Loves and Disney Don't-Likes and Disney What-Were-They-Thinkings, but on the whole, there isn't much that I don't love about the movies delivered straight from the Mouse House--and Zootopia damn near tops them all. What's that you say, Disney? Allegory for xenophobia and the dangers of the mob mentality, all wrapped up in the cute package of adorably-badass-bunny-meets-cynical-fox buddy-cop story, featuring Shakira as a gazelle and Idris Elba as a giant buffalo? I say...

In the world of Zootopia, animals evolved instead of humans. Now bunnies coexist with foxes, lambs work side-by-side with lions, and gazelles dance onstage with tigers--all without a single solitary fear of getting eaten. Well, almost. It's not quite a utopia; there are heavily-ingrained prejudices based on one's species (a bunny presumably can't be tough, a fox can't be nice, a sloth must be slow) and even in the metropolis of Zootopia, animals commute to work from housing development-style habitats like the "rainforest section" or "desert section." Judy Hopps is determined to break those barriers by becoming the first-ever rabbit police officer. She does indeed become an officer, but is immediately signed parking duty--that is, until she impulsively volunteers for a missing-mammals case and forces Nick Wilde, a cynical fox who hustles for a living, to help her find Emmett Otterton. What she doesn't know is that there's a political conspiracy behind the missing mammals...and if she can't figure it out, not only is she off the force, but the world of Zootopia will be turned upside-down.

So, we all know I'm going to love all up on this movie like a Supernatural fangirl on Misha Collins, so let's get the one negative out of the way first: when I was a kid, Zootopia would have scared the ever-living crap out of me. Cute little bunnies (oops, I forgot...just pretend I'm a bunny for the sake of this review, okay?) get threatened by giant stalking panthers. Nice animals suddenly go crazy for what appears to be no reason. In one scene that is such a blatant reference to Silence of the Lambs that Anthony Hopkins himself would have to stifle a giggle, we see dozens of animals locked up in a dark, neglected psych ward. It's great, yeah, but it's not necessarily for kids. There was some dark stuff here, guys--but hey, it's Disney. If they didn't try to at least throw in one or two emotional gut-punches, it wouldn't be a true Walt Disney Studios production.

But for all that darkness, Zootopia does a fantastic job of mixing humor for the kids with humor for the adults in a way that makes the film 100% enjoyable for all audiences. When I saw the film, the kids in the theater giggled hysterically at predictably-childish jokes like "What do you call a three-hump camel? PREGNANT!" while Ian and I laughed ourselves stupid at the pop-culture references--and boy howdy, were there a lot of pop-culture references. Silence of the Lambs, Breaking Bad (yes, in a kids' movie), The Godfather, Taxi!, and of course a few Disney hits like Frozen and Chicken Little (TELL ME Judy Hopps' dad doesn't remind you just a bit of Buck Cluck, I dare you) to keep the kiddies entertained. But rest assured, the allusions to other movies don't fall flat. There's a truly spectacular reference to Taxi! wherein a weasel yells "You dirty rat!" to an actual, um, dirty rat. It's brilliant, but it's subtle; like any real Easter Egg, you have to know the film to know the reference.

As per usual, the animation is lovely. We all know Disney loves to take things a step farther with every movie, and it should come as no surprise that Zootopia is no exception. It's a little thing, but example #1: Judy Hopps wears headphones...and they actually go in her little bunny ears instead of over her head. Seriously, that's a big deal. Not to mention that in the individual apartment-complex "habitats," they actually look like the rainforest, the savannah, the arctic, etc. The animators also seem to have snagged some ideas from Jon Favreau when it comes to putting human features on non-human creatures, because for all their human-ish characteristics, the inhabitants of Zootopia don't have that uncanny-valley, creepy "are they human or animal" appearance that plagues other CGI-animated anthropomorphic animals. (Yes, live-action Scooby-Doo, I absolutely am looking at you right now.)

But the real heart of Zootopia is in the story. Is it a little heavy-handed at times? Well, yes, but it's technically a kids' movie for crying out loud; what did you expect, 2001: A Space Odyssey? The themes of prejudice, fear-mongering, racism and segregation couldn't come at a better time. Let's be honest, fellow politically-minded artists: this year, we will in all likelihood be forced to choose between two extremists when we step into that voting booth. On the far right, we have Trump, who actually wants to deport ALL the Muslims (someone wanna fill him in on the whole "American citizens" thing?) and force the Mexican government to pay for a border wall to prevent illegal immigration. On the far left, we have Bernie Sanders, who genuinely believes that socialism is the way to go and has what I think are some pretty warped ideas of what's fair and not fair. In this day and age, that perfectly represents the two parties at this point: both sides believe in black and white morals and call anyone who doesn't agree with them evil. Don't think that private businesses shouldn't have the right to base their business practices on their religion? You're a bigot! Don't think that building a giant wall will keep out illegal aliens? You're a bleeding-heart moron! WATCH OUT, *INSERT OPPOSING PARTY HERE*, THE EVIL OTHER TEAM IS COMING FOR ALL YOUR BELOVED FREEDOM!

And what's so magical about Zootopia is that it conveys the danger of this type of fearmongering in a way that kids can understand. The film shows how easy it is to unintentionally spread fear: in a press conference, Judy Hopps stumbles over an explanation of why predatory mammals might "go savage," suggesting that it might be based in their biology. In reality, the predators are being shot up with a drug that makes them go nuts, but no one can prove it--yet--and thus the fear spreads. All it takes is one wrong choice of words, one incident of crisis, and the witch-hunt is on.

At one point, the prey species behind the conspiracy tells Judy, "The population is 90% prey, what if we were all united against a common enemy?" It's a great idea in theory, but in practice it means the majority is united against a minority that, in the grand scheme of things, is not really very threatening. It means assuming the actions of a few are the impulses of many, whether that's true or not. I've seen adult-oriented films that make this concept seem like String Theory, but Zootopia nails the problems with that mindset with comparable ease. And again, keep in mind, this is a children's movie. Made by Disney. It's not Anomalisa, it's not even Studio Ghibli, it's a freaking kid's movie made by the Mouse House--and it handles complex social issues like a damn after-school special, except half as preachy and twice as entertaining.

Kind of brings new meaning to the words "So simple a child could understand," doesn't it?

I have no doubt that when next year's awards are circulating, Zootopia will snag its fair share. But I truly hope that the good this film does goes beyond an Oscar or an Annie Award. The political climate is getting worse and worse. Let's hope that a few parents and older siblings take away the lessons that Zootopia so excellently aims at the kiddies. Let's hope that Judy Hopps inspires a wider audience than her target imaginative first-graders. Let's hope that not for the first time, art imitates life--except this time, let's keep that happy ending intact.

Midnight mass

Since I graduated college my parents frequently ask me, "Why haven't you filmed anything lately? Why aren't you making anything right now?"

Well, because I get into the mindset of "okay now, everything I make has to be festival-worthy." Every movie I shoot, whether it's fiction or documentary, must be something that I would put in a showcase. Now, that's not necessarily bad; it's not like taking pride in your work and giving something your all is a negative quality--I'm pretty sure Kubrick would agree with me on that--but it wasn't always like that for me. When I was a kid, you couldn't separate me from my video camera with a crowbar. I mean, I damn near took that thing to bed with me. I made music videos to my favorite songs. I starred in one-woman shows. I'd just let the camera run while my dad and I played with Playmobil or Barbie dolls. Family outings, road trips, skating shows, martial arts tests, piano practice sessions...even room-cleaning or stops at the grocery store were caught on tape. I didn't care if I was recording a Herzog-inspired documentary; I just loved playing with that camera. And even when I got older and started making "real" movies, at first it was still just playing. I didn't care if it was good. I just wanted it to be fun.

Writer Jodi Picoult said in My Sister's Keeper, "Kids think with their minds cracked wide-open. Becoming an adult...is only slowly sewing it shut." That's how it's been with me for a while. Instead of writing or filming for myself, I do everything with the self-conscious thought of "what if someone else doesn't like it?" And that, as any of the directors I love will tell you, is no way to make art. It's a way to make yourself crazy.

But a few days ago I met real crazy. I met someone who is self-confident to the point of delusional, who does not care one iota that he has been called "the Orson Welles of crap." He's no Kubrick. He's not even Tim Burton, not even close. Hell, I'd go as far as to say that Michael Bay probably has more objective talent than this man. But I met him, and I talked to him, and I can tell you that Tommy Wiseau, director of the infamous black comedy The Room, has no damns to give about his status as Worst Auteur Ever.

I first saw The Room as part of the Rifftrax series "The Crappening." You see, the giant nerd that I am dating loves MST3K and any of its offshoots, and so we went to see what had been called "the Citizen Kane of bad cinema" out of sheer curiosity. It was hysterical, so we went back for the encore in January. And when we found out that the ringleader of that utter epic circus was in town, we knew we had to meet him. For anyone who doesn't know, The Room is one of the ultimate cult movies. Its initial theater run grossed less than $2000, but since then it's become something of a phenomenon, with most of its revenue coming from midnight screenings at arthouse theaters. Going to The Room is like going to Rocky Horror...but now I'm getting ahead of myself.

Anyway, Ian and I went to the theater and got there around 10:45 or so, thinking that maybe if we got there early enough we could snag a few minutes with Tommy Wiseau before the show started. Turned out, Tommy Wiseau was the show.

The first thing I noticed was the underwear. I mean, I'd known Tommy Wiseau had his own line of underwear, but I hadn't expected him to sell it at the damn theater. But he did. I jokingly offered to get Ian a pair--and yes, his reaction was pretty much what you'd expect--when I found out that we had to buy something from the merch table before we could meet Wiseau. (No, I did not get any underwear. I got a Room-quote t-shirt.) And it's important to note, too, that the entire theater was decked out in Room stuff. There was a little stuffed puppy and a sign that said "You're my favorite customer" on the tip jar. Little Wiseau headshot postcards were tacked up everywhere.

And the best part was that Wiseau was just standing there, smiling away, taking pictures and bossing around all of his fans. He was dressed kind of like a pretentious college student, much to my eternal amusement, and wearing sunglasses indoors and just generally acting like he was the coolest thing to ever live on planet earth. Arrogant? Yeah, kind of, but there was a genuine sweetness to him too. Like, okay, you're borderline delusional if you think you're actually a celebrity...but then again we're all treating you like a celebrity, so it's also totally understandable. And he was more than willing to shake hands and take a picture with everyone, which is pretty cool given that the show was pretty much on the verge of selling out.

While we were in line I was bantering with Ian and talking to Andy and just generally not paying attention, so naturally, when it was our turn to go up the first thing I did was trip over the divider that kept the ticket line separate from the "meet the mad genius" line. I already felt like an idiot, so for the first few minutes I stammered over words and said dumb shit (when asked "who should I make the autograph to?" I stupidly responded "me?" much to my friends' obvious amusement) until we were ready to take the picture, when I managed to get a hold of myself again.

We got a shot with my camera and then I realized that Ian probably would want one too, so I said "oh, we can get one with your phone too if you want," and Ian started to say no, we don't have to do that, but Wiseau's assistant quickly jumped in and said it wouldn't be a problem at all to get another shot. Wiseau teasingly told Ian, "Sure, sure, I'm not running this show, it's the girl"--or something like that, I didn't hear his exact words, but that's pretty much the gist of it. To which Ian (joking...I think) replied, "Yeah, it's been like that our entire relationship." Nice, Ian. Very nice. But I let that go because I had one more thing I wanted to say before we left.

I stopped to give my boyfriend the really? REALLY? you're really going to go there? look, turned back to Wiseau, and said, "I really, really love your movie. I just wanted to tell you, I love your movie." YOUR MOVIE, I said. Not YOU. But apparently that's how he interpreted it, because without missing a beat he replied, "Ah yes. I...love you too, actually." And then calmly went on greeting fans while I thought, okay, that was an odd response, but okay, why not?

Now, by the time all this was over, it was maybe...11:30. Not even. So we had to stand in line for a while before we could actually take our seats in the theater. Before the feature began, we were subjected to the pilot of Neighbors, a sitcom-style show that only Tommy Wiseau would ever be insane enough to make. The cutaway between scenes was a collage-style animation of a house, filled with the characters of the show...except for Wiseau's character, who stood on the corner bouncing a basketball...and oh yeah, a tree blew up and a chicken was eaten by a dinosaur. Just your standard sitcom fare, right? It was awful. But it was hilarious.

After Neighbors there was a Q&A with Wiseau. Now, I don't know why he always does these at The Room showings, because he seemed reluctant to answer even the most basic of questions. Every question, even one as basic as "What do you like best about acting?" was met with a short, impersonal response, followed by a curt "Moving on!" (Wiseau-to-English translation: "I don't want to answer that, next question please!") But with that said, he still interacted with his fans...he just did it on his terms. And he made one aspiring actress's night by staging an impromptu reenactment of the "You're tearing me apart!" scene from The Room, a moment that had the rest of the theater in stitches. You could tell that girl was having the time of her life. And trust me, so were the rest of us.

So being the creature of logic that I obviously am (somewhere my mother just laughed derisively and has no idea why) I decided that I would ask him a question, too. I was dying to know what possessed--and don't think I don't mean that literally--this man to start making crazy-ass films. So when my turn came I asked him, "What made you get into filmmaking?"

Without missing a beat, or even looking at me, he replied, "Because I like people, why else?" But then he looked up, saw it was me, and instead of his typical "moving on!" he added, "Also, I love you. I know you have boyfriend but I love you, you know." And then just calmly SMILES at me like there is nothing at all weird about this. For a second I was totally disarmed and just stood there like "whaaa...?" and then realized "okay it's time to get out of here, people are probably staring," and booked it back to my seat. By the time I got back to where my friends were sitting, I was cracking up--and I wasn't the only one. Later on when I told my dad about this little exchange, he said, "Did Ian tell that guy to get away from his girl?" And I said, truthfully, "No, he was laughing too hard."

And that was pretty much it. I wish I had gotten some of the event on video, because it's legitimately impossible to capture the weirdness that is Tommy Wiseau, or the craziness that is a The Room midnight screening (spoons. SO. MANY. SPOONS.) with words alone. But there were three major lessons that I took away from that night:

First of all, fandom is everything to a cult filmmaker. You'd think that years of being a Rocky Horror fan would've taught me that, but the thing about Rocky Horror is that there were a lot of legitimately talented people involved in that. There's a lot about Rocky Horror that's really, truly good: the music is the obvious one, but then there's the acting, the deliberate comedy--very important, that--and the blatant satire. I've seen the live Rocky Horror show at Meadowbrook. I can't see a legitimate theater company scrambling to put together The Room: The Musical! anytime soon. Critics, as you can imagine, are legitimately baffled by the following that The Room has acquired, because they understandably hate the movie. But the fans? Oh my God, we eat that shit up. Why? Because, for whatever reason, it resonates with us. I know why I love to watch The Room--but for someone else it could be totally different, and that's amazing.

Which leads to Takeaway #2--art doesn't have to be good. Shocking, right? Not that I haven't been preaching that all along; we all know already that bad movies still have value, but let's face it, nothing that Tommy Wiseau puts out is going to be on any Oscar ballots in the near future. But guess what? Dude doesn't care. Compare The Room to James Cameron's Avatar. Avatar made breathtaking amounts of money at the box office--even after subsequent releases of superior films like Toy Story 3, The Avengers, and Jurassic World, the damn thing still holds the record for highest-grossing film ever--won dozens of awards including three Oscars, snagged an Academy nod for Best Picture, and was hailed as groundbreaking for its special effects and 3-D achievements...but it has left practically no footprint on popular culture.

Seriously, think about that for a minute. If I make a joke about The Room in a group of, say, ten people, odds are at least one or two people, even if they haven't seen the film, will know what I'm talking about. I once made a reference The Room in front of my friend Morgan, who absolutely hates the film and only saw it once about five years ago, and her immediate reaction was "Oh, not that piece of shit." She hated the film, but she remembered it. When I was at work a few days after my initial viewing of The Room, one of my co-workers had been joke-insulting me all day. One of our "things" was trying to outdo each other with pop-culture references, and hoping to stump him with a culture reference that I was sure even he wouldn't know I began to yell, "You are tearing me apart Lisa--" only to hear not one, but two of the managers on-duty shouting it along with me. One of these managers was about fifteen years older than me and had a college degree in hospitality; the other was a smartass kid my age who'd never said two words to me before. The Room, I was surprised to find out, had a wide range of fans.

But try naming two of the characters from Avatar besides the two leads. Or quoting a line, any full line, that didn't come from the trailer. I remember so little about that movie aside from the eye-popping visuals it's almost shocking. I remember the whole "unobtainium" thing because my reaction to hearing the "precious element" that they were retrieving was "...seriously? unobtainium? are you shitting me, Cameron? that's the best you could do?" but I don't remember any of the dialogue. And then there's the hair-plug-in-means-sex thing, which I only remember because so many of my film-school classmates endlessly mocked it. I thought I was the only one, but I was wrong: even many of the people who loved Avatar when it first came out, now only recall the stunning visuals of the film and can't tell me even basic details about the plot. That, to me, is...well...there's no other word for it: insane. Think about it: the highest-grossing film of all time has a smaller, less-vocal, less-dedicated fanbase than a film known as the Citizen Kane of awful movies. How many bricks do you think James Cameron would shit if he knew that Tommy Wiseau has crazier fangirls than him?

And thus we come to the third and final point: it doesn't freaking matter if you're James Cameron. It doesn't matter one iota if you have a shelf full of awards, or blockbuster box-office revenue, or journalists and film analysts pounding down your door for an interview or a quote. It doesn't matter, as long as your movie resonates with someone the way The Room does with its fans. Sure the film sucks. I love that movie and I will say, here and now, it sucks. I'm not even exaggerating when I say that my early attempts at filmmaking are, from a technical standpoint, better and more coherent than The Room. But you know what? WHO THE HELL CARES?!?!?!? Tommy Wiseau, lunatic as he may be, has made a lot of people happy. That is the true measure of success, right there. Making someone that happy, as Ian tries to get through to me every time we watch an awards show, is worth all of the accolades in the world.

 The Main Art Theater, the location of many a legendary midnight showing.

If Wiseau can get his name up in lights...then someday, so will I. 

I wonder whose idea that sign was? :P

The astonishing display of junk we could buy from Wiseau's collection. I chose the red t-shirt in the upper left corner.

Ian took this picture of the theater decorations. I wasn't kidding when I said the whole place was decked out Room-style. 

 The man, the myth, the legend...

...the...mildly unhinged...myth and legend...

It was a crazy experience. I wouldn't have missed it for the world.

My Oscar predictions for 2016

Welp...it's that time again, loveys. You know, that magical time of year when Avery proceeds to flip Tommy-Wiseau-performing-in-The Room-levels of shit over the Oscars. I refrained from writing a post on the nominees because I honestly wasn't sure my blood pressure could take it (WTF MAD MAX) and I decided to save my rants for the proper time and place: Ian's living room on the big night. My wonderful boyfriend has promised to ply me with apple martinis that night to keep me from losing ALL of my marbles over who wins and loses, but y'all know me and you know that no amount of booze in the world will keep me from blowing up if and when Mad Max beats The Revenant in all 400 technical categories they're fighting over.

So here are my guesses and my ultimate Oscar winners wish list:

Best Picture

What's going to win: The Revenant, most likely

What SHOULD win: Spotlight or Room

Why: I will not deny that The Revenant is a technical masterpiece. With that said, there's a little too much shock value in it for me. One of the things I loved most about both Spotlight and Room was the careful depiction of what could have quickly turned into Oscar-bait subject matter. Both films had heavy material that was given special treatment, so that the implication of child abuse, or the scandalous off-screen rape of a kidnapped young woman, was just that, off-screen. One thing that I truly hate is when movies try to shock their audiences into thinking the stories are better than they really are. Room and Spotlight didn't fall into that trap, whereas The Revenant wasn't shy about laying on the gore, which greatly took away from my enjoyment of the film. Therefore, were I on the Academy team, my vote would go to either Room, or Spotlight.

Best Adapted Screenplay
What's going to win: The Big Short
What SHOULD win: Room
Why: Full disclosure - I haven't seen The Big Short yet, so I am relying entirely on Ian's report of the film. But with that said, I have seen the other candidates, and none of them compare to the haunting brilliance of Room. I swear that book-to-film adaptations are at their best when the authors are allowed to adapt their own screenplays, and Room is certainly no exception. It's sad. It's sweet. It's powerful. But above all of that, it's a truly captivating story. I couldn't have looked away from the screen if I'd tried. Besides...c'mon, Academy. You need to redeem yourselves for nominating the incoherent Inherent Vice over Gillian Flynn's brilliant Gone Girl. The behind-the-camera side of the Oscars is such a dude-fest--at least give Emma Donoghue her moment to shine, please.

Best Original Screenplay
What's going to win: Spotlight
What SHOULD win: Spotlight
Why: No, really, if Spotlight doesn't win...bad things will happen. The alcohol supply of Shelby Township will be greatly depleted. Granted, Bridge of Spies was great, as was Inside Out...but c'mon, Academy, Spotlight just plain deserves it. It's a film that doesn't sound exciting on paper, but takes a realistic look at journalism (as opposed to the craziness you usually see on TV) and makes a flat logline into a tense--and triumphant--story about what happens when ordinary people become heroes. Also, Spotlight has the brilliant, traffic-stopping line, "We got two stories here: a story about degenerate clergy, and a story about a bunch of lawyers turning child abuse into a cottage industry. Which story do you want us to write? Because we're writing one of them." Amazing.

Best Leading Actress
Who's going to win: Brie Larson, without a doubt
Who SHOULD win: Brie Larson, without a freaking doubt
Why: Can you tell I really, really, really loved Room? I mean holy shit, I loved that film to a possibly unhealthy extent. About twelve years ago, I saw Brie Larson in a Disney TV movie called Right On Track, a girly-sports film that told the story of drag racing sisters Erica and Courtney Enders. Larson played the younger sister Courtney, a flirty, fun, cute girl who seemed to never worry about anything. And now...holy shit. I wouldn't have recognized her if I hadn't already known who it was. Anytime I can watch an actor or actress I love in a film and forget that it's them, I know beyond any reasonable doubt that they have done their job and done it well. And in Room, Brie Larson does her job very, very well.

Best Leading Actor
Who's going to win: Leonardo DiCaprio
Who SHOULD win: Bryan Cranston
Why: Look, I love me some Leo just as much as every other fangirl out there...but really, Academy? Really? Y'all seem to have this thing for nominating an actor or actress multiple times and then finally giving them the Oscar just because, well, it's kind of time already, but it's not even their best film. Like I said, The Revenant was a technical masterpiece, but it just doesn't compare to Inarritu's last effort, Birdman...and DiCaprio's performance here just doesn't compare to the ones he turned in for Catch Me if You Can, Inception, or The Departed. Cranston, on the other hand, truly outdid himself in Trumbo, playing a man who would have made Breaking Bad's Heisenberg roll his eyes so hard they'd fall out. Added to which, well, Trumbo is just overall a better film...but try telling that to the Hollywood Foreign Press. (Don't even talk to me about the Golden Globes. Just don't.) And since my all-time favorite Will Smith performance couldn't be in the ring (why, Academy, why?!?), then please give that statue to Bryan Cranston. Seriously, the man deserves it.

Best Animated Feature
What's going to win: Inside Out
What SHOULD win: Either Inside Out or Shaun the Sheep
Why: Pixar is the best, we all know that, but don't rule out Aardman Animation. Shaun the Sheep is a truly amazing film, possibly one of the all-time best animated features I've ever seen, and I'd love to see the filmmakers steal an Oscar for their work, especially given that the Annie Awards made the disgusting decision to thoroughly overlook Shaun the Sheep. But with that said...well...Inside Out is just fantastic. It's one of Pixar's best, without a doubt--and yes, I am counting Up in that, everyone--so I will not be disappointed at all if and when Inside Out takes home the Oscar next week.

Best Supporting Actress
Who's going to win: Alicia Vikander
Who SHOULD win: Rooney Mara
Why: I don't mean to hate on Vikander, but The Danish Girl left me with a bad taste in my mouth, and I'm not just saying that because of my irrational dislike of Eddie Redmayne. While some critics piled on the love, actual members of the LGBT community were less warm and some were outright disgusted by the film's twisting of actual historical events. As for me, well, I just kind of tried to avoid it. Now, I will grant you that Carol wasn't that good either, but the acting--especially that of the two leads--was outstanding, and this is without a doubt Rooney Mara's best performance to date. But hey, why give her the Oscar for a performance that deserves it, when they can wait a few years and give it to her when she plays a woman dying of chickenpox or something?

Best Supporting Actor
Who's going to win: Rocky Balboa--I mean, Sylvester Stallone
Who SHOULD win: Either Mark Ruffalo or Mark Rylance
Why: Unpopular opinion time, but I'm not a fan of the Rocky films. To an extent, yes, I like them, but I've never thought of any of them as Oscar-worthy and I've always thought Stallone was better behind the camera than in front of it. Ruffalo and Rylance both turned in fantastic performances in their respective films...but as much as I loved Ruffalo's portrayal of passionate journalist Mike Rezendes, I have to admit I'm favoring Rylance just a tiny bit because his performance in Bridge of Spies was just plain perfect: not flashy, not shouty, but deeply sympathetic and incredibly memorable.

Best Director
Who's going to win: Either Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu or George Miller (WHYYYY)
Who SHOULD win: Either Inarritu or Tom McCarthy
Why: WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU, ACADEMY?!?!?!?!? I mean I can understand all the technical awards but how, HOW, in the name of all things sacred and profane, did Mad Max make it into the Best Picture and Best Director categories? With that said, Inarritu seems to be in the lead, and rightly so--directing The Revenant was certainly no small feat, even if Birdman was infinitely better in my opinion--but I'll still admit that Spotlight has all my love, so I'm pulling for McCarthy even if I know he has no chance in the world of winning.

Best Film Editing
What's going to win: Either The Revenant or Mad Max
What SHOULD win: Star Wars
Why: I know, I know--"but Avery, you didn't even SEE The Force Awakens in theaters!" No, I did not, but hear me out. Whatever your opinion of the prequels, you have to admit that consistently Star Wars has performed well in three categories: music, VFX and editing. (Note that "screenplay" was not included in that list of kudos. I love you, Lucas, but come the fuck on.) Now, I will grant you that I have only seen promotional clips and trailers...but it seems that the pattern has held for episode 7. So, Academy, if you feel like being cool this year, give Star Wars some love. (But seriously, thank you from the bottom of my heart for not giving it Best Picture or, God forbid, Best Screenplay.)

Best Hair & Makeup
What's going to win: *sigh* Mad Max
What SHOULD win: Carol....OH WAIT IT CAN'T IT WASN'T NOMINATED
Why: Oh my God, does there always have to be at least one of these? Carol had absolutely beautiful costume, hair and makeup...but for some unknown reason, it wasn't nominated. So, to Mad Max the Oscar will most likely go. And I'll admit, given Carol's omission, that's probably the right place for it to be. Hey, I said I didn't like the story behind Mad Max, I never said the technical elements didn't align.

Best Score
What's going to win: Most likely, The Hateful 8
What SHOULD win: Either Hateful 8 or Star Wars
Why: Full disclosure: I haven't seen The Hateful 8, so I don't know how the music works in context of the film. I do know, however, that the score is a pleasure to listen to on its own. But if the Oscar doesn't go to Hateful 8 (and in my opinion, it should), there's no better man to take it home than John Williams.

Best Original Song
What's going to win: "Til It Happens to You," if there's any justice in this world
What SHOULD win: ...do I even have to say it?
Why: First of all, can someone please tell me how the damn 50 Shades song ended up here instead of "See You Again" from Furious 7? I mean, good lord above, I don't even like the Furious franchise and I got teary-eyed listening to that. Academy...you confuse me. But yes, since "See You Again" was mysteriously excluded, please, please give the Oscar to the equally-heartbreaking "Til It Happens To You." Just please, I'm begging you, don't give it to "Earned It."

Best VFX
What's going to win: Mad Max. I'm sure of it.
What SHOULD win: Mad Max or Star Wars
Why: Because, lovelies, credit where credit is due. I'm not a huge fan of either franchise and I hate, hate, haaaaate that Mad Max was nominated in so many categories where other, more-deserving films should have taken the spot...but holy cow did it ever deliver in those technical categories. But again, Star Wars consistently brings the VFX game, so I would be happy with either one. On another note, I'm very surprised that Pan and Jurassic World didn't make it into the top five here, as those were both fantastically-done visually pleasing films.

Best Costume Design
What's going to win: Mad Max
What SHOULD win: Carol
Why: I know, I know. Mad Max was fantastical and magical and sci-fi and awesome, and we should all aspire to have such mad costume game in our films...but, guys, Carol was just so damn pretty. Again, I would have loved to see Pan nominated here, but given the critical response to the movie, I guess that was never going to happen.

Best Production Design
What's going to win: Either Mad Max or The Revenant
What SHOULD win: Bridge of Spies
Why: I've already covered in detail why Bridge of Spies truly deserves to win this one. But let me reiterate anyway, Bridge of Spies really deserves to win this one. The sets are so perfectly designed and a treat to look at--even the darker scenes set within war-torn Berlin or tucked away in a POW holding cell--and really, I can't believe they didn't freaking time-travel back to the 1950s to shoot this damn thing. I love you, Inarritu, but The Revenant just didn't compare this go-round.

Best Cinematography
What's going to win: It damn well better be The Revenant
What SHOULD win: The Revenant (duh)
Why: I admit I didn't like The Revenant as much as Birdman, but good God, did the camera department deliver in both cases. I loved the all-one-shot look in Birdman, but honestly, the cinematography was the only thing I really, truly enjoyed about The Revenant. So yeah, Mad Max may still have a shot, but this award damn well better go to Emmanuel Lubezki.

Best Feature Documentary
What's going to win: Amy, most likely
What SHOULD win: ...let's not even go there
Why: I have nothing against Amy. What I'm really, really pissed about, though, and will continue to be despite Ian's best efforts, is that two of the best documentaries of 2015, He Named Me Malala and The Death of Superman Lives: What Happened, were THOROUGHLY IGNORED. Not for the first time, I ask: WHAT THE LIVING HELL, ACADEMY?!?!? Does it not count as a documentary if it's not about someone dying or getting shot at--oh wait. Is it not "good enough" unless it exposes some kind of corruption--oh wait. SERIOUSLY. WHAT ARE YOU ALL SMOKING IN THERE. One of the films you so callously ignored was a beautiful and touching story of a girl who stood up for what was right in the face of horrible oppression; the other shows in painstaking detail the amount of work that went into what would have been a fantastic movie that was derailed by a lack of cooperation. Really, Academy. You should be ashamed of yourselves.

Best Sound Mixing
What's going to win: Either Mad Max or The Revenant
What SHOULD win: The Martian...or The Revenant
Why: Because much as I loved The Martian's use of sound, I have to admit that a bear attack in full surround sound was pretty damn impressive.

Best Sound Editing
See above.


And there we have it. Once again, I am reasonably confident that Disney will snag Best Animated Short for Sanjay's Super Team (although I would have loved to see Lava nominated as well, but I can't say I'm shocked that Super Team was picked instead), but as I have seen none of the other shorts in Documentary or Narrative categories, so I'm pretty useless there.

As always, I'm fairly certain that there will be tears on Oscar night. So just like last year, everyone pray for Ian...he's the one who's going to have to ply me with alcohol all night and/or pick up the pieces if and when Tom McCarthy inevitably loses to George Miller.

And for my last rant of the night...can someone please tell me why, once again, all of the female directors who put forth some fantastic pictures this year were left out? Really, it's like they're actively trying to ignore the girls at this point. *shakes head* Oh well. Next year, maybe that'll change, since Jessica Chastain, Queen Latifah, and a few others have put together their own super-team of lady filmmakers. Hell, maybe someday we'll actually have more than one female nominee in that category...wouldn't that be something?