The 2019 Oscars Or How Hollywood Is Gonna Please No One

Saying that the Oscars aren't exactly all they're cracked up to be is the equivalent of saying that a shot of Everclear will get you drunk instantly. It's a no-brainer, but fuck if that'll stop you from partaking in it just to see what happens! And given that now the lords of entertainment have bestowed to all of us who is worthy, the disappointment is as palpable as the vomit rising from a lightweight shotgunning a flask of 99% proof alcohol. It's been hard-pressed to find anyone who agrees with the Academy's choices. Certainly I could spend my time smashing the keyboard in my rage of Can You Ever Forgive Me being pushed aside for Best Picture to Vice, but harrumphing about personal decisions on nominations really is best suited for Twitter conversations or chats down by the pub. Rather, I just want to focus on the spectacle itself, as this year has definitely not been golden for the greatest awards Tinseltown has to dish out.

No one wanted to host this sucker. Well, Kevin Hart raised his hand to want to give it a try, but we all know that he thinks that the gays should be wearing a pink triangle instead. So now they're scrapping together to see how they can pad out the drama of Pixar winning Best Animated Feature. You can't really blame entertainers for not wanting to host award shows. From what they say, hosting the Oscars is more tense than a stand-up routine at a maximum-security prison. No one's really interested in the hot take that Drumpf bad, they just want to know if they're getting that goddamn golden Adonis or not. There might be a few laughs from the most plastered seat-fillers in the auditorium, but what comes up more is the dead eyes of a A-lister wanting to suck out the host's soul as a B-lister mugs to the camera to become a reaction image. It's not surprising then that their material isn't exactly their best, because why put effort in making a house of cards right before a hurricane's about to hit?

The whole idea of handing out industry awards doesn't need to be exaggerated into a massive glitzy affair. No one really thinks about the wonderful dresses the wives of automobile companies wore to the J.D Power And Associates Award Show. That's because J.D Power doesn't feel it necessary to make it a show. It would serve just as well to have the Oscars inside of a dusty Warner Brothers stuido lot with no cameras in it. The Academy however has to do all this self-fellating, not only because it feels good but also to brag about how great they are that they can do it. It's the largest way for them to showcase their moral posturing. Which you know, is funny from an industry that MeToo revealed was comprised of enough creeps that they should have their own Spotlight made about them. It's not really like they learned their lesson, as Bryan Singer could happily walk back in with a movie that makes Freddie Mercury come off as a selfish asshole, even though new allegations popped up before the red carpet could be rolled out. Add that they neglected to nominate any female directors and one might opt to think that wearing that pin was just a fashion choice rather than a moral stance. But you know, they got Black Panther and BlacKkKlansman in their nominations, so sorry to bother them. 

Course why focus on these identity politics? If a movie's good, a movie's good. Well, I'd appreciate a little bit more diversity in the awards, especially when Hollywood makes a big fuss about trying to be more inclusive. They sure seem to take their time to get with the times. They want to pretend that they're these hallmarks of progressivism but their performances are better suited for the Razzies. Sure, Hart was a little insensitive back in the day but how much more can the man say sorry? You don't need to be a fan of him to think that the Academy's full of it when they revoke him of that wonderful privilege of padding out the largest annual vanity fair. You can almost sympathize when MAGA chuds hate how smug those limousine liberals are, raising their noses up in the air as how much better it is not living in flyover country. Who are those hypocrites to think they're any better? Course that doesn't justify the rest of their views but it's rare to find issues where we can be bipartisan.

You know what I think the Academy should do? Own their inability to please anyone. The Oscars only manage to stand out with gaffes. All this work to sanitize the show seems counter-intuitive to the overwhelming press coverage that comes from a single mix-up of envelopes. Controversy is the adrenaline shot that keeps celebrity culture thriving. If all we're going to get is panem et circenses, then make the circenses fucking bonum. Have the worst celebrities present the awards. Ensure the acceptance speeches are rambling and crazy enough that the orchestra won't be able to cut them off from being stunned by how incoherent they are. Shoot Billy Crystal out of a cannon. I bet you even conservatives would be entertained from a proper shitshow taking place. Because given the current attitude that Hollywood has, the only thing that they deserve is another Sacheen Littlefeather-like lecture on their facade. 

Welcome To Marwen Review

Welcome To Marwen is the story of Mark Hogancamp (Steve Carrell), an artist who is beaten nearly to death by a group of five men for liking to cross dress. After the fight, he is unable to recall any prior memories and so to cope, he takes up photography. Mark creates a fantasy WWII-era town of Marwen, where a group of Allied soldiers (many of them women inspired by women he knows) fight a group of Nazis and Deja, the Belgian Witch of Marwen. Along with creating this exhibit, Mark tries to deal with the pain as he readies himself to confront his attackers at his trial.

Having a theater to yourself is an interesting experience. Usually when you're in that situation, you've either chosen something really terrible, gone in at an inconvenient time, or you're a rich asshole. But when you have that chance, you're able to put a movie to the test. One of the major components of a theater is to be designed in a way so that the audience pays attention. Everyone is properly packed into the seats, the screen is massive to accommodate for everyone and lure the eye in, and the surround sound adds further to the immersion. The added norms of the movie-going experience add even more incentive for you to take in what's on screen, with the film doing it's best to keep you satisfied. However, when one is alone, it's mob rule. You're free to be distracted, to cheer and jeer at your pleasure. A movie that can rein you in when there's no incentive to do so, is one that is honestly engrossing.

Welcome To Marwen did not manage to get my respect for attention. Though it came out in late December, it felt very much like a Fuck You It's January film from the trailer. The soaring music paired with the edited dialogue bringing about this hopeful message, it all seemed so corny. I had likened it to what it would have looked like if Steve Carell was one of the actors in Tropic Thunder, aiming too hard at wanting an Oscar. To some extent though, I wanted to forgive it.  It wasn't aiming to that level, it wanted to be a good movie under its own merits. Trailers also tend to mislead with the tone of a film. Given the story of Mark Hogancamp, I expected that it would perhaps be more true to his pain and how he was able to cope. I could reasonably expect something more pointed. Unfortunately, it's hard to expect a biting production when someone as toothless as Zemeckis is involved.

Lately, it seems like he's trying to capture the same lightning in a bottle that he had with Forrest Gump. His attempts to do so have often fell short of that, and even now that lightning has managed to spoil. Still, he tries to see if he can get it, and doesn't really change much of his tactics in doing so. To it's credit, Welcome To Marwen is appropriately performed. All the actors, including Steve Carrell, are trying their best to deliver with what they're given. After all, the events are bizarre and harsh, but ultimately with a ray of hope. They are keen enough to tune themselves to that odd frequency and settle down when the drama requires it. It's a shame though that Zemeckis shifts the dial of the movie's tone to bring about the most jarring transitions.

Much like how Mark fights with his addiction to painkillers, Zemeckis fights with the film's tone. It's weirdly sexual, as there are an abundance of scenes that focus on how sexualized the women of Marwen are and how Mark himself has his own lusts. Yet at the same time it doesn't explore that in a meaningful way, only opting to focus on the legs because Hogancamp likes women's heels. The violence isn't really much better, as the action scenes tend to go mild with the blood and gore, minimizing it's impact. It aims to be a drama but it clumsily pratfalls as it tries to ease the tension. Which is only made even more tragic by how you hardly feel any of it.

Personally, it would have been better for them to have committed more to delivering on the dramatic element. However, it makes sense to turn the story into more of a dramedy as there are plenty of quirks that allow for a lighter experience. But it feels wrong to restrain either of those approaches under a PG-13 rating, given that it suffocates the material. This is mostly due to Zemeckis's use of CGI, to animate the dolls in Hogancamp's pictures. To some extent, it makes sense to view this as a necessary evil, given that you would need to incorporate the dolls in some way. Simply showing their recreations wouldn't suffice to fill in the story. With that said, it would have been much better just to delve into the scenes with the actors and then returning them into doll form to punctuate a transition. Having them as their own whimsical entities only serves to diminish the impact of dramatic scenes and add an uncanniness that doesn't fit with the events.

What most confounds me about Welcome To Marwen is how dull it is given just how much of a mess it is. Marwen's creation and lore is perfectly suitable for a surreal experience and an intricate delving into the story of Hogancamp's creation, yet the film feels like a weird dream that you quickly forget as soon as you go into the shower. Never has a film based on true events felt so trite. I was more interested in looking up random things on my phone or making the occasional tweet than being invested. Any time I was willing to focus on the film, I couldn't help but comment on it, either for its corniness or for how it lacked any substance. I suppose I was lucky I had the theater to myself to be so disrespectful, but I doubt there will be a time where those seats will be filled with viewers that are rightfully irritated by anyone acting the way I did. If anything, they'd join in.