Weighing in on the Best Picture Debate

When I started this blog, I promised you one thing: hilarity. And I'd say I've done a damn good job at that. But I also sort of implied that I'd be living up to the name of the blog and critically thinking/investigating things. Yes, we all definitely wanted to know what the hell was up with those zombie snails. But in retrospect, my Week of Top 5 event seemed more along the lines of something I like to refer to as "fantasturbation". In short: lots of "Pop", not as much "soph" (and let's not talk about the "ical", as it's probably soon to be the name of an Apple weight-loss product).

So consider this my promise to get back on the ball!

Pictured: Apple iCal, hot chick, visual pun.

The 82nd Academy Awards are only hours away from the time of this posting, and I've decided to jump in on the bickering. Most of the awards are more or less wrapped up, bow-tied, and tagged for their recipients' egos. But the biggest question mark is punctuating, rather appropriately, the biggest award. (Un)fortunately, it takes the form of a media-friendly battle of ex-spouses: James "Titanic" Cameron against Kathryn "Widowmaker" Bigelow. And in the Best Picture debate between Avatar and The Hurt Locker, my vote goes to Jason Reitman. George Clooney. Up in the Air.

Yes. Yes, I know. Your general reactions are something along these lines:

But don't fear! Unless you accidentally used rat poison instead of Kina Lillet in your vodka martini. Then you'd better fear your ass off (and probably call an ambulance). Otherwise, calm the fuck down. I know that voting for Up in the Air is the Oscar equivalent of voting for Nader in 2000. (Actually, according to the IMDb poll, where Up in the Air finished 5th overall, it's the equivalent of voting for Larry Browne.) The difference is that my vote is intentional, rather than the unfortunate consequence of senility being met by a butterfly ballot. (At least it wasn't a grasshopper ballot. Or worse, a dung beetle ballot.)

See, here's the thing--I'm even going to jump down off the hyperboladder to say this. Avatar is not the worst movie of the year. But it's not the best. While the opiatic effects of the visuals cause most viewers to become emotionally invested in weird hybrids of chimpanzees and smurfs, they do so by distracting from the plot, rather than enhancing it. Otherwise, you might notice the fact that the characters are all stereotypes who speak almost exclusively in clichés. This youtube-savvy old guy has pretty much covered the general flaws of this movie, and I dare not plagiarize him for fear that he'll make a 70-minute critique of this post. Bottom line: Cameron created an unbelievably believable visual world, but undermines it because the only depth in the movie is an illusion made by those lovely 3D glasses.

Not pictured: Engaging storylines. Also, dignity.

The Hurt Locker, on the other hand, is an excellent movie. It has tension, emotion, and resonance. It also contains (spoiler alert?)...explosions, proving it can compete in the same categories as Avatar. Full-body muscle cramps result from the suspense, particularly in the scene where [insert literally any scene from the entire movie]. My only complaint--and the only thing keeping it from my fictional vote--is that it's almost too good at what it does. I feel that movies are mainly experiential, and the experience of watching The Hurt Locker is three parts exciting, and one part excruciating suspense (plus half a part thirst). Everything in the movie feels real, and in a movie about the pressures, strains, and psychologically crippling circumstances of war, that's not exactly a pleasant thing.

All Hurt Locker DVDs should be packaged with pictures like this one for the prevention of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder.

Which is where Up in the Air gets my vote. It has the emotional honesty of The Hurt Locker, but you leave the theatre/comfort of your couch feeling more appreciative of life and less shell-shocked. Without going into Clooney's impressive ability to weave in and out of levels of sympathy, or Reitman's astounding casting abilities, or the overall loveliness of Vera Farmiga, or...oops, paralipsis! Up in the Air is one of those movies where, as you're watching, you (should) realize that you're witnessing a great film. All of the aspects work together like a cinematic beehive of awesomeness: the cast, the settings, the dialogue, the music--even the freaking transitions!

They're probably admiring how awesome they both are.

It's strikingly relevant, which is actually my biggest concern about the film: I wonder how it will resonate with future generations who are (hopefully) not under the same economic strains that have stamped the past couple years. But my guess is that they'll be distracted by how suave George Clooney was, even before he hit 65, or the fact that Anna Kendrick did something other than Twilight. Or, more likely, by Jason Bateman's psuedo-beard. Despite the misfortunate inclusion of the latter, this is still a powerhouse of a movie. Emotionally affecting, brilliantly composed, and intimately entertaining, Up in the Air deserves every bit of this award. But when the shiny little golden men are handed out, I wouldn't be upset to see it in the hands of hopefully-future-Bond-director Bigelow.

"And right over there is where I'm going to redefine the name James Bond."

But if Avatar wins, mark my words, I will devise and implement multiple methods of intentionally driving myself insane to further distance myself from such an unendurable reality.