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?

Dear #OscarsSoWhite

Full disclosure: I am a white 20-something woman. This comes from the perspective of someone outside the industry, who has not yet broken into the "real" festival circuit, who prefers making shorts and reviewing movies to practicing politics on Tumblr. So do with that what you will. Perhaps I would feel differently were I a black woman. I don't know. But this is what I think.

#OscarsSoWhite activists, I wonder what Sidney Poitier would like to say to you. You see, back in 1964, Poitier made history as the first black actor to win a competitive Oscar for his role in Lilies in the Field. We all know what was going on in America in the 1960s. We've all had history class; we've all watched newsreel after newsreel and read the firsthand accounts of the Civil Rights Movement. Some of us may even know people who participated in the marches, or have family members who saw the Detroit race riots, or have grandparents who heard Dr. King's "I have a dream" speech. We may not have been there, but we all know it happened. But I think some of us, in the current atmosphere of "if it's not PC, it should be illegal," may have forgotten some of the smaller victories of that movement.

Like, say, a wonderful actor winning the first Oscar ever given to a black person, during a time when he wasn't even allowed to drink from the same water fountains as the people who voted for him.

I wonder what Poitier would say to you, #OscarsSoWhite activists, for demanding what people have begun to call "Affirmative Action Oscars." Now, I will be first to say that, yeah, the Academy's criteria could be better defined, and their voting process could be improved, and overall the whole thing could be more transparent. I'm not debating that for a minute. But terrifying and guilting the whole band of them into submission will only feel like victory for a moment. Kicking up a fuss is all well and good, but let's think about what the consequences will be.

Let's think about what you're saying. You accuse the Academy of racism. You scream "more diversity, more diversity, we want diversity and we want it now!" You say that the Oscars are racist. Maybe that's true, maybe it isn't. But can we consider that a Mexican man won Best Director and Best Picture last year, and may well do it again this year? Have we forgotten about 12 Years a Slave, and all its victories? Have we forgotten Lupita Nyong'o, who not only kicked ass in that film, but is also the first Kenyan and first Mexican actress to win an Academy Award? Have we forgotten that "Glory" won Best Original Song last year? Let's also not forget Octavia Spencer, who won for her role in The Help, or Viola Davis, who was nominated for the same film. Hell, how about we remember that the freaking president of the Academy is a black woman? TAKE THAT, GLASS CEILING!

And speaking of women...do we count towards "diversity?" How about Kathryn Bigelow, beating out the biggest blockbuster of the year for Best Picture, and winning Best Director--the first woman to ever do so? No women have been nominated for Best Director since her win. Am I allowed to boycott the Oscars on the basis of sexism, purely because I'm furious--and I am, believe me--that George Miller was nominated for an allegedly "feminist" film (the quotation marks should tell you exactly how I feel about THAT description) instead of, oh I don't know, actually nominating female directors? And don't say there weren't enough to consider this year because there were. Marielle Heller. Maya Forbes. Sarah Gavron. I could go on, but I won't. Am I allowed to be angry about that? Not really, it seems, because when I mentioned in a post on Facebook how ridiculous it was that Miller was nominated, I was quickly shut down.

#OscarsSoWhite, I think you're overlooking some people in your quest for "diversity." Let's be honest, you don't want real diversity. You want affirmative action. You want a spectacle. You want the Academy to start phasing out older voters because you believe all old people are racist. "Get out of here with your white privilege!" you cry whenever someone points this out. "We just want what's fair! We want diversity! We want equality! We don't want affirmative action, we just want to make sure that some black people are nominated every year!" Um, yes, that does count as affirmative action. Don't pretend it doesn't. Whenever someone dares to point out that the Academy chose who they chose because of talent, not because of race, you scream WHITE PRIVILEGE! RACISM! YOU JUST DON'T GET IT! Maybe we don't "get it," but sometimes, I don't think you do either.

Where are all the Native American voices kicking up a fuss because none of their number were nominated for Oscars? While #OscarsSoWhite activists bemoan Hollywood's lack of inclusion, they're celebrating because Revenant actually treated them with a degree of respect, instead of pulling a Lone Ranger. (Not for the first time, I really, really questioned Johnny Depp's judgment when he starred in that stinker.)

Where are the LGBT community members yelping about Carol not being nominated for best picture? As Ian McKellen pointed out, there have been plenty of straight men to win Oscars for playing gay men, but where are the openly gay Best Actors? Should we be angry about that too? Apparently not, because aside from McKellen, no one else has really tried to point it out. Not recently, anyway.

And then there's Jada Pinkett Smith, who blasted the Oscars and then announced a boycott when her husband wasn't nominated. Now don't get me wrong, if it looked like Ian were up for an Oscar and then suddenly he wasn't, I'd be pretty damn upset. And considering my intense dislike of Eddie Redmayne, who you'll never convince me deserved the Oscar that Michael Keaton should've won last year (and he's nominated again this year--ugh!), maybe I'm the last person to talk about hating the Academy for the wrong reasons, but with that said, I think there's something a tiny bit petty about the way she handled it. (And for the record, I'm not the only one. Just in case you needed an opinion from someone who isn't a non-Hollywood-playing white girl.)

First of all, ma'am, you are the wife of a Hollywood superstar. You really are. Hell, I didn't even like Will Smith until I saw him in Concussion, but you can't deny he has pull at the box office. You're married to a millionaire who frequently competes with Denzel Washington and Morgan Freeman, both of whom have twice his talent, for the title of Most Popular Black Actor in the History of Forever. You live in a mansion and have two beautiful children, both of whom seem on their way to having successful careers themselves when they're older. You yourself have a successful career as an actress and musician.

And yet you go on social media and say "We are not recognized for our artistic accomplishments." Ma'am, what we are you talking about here? Black people? Black women? All of the above? Surely you can't be referring to Lupita Nyong'o (who was voted Woman of the Year in addition to her Oscar) or Octavia Spencer. Can't be talking about Spike Lee, who was given an honorary Oscar by the very organization he denounces as racist. In fact, Mrs. Smith, you can't even be talking about your own husband, who has been nominated for 85 awards and received 45 over the course of his career.

"But he hasn't won an Oscar!" you may cry. Okay, but you can't chalk that down to racism, because guess what? Both times he was nominated, he lost to another black man. No, really. In 2002 he lost to Denzel Washington, in 2007 he lost to Forest Whitaker. Now, I may not be a data analyst, but that to me does not point in the direction of a racist Academy.

I loved Concussion. I loved it with all my heart. Had I seen it before I composed my 2015 Top 10 list, it would have snagged a spot in the top 5. It's the first Will Smith movie I've seen that I truly enjoyed purely because wasn't a WILL SMITH MOVIE, it was a truly amazing film in which Will Smith happened to star. He did a damn good job in that movie and I would have loved to see him get nominated. I fully expected him to beat Bryan Cranston out for the Golden Globe, and--boy, I can't believe I'm saying this--I was crushed when Leonardo DiCaprio took Best Drama Actor instead. You get it. I loved Concussion and I loved Will Smith in Concussion and I wish he'd been nominated.

But I can understand why he wasn't, and I don't think it has anything to do with race.

Hear me out. Let's think about the last twenty years or so of nominees for Best Actor. Hell, let's look at the winners last year: one played a guy with a terrible illness, and one played a guy who was a complete jackass. There's your pool of victors, right there. Look at the data. Data, as my very rational, analytic mother has taught me, does not lie. And if you look at who's won in recent years, you'll see a lot of guys with terrible illness and a lot of complete jackasses.

Film critics seem to have enormous soft spots for "complex"--a.k.a. "asshole"--characters. They're so complex, they say. They're so deep. They're so complicated. Give us more! We love evil geniuses, but we won't call them that! We as a species seem to have a love-affair with jerks who happen to be really good at their jobs. How else to explain our fascination with Steve Jobs? How else to explain why we love shows like Sherlock, or House, or Supernatural, all of which feature leading men who have skill to spare and an ax to grind? We hate "perfect" characters, because the way we see it, "perfect" characters must be boring. If your character is lovable, screenwriters, you'd better put him through a hell of a lot of pain. And if he's fantastic at what he does, you'd better make him a jerk with a heart of gold, or better yet a just plain jerk, if you want the actor who plays him to win Best Actor.

And I'm very sorry to say that the character Will Smith played in Concussion was not a jerk, nor a jerk with a heart of gold, nor did he have a horrible illness or undergo severe trauma with lasting results. He was charming, he was triumphant, he was lovable, he was resilient, he was skilled at what he did, he was intelligent, he was polite. He was just about the best damn role model a kid could have. (Parents, take note--as soon as your kids are old enough to hear a few curse words, do show them Concussion.)

So there was no way he was ever going to win Best Actor. He just wasn't. He wasn't "complex" enough, he was "too nice," he was too perfect. The fact that the actor who played him did a perfect job of portraying him just wasn't good enough.

Let's look at the guys who got nominated, instead. Michael Fassbender as Steve Jobs (jackass!), Eddie Redmayne as the titular Danish Girl (terrible pain and suffering--HE ALMOST DIES, YAY!), Leonardo DiCaprio as Hugh Glass (terrible pain and suffering--ALMOST DIES!), Bryan Cranston (jackass--lovable jackass, but still!), and Matt Damon as Mark Watney (pain and suffering--ALMOST DIES!). It sounds simplistic to put it this way, but Will Smith's character was neither a jackass, nor did he almost die. Therefore it's safe to say the Academy probably didn't think his performance was "dramatic" enough to be nominated.

Is this fair? HELL NO! But it's not an issue of race. It's an issue of the Academy having wack criteria when it comes to picking their nominees. That's a whole new bucket of worms to delve into, and it's one that won't be easily solved. There are ways, sure, but judging by the reaction from within the ranks when the Academy imposed new voting restrictions, those suggestions aren't going to go over too well and will take a long time to successfully refine. But there are changes that can be made, and these changes can and will, I think, happen over time.

But they shouldn't happen like this.

Really. They should not be the result of bullying, and demands for "diversity" that really are only coming from one sources, demands that are reactive and not proactive, demands that only benefit one target group and lead others in the wayside. And before you cry "your privilege is showing!" I'm not talking about white people. I'm talking about other ethnic groups besides black people. I'm talking about gay men and women. I'm talking about transgender actors. I'm talking about women behind the camera (for the love of God, women, get behind the camera and let's make some movies that are better than The Intern so we can get nominated next year). I'm talking about real diversity, not just a cry for more recognition.

No one is entitled to an Oscar. No one will get an Oscar just by demanding it...and if you do get an Oscar just by demanding it, just by scaring and whining and bullying and guilting the Academy into voting for you, that Oscar loses almost all of its significance.

At my high school, there was a girl in my department, the film department, who was very well-liked. She had a thing with one of the guys in the department at the beginning of the school year, and later got an important crew role on another person's thesis set. She confided in me, "I hate not knowing whether I'm getting attention because they like me, or because I'm pretty and made out with one of their friends."

Well, here's the Hollywood equivalent of that, I guess. From here on out, black actors who are nominated or win Best Actor awards will not know if it's because they're truly talented, or because the Academy will face backlash and shame if they do not nominate those actors. And I don't know about the rest of you, but I would really, really hate not knowing which one it is. That, to me, is truly awful--not one or two years in a row with a lack of color among the nominees.

Being a filmmaker: 'Hail, Caesar!' gets it right

It's a shot we all saw in the trailer: Baird Whitlock (George Clooney) is dressed in an elaborate costume, standing before a giant cross on a slavishly detailed film set, making a show-stopping speech about mankind and God and the meaning of life. He's gesturing, he's shouting, he's on the verge of tears, about to bring the audience to its feet...

...Aaaaaand he forgets his line.

It was precisely at this moment that student filmmakers all over the world fell in love with the Coen brothers all over again, without even seeing the complete film.

Why? Because we know how that feels. We know intimately the frustration and desperation that a cast and crew feel twenty takes in, when we're in the middle of the best take yet...and the actor forgets a line. Now, any number of things can happen that will ruin a take, I'm not blaming it all on the actors, but the point still stands. Substitute "actor forgets his line" for "a lightbulb burns out," or "the audio gets screwed up" or "the camera battery runs out." Pick a disaster, any disaster.

I saw Hail, Caesar! in its opening week and loved it. Not because it's a great film--it is, oh God, it is, I'm not exaggerating when I say it's their best yet--but because the Coens did such a fantastic job taking every directorial nightmare and putting it into a single film...no, a single scene. Oh, there are plenty of moments in the film that speak to a filmmaker's worst fears (actors mess up, gossip-rag journalists sniff around, rival studios rear their heads...communists kidnap movie stars...okay, yeah, it's a Coen film, what did you expect?), but there's one moment in Hail, Caesar! that every single director on God's green earth will respond to with a sympathetic nod and an "Oh hellz yeah I've been there."

About a quarter of the way into the film, country movie star and ultimate sweetheart Hobie Doyle (Alden Ehrenreich) walks onto the set of a beautiful classic drama film, dressed in his first-ever tuxedo, with the wide-eyed eagerness of a child on his first day of school. Picture a young, untrained  John Wayne wandering onto the set of Sabrina. The director, Laurence Laurentz (the incomparable Ralph Fiennes), has had little say in the casting of his leading man and was expecting Cary Grant, not a baby-faced cowboy stuntman. Over the course of three takes, Laurentz tries progressively harder and gives more specific instructions, but Doyle just can't do what his director wants him to do. It's not that he's a bad performer. It's just that he can't play the role that he's being asked to play, because he's never done it before and it's not a part that suits him. It's like trying to make Owen Wilson play the lead in Jesus Christ Superstar. It just isn't going to happen.

Naturally, as the shoot goes on, Laurentz gets progressively more frustrated. First he changes the directions, then he changes the lines, and finally he bursts into his boss' office and demands to know just what the hell was going through the studio heads' minds when they cast this clown in his movie. Of course Mr. Mannix is quite sympathetic to Laurentz's frustration, having plenty of his own disasters to contend with...but in the end, he's firm on his decision, and Laurentz is stuck with this kid, like it or not. And that's pretty much the way it ends. We don't really see Laurentz again (although there are some quite interesting rumors hinted at towards the end) and we never see Hobie Doyle on-set again. But that scene is really all we need to see to know exactly how that movie turned out.

Fellow amateur filmmakers, answer me this: who among us hasn't had to direct a scene with an actor who just plain did not fit that part--but had to play it anyway because they were our only option? When I was in film school I had to work with whatever options the theater department handed me--and in times when the school productions were in full swing, believe me, there wasn't much to go on. Sometimes, I got really, really lucky. Sometimes, I didn't. And even when I went to college and started making films without departmental supervision, I still often had to go with whatever (actually whoever) came my way. Sometimes, it worked. And other times, it didn't. But there was no frustration on earth quite like that of trying to explain to a reluctant actor exactly what I wanted them to do. So, another check for the Coens--they nail that part of filmmaking, no question.

BUT. THAT'S NOT EVEN THE BEST PART.

Quick test for fellow artists--raise your hand if anyone has ever told you that what you're doing is "just entertainment" and thus not a "real" job. That's exactly what happens to multiple characters in Hail, Caesar!--actors and studio execs alike. The Lockheed Corporation tries to snag Eddie Mannix away from his job in Hollywood by calling the movies "frivolous" and insisting that the job he offers is better because it is more "serious." The Communists who kidnap Whitlock tell him that movies are just "distractions" for the public. Even Whitlock gets in on the act at one point, telling Mannix all the things he "learned" from the Communists, telling him that movies are all fake and there's no point to making them because no one gets anything out of a film anyway.

But this is where the genius of the Coen bros kicks in. The film industry is shown, in-depth, as a busy and thriving business run by overworked people, just like, oh I don't know, every other industry on the planet. And that is brilliant, because it demonstrates just how stupid those people who say moviemaking isn't a "real" job actually are. By presenting the film industry as a business like any other, the point is driven home: making movies is a real job, and to hell with anyone who says it isn't.

I wish I could show everyone who asks me, "So, what's it like to make a movie?" Hail, Caesar! because seriously, this movie gets it right. I don't care if you're a student, an independent producer, or James Cameron himself, if you're a filmmaker, you've experienced something like the filmmakers go through in Hail, Caesar! You've had to deal with a miscast actor who just can't understand your directions. You've had to deal with something messing up your best take at the last second. You've had to put up with pissy people who derail you, either outright or by serving their own interests. And of course, you've been told "This isn't a real job, you're just playing around, you should do something more practical."

And I don't know if they mean it this way, but when I watched the Coens' latest movie, all I could hear was them telling me, "To hell with those people. This is real. This is your job. Go and do it well." If Big Eyes was Tim Burton's love letter to aspiring artists, then Hail, Caesar! is the Coen brothers'.

Avery Tries to be a Critic: 'Carol'

I wanted to like Carol. I really did. I love Cate Blanchett and Rooney Mara. I've always had a soft spot for Kyle Chandler. I love period pieces, especially mid-century ones--I think we all remember what I thought of Big Eyes--and I love LGBT films. And after I read all the rave reviews, and saw that Carol got a handful of Oscar nominations, I was so excited to see it. I expected a love story for the ages. I expected a film that conveyed the magic and mystery, and the pain, of first love. And with all the rage that it wasn't nominated for Best Picture, I expected...well...an Oscar-worthy film.

And I didn't get it.

Let's start with the positives: Carol is an absolutely beautiful film. It's a work of art. It really is. The nominations for cinematography, music, and costumes are well-deserved. Rooney Mara and Cate Blanchett kick ass as Therese and Carol, bringing a subtlety and glamour to the film that is usually absent in epic romances. Even when their male counterparts--Jake Lacy (Obvious Child) as Therese's boyfriend Richard; Kyle Chandler (Early Edition, Friday Night Lights) as Carol's ex-husband Harge--go into melodrama mode, Mara and Blanchett remain subtle, stoic and absolutely breathtaking. The lovely women seamlessly fit into their perfectly-crafted environment, which combines light, color and texture to create a cinematic wonder.

Unfortunately, that beautiful world isn't enough to carry the film all on its own. The story is surprisingly thin and disappointingly predictable. Worse, all the characters other than the two leads are one-dimensional stereotypes. Every man in the film is either a total jackass, or a throwaway character that exists only to move the plot forward. (Well, hey. At least SOMETHING is moving the plot forward.) Even Carol's best friend Abby is something of a ghost, popping in and out when needed with little background or motive of her own. It's almost as if literally every character but the two leads are puppets that exist only to explain the motives of Therese and Carol.

This issue is particularly irritating when the film's two-hour running time is taken into consideration, along with the surplus of establishing shots, insert shots, and lingering tracking shots of almost nothing at all. The cinematography is fantastic. The editing and script, however, leave something to be desired. There's 120 minutes here to play with, and yet it feels like there's no real story. Carol feels like a screenplay that never got past the log line. There's no real subplots. Characters that should be important, like Carol's daughter Rindy, are little more than human MacGuffins. Screen time is wasted on elevators and long tracking shots of train sets, while character development falls to the wayside. As for the antagonists, I've seen dollar-store cashiers more threatening. I get what they were trying to do--the oppressive atmosphere of the 1950s is the "real" villain--but it doesn't quite play out, leaving the film feeling unfortunately empty when all is said and done.

With all that said, Carol is still worth a watch. It's up there with Bridge of Spies in terms of production design, and the cinematography is to die for. Fellow feminists, you will be pleased to know that whatever other faults the script may have, it does pass the Bechdel Test--at least several times over, too. Rooney Mara and Cate Blanchett are in top form, and their nominations for Best Lead and Supporting Actress are well deserved. If Mara's turn as Lisbeth Salander didn't knock your socks off, her performance here will. (And can we please stop trashing on her for Pan, because that is really, really unfair.) Blanchett is as classy as ever...I don't know how that woman can make smoking and cursing look smooth, but she does...and her performance as the elusive Carol would make just about any of Hitchcock's blondes green with envy. It's the rest of the cast that doesn't quite hold up. Someone please tell Kyle Chandler that when acting opposite an actress as nuanced as Cate Blanchett, the "yell and project like a high-school theater major" approach does not work. But the ladies carry the movie well enough, when their star performances are combined with the beautiful visuals. It's just a shame that the story couldn't bring the same punch as the other elements.

I hate to pit women filmmakers against each other, but take a look at Jenny's Wedding in comparison to Carol. When I first saw Jenny's Wedding all I could think was "oh my God my parents have to see this." It was relevant. It would have been relevant two years ago when I was dating a girl (of whom my parents did not approve, for the record) and it's relevant now when I'm on the verge of moving out, because the film isn't really about a lesbian relationship, it's about learning who you are without your parents' approval. What's Carol really about, besides a lesbian romance? It doesn't seem like the writer or the director knew going in. And that is what takes a film that could have been fantastic, and knocks it down to just "really, really good." Still an A-grade, no doubt, but it's sad, because Carol deserved to be an A+.

As the world falls down

This week, we lost two legends, two icons, two men who always seemed bigger and more fantastic than they really were, two men who we somehow unconsciously thought were immortal.

I have seen so many "RIP, Jareth!" and "RIP, Snape!" posts on Facebook. I've also seen plenty of people getting scolded for saying those things. I've seen plenty of articles reminding us "David Bowie was more than just Jareth, you know" and countdown/top-10 lists of Alan Rickman's best roles. I've been told "you didn't know them!" more than once. (I'm well aware that I never got to meet Alan Rickman. Didn't need the reminder, thanks.) And I've seen tribute after tribute on every movie and music blog in human existence, all of them hoping to ease the ache or celebrate the lives of these two wonderful men, just a little, just for a minute.

I don't know what I can say about losing an idol that I didn't say in my other post. I don't know what I would say to Bowie or Rickman's families, were they here in front of me. It's funny what comes to the front of my mind when things like this happen. When I first heard about David Bowie, all I could think was "But he just released a music video, he CAN'T be dead!" And today Alan Rickman died, and I called my boyfriend in a blind panic and said, "I never got to thank him. I never got to tell him that he made Snape real to me. I never got to cast him, or even just shake his hand. I never got to tell him what his work mean to me. I never will." Isn't that funny? Scores of people more talented and worthy than I had the opportunity to tell Rickman what a fantastic actor he was, tell him how very loved and how very deserving he was, and here I am worrying that he missed out on the appreciation and gratitude of one lonely, quirky movie-addicted girl from Michigan.

It's not fair that they died so relatively young. It's not fair that so many more will die of the same disease they did. It's not fair that a man like Alan Rickman, who would have made such a good father and whose children would have brought something to the world, never procreated--while families like the Duggars, who have never contributed to the human race and never will, breed literally by the dozens. It's not fair that their families have to live without them. It's not fair that there are so many movies out there that could have been made and so many songs that could have been written, that will never come to be now. It's not fair, and there's nothing to be done about it.

But here's what I like to think...

I like to think that when Alan Rickman reached heaven today, he came expecting pearly gates and men with long white beards and was instead greeted by David Bowie, in full Labyrinth regalia, holding a garment bag and smiling. When the understandably confused Rickman asked "What are you doing here dressed like that? What's going on?" Bowie would've just smiled and handed him the bag. Inside, there's his Snape costume, and Rickman would ask him, "What do you want me to do with this?"

To which I like to imagine David Bowie replying, with a smile, "Well, you see, there are kids up here already who loved the characters we brought to life. Kids that were hurt by abusive families and left the world feeling unloved. Kids who died of the same disease we did. Put that on and come with me, because I think we ought to go make those kids very happy, don't you?"

It's a silly daydream, I know. It's the kind of sappy, Hallmark thing that we tell ourselves when those we admired are gone, so that we can feel better about their passing. It's very cinematic and very melodramatic. Even if you take for granted the idea that heaven is real (which I do, but I know there are plenty out there who don't) it's still unlikely, and still pretty cheesy...but I still like to imagine it going down just like that.

Goodbye, David Bowie. Goodbye, Alan Rickman. You probably already knew this...but through the fantastic things you created, you will live on forever.

Always.