Never wanting to be the type to assert pithy, fully formed opinions without a complete grasp of the information and events being analyzed, I would like to divulge that in the following Report From Inside Oscar™ (what I'm calling this) that I haven't screened the full field of Oscar™ nominated films. Further, I have not read very much about said nominees. In fact, in the interest of full disclosure I have only seen two of the nominated films and they are The Queen and Cars. This couldn't be helped, as my schedule did not permit me the time to view the full roster of films. Also, my viewing choices were limited, due to the fact that A) my wife is British and therefore any film, book or souvenir that is in any way concerned with the monarchy, Princess Di or PG Tips Tea is compulsory viewing, reading or purchasing and B) my two sons ages 6 and 4, somehow managed to obtain a screening copy of Cars and have since not been seen anywhere in our house other than in front of the television. We feed them, bathe them, teach them karate, all awash in the beneficent glow and catchy soundtrack of the movie Cars. So that is my qualifying statement as to my Oscar™ reporting credentials. I hope it satisfies. And now, on to my Report From Inside Oscar™!
The Queen, a sumptuous production directed by the brilliant and bearded Stephen Frears and starring the redoubtable Helen Mirren who, even in full Queen drag, manages to exude a sultry sexiness that I'm not sure even Queen Elizabeth herself has ever possessed (though she must have had sumpin' going on in order to have snagged that smoldering slab of Teutonic beefcake Prince Phillip). The plot revolves around the titular Queen (played, as mentioned before to titular perfection by Ms. Mirren) and her experiences after the death of Lady Di with Tony Blair, her husband, her dowdy heir Prince Charles and her loyal British subjects. Mirren wears Wellies, a plain cloth coat and carries her pocket book with all the splendor and grace that Queen Elizabeth herself has managed to do so effortlessly for decades. She also has an encounter with a large deer. And the weather is, in an amazing attention to detail, awful most all the time. And in spite of a very full and deserving bevy of worthy contenders it is this reporter's opinion that the film, its esteemed director, its fabulous art direction, its splendid costuming and the hot-hot-hot Ms. Mirren herself will walk away grasping that highly burnished bastard Oscar™ tucked deeply up inside their collectively titular, "Queen"ly bosom. Oh, Oscar™, why was I not made of metal alloy like thee?
The other aforementioned film I had the privilege of viewing---by my count so far 37 times---is the wonderful Cars, Pixar's computer generated love letter to the cherished wellspring of American myth and mania, the automobile industry. Finally, with Cars, even small, highly porous children can experience their first pangs of addiction to oil, materialism and gleaming, chrome-plated superficiality, the digestion of which is made all the more easy by the movie's so-simple-to-pronounce-hence-remember title: Cars. Clearly, after much testing, the original title Automobile Industry proved far too ungainly for the targeted audience and so, in a stroke of marketing acumen worthy of an Oscar™ in its own right, the title was changed (The Queen has that same accessibility, perfectly summarizing the film's plot in it's deceptively simple handle. You hardly have to watch these movies at all to know exactly what you will be seeing. And even though you'd be correct in the assumption that there would be no surprises due to a purposely misleading moniker like say, Das Boot---which I originally thought was a long overdue documentary ripping the lid off the German shoe industry---sitting through these films is definitely worth the time and investment).
The plot of Cars is simple: a sweet but spoiled race car learns the value of friendship and the real meaning of winning after an odyssey of funny, exciting and often painful self evaluation, something I myself can identify with like mad. The characters are voiced by wonderfully expressive actors with long, classical resumés, Owen Wilson, Paul Newman and Larry the Cable Guy among them. After what initially seemed like the torture typical of having small children dictating the cultural tastes of a frazzled household, became after about 20 viewings a sublime cinematic experience. I will never look at another car the same way again, wondering what hopes are locked within that shell of metal and glass, what dreams have yet to take flight other than that of dull, simplistic velocity. And when I step on the gas pedal to overtake and pass a driver that first got their license when FDR was still governor of New York or, as I so often do during the course of an average driving day in Los Angeles, slam down on the brakes and shout the words "Holy shit!!!!", am I actually hurting a poor, sentient creature of man's making? For the life of me I don't know. But I do know this: Cars deserves to have that buffed, bald bronze-boy Oscar™ securely Velcroed™ to its dashboard, it's bobblehead a-bobbin' in triumph as it careens from Oscar™ party to Oscar™ party. Hiccup and Hic Hoc Horum Genitivo!
So those are my predictions. Being in the entertainment industry myself, one would assume that I have an edge, being able to assess with more credibility and insight the chances of each one of these highly qualified entrants in their awe inspiring race for cinematic immortality. But you'd be very wrong. Congratulations to all and see you at the Emmy™'s!