The Oscar nominations were announced recently and, due to the lack of diversity, it now looks like these will officially be the whitest Oscars since 1998. Woo-Hoo! We’re Number One! In your face everybody else! Wait, no, sorry. Inappropriate. It’s actually terrible. Shockingly terrible. I haven’t seen a result this shocking from an old white male voting pool since….oh…well, I guess it would have to be the midterms. OK, but before that, well, if you want to get a result this disappointing, well, golly, you’d have to go all the way back to, oh let’s see, if I remember correctly, I think it would have to be almost every single election in the history of forever.

And, of course the other big story from the Academy Awards nomination announcement is Cheryl Boone Isaacs’ mispronouncing “Dick Pope” as “Dick Poop.” Although, some believe that this was actually a Freudian slip expressing how she felt about having to announce yet another fucking white guy, cause she also mispronounced Bennett Miller as “this is some bull-shit” and Clint Eastwood as “Ana Duverney.”

Now at this point, many of you are asking- “Hey, Eric- why do you even give a shit about the Oscars? It’s not like you like movies.” Well, let me the record straight, here. Nothing could be further from the truth. Hell, I’m not even sure how you got such a crazy idea. I mean, I suppose it might be because of posts I’ve written like “Summer Movie Preview- I Didn’t See Any, You Can’t Make Me” and “Sharkando 2 Makes Citizen Kane Look Like a Steaming Pile of Crap” but it’s probably because I’m a Jew and you’re anti- Semitic. Yeah, that’s it, nothing to do with what I wrote- hell, what’s the fun of taking responsibility for my actions when I can just accuse you of being a bigot? And you’re not even a good anti-Semite- I mean, if I’m a Jew, I should love movies- after all, the Jews control Hollywood, don’t they? I mean, not my family, we were never popular enough to join the really cool Jewish conspiracies. Not the Zionist Occupation Government, not the International Jewish Banking Cartel, and DEFINITELY not the Left Wing Jewish Intellectual Media Elite, hell, that’s like the Sky Bar of Jewish cabals. They offer Christian blood in bottle service.

No, the closest my family ever came to World Domination is having a moderately rich (not even Albany rich- like, Troy rich) great uncle who had a tiny ownership share of the Jets back in the 60’s. And let’s face it, that’s not so much a proud family legacy of power and glory. It’s just one more embarrassing box to check on the Family Medical History form of my life- Diabetes- CHECK, Heart Disease- CHECK, endlessly cheering for fucking losers year after year after year after year while your youth and your hope and your life slip away and all you’re left with are rage issues, a green pom-pom hat and a compost heap of broken promises where your heart used to be- check CHECK MOTHERFUCKING CHECK. But, hey, that’s my family legacy for you. We’re the Anti-Krafts, the Protocols of the Shmendricks of Zion. So take that microaggressors!! You see- not all Jews are successful. We’re banding together with the other victims of microagression- Asians who suck at math, black people who can’t dance, and gay men who are comfortable with their less than perfect abs. We’re through being polite and we say “NO MORE , please!” Take your well intentioned and, if I’m honest with myself, somewhat flattering BIGOTRY and shove it up your ass- assuming, as a white person, that you have enough ass to shove it in. #JeSuisDonNoSoulSimmons

Speaking of defying stereotypes- I was very encouraged, particularly in light of my last post, by all the number of Islamic leaders and academics who’ve spoken out against the attacks in Paris- most notably the leader of Hezbollah. Now I’m no terrorist, but if the head of Hezbollah is condemning your actions- you might have gone too far. Might be time to just dial it back a little. It’s like Marion Berry showing up to Rob Ford’s intervention or Bill Cosby giving Jameis Winston dosage instructions.

Anyhow like I was saying….at some point earlier today…I think… there’s a pervasive perception that I don’t like movies and it’s just not true. I love movies! What I don’t like is crap, and unfortunately, Hollywood studios don’t make movies anymore- they make crap. They manufacture as much brain-dead CGI fertilizer as they can, so they can spread it across the fertile fields of China and grow a new crop of suckers  movie lovers. So, sure, if you want to catch a Third Man, Night and the City double header or analyze Chinatown as an expression of Vietnam era American disillusionment- I’m your man. But if you want to catch the latest CGI cum stain to be spooged all over an IMAX screen by Michael Bay (I had a bunch of Transformers as a kid- but I don’t remember the one that turned from shit into cash) or any movie featuring the one man oompa-loompa minstrel show that is Kevin Hart (does Chris Tucker know his mini-me is loose?) you’re on your own.

Now of course not all movies are crap- but how can you tell which ones are worth seeing?  Well, it’s not easy- but I’ll share my top secret technique with you here, refined over many years. So- here’s what I do. When I hear that a new movie is coming out, and I’m trying to decide if I want to go see it, I say “Huh. Well that sounds like total crap” and I stay home and watch Archer reruns in  my underwear instead. Works every time!

Well, ok, maybe not every time. Sometimes, there might be a movie that I’m really tempted to see- like, let’s say Jeff Bridges is in it or there’s a really cool song in the trailer that’s not actually in the movie. Well, in that case, I wait until someone affiliated with the movie, like, oh let’s say Jeff Bridges, is on Jimmy Fallon. And then I watch impatiently as the Golden Retriever of talk show hosts obsequiously slobbers all over Mr. Bridges with his drooling declarations of undying love, until they show the clip, of, oh let’s say The Giver. I watch the clip carefully, scrutinizing every nuance- dialogue, cinematography, mise en scene. And THEN once I’ve carefully weighed the evidence and given it some thought, I say “Huh. Well that looks like total crap” and I stay home and watch Archer reruns in my underwear instead.

But, then, of course, the end of the year rolls around, and the studios dump all their award bait on the marketplace like prestige diarrhea. This is my cinematic Groundhog Day. The time when I stick my head out of my comfortable pop-culture hole in the ground, grudgingly put on a pair of pants ON THE WEEKEND and drag my ass out to see what Paul Thomas Anderson has come up with. And if I see something good, than it restores my faith in humanity’s ability to create something worthwhile, albeit infrequently, for another year. If not…well that’s where my manifesto comes in- but let’s hope it never comes to that- because, hey, as turns out, there were actually a few pretty good flicks this past year. (I’m joking of course about the whole manifesto thing.  You got that, NSA guys- there’s nooo reason at all to be concerned. But- hey- thanks for reading Been & Going! I’m touched, really. Like us on Facebook! That’s where I post all the REALLY big threats to national security. Kidding! But seriously, like me to find out for sure.)

So- alright, if I’m gonna watch these damn movies, then you’re gonna suffer right along with me- so, here, in honor of “Award Season” (recently ranked #4 on Terrible Seasons Magazine’s Top 10 list –right behind “Monsoon Season”, “Tick and Lyme Disease Season” and “Baseball Season”(shudder)) here are my own, personalized 2014 movie awards. Enjoy- or, at the very least, be thankful that I didn’t ask Ricky Gervais to host (shudder).

The “I Wanted to Love It but Only Sort of Liked It” Award- The Grand Budapest Hotel

Look, I like Wes Anderson. No, you know what- fuck that- I LOVE Wes Anderson. I’ve seen just about every damn thing he’s made- and I’m not just talking about the Big Three- Rushmore, Tennenbaums and Zissou- I’m talking Bottle Rocket, I’m talking Fantastic Mr. Fox– hell I even saw the totally pointless Jason Schwartzman hotel room web video thing that was like a companion piece to that totally pointless Jason Schwartzman India movie. And you know what else I love? Hotels! And the faded glory of architectural masterpieces! And Cold War Europe! And complicated story structures! And WES FUCKING ANDERSON! So- yeah, I was super-duper-extra-plus-camel-on-Wednesday-actor-who-booked-national-Geico-commercial-Jason-Schwarzman-when-he’s-running-low-on-weed-and-he-finds-out-Wes-Anderson’s-making-a-new-movie-Obama-cause-now-he-doesn’t-have-to-give-a-FUCK excited to see this movie. So, given that, it’s possible that no movie could have lived up to my expectations. Hell, Wes could have made a remake of Texas Chainsaw Massacre where the New England Patriots’ bus breaks down on their way to Dallas and they get hacked to bits gruesomely in slow motion by Leatherface (Jerry Jones, natch) and I still would have been like- what- no Chris Christie??

So, yeah, sure, Hotel checks all the Wes Anderson boxes- fanciful world crafted with dollhouse precision, extravagant characters costumed to almost self-conscious perfection, a framing device which embraces the whimsical storytelling and imbues it with wistful nostalgia, and Bill Murray- just cause- all there. But, in all of his other movies, there is The Moment. It’s that point in the movie where he delicately pushes my ribs apart and squeezes my heart like a dog’s toy, so that all that comes out of my mouth is a squeaky little gasp as I sit breathless and broken and captivated completely. “I’ve had a really rough year, Dad” in Tennebaum, “I wonder if it remembers me” in Zissou,  hell, even that totally pointless India movie had “I couldn’t save mine”.

It’s the bittersweet filling that makes the fluffy cinematic confectionery so utterly satisfying. And in Hotel- it wasn’t there. I never had The Moment. Now, maybe it’s me. Maybe I was so angry and distracted by the sheer stupidity of the animated ski race sequence that I forgot to feel it. Maybe I need to watch it again. Whatever it was, for me this movie was beautiful but unsatisfying- Tantric filmmaking at it’s finest. Hell it was so Tantric, it was like having sex with Sting, while listening to the Police and reading an insightful New York Times article about the box office struggles of The Last Ship. Turns out, BTW, that The Last Ship was a lot like having sex with Sting-  it’s really good but nobody comes. Thank you. I’ll be here all week. No, I mean it. This is a very long post.

I should add that, if Wes Anderson does clean up at the Oscars for Hotel, then he’ll also win this year’s “Scent of a Woman” Award given to the artist who gets the most deserved recognition for the least deserving movie. The last time I gave this was in 2007 to the Coen brothers for casting the sexiest Spaniard alive in Dumb y Dumbero.

The “I’d Like to Thank the Academy for Agreeing with me that this Movie Blows” Award- Nightcrawler

So, of course, we all know how important the local TV morning news is and how much power is wielded by the producers of local TV morning news to shape our understanding of the very world we live in. What’s that? No? Oh right- cause it’s TWO THOUSAND FUCKING FIFTEEN. Why would anyone possibly make a movie exposing the sleazy underbelly of the local news game, unless they were trying to appeal to the dentures and Depends set? And if that’s the case- what’s next: Andy Rooney- Baby Eater;  I Watched CBS and Now I Have Gonorrhea; If You Didn’t Want to Be a Burden then You Should Have Just Died  I mean, I like a scrawny, bug-eyed, amoral Jake Gyllenhaal spewing vacuous corporate double speak as much as the next guy….and judging by how much love this movie got when it first came out – the next guy must REALLY like that a lot, because there’s not much else that’s good about this movie. Nightcrawler is like a Harvey Wallbanger- it’s straight out of the 70’s and it would have sucked then. And I’m not just talking about the fact that it’s a local news movie in a Fox News world. Everything about it oozes pet rocks and bell bottoms. The fetishized urban grit, the tell-don’t-show screenwriting, the ridiculously heavy handed imagery (LOOK- Broadcast Towers! SEE how they dominate the landscape of Los Angeles AND OUR MINDS!!!), Rene Russo. It’s like they went back in time to 1976 to go dumpster diving near Paddy Chayefsky’s house and stole all the shitty scenes he threw out while writing Network.

When I saw this movie, I was worried that I was the only one who noticed it wasn’t very good- since it garnered a lot of critical attention and positive reviews from people I know and respect. That’s why I was so relieved when it was pretty well snubbed by the Academy. I was still a little baffled that Dan Gilroy got a Best Screeplay nomination, but then I remembered who was in the Academy and I realized that maybe an expose of local morning news wasn’t such a bad idea after all. Hell, they Academy voters are all excited to see who plays Andy Rooney next year. I hear Idris Elba’s amazing!

The “I’d Like to Thank the Academy for Agreeing with Me This Movie Was Awesome” Award- Foxcatcher

I’ve got to admit, I’ve been surprised by the response to this movie. I mean, I fucking loved it-but, as the year drew to a close, it seemed a lot of critics were sort of “meh” about it. And I just don’t get it. I mean, sure, some of the pacing was excruciatingly slow. And, yeah, ok, maybe the storytelling was a little wonky. And, fine, I get it, it’s one thing for audience members to leave early but when the main character walks out three quarters of the way through the movie  like “I don’t know about you guys- I’m out of here!” that’s sort of a red flag. And, ok ok ok ok FINE the Big Shocking Event that the movie is based on happens at the very end and feels totally tacked on like part of a “where are they now” montage at the end of an 80’s summer camp teen sex comedy. And, yes yes yes, I get it already- the plight of emotionally underdeveloped white dudes is hardly unexplored cinematic territory. I mean- hey, what’s next- a sheriff moves to a lawless town and tries to impose order. Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan develop a relationship via some at the time cutting edge and now outmoded means of mass communication  (so many classics: Sleepless in Seattle, You’ve Got Mail, Dot Meets Dash, I Only Have Eyes Semaphore You and MySpace or Yours.) So, huh, sure, I guess now that I think of it- Foxcatcher is a terrible movie! What the hell was I thinking? It’s garbage! I should just shut up and watch Oxygen. Oooh- I Want to Fax You Up is on- that’s my favorite Hanks/Ryan movie!

OK, so, yeah in the cold light of day maybe all the issues with this movie become apparent- but while I was watching it, the movie had me totally enveloped in its sweaty intimacy like a Mark Ruffalo bear hug. All I know is that, regardless of the flaws, I was right there, living every painful, queasy, humiliating moment with Mark Schultz as he mistook John DuPont for a plutocratic Toucan Sam and followed his nose- only instead of Fruit Loops, he found  disappointment, disillusionment and despair (soggy Fruit Loops).

Anyhow, I was worried for a little while that I loved this movie way more than everybody else- but then I saw how many nominations it got and I felt vindicated. There’s nothing better than being validated by a bunch of racist, geriatric, sexist white men. Wow- this feels great- no wonder Mitch McConnell’s so happy!

If nothing else, you should see Foxcatcher for three simple (or, ok, not so simple) words: “ornithologist, philatelist, philanthropist”. See the movie, watch the scene I’m talking about and tell me that it’s not fucking awesome. No- go ahead- tell me. Cause, seriously- whatever evidence you present, whatever arguments you make- I’m just gonna keep saying that you’re wrong wrong wrong. Wow. This feels great. No wonder Ted Cruz is so happy!

The “Fuck the Academy- What do They Know Anyhow?” Award- Inherent Vice

So- ok, you know everything I just said about Foxcatcher being great despite it’s obvious flaws? Multiply that by, like, a googolplex (a googolplex, of course is an unfathomably large number-not to be confused with the “Googleplex” which is home to an unfathomably large number of Bay Area tech money dickholes), replace sweaty wrestling with stoner noir, add in a totally baffling plot about LA land use, Nazi prison gangs, vast right wing conspiracies and, I think, dentists?? And what do you have? An absolute total fucking disaster area of a movie- but a goddamn entertaining one.  The most entertainingly baffling LA movie since Southland Tales- and yes, I mean that as a compliment.

Inherent Vice is the unholy wedding of Big Lebowski and Chinatown, with Joanna Newsom as the officiant using the vows Thomas Pynchon stole from Nancy Reagan’s astronomer. Watching Inherent Vice is like watching Paul Thomas Anderson play Jenga using electric eels and jellyfish while blasting Sly and the Family Stone, driving a 1964 Dodge Dart from Manhattan Beach to Hollywood and rolling humongous joints in pages randomly torn from The Big Sleep, the Crying of Lot 49  and the Thomas Guide he’s supposed to be navigating with- all at the same time. And, yes- I also mean that as a compliment.

Actually, my feelings about this movie can all be summed up by a conversation I had with a spunky, short haired waitress (who only knows about the 60’s because  60’s nostalgia in the 80’s was part of the 80’s nostalgia she grew up with in the 00’s) late at night at a Vietnamese place in Culver City. She overheard that we were talking about the movie and said “Oh- are you guys talking about Incoherent Vice? I watched that last night and had absolutely no idea what was going on but I loved every minute.”  I laughed and complimented her on her cleverness for “Incoherent Vice” and she said, very earnestly and slightly crestfallen “Oh, wait- that’s not what it’s called?”

OK, fair enough- but if incoherence is a vice- then it’s one many of our finest writers periodically suffer from (though certainly not their only vice-let’s face it, no one ever died of incoherence of the Liver.) But, hey, if you think fiction is incoherent, just take a look at reality. And isn’t that why we yearn for guys like Doc and Phil Marlowe before him? Men who dive headfirst into the incoherent muck looking for that one shiny sliver of truth at the bottom of the urban shit-pile. And sure, they get hassled and harassed; beaten, bullied and belittled; locked up, smacked down, railroaded and fucked over- and that’s just by their clients. But at the end of the day- they just take one long pull of the office bottle or roll another joint on that bongwater scented couch- and dive right back into to the muck again. Cause every city needs a keeper-even if it won’t call them brother. And even when they solve their itty-bitty mystery- it’s still just one little right in a whole world of wrongs. But, hey, one is better than nothing- and sometimes you’re lucky just to get that.

Plus, I know that a stoner detective may seem counter-intuitive cause of the whole weed makes you stupid thing  (ahhh, the cancers I could have cured) but- really it’s a perfect job for a stoner. Think about it- the breezy familiarity with the criminal world, obsessing over details that less stoned men find insignificant, seeing the deep meaning and interconnectedness that lies just beneath the surface of modern life (and also Magnum PI.) And, hey- you can make your own hours, nap anytime, and get fucked up in your car while you work!

Clearly, though, the people at the Academy disagreed with me, since all this got was a screenplay nomination. Well, fuck them anyhow. You can rant and rave about how Selma and the Lego movie got robbed (it’s about 50/50 between those two on my Facebook outrage-o-meter)- I’m gonna be pissed off about Incoherent Vice.

Wow- this is just like a real awards show. It’s already too long and I’m nowhere near done yet! Also, like an awards show, I think I can make it all OK just by making a self aware joke about how fucking long it is- well, I’ve got news for you award show hosts- THAT MAKES NOTHING OK- WE STILL WANT TO PUT OUT OUR EYES WITH FONDUE FORKS. WHY WON’T IT END???? WHY. WON’T. IT. STOPPPPPP.

Anyho0, in the interest of dragging out the Awards Season as long as possible, I’m gonna pick this up in my next post. So – be sure and join me for such awards as “I Don’t Care How Good You Say It Is- There’s No Fucking Way I’m Seeing It”, “Best Performance That’s Going to be Totally Ignored Cause the Actor’s Not Ugly or Crippled”, “Best Pseudo-Fascist Propaganda Starring Bradley Cooper and Directed by Clint Eastwood and called American Sniper”, “Why Would I Possibly Go See This Movie? Real Life is Depressing Enough” and, of course the coveted “I Know, I Know, I Know- I Totally Have to See It- Just Haven’t Gotten Around to It Yet- GET OFF MY ASS” Award.

And, oh yeah, it might not be a movie award- but let’s go ahead and give the “Best Speech by a President Whose Keeping It Real”  Award, too. Wondering who’s gonna get it? Well, here’s a hint- he’s also “Best President who saved America and got nothing but shit for it”, “Best President we’re likely to see in our lifetimes, and doesn’t that make you want to kill yourself?” and “Best President to fill out a March Madness bracket on ESPN every year even though he totally sucks at it.” That’s right- it’s President “I won both of them” himself – Barack Obama. And, hey, come to think of it- that’s TWO elections right there that weren’t ruined by out of touch, racist, old white men. So, maybe, there’s hope for the Academy after all. Maybe. We’ll see if Ana Duverney gets nominated for Obama. Probably not, though- she’ll probably get shafted so Clint Eastwood can get nominated for American Oligarch, the Mitt Romney story. Talk about out of touch, racist, old white men- has Eastwood ever even worked with a black person? Hell, when he had to cast Obama, he used an empty chair.

Now, quiet- Tom Brady’s about to talk about his balls. Have I mentioned how much I love this story? If it wasn’t for this story, SportsCenter this week would be all about the Patriot way, and Tom Brady’s legacy, and Belichick’s genius- but instead all we’re hearing is balls, BALLS, BALLS!!!! And as a 40 something Jets fan with the emotional maturity of a 12 year old- I just have to say- thank you. Thank you Tom Brady. Thank you Bill Belichick. Thank you Gillette for choosing this horribly inopportune moment to promote “Flexball” technology. The Patriots may win the Superbowl, but we’ll always have Tom Brady saying “I’m not squeezing the balls. That’s not part of my process.” among other great quotes.  So, in a way, we’re all winners. Wow- it’s nice being a winner. No wonder Tom Brady’s so happy all the time! Except of course, when his balls are being squeezed. Ha!