![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
No one left in New Zealand to thank
Feb. 29th, 2004 10:29 pmAnybody else think the Oscar Theme sounds like Do They Know It's Christmastime At All? Hmm.
Here it is, 10:30PM on Oscar night. Half an hour in, they'd thanked J.R.R. Tolkien and Steve Jobs, and Alan Lee had won an Oscar: a good night for geeks. And RotK is five for five at the moment, with six nominations to go.
I thought I'd explain why I want Return of the King to win Best Picture, even though there were, arguably, better movies released in 2003.
When I was a kid, movies were pretty much it for me. Almost all of my playtime was spent in the Star Wars universe; time spent with my dad usually involved a trip to the movies, to see something science fictiony or action-packed; anything my mom wasn't interested in, from Star Trek: TMP to Buck Rogers to Raiders to Flash Gordon. As I got older, I continued to anxiously await the genre summer blockbusters: Aliens, Die Hard, The Abyss, Terminator 2. My taste wasn't terribly refined, but these were the movies that I could rent again and again on video, and never grow bored of.
At some point, that started to change. I don't know if I became more sophisticated or blockbusters started to suck; a little of both, probably. The last summer blockbuster (not counting the Star Wars prequels) I remember being excited about was Jurassic Park; after that, I started seeing mediocrity in movies like Men in Black, Independence Day, JPII and III, Wild Wild West, The Matrix. Even the good ones, Spiderman for instance, were fun to watch, but difficult to maintain any level of interest in afterward. It took little, quirky movies to get me jazzed, get me talking: Memento, Lola Rennt, Bubba Ho-Tep.
Then the mediocre (in my eyes) blockbusters started to regularly win Best Picture—Titanic, Gladiator, A Beautiful Mind—and I started frowning my way through the Oscars. Never again, I thought, would anything I loved be recognized; my tastes had become too eclectic, too quirky.
Then Peter Jackson came along.
I watched Fellowship of the Ring with my jaw in my lap. I bought the theatrical DVD just so I could see a preview of the extended edition. I spent hours and thousands of words defending Jackson's honor against the bookwraiths of Usenet. I spent days with the extended editions of the DVDs, oohing and aahing over the details of Theoden's armor and Legolas's quivers (there were two, you see, pre- and post-Lothlorien). I felt it again, that love of big movies I thought had abandoned me.
I think I felt that love because Jackson did, because everyone working on the films did. The LotR trilogy is an insane achievement, a labor of love by thousands. They had respect for the material and respect for the audience; I don't usually feel that way when I see blockbusters nowadays. Though the movies were flawed, and though there was better "art" coming through my theater, my cynicism circuits never had a chance to engage.
(Six for six: Best Score. Woo-hoo! And Best Editing, 7/7!)
So that's why I want Return of the King and Peter Jackson to win. 'Cos they brought out the enthusiasm that a five-year-old me used to be able to have, before Hollywood killed it. And I'd like to know that the Academy, given the option, will choose to get behind something that's real and big.
In some way, it'll make up for Annie Hall beating out Star Wars in 1977. Sure, Annie Hall is great. But Star Wars is totally wicked awesome, says little me, and he says the same thing about RotK. Little me knows a thing or two, too.
In other Oscar comments:
The pre-show interviewers should not pester actors in their seats. That's tacky. Sounded like Ben Kingsley was getting a mite peeved about it, too.
So Jamie Lee Curtis wins Best Breasts. I mean, YOWZA. I had no idea she was married to Christopher Guest. And hey, Mitch and Mickey are wonderful. I love Into the West, and I love Elvis Costello, but I kinda hope M&M win. (Later: nope. But I'm glad it went to Annie. 8/8!)
Billy Crystal is actually moderately funny this time out; I remember disliking him in previous years. His opening song medley wasn't bad; not as funny as Jack Black and Will Ferrell's "Get Off the Stage" number. Hee. I'm pleased by Crystal's jabs at Bush; I expect they'll get airtime on Fox News tomorrow. I'm more pleased by the fact that this is the second year in a row that the winner for Best Documentary strongly criticized George W.—and this time he wasn't booed.
Heh.
(Special moment of praise for Michael Moore, who proved he still has a sense of humor when he got stomped by a mûmak for protesting the War of the Ring in the opening montage. :)= )
And, good golly, RotK wins for Best Adapted Screenplay. I'm not actually sure it deserves it in this particular case, but, hey, 9/9! (I loved Billy Boyd's jutting-chin expression when Fran Walsh thanked Prof. Tolkien, as if to say, "Damn straight we thank Professor Tolkien! Rwaargh!") And now Peter Jackson has won Best Director. Rock on. (Anyone know what those blue pins the LotR folks are wearing are? They look like they might have the White Tree of Gondor on them, but I can't quite tell.)
Just the big one remains. I'll post this before I find out. Why not?
Here it is, 10:30PM on Oscar night. Half an hour in, they'd thanked J.R.R. Tolkien and Steve Jobs, and Alan Lee had won an Oscar: a good night for geeks. And RotK is five for five at the moment, with six nominations to go.
I thought I'd explain why I want Return of the King to win Best Picture, even though there were, arguably, better movies released in 2003.
When I was a kid, movies were pretty much it for me. Almost all of my playtime was spent in the Star Wars universe; time spent with my dad usually involved a trip to the movies, to see something science fictiony or action-packed; anything my mom wasn't interested in, from Star Trek: TMP to Buck Rogers to Raiders to Flash Gordon. As I got older, I continued to anxiously await the genre summer blockbusters: Aliens, Die Hard, The Abyss, Terminator 2. My taste wasn't terribly refined, but these were the movies that I could rent again and again on video, and never grow bored of.
At some point, that started to change. I don't know if I became more sophisticated or blockbusters started to suck; a little of both, probably. The last summer blockbuster (not counting the Star Wars prequels) I remember being excited about was Jurassic Park; after that, I started seeing mediocrity in movies like Men in Black, Independence Day, JPII and III, Wild Wild West, The Matrix. Even the good ones, Spiderman for instance, were fun to watch, but difficult to maintain any level of interest in afterward. It took little, quirky movies to get me jazzed, get me talking: Memento, Lola Rennt, Bubba Ho-Tep.
Then the mediocre (in my eyes) blockbusters started to regularly win Best Picture—Titanic, Gladiator, A Beautiful Mind—and I started frowning my way through the Oscars. Never again, I thought, would anything I loved be recognized; my tastes had become too eclectic, too quirky.
Then Peter Jackson came along.
I watched Fellowship of the Ring with my jaw in my lap. I bought the theatrical DVD just so I could see a preview of the extended edition. I spent hours and thousands of words defending Jackson's honor against the bookwraiths of Usenet. I spent days with the extended editions of the DVDs, oohing and aahing over the details of Theoden's armor and Legolas's quivers (there were two, you see, pre- and post-Lothlorien). I felt it again, that love of big movies I thought had abandoned me.
I think I felt that love because Jackson did, because everyone working on the films did. The LotR trilogy is an insane achievement, a labor of love by thousands. They had respect for the material and respect for the audience; I don't usually feel that way when I see blockbusters nowadays. Though the movies were flawed, and though there was better "art" coming through my theater, my cynicism circuits never had a chance to engage.
(Six for six: Best Score. Woo-hoo! And Best Editing, 7/7!)
So that's why I want Return of the King and Peter Jackson to win. 'Cos they brought out the enthusiasm that a five-year-old me used to be able to have, before Hollywood killed it. And I'd like to know that the Academy, given the option, will choose to get behind something that's real and big.
In some way, it'll make up for Annie Hall beating out Star Wars in 1977. Sure, Annie Hall is great. But Star Wars is totally wicked awesome, says little me, and he says the same thing about RotK. Little me knows a thing or two, too.
In other Oscar comments:
The pre-show interviewers should not pester actors in their seats. That's tacky. Sounded like Ben Kingsley was getting a mite peeved about it, too.
So Jamie Lee Curtis wins Best Breasts. I mean, YOWZA. I had no idea she was married to Christopher Guest. And hey, Mitch and Mickey are wonderful. I love Into the West, and I love Elvis Costello, but I kinda hope M&M win. (Later: nope. But I'm glad it went to Annie. 8/8!)
Billy Crystal is actually moderately funny this time out; I remember disliking him in previous years. His opening song medley wasn't bad; not as funny as Jack Black and Will Ferrell's "Get Off the Stage" number. Hee. I'm pleased by Crystal's jabs at Bush; I expect they'll get airtime on Fox News tomorrow. I'm more pleased by the fact that this is the second year in a row that the winner for Best Documentary strongly criticized George W.—and this time he wasn't booed.
Heh.
(Special moment of praise for Michael Moore, who proved he still has a sense of humor when he got stomped by a mûmak for protesting the War of the Ring in the opening montage. :)= )
And, good golly, RotK wins for Best Adapted Screenplay. I'm not actually sure it deserves it in this particular case, but, hey, 9/9! (I loved Billy Boyd's jutting-chin expression when Fran Walsh thanked Prof. Tolkien, as if to say, "Damn straight we thank Professor Tolkien! Rwaargh!") And now Peter Jackson has won Best Director. Rock on. (Anyone know what those blue pins the LotR folks are wearing are? They look like they might have the White Tree of Gondor on them, but I can't quite tell.)
Just the big one remains. I'll post this before I find out. Why not?
