Paul’s Place > Talkin’ ’bout da Movies > Paul’s Oscar Pix > 2000

Now that all is said and done, click here to read my Oscar Wrap-up!

You know, for a long time it’s been highly fashionable to criticize the Oscars as being out of touch, too willing to go with safe choices, unable to recognize a good movie if it hit them in the head. I’ve always taken a more charitable view. Yes, it’s true that they never choose to honor the films I think are the best of the year, and sometimes I just don’t know where they come up with their nominees. Still, it could be way worse. The most popular movies being made today are crapfests like ARMAGEDDON (1998) and INDEPENDENCE DAY (1996), and they never win the big awards. Truthfully, if you were to restrict yourself to seeing only movies that were nominated for Oscars in major categories, you’d have a generally positive and fulfilling moviegoing experience. So for the most part I’ve gone pretty easy on the Academy Awards.

But not this year.

This year I’m pig-bitin’ mad and I’m gonna take you on a tour of why. This year it has conclusively been demonstrated that there is no law, there is no justice, there are no standards of taste or decency or quality and the world is on a fast track to its final destruction in the fires of chaos. This missive won’t be pretty, but these are things that need to be said.

All right then.

For those of you who are just joining us, I make predictions in all the major categories plus a bonus category, which this year is Best Song. Normally, you’ll recall, I start out with a “Travesties” section, in which I list all the people and films who should have been nominated but weren’t. Since this entire year is a travesty, I’m including a “Missing” section within most categories to break down exactly who got shafted and how. And to start things off on a positive note with some really good movies, let’s begin with

What a year for movies this was! If I gave it a moment’s thought, I could easily come up with 30 or 40 films I could easily recommend to others. But this thing is already long well past the point of tedium, so I’ll restrict myself to the top ten plus a few honorable mentions. Starting right off with number one:

ELECTION—My favorite movie of the year. Naturally, it did so poorly at the box office that I’m afraid they’re going to stop paying Alexander Payne to make movies. Anyone who has not seen it has a standing invitation to come over and watch the DVD, especially if you stayed away when it was in theaters because you were expecting a “high school” movie, as if Freddie Prinze Jr. might suddenly appear without warning.

Based on the book by Tom Perotta, ELECTION stars Matthew Broderick as an idealistic high school civics teacher who takes a strong dislike to an ambitious Reese Witherspoon, and decides to torpedo her candidacy for student body president. Alexander Payne, whose previous movie was the abortion-rights satire CITIZEN RUTH (1996), is becoming known for his sharp political comedy, and ELECTION is delightful on so many levels that I’m inclined to agree with the Los Angeles Times’ Kenneth Turan, who called it “a nearly flawless little film.” Satire may be what closes on Saturday nights in other places, but ’round here the box office is always open.

The rest of the best, in no particular order:

MAGNOLIA—Paul Thomas Anderson’s sprawling, three-hour opus is like watching a master circus performer juggle seven or eight balls of different weights and sizes at a furious pace, while never dropping a single ball and sometimes, once in a great while, giving you what you think is a glimpse of how he manages it. Anderson uses his Holy Trinity of actors (Philip Baker Hall, John C. Reilly, and Philip Seymour Hoffman) and other luminaries like Tom Cruise, Jason Robards, and William H. Macy to tell a complex matrix of stories that interrelate in unexpected ways before ending in a way that is so far beyond conventional that it almost defies contemplation.

There’s a moment about two and a half hours into MAGNOLIA—you’ll know it when you see it—in which Anderson uses Aimee Mann’s great song “Wise Up” to grab all the plots that are going off in different directions and speeds and slow them down, synchronize them, and thread them all into parallel before releasing them again to find their own way to resolution. It could have so easily turned hokey, but it didn’t.

BEING JOHN MALKOVICH—Like nothing else you’ve ever seen.

THREE KINGS—An angry movie that believes in itself and its message, but not at the expense of telling a good story and having a hell of a lot of fun. David O. Russell is of that rare breed of indie directors: three good movies, with each one being better than the last.

EYES WIDE SHUT—Admitting that I even like this movie, much less consider it one of the best of the year, puts me at risk of ridicule. Of course, most of the people who trashed it liked AMERICAN BEAUTY, so what the hell do they know? I think it’s a real shame that the final work of one of the greatest directors in history should be received so poorly, unfairly. I actually don’t think EWS was one of the year’s best movies, but this is my list and I can do what I want with it, and it sure as hell was a damn sight better than AMERICAN BEAUTY. Stanley Kubrick’s movies always improve in people’s estimation with age; I can envision that in 15 years EYES WIDE SHUT will experience a wholesale critical re-evaluation. AMERICAN BEAUTY I see as being this year’s THE BREAKFAST CLUB (1985), a much-loved and presumably meaningful movie that with time becomes seen as the shallow, fatuous failure it is.

Part of the problem, I think, was that Warner Bros. sold the movie in advance as being terrifically erotic and sexy. But when has a Stanley Kubrick movie ever treated sex in even a remotely positive way? We can go down the list if you want. PATHS OF GLORY (1957), 2001 (1968), and THE SHINING (1980) had no sex at all. LOLITA (1962), DR. STRANGELOVE (1964) and, to some extent, FULL METAL JACKET (1987) treated sex as farce. A CLOCKWORK ORANGE (1971) displayed sex both farcically and as a dark, negative impulse that hurts people. Looking at EWS in that light, it’s a lot easier to see Kubrick’s vision of repression and paranoia for what it is.

THE CIDER HOUSE RULES—One of my favorite John Irving novels, and Irving did a good job of adapting the screenplay. The movie compressed about fifteen years of story time into two, which necessitated cutting or altering some of my favorite characters, sometimes heartbreakingly so. Still, the essential goodness of the movie comes through loud and clear, and upholds my belief that no movie with Delroy Lindo in it can ever be completely bad.

SOUTH PARK: BIGGER, LONGER, AND UNCUT—A hilariously anarchic satire of just about everything you can think of, packing movie censorship, capital punishment, a war between Canada and the United States, Brooke Shields, Winona Ryder, the Baldwins, Bill Gates, Satan the Prince of Darkness (a sort-of-good guy who Wesley Morris of the San Francisco Examiner called “the most developed, recognizably human gay character I’ve ever seen in a Hollywood movie”), Saddam Hussein, lots and lots of flatulence, several musical numbers. and about 300 four-letter words into 80 slim minutes. I laughed so hard I thought I’d rupture myself.

The two-pronged problem with movies based on flavor-of-the-month TV shows is that the production lead time for films is so long that by the time the movie is in theaters the TV show has started to fade, and the problems inherent to stretching a half-hour show to ninety minutes result in a mediocre movie that only serves to hasten the show’s demise. Interestingly, SOUTH PARK: BIGGER, LONGER, AND UNCUT (the MPAA rejected the original title, SOUTH PARK: ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE, for having the word “hell” in it but completely missed the ten-megaton double entendre in the new one) came out as the series was just starting to fade, and was so good that it reinvigorated the series for at least a couple more years.

LIMBO—John Sayles’ 1999 offering was, I thought, unfairly ignored when it came out, and it hurts that it hasn’t garnered more attention from the awards bodies. Most people see LONE STAR (1996) as Sayles’ best movie, but I actually prefer LIMBO, mostly due to the performances of the painfully good David Strathairn and of the amazing Vanessa Martinez, who previously appeared briefly as the young Pilar Cruz in LONE STAR and hasn’t been in much else. I’m going to give the Academy the benefit of the doubt and assume that these two fine actors did not receive their due because the voters simply forgot about this film.

SUMMER OF SAM—A fine film from a terrific filmmaker, SUMMER OF SAM was another movie that was unfairly savaged by most critics, for reasons I cannot begin to fathom. Spike Lee’s first film without explicit racial overtones does a great job of bringing the viewer into the summer of 1977 when David “Son of Sam” Berkowitz terrorized New York; I defy anybody to watch and not start sweating during the heat wave scenes.

BOYS DON’T CRY—The true story of Teena Brandon, a Lincoln, Nebraska teenager who cut her hair, called herself Brandon Teena, and lived as a man in tiny Falls City, Neb. before being raped and murdered for the secret she kept. Kimberly Peirce’s first feature film presents such a full picture of its subject as a real person one can’t help but be drawn into the story, well past its potential tabloid appeal.

If you liked BOYS DON’T CRY, you might want to check out THE BRANDON TEENA STORY (1998), Susan Muska and Gréta Olafsdóttir’s well-received, if a bit amateurish, documentary on the case. It didn’t receive much notice upon its release but is now available on videotape and DVD and should be somewhat easy to find in most places.

Honorable mentions go to:

MR. DEATH: THE RISE AND FALL OF FRED A. LEUCHTER, JR.—Errol Morris’ finest documentary yet, about the strange little man who designs execution equipment and became a Holocaust denier by accident.

TOY STORY 2—A computer animation tour de force, darker than its predecessor and a genuinely affecting story.

THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT—The subversive fiction-verite film that taught me a new meaning of the word “dread.”

GOD SAID, “HA!”—Julia Sweeney’s funny and moving one-woman show about her victory over, and her beloved brother’s loss to, cancer.

OFFICE SPACE—Mike (“Beavis and Butt-head,” “King of the Hill”) Judge’s first non-animated feature is “Dilbert” brought to life, an epiphany for anyone who’s ever worked in an office.

GALAXY QUEST—Funnier than it ought to be, GALAXY QUEST was the best “Star Trek” movie in ages, and it wasn’t even about “Star Trek.”

MAN ON THE MOON—See, Jim Carrey, this is what happens when you build up a reputation as a buffoon: you can make a really good movie and still not get any respect.

SWEET AND LOWDOWN—Sean Penn in the Woodman’s amusing story about the second greatest jazz guitarist in the world (there’s this Gypsy in Europe, see, named Django Reinhardt...)

DVD KORNER: Among the many toys I bought this year was a Toshiba SD-2109 DVD player, a former floor model I got for a steal at Magnolia Hi-fi. Any self-respecting feelm snob ought to have a library of his favorite films, and DVD is a much better archival medium than tape. So I’ve been gradually collecting movies that I think are worth owning and watching repeatedly. This is not an absolute measure of quality, because comedies generally tend to hold up to repeated viewings better than dramas. Nonetheless, it’s a pretty good indicator of the movies I liked well enough to want to assert ownership of them.

The 1999 movies I now own on DVD: ELECTION, SOUTH PARK: BIGGER, LONGER, AND UNCUT, OFFICE SPACE, and THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT (props to my sister, who got me this one as a gift).

The 1999 movies I plan to buy when they come out on DVD: GALAXY QUEST, THREE KINGS.

Nominees: AMERICAN BEAUTY
THE CIDER HOUSE RULES
THE GREEN MILE
THE INSIDER
THE SIXTH SENSE

Who Should Win: THE CIDER HOUSE RULES

I have a bad feeling about this. Above, I list what I think are the ten best movies of the year, then list eight more that I consider close runners-up. Of those EIGHTEEN movies, exactly ONE was nominated for best picture, with the remaining FOUR nominees running the gamut from fairly decent to outright execrable. What this means, of course, is that at best any of the remaining four nominees could have been my NINETEENTH favorite movie of the year. That’s ridiculous! How many people even see nineteen movies in a year? Some have called 1999 the best year for film since 1974 (I would give the nod to 1994 on points, but that’s not important right now), and it’s disgraceful that these are the best five films the Academy could come up with.

As always, then, the nominees in decreasing order of irrationality:

AMERICAN BEAUTY. This hateful, misogynistic movie was, if not the worst film I saw last year, definitely the worst one I remember seeing.

It’s difficult to know where to begin when criticizing this waste of celluloid. The really astonishing thing is how blind the film is to its own flaws. Clearly, AMERICAN BEAUTY is a movie designed to allow pretentious urban coffeehouse liberals (and no, that category does not include me; I don’t drink coffee) to reflect on how superior they are. Boy, the suburbs sure do suck, don’t they? Better just to drop out, roast a bowl, and sneer at the bourgeois fools who just don’t Get It.

But the irony is that the movie is nothing if not the ultimate male chauvinist fantasy. Kevin Spacey’s Lester Burnham character “frees” himself by chucking his stifling corporate job and getting a presumably less disempowering one at a fast food restaurant (a development that ought to elicit loud hoots of derision from anyone who’s ever worked at one). He pumps himself up like a creatine-guzzling gym monkey. He buys his dream car, which turns out to be a 1970 Pontiac Firebird, the favorite mode of transportation of redneck guys named Darren who wear mullets and wraparound sunglasses. He successfully seduces his teenage daughter’s hottie friend despite being a funny-looking middle-aged schmendrick with a receding hairline and nothing at all to recommend him besides his newly toned physique (which I don’t ever need to see again on Kevin Spacey, thankyewverymuch) and newly adolescent personality. (He stops short of consummating the seduction, of course; he doesn’t need to go through with it, because he’s proven that he could if he wanted to.) Most offensively of all, his wife—a dedicated career woman—is shown to be a shrewish harridan who stands squarely in the way of his self-actualization as the man he wants to be.

To be sure, he appears to go through something of a transformation right at the end of the picture, right before he is killed (and no, I’m not giving away any secrets here—although I would be justified in doing so to save people from having to see the movie. Kevvo reveals at the beginning that he’s going to die, which means he’s narrating the picture from beyond the grave, a device that worked much better in SUNSET BOULEVARD (1950) and CASINO (1995), but who’s keeping track?). By and large, though, the movie gives no sign of knowing what an irredeemably misogynist asshole Lester is. Clearly the audience is expected to react positively to each of Lester’s retreats from rational behavior, and as such is expected to endorse his entire character arc. “The movie is convinced [of the value of Lester’s rebirth],” writes David Edelstein in Slate, “which is odd, since the fantasy of an underage cheerleader making a middle-aged man’s wilted roses bloom is a tad primitive.... [Alan Ball’s script] carries an invigorating blast of counterculture righteousness, along with the kind of pithily vicious marital bickering that makes some viewers (especially male) say, ’Yeah! Tell that bitch off!’” Real nice.

Everyone and everything else in the movie is a caricature. Chris Cooper (Chris, man, you deserve so much better) is the psychotically homophobic Marine colonel who, golly gee, couldn’t possibly be latently gay himself, could he? (Yes, here I am giving away a “secret,” albeit one I saw coming down Main Street twenty minutes into the film. You’ll thank me later.) Mena Suvari is the sexy, empty-headed cheerleader who, although popular, is about as deep as a sheet of notebook paper. Wes Bentley is the “deep” stoner dropout who sees The Truth that others keep hidden (sample After School Special dialogue, to teen queen Suvari: “Yes, you are [ugly]! And you’re boring! And you’re totally ordinary! And you know it!”). The only places where Ball and Mendes depart from stereotype are places where it makes no sense. For example, why would Thora Birch’s moody, Goth-y teenaged Jane ever possibly consider being a high school basketball cheerleader? The only reason is to bring Lester into contact with Suvari, so he can spend the rest of the movie letching after her. Annette Bening is 41 years old; why does her character enjoy listening to cheesy Muzak from her parents’ generation, music that people her age normally go to great lengths to avoid? No reason, other than that she’s a stifling bee-yatch who’s ruining Lester’s life. The ultimate effect is about as scathing an indictment of middle-class values as the Monkees singing “Pleasant Valley Sunday.”

And I haven’t even started talking about the child pornography angle yet. Thora Birch was only 17 when the movie was filmed, and the 19-year-old Mena Suvari played her friend from high school, yet that didn’t stop Sam “Humbert Humbert” Mendes from filming them in two prolonged, eye-popping full frontal nudity scenes. But of course we’re all pretentious coffeehouse feelm snobs, so we all appreciate Serious Art that might be mistaken by lesser people for transparent pandering to guys in raincoats. Right?

So it was a deeply unpleasant movie, period, and it failed on its own terms. When I walked out after seeing it—indeed, after weeks or even months of breathless anticipation for what I fully expected to be the best film of the year—I actually gave it a mixed review, citing several things I liked about it. (I was inclined to endorse the (also mixed, though more positive than mine) review New York Times film critic Elvis Mitchell wrote for the Ft. Worth Star-Telegram: “’American Beauty’ is genuinely well made for what is. Unfortunately, it’s largely a series of easy shots at the middle class.... Not that this notion is a bad idea, but the movie walks right up on its targets and blasts them at close range. Then it asks us to congratulate it for its marksmanship.”) Since then, I’ve had more time to reflect on some of the deeply unsavory aspects of the film while at the same time observing otherwise rational people fall all over each other praising the movie to high heaven. So while I still acknowledge the positive things I said before, I now feel obligated, on moral and artistic grounds, to loathe it.

Someday I will be proven right. Mark my words.

Until then, go rent THE ICE STORM (1997), the movie AMERICAN BEAUTY wishes it could be. No, don’t thank me now. There’ll be time enough for that later.

THE SIXTH SENSE. Yes, yes. I know. Big twist at the end that requires us to rethink everything we’ve seen up to now. Bruce Willis playing against type and all that. That little kid was really good. “I see dead people.” Does it really deserve to be here? I don’t think so.

THE GREEN MILE. This one, on the other hand, was a lot better than I expected it to be; though it became sentimental at times, it did so without being overly mawkish (well, mostly). It’s always nice to see David Morse play a non-psycho. My major complaint is that, at three hours and seven minutes, THE GREEN MILE could have used the services of a competent editor. And Lord, I am so very, very tired of Tom Hanks’ Decent Man schtick. Surely I can’t be the only one. I’d like to see him stretch his range a little bit. Let’s see Tom as the title character in GIMME SOME SKIN: THE ED GEIN STORY. Or a screwball musical comedy based on the life of Senator Joseph McCarthy! The scripts would practically write themselves! Tom, I’m callin’ your agent!

THE INSIDER. Right. Um, I don’t really have anything against this movie. It’s always disappointing to see how Al Pacino has transformed himself from the quietly smoldering danger he was in the 1970s to the scenery-chewing grandstander he is today, but fortunately he was overshadowed by Russell Crowe, who kind of shows signs of becoming the 70s Al Pacino of the 2000s, if that makes sense. I suppose I wasn’t in absolutely the proper moviegoing frame when I saw THE INSIDER, because I was out on a date (with someone who subsequently threw me over, not that I am bitter). Come to think of it, I was also on a date when I saw THE SIXTH SENSE (with a different woman who also subsequently threw me over, not that I am bitter about that). So maybe my appreciation for both movies is not all it could be.

THE CIDER HOUSE RULES. This is the only one that’s left. There was a lot of talk last year that Miramax’s marketing department stole the Best Picture award from Dreamworks’ SAVING PRIVATE RYAN (1998) for their SHAKESPEARE IN LOVE (1998), which I maintained was actually the better picture. I’ve already heard grumbling from entertainment journalists that Miramax is again hustling for votes, this time on behalf of THE CIDER HOUSE RULES at the expense of Dreamworks’ rotten AMERICAN BEAUTY. Nothing could make me happier, if this is true. Sadly, I suspect Dreamworks learned its lesson from last year and has been busy hustling for the inferior picture.

Who Will Win: AMERICAN BEAUTY

We all know it’s gonna happen, so let’s not dwell on it. This will not be the Academy’s proudest year.

Missing: ELECTION, MAGNOLIA, BEING JOHN MALKOVICH, THREE KINGS, EYES WIDE SHUT, THE CIDER HOUSE RULES, SOUTH PARK: BIGGER, LONGER, AND UNCUT, LIMBO, SUMMER OF SAM, BOYS DON’T CRY, MR. DEATH: THE RISE AND FALL OF FRED A. LEUCHTER, JR., TOY STORY 2, THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT, GOD SAID, “HA!”, OFFICE SPACE, GALAXY QUEST, MAN ON THE MOON, SWEET AND LOWDOWN

I am so angry about this I could just spit. I can’t talk about it anymore. I’m making myself too upset.

Nominees: Russell Crowe, THE INSIDER
Richard Farnsworth, THE STRAIGHT STORY
Sean Penn, SWEET AND LOWDOWN
Kevin Spacey, AMERICAN BEAUTY
Denzel Washington, THE HURRICANE

Who Should Win: Richard Farnsworth, THE STRAIGHT STORY

This one’s not easy. Really, I’d say it’s just about a four-way tie (I loved Kevin Spacey until this year and am excluding him from consideration for spite). I pick Farnsworth not because he’s been plugging away in semi-obscurity as an actor and stuntman since 1937, and not because he’d be the oldest actor ever to win the Best Actor award, which would be pretty cool. No, what I liked about Farnsworth in the true story of Alvin Straight, who six years ago really did drive a 1966 John Deere riding lawn mower 300 miles across Iowa and Wisconsin to visit his ailing brother, was the utter lack of artifice in his performance, which is a rare and valuable currency that in this the year of THE BLAIR WITCH PROJECT is just starting to be realized as such. Moreover—and I’d really have to watch the movie again to see quite how he did it—Farnsworth managed to deliver several potentially cringeworthy old-coot homilies without a hint of sentimentality, which is no easy feat.

Who Will Win: Denzel Washington, THE HURRICANE

The popular consensus, I think, is that Kevin Spacey’s Oscar from THE USUAL SUSPECTS (1995) is going to get a little brother this year, but I’m going to go out on a very short limb and predict that the award will go to Denzel Washington instead. Black actors don’t win very often, and Washington is one of the finest actors working today; his lack of an Best Actor statue is becoming conspicuous (he won a Supporting Actor Oscar for GLORY (1989)). His chances may have been hurt because THE HURRICANE has come under fire recently for its somewhat flexible attitude towards the true story of Ruben “Hurricane” Carter, imprisoned for 17 year for a crime he didn’t commit; the producers, it is said, substantially misrepresented the roles of some of the protagonists to make them look better than they did. I think this misses the point somewhat. The proper role of a movie is not to teach us a history lesson, but to tell a good story. If reality was as interesting as the movies, we’d all just sit around and watch reality. Where was I? Denzel Washington, right. Anyway. I wasn’t crazy about THE HURRICANE, but I think Washington’s performance will have been recognized by enough people to make him the front-runner for the award.

Missing: Jim Carrey, MAN ON THE MOON; Bob Hoskins, FELICIA’S JOURNEY; David Strathairn, LIMBO

Let’s talk about David Strathairn for a second. Ten years ago there was a made-for-TV movie called DAY ONE (1989), which told the story of the Manhattan Project. Lad of tender years though I was, I remember being very impressed by the actor who played J. Robert Oppenheimer, perfectly capturing what I always imagined was the great physicist’s thoughtful humanity and warmth. “You know,” I thought to myself last year, remembering the movie, “that guy looked a lot like David Strathairn.” I looked it up, and it was. As a member of John Sayles’ stock company since the 1980s, Strathairn has been responsible for some of the most quietly memorable performances in film, with nary an indication that the Academy has ever heard from him. All he has to show for LIMBO, which may be his best role to date, is a lousy Independent Spirit Award nomination (which I hope he wins, though the Independent Film Project will probably manage to sully and degrade the Awards by giving one to Harmony Korine or something).

Nominees: Annette Bening, AMERICAN BEAUTY
Janet McTeer, TUMBLEWEEDS
Julianne Moore, THE END OF THE AFFAIR
Meryl Streep, MUSIC OF THE HEART
Hilary Swank, BOYS DON’T CRY

Who Should Win: Hilary Swank, BOYS DON’T CRY

One of the reasons most entertainment journalists annoy me is their reliance on the easy cliche: If I had a nickel for every story I’d read in which Hilary Swank’s performance was described as “gender-bending,” I’d have—well, several nickels, anyway. Though the role of Brandon Teena could be considered somewhat gimmicky, there was a lot more to Swank’s performance than a flipped-over retread of Jaye Davidson’s Dil from THE CRYING GAME (1992). The real Brandon Teena was a petty thief and could be a bit of a bastard, and Swank pulled off the difficult task of incorporating those aspects of his personality into her performance while still remaining a very sympathetic figure, all while playing someone who was “playing” someone of a different gender.

Who Will Win: Hilary Swank, BOYS DON’T CRY

Fortunately, the “gimmicky” aspect of the role helps her chances significantly, such that she’s considered pretty much a sure thing in this category. Playing around with gender didn’t help Jaye Davidson (who was nominated, but didn’t win) but did help Linda Hunt (who did win, deservedly, for THE YEAR OF LIVING DANGEROUSLY (1982)).

Missing: Reese Witherspoon, ELECTION

I will forever associate Reese Witherspoon with the look of pure hate, a look that could irreversably taint acres of arable soil so nothing could ever grow there again, that Witherspoon’s Tracy Flick directed at her many enemies as Ennio Morricone’s “screaming” theme from NAVAJO JOE (1966) played on the soundtrack. I did not see TUMBLEWEEDS, THE END OF THE AFFAIR, or MUSIC OF THE HEART, but I’ve never liked Julianne Moore and I understand Streep phoned it in, so it’s hard for me to imagine they couldn’t have found room for Witherspoon, especially in light of her marriage to that untalented guy from that movie about Studio 54; that really should not be the most significant event of the year for her.

Nominees: Michael Caine, THE CIDER HOUSE RULES
Tom Cruise, MAGNOLIA
Michael Clarke Duncan, THE GREEN MILE
Jude Law, THE TALENTED MR. RIPLEY
Haley Joel Osment, THE SIXTH SENSE

Who Should Win: Michael Caine, THE CIDER HOUSE RULES

Michael Caine has nobody to blame but himself for the low regard in which he is generally held today, but I can’t imagine anyone else doing a better job as the wartime-era humanitarian and illegal abortionist Dr. Wilbur Larch.

Who Will Win: Tom Cruise, MAGNOLIA

I’ve believed for at least ten years that Tom Cruise is a very talented actor who doesn’t get enough respect from the aforementioned pretentious coffeehouse feelm snobs, and I’d be satisfied to see him win here, though he’s not my first choice.

Missing: John Malkovich, BEING JOHN MALKOVICH; Philip Seymour Hoffman, MAGNOLIA; Philip Seymour Hoffman, THE TALENTED MR. RIPLEY

Yeah, I said Philip Seymour Hoffman twice, and if I’d seen FLAWLESS I may have included him a third time. He is one of the most talented actors working today, gliding effortlessly between playing Phil Parma, Jason Robards’ highly decent nurse, in MAGNOLIA and playing, essentially, the young George W. Bush in THE TALENTED MR. RIPLEY. You’ve seen Philip Seymour Hoffman more often than you think: in addition to his three 1999 roles, he was also the loathsome obscene caller Allen in HAPPINESS (1998), the lovestruck production guy Scotty in BOOGIE NIGHTS (1997), and the happy storm chaser Dusty in TWISTER (1996). Oh yeah, that guy! He’s also been in THE BIG LEBOWSKI (1998), NEXT STOP WONDERLAND (1998), and PATCH ADAMS (1998), for which I have decided to forgive him in a fit of extreme magnanimity. I and my fellow Hoffmanites, like Claire Dederer, selfishly hope he never gets the big break he clearly deserves, because then he will not belong to us anymore: he will belong to the world, which will not appreciate him as we do.

Nominees: Toni Collette, THE SIXTH SENSE
Angelina Jolie, GIRL, INTERRUPTED
Catherine Keener, BEING JOHN MALKOVICH
Samantha Morton, SWEET AND LOWDOWN
Chloë Sevigny, BOYS DON’T CRY

Who Should Win: Samantha Morton, SWEET AND LOWDOWN

I feel so old. Except for Catherine Keener, who is only 39, every nominee is younger than me.

I feel bad about going against Toni Collette, whom I’ve always liked, but Samantha Morton was remarkable. Hers is another performance that could be considered gimmicky, because she plays a character who doesn’t speak. Even so, using only her face, she was a lot more expressive than some “actors” manage to be (even when she was eating, which, amusingly, was most of the time she was on screen). It worked for Holly Hunter, remember. I’m looking forward to hearing her speak someday.

Who Will Win: Angelina Jolie, GIRL, INTERRUPTED

I have not seen GIRL, INTERRUPTED, but I know a lot of people were impressed by Angeline Jolie, whose performance surely shone all the more brightly opposite Winona “How to Recognize Different Types of Trees From Quite a Long Way Away” Ryder.

Missing: Vanessa Martinez, LIMBO; Thora Birch, AMERICAN BEAUTY

Yes, I said Thora Birch of AMERICAN BEAUTY. Surprised? She managed to rise above Alan Ball’s ham-handed, pseudo-profound dialogue and Sam Mendes’ dirty-old-man directing to, if not save the film, at least elevate it to the point where I didn’t storm out of the auditorium and demand my money back. Pretty tall order.

Nominees: Sam Mendes, AMERICAN BEAUTY
Spike Jonze, BEING JOHN MALKOVICH
Lasse Hallström, THE CIDER HOUSE RULES
Michael Mann, THE INSIDER
M. Night Shyamalan, THE SIXTH SENSE

Who Should Win: Spike Jonze, BEING JOHN MALKOVICH

I’m frankly shocked to even see Jonze here; he is the only departure from the Best Picture lineup, and I’m surprised they didn’t pick someone a little safer. So naturally, I’m pleased to make him my choice. Surrealism is not easy to pull off on screen, and when it fails it lands with a resounding thud (JOE VS. THE VOLCANO (1990) and the name “Ralph Bakshi” spring to mind here, for some reason). BEING JOHN MALKOVICH had to be very well directed to succeed, and fortunately, it was.

Who Will Win: Sam Mendes, AMERICAN BEAUTY

Yes, I hate having to type it, but I fear it was meant to be. Mendes really ought to be making a nice living for himself directing BARELY LEGAL videos for Hustler, but instead he’s been nominated for an Oscar and we’re all going to have to listen to what I’m sure will be an absolutely insufferable acceptance speech. Sometimes I wonder why I bother every year.

Missing: Paul Thomas Anderson, MAGNOLIA; Alexander Payne, ELECTION

Though I have praise for Anderson’s screenplay (see below), MAGNOLIA was very much a “directed” movie, and it’s a travesty that he wasn’t nominated in place of someone who clearly doesn’t deserve to be here (I’ll let you guess who I’m talking about). And anyone who doesn’t believe Alexander Payne’s absence here is a travesty should be tied down and forced to watch the ELECTION DVD with the Director’s Commentary Soundtrack switched on.

Nominees: Alan Ball, AMERICAN BEAUTY
Charlie Kaufman, BEING JOHN MALKOVICH
P. T. Anderson, MAGNOLIA
M. Night Shyamalan, THE SIXTH SENSE
Mike Leigh, TOPSY TURVY

Who Should Win: P.T. Anderson, MAGNOLIA

A few good ones here (okay, so there’s only two, but that’s better than most of the other categories). I’m going with Paul Thomas Anderson over Charlie Kaufman mainly because of MAGNOLIA’s overall complexity and scope.

Who Will Win: M. Night Shyalaman, THE SIXTH SENSE

I’m not sure why I’ve moved away from the presumptive favorite, AMERICAN BEAUTY, except that it was poorly written and Alan Ball should be forced to repent for his sins against quality filmmaking. I guess I just have a sense—a sixth sense, one might even say—that THE SIXTH SENSE’s atmosphere and plot twists will propel it to a come-from-behind victory from an Academy that by this point might be getting a little embarrassed about lavishing so much praise on such a crappy movie as AMERICAN BEAUTY. More likely I’m just hurting my batting average. It’s still worth it.

Nominees: John Irving, THE CIDER HOUSE RULES
Alexander Payne & Jim Taylor, ELECTION
Frank Darabont, THE GREEN MILE
Eric Roth & Michael Mann, THE INSIDER
Anthony Minghella, THE TALENTED MR. RIPLEY

Who Should Win: Alexander Payne & Jim Taylor, ELECTION

Usually the screenplay categories are where I get to feel somewhat vindicated; ten movies get nominated every year, which means that they usually find room for one or two of the movies I thought were the best of the year but don’t otherwise get noticed. Those movies then routinely fail to win, and the screenplay Oscars both go to the safe, predictable choices. Nonetheless, I’m pleased to see ELECTION at least get a nomination here, and hope against hope that it wins.

Who Will Win: John Irving, THE CIDER HOUSE RULES

Seems to me the Academy would be hard-pressed not to give the award to a genuine dean of American letters unless he completely embarrassed himself (which he did not do, the worthless opinions of pretentious AMERICAN BEAUTY partisans notwithstanding).

This year’s bonus category is:

Nominees: Trey Parker & Marc Shaiman, “Blame Canada” (SOUTH PARK: BIGGER, LONGER, AND UNCUT)
Diane Warren, “Music of My Heart” (MUSIC OF THE HEART)
Aimee Mann, “Save Me” (MAGNOLIA)
Randy Newman, “When She Loved Me” (TOY STORY 2)
Phil Collins, “You’ll Be In My Heart” (TARZAN)

Who Should Win: Aimee Mann, “Save Me” (MAGNOLIA)

Though I go with Mann here as the clear choice, I draw attention to the fact that a song from SOUTH PARK: BIGGER, LONGER, AND UNCUT was nominated, against all odds, which makes me just as pleased as all get out. “Blame Canada” is an interesting choice, as it was hardly the best song from the movie (I favor “What Would Brian Boitano Do?” myself); one supposes it was selected because it has relatively few words that absolutely cannot be broadcast on television no matter what. (For example, the song referred to on the soundtrack CD track list as “Uncle F**ka” probably never had a chance.) The real joke, of course, is that almost all of the songs from the movie were actually quite musically sophisticated and infectiously catchy, and successfully aped most of the dominant pop and musical stylings of the past 40 years. Clearly, the highlight of the Oscar telecast will be seeing how many words the Academy has to bleep when they perform the nominated song live.

Who Will Win: Randy Newman, “When She Loved Me” (TOY STORY 2)

It seems like Randy Newman is nominated in this category every year, so imagine my surprise to learn that he has never won the Oscar. I’m picking him because I figure if he keep writing the same damn song every year the Academy will eventually give him the award in hopes that he’ll go away.

Whew! This has been the longest one ever. I guess I have more to say when I hate something than when I like something. I’m sure a significant fraction of you think I’m full of it, so you are of course welcome to talk back and tell me what I’m full of, and exactly how full I am of it. As always, stand by for my Oscar Wrap-up sometime next week, in which I apologize for being so wrong about so many categories. Enjoy the telecast.

Paul

“Sometimes when I’m sad, I sit and watch the power station.”
—Tammy Metzler (Jessica Campbell), ELECTION