Cinema Hype

I’m pretty sure I can state the essence of Junebug in fifteen words or fewer, but I’m also pretty sure what I have to say is not the same as what writer Angus MacLachlan would say about his movie, or even want to hear about it. I’m also convinced that I speak for the people. Want to hear it?

Him, paraphrased: Junebug is about connection and lack of connection, about family, and about the fragmentation of modern life.

Me: Junebug is about Amy Adams and her enduring talent and general awesomeness.

If nothing else, I believe I have the Academy voters on my side: they nominated Adams’s performance for Best Supporting Actress in 2005, and not for nothing. Her performance is an early indication of what she does best: committing fully to being the sweetest (but not the brightest) girl in the world. For example:

I’m not going to lie: Junebug might have been called The Movie Where Amy Adams Makes Me Laugh and Cry, and Not Much Else Happens. She’s just that good, and the material works hard for her. To be fair, the rest of the cast also puts in a good effort. Embeth Davidtz goes above and beyond her usual cool-as-a-cucumber routine—she and Adams work some surprisingly good chemistry—and Ben McKenzie and Alessandro Nivola do what they can. But the script ultimately doesn’t help them out. Even if the performances are good, there’s not enough story articulated to include the viewer. It’s like trying to read MacLachlan’s mind, as if he had everything planned out but misjudged the amount of information the audience would need to stay connected, and the overall sense is more one of frustration than anything else—we want to know, but we’re left trying to follow threads that don’t really lead anywhere. If MacLachlan really was going for lack of connection, he got it. Too bad, too.

Amy Adams, Embeth Davidtz, Alessandro Nivola, Ben McKenzie, Junebug, Best Supporting Actress 2005, Angus MacLachlan

I’ve been trying to hold off making too much fun of What Happens in Vegas…, which came in second at the box office this weekend. I mean, does it look terrible? It does. Am I soured on the “romantic” “comedy” genre in general? Sadly, yes (but no need to worry— romantic comedies, no quotes needed, will always be sweet to me). It seems to me that any movie that admits in the trailer that it’s a bastardization of an existing film doesn’t really deserve to be in the top five for any weekend, ever. This is the kind of movie that attracts my righteous bloggerly wrath for no other reason than because it’s there, waiting to be either mocked or eviscerated. Or both.

But I’ve been keeping it together for the kids. You know, the kids: Ashton and Cameron. First of all, I’m not sure when or how I went from despising Ashton Kutcher to secretly thinking he was kind of charming to openly hoping he might someday emerge from the Kutcher-Moore Batcave having finished puberty and become a full-fledged man-actor. He’s just so natural—happy-go-lucky, really—onscreen, like he just happens to be having wacky adventures, and oh, look, there’s a camera! Who knew?! So even though he’s been busy as husband/eerily young stepdad, I’m strangely happy to see him. Keep walking towards the light, Ashton!

And then there’s Cameron. I worry about her, you guys. I never know what to make of her—was Being John Malkovich some kind of massive fluke, or is she hiding some kind of Meryl Streepian greatness underneath that extremely tanned exterior?—but I look at what Meg Ryan seems to have been through in the past half-decade or so and I hope that she’s not headed in the same depressing, identity-addled direction. Because what will happen to the universe if Cameron Diaz can’t give us that huge grin and shake her booty and make everything better? It’s not that particle collider in Switzerland that’s going to suck the galaxy down into its depths and obliterate us all; it’s the day that Cameron Diaz begins to age out of her usual roles. Mark my words. And I just want everything to be okay, you know?

On the other hand, MAN. That looks terrible.

What Happens in Vegas…, Ashton Kutcher, Cameron Diaz, Meg Ryan, Meryl Streep, Being John Malkovich

So, here’s the thing: I love The Office. And along with everyone else, I love Dwight Schrute, weapon-hiding, beet-farming, Battlestar Galactica-and/or-bears-loving doof that he is. I mean, tell me: Did Dwight or did Dwight not steal the show last week, what with his “Five! Four! Three! Two! One! It’s gotta be now! Do it now! Do it! Do it! Do it!” trick? (Note: Remind me to try this technique in meetings at work from now on. I will rule the world in six months or less, or Dwight’s middle name isn’t Kurt.)

Anyway, I love Dwight, and I appreciate Rainn Wilson’s commitment to acting like a complete nutjob, but the trailer for The Rocker begs one pretty important question: Can Wilson carry a feature film?

We’ve seen him around before; he sneaks into the first few minutes of Juno, and then there was that movie last year with the kids and the aliens—you know what I mean?—but somehow holding that one against him seems downright cruel. Other than that he’s got a slew of TV guest-star stints (including a half-season of Six Feet Under), and….yeah. I’m trying not to have so many doubts, but it’s not working.

Maybe the problem is Dwight, the very outlandishness of him—maybe we can’t get beyond the aviator glasses and the tie with the short sleeves. Maybe it’s Wilson himself. Maybe his screen presence is too much; maybe he can’t contain the weird. It’s the kind of thing that’s either a great benefit (like when there’s a character like Dwight hanging around) or an ultimate career-killer (like when there are only characters like Dwight hanging around). Maybe he’s just too self-conscious onscreen to pull it off. Or maybe he’ll surprise me and blow us all out of the water. Maybe it’s just me. It’s hard to say.

Readers, what do you think?

(Also: Jason Sudeikis at a theater near me! Don’t ever leave me, Floydster.)

Rainn Wilson, The Rocker, Jason Sudeikis, The Last Mimzy, Juno, Battlestar Galactica, The Office

Hollywood, as we know from the terminology of the WGA strike, is full of what they call hyphenates: writer-directors, director-producers, writer-director-producer-actor-stuntmen. Multi-talented folks, these. But there’s a particular brand of hyphenate that seems especially risky, especially prone to ridicule (and especially visible outside of the L.A. basin, where people might actually notice): the actor-musician. It sounds like a great idea, right? An all-around performer, like the time when men were men and women were women and all of them could dance, regardless! Offscreen, though, it all becomes a little bit dicey. Remember Keanu Reeves and Dogstar? Do you see where I’m going with this?

But after I stumbled on the New York Times review of Volume One, the debut album from pop-folk duo She & Him—also known as Zooey Deschanel backed by Portland indie guy M. Ward—I knew we were meant to be. Did somebody say “lovely, bittersweet melodies about hook-ups and break-ups”? I love lovely, bittersweet melodies about hook-ups and break-ups! OMG!

Thankfully for all (Times, don’t think I wouldn’t have changed my homepage), the review I read got it right. Deschanel wrote most of the songs, and she comes across as a girl who grew up with the oldies station turned up loud (as I myself did; KFRC, represent!)— someone who really loves pop music, and just happens to have the skills to produce it herself (unlike some others we might name [ahem, Lindsay]). Volume One is eclectic, comprised of lots of modern songs that sound like the past and a few songs that really are from the past (covers of Smokey Robinson’s “You Really Got a Hold on Me” and the Beatles’ “I Should Have Known”). We got a taste of Deschanel’s clear, torchy voice in Elf, and will apparently be hearing more from her in a biopic of Janis Joplin; here she sounds at various points like Linda Ronstadt, Tammy Wynette, Dusty Springfield, and, well, herself, which is probably the point. The album isn’t too pointed and it’s not too ironic; it’s just good, smooth, pleasant music, the kind of thing it’s easy to like, and maybe even to love. Not bad for a hyphenate, no?

She and Him, Zooey Deschanel, M. Ward, celebrity bands

Call me crazy, but I’ve never really gotten the appeal of Uma Thurman. She’s nice-looking, I guess, and seems like an okay actress. I like a girl who can handle a sword. But the weird, strangely long-lived “Uma’s the best performer and the most beautiful woman EVER OF ALL TIME” cult movement has pretty much escaped me (Ladies, confirm or deny: Men love Uma. Women…don’t. Y/N?). But it seems clear that a) nobody asked me, and b) somebody in Hollywood (okay, someone besides Quentin Tarantino) must be into her; she’s got not one, but two movies coming out in the foreseeable future:

The Accidental Husband

I think this trailer, aside from illustrating the state of the postmodern romantic comedy, brings up the crux of the Uma issue for me: Does she seem like the kind of woman who might be able to pull off a radio show about relationships? Sure. I’ll buy that. Does she seem like the kind of woman who deserves to have two good guys chasing her? Yes. Do I want to be friends with this woman? Not at all. And that’s key to a good chick flick: if the chicks in the audience don’t identify or even want to identify with the chick on the screen, something’s amiss (see also: Swank, Hilary). And anyway, are we really to believe that Colin Firth should be the loser here? I don’t buy it.

The Life Before Her Eyes

In only semi-film-related news, it seems that Sarah and I aren’t the only ones tracking the lives of men with great hair. Liz over at The Park Bench points out (via Defamer) that the chain of late-night host succession is worthy of a spot in The Golden Comb-Pass. I think we can all be happy about this.

See, Jay Leno’s set to retire, or possibly just move on to other ways of annoying people, in 2009. And I’m not saying the man doesn’t give me hives, but who am I to knock a great head of effortless-ish hair? Look at this:

Who could compete with such follicular fabulosity? Maybe…oh, CONAN O’BRIEN, Giant Leprechaun and Friend to All Who Like Funny Things? NBC agrees, apparently: O’Brien’s leaving Late Night with Conan O’Brien to step behind the Tonight Show desk when Leno jumps ship. Now, actual humor and interviewing skills aside (after all, we at CH like to focus on what’s really trivial important), O’Brien’s hair is hard to beat when it comes to personal statements. See?

It’s like Elvis meets Silvio from The Sopranos meets a teenage girl from New Jersey in 1989. Whether or not it’s effortless, exactly, is kind of hard to say, but I’m guessing the pompadour/wave thing takes…oh, four minutes, tops. So he counts, right? One interesting-haired man replaces another. Now, what’s beautiful here is that Jimmy Fallon (of Fever Pitch fame; also the ex-SNLer who isn’t Chris Kattan but might be mistaken for him in a police line-up) will apparently take over O’Brien’s Late Show duties when the time comes. Whether Fallon’s up to the job seems to be up for some debate, since he reportedly doesn’t really write or act or actually get his lines right, but come on! Look at his hair!

That’s some nice standy-uppy indie-boy hair he’s got. There’s lots of it, but not too much, you know? This means somebody over there is paying attention to these important details, and for that, we salute them.

Conan O’Brien, Jay Leno, Jimmy Fallon, The Late Show, The Tonight Show, Chris Kattan, The Golden Comb-pass, guys with great hair

So, it looks like George Clooney’s thinking about switching sides of the camera on a permanent basis.

To this I say: 1) Aww, George, you’re so sweet and self-deprecating. Tired of seeing you in front of the camera? We love you for thinking of us, but really. You don’t have to worry. 2) I guess it’s not such a bad idea, if that’s what you want.

See, here’s the story: in my high-school years, my friends and I went to several concerts featuring a band who will remain nameless. The requisite Band Hottie was named Kevin, and during the concerts, the crowd would pepper the band with shouts of “We love you, Kevin!” from the audience (which now seems kind of insensitive to the other guys, but whatever. Kevin was hot). Now, whether out of a sense of propriety or or a genuine distaste for his looks (…yeah) or just a desire to be different, my group started a tradition of shouting, “We appreciate your music, Kevin!” Not just a pretty face, you know? We were waaaay ahead of our time. Trust me.

This is how I feel about George. I see that he’s attractive. I agree that he’s attractive. But mostly, I like what he does and I like the way he behaves (and I want him to give me a job, especially if it’s alongside John Krasinski. Introduce us, George?). So, although I love Ulysses Everett McGill and all further Clooney roles, I think I’d be just as happy with his directing work as I am with his acting. He’ll still be all suave and debonair on the red carpet, so it’s not like he’ll disappear completely. And that’s really all I need.

In related news, don’t forget Leatherheads! Out this weekend at a theater near you! I’ll be there (at my theater, not necessarily at yours).

George Clooney, Leatherheads, John Krasinski

I was talking the other day to a friend about the movie Baby Mama. The conversation went something like this:

Me: So, Tina Fey and Amy Poehler have a new movie coming out.

Her: Oh, I heard about that. I wonder if it’ll be any good?

Me: I’m sorry. Did you hear what I said? Tina FEY and Amy POEHLER have a new movie coming out.

Her: Yeah, I heard. I said, I wonder if it’ll be any good.

Me: LISTEN TO YOURSELF. Have we met?

You see, the tendency around CHHQ is to lose the thread of the conversation somewhere after “Tina Fey and Amy Poehler.” Rule #4 of the CHHQ Constitution states clearly, and I quote, that “all movies written by and/or starring Tina Fey must be of higher-than-average quality and may, in fact, be cultural touchstones for girl nerds everywhere.” Combined with statute 7c of the same document (”Amy Poehler is like our crazy, not-right, bottle-blonde cousin, and we love her, so there”), things are looking up for Baby Mama, as far as Cinema Hype is concerned, sight unseen. Also, John Hodgman! He makes us giggle just by showing up. Wait ’til he actually has lines!

Except for one detail: neither Fey nor Poehler wrote Baby Mama. That honor goes to one Michael McCullers, the pen behind Undercover Brother and Austin Powers in Goldmember; he also wrote for SNL a decade ago. This all, frankly, gives us pause. We want to believe that anything starring Fey and Poehler must be sprinkled with the dust of smart, funny fairies. Still: Undercover Brother.

Judge for yourselves, CH readers.

Baby Mama, Tina Fey, Amy Poehler, John Hodgman, Michael McCullers, Undercover Brother, Austin Powers, movie trailers, Youtube

I was talking with Sarah the other day, and we fell into one of those really important conversations in the life of a friendship—you know, you’re talking about the meaning of life or the presence or absence of a deity in the universe, and without warning, the subject turns to something truly integral. Something like actors with naturally great hair. We’re not talking about Ryan Seacrest, here; these are the guys who wake up in the morning like it’s their job to awe us with the luxuriance, shine, and general touchability of their hair. These are the guys who should be on Pantene commercials, all, “Don’t hate me because I use conditioner.” These are guys like:

Matthew Perry:

Has recovered from the mid-90s floppiness nicely. Older Matt Perry goes for spiky but unassuming. Quirky, yet mature. We like. CH Official TV Girlfriend (and Matt Perry Official Actual Girlfriend) Lauren Graham agrees.

John Corbett:

A paragon of great 90s “hey, it’s not the 80s anymore, and don’t I look comfortingly/unnervingly like Jesus?” hair who also pulls off the short look nicely (see Aidan, Sex and the City). Never mind that he tries to look like Chuck Norris in all recent photographs. (Don’t we all?)

Naveen Andrews*:

Such luxuriance! Such length! Such manly ponytails! Andrews has such perfect ringlets that half of the Lost commentaries are dedicated to a play-by-play of his hair (whether this also reflects on his acting has yet to be determined).

Joseph Gordon-Levitt:

Set the bar high (as the long-haired boy on 3rd Rock from the Sun); has since gone (hotly) shaggy (for Brick) and (again, hotly) super-short for something else, and pulls it all off. He’s like one of those girls who looks great in everything, only he’s a guy and we’re talking about haircuts.

Seth Rogen:

Kind of ironic that a guy with this much hair has a name so close to “Rogaine,” isn’t it? He probably could have made some money off of that. Too bad his name isn’t Harry.

Gael Garcia Bernal:

GGB’s hair is like the Philip Seymour Hoffman of hair, melding seamlessly with the mood of the day, and always with that air of “oh, yeah, I just woke up” insouciance. Maybe his hair will someday win an Oscar? One hopes.

So that’s the starter list. Thoughts? Additions?

*Do we believe that Naveen Andrews rolls out of bed each morning with perfect ringlets? Not really. But he could. And that’s enough.

actors’ hair, actors’ hairstyles, hairstyles, guys with great hair, matthew perry, lauren graham, john corbett, joseph gordon-levitt, seth rogen, gael garcia bernal, naveen andrews

Cinema Hype: Mr. Bardem, it’s an honor to meet you. Congratulations on your Academy Award win.

Javier Bardem: No. Thank you. It’s an honor to be here. …You may come closer to me for the interview. Please. I would like to shake your hand.

CH: No! I mean, thank you. Sir. I’d just…I’d prefer to stay on this side of the room, if you don’t mind.

JB: Sir, please. Let me shake your hand.

CH: I…uh…okay. Let me just… Oh! That’s some handshake you’ve got there.

JB: I drink a lot of milk.

CH: Right. Milk. Of course you do. Not that, you know, uh, never mind. Now, Mr. Bardem—

JB: Please, call me Javier.

CH: —Javier, then. Tell me. How did you prepare for the role of Anton Chigurh in No Country for Old Men?

JB: How does one prepare to play a man who has no soul, no empathy for others? It is a choice, an act of will. Each morning I looked in the mirror and said to myself, “Javi,”—for that is how mi mama called me—”Javi, kill Josh Brolin.” Over and over. “Kill Josh Brolin. Kill Josh Brolin.” And I was transformed. The strong brow and the rugged good looks became unacceptable to me. Because of Josh Brolin, I found my rage.

CH: Did you and Mr. Brolin get along well offscreen?

JB: Well, this is the life of the method actor—”Good morning, Javier,” he would say to me each morning. And each morning I looked at him and said, “I am going to kill you, Josh Brolin.”

CH: That sounds like an intense filming experience. But now you’re going to tell me that you made up after filming wrapped, and you’re great friends. Is that correct?

JB: No.

CH: Oh.

JB: Next question.

CH: Can you tell me about your experiences working with the Coen brothers?

JB: No. No, I cannot. The dialogue of Joel and Ethan Coen is brutal, like a knife. A serrated knife, so that the wound they inflict will not heal. They are like a .44 to the forehead, only less civilized. They are like…something I cannot place. Like…

CH: …a cattle stunner?

JB: Yes! That’s it! Thank you.

CH: Mr.—Javier, you used to be a member of the Spanish national rugby squad. How has that experience influenced your work as an actor?

JB: Well. Rugby is not a sport for the sissies, it is true. [laughs] But the violence of Anton Chigurh is not the violence of the rugby pitch. Anton kills because he enjoys it and because he believes he has no choice. Yes, I can crush a man’s bones to powder with the strength of my little finger. It is true. But the crack of a collarbone or the crunch of collapsing cartilage is simply a part of the game. An excuse. Anton needs no excuses. When I hunt Josh Brolin, I —or Anton, if you prefer—will puncture his skull like a doomed steer as his brown eyes meet mine.

CH: Right. Well. Javier, I thank you for your time, but I think we’re, uh, all out. Please don’t hurt me.

JB: Excuse me?

CH: Oh, I said, “He’s so wordy.” But not you. Josh Brolin, of course.

JB: …Right. Now, before I go, may I borrow a quarter for the drink machine?

(Note: This is a work of fiction. Please don’t sue.)

Academy Awards, Oscars, Javier Bardem, Anton Chigurh, No Country for Old Men, Josh Brolin

Doesn’t it seem suitable that the Academy Awards are always on a Sunday? After all, this isn’t the Grammys, settling for any old weeknight broadcast; Oscar Sunday is like a high holy day of the cinematic year, complete with decorations, little gold statues, and special clothes. With the writers’ strike over, this year’s ceremony feels a little extra fancy, a little more exciting—not necessarily because the nominees are especially surprising or especially deserving (though maybe they are; there were some pretty good movies out in 2007), but because it’s happening at all.

Here at CHHQ, since we won’t actually be on the red carpet (clearly an oversight, but whatever; we’re forgiving) we’re just looking forward to the chance to put our feet up, eat some Cheetos, and pretend to critique the year’s best films (with righteous indignation as appropriate) while actually critiquing the clothes on our favorite celebrities. Sue us, okay? We’re only human. And it’s not like we haven’t given some thought to the nominees. This year, we’re splitting our prediction post into sections: people now; movies later. Here are the official CH bets for Sunday’s ceremony:

Best Actor in a Leading Role

George Clooney, Michael Clayton
Daniel Day-Lewis, There Will Be Blood
Johnny Depp, Sweeney Todd
Tommy Lee Jones, In the Valley of Elah
Viggo Mortensen, Eastern Promises

Who we like: Let’s go with…Mortensen, for being a bit of a dark horse and for offering an excellent performance. Naked.
Who will probably win: Day-Lewis, with that intense-eye thing he does. Whatever. We’re still in a fight after Gangs of New York.

Best Actress in a Leading Role

Cate Blanchett
Elizabeth: The Golden Age
Julie Christie, Away From Her
Marion Cotillard, La Vie en Rose
Laura Linney, The Savages
Ellen Page, Juno

Who we like: Marion Cotillard
Who will probably win: This is a tough one. Normally I’d go with Blanchett, but I think voters will save her for her other nomination in the Best Supporting Actress category. Linney and Christie don’t seem likely. Which leaves Cotillard and Page; Page might sneak in a win if the voters are feeling their indie oats, but otherwise it’s probably going to be Cotillard.

Best Actor in a Supporting Role

Casey Affleck, The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Ford
Javier Bardem, No Country For Old Men
Philip Seymour Hoffman, Charlie Wilson’s War
Hal Holbrook, Into the Wild
Tom Wilkinson, Michael Clayton

Who we like: Casey Affleck, because he has potential and because we love the title of his movie.
Who will probably win: Rough crowd, man. A vote against Hoffman seems risky, but we’re going to say Bardem.

Supporting Actress

Cate Blanchett, I’m Not There.
Ruby Dee, American Gangster
Saoirse Ronan, Atonement
Amy Ryan, Gone Baby Gone
Tilda Swinton, Michael Clayton

Who we like: Saoirse Ronan, for being the perfect caught-up, guilty, oblivious Briony Tallis.
Who will probably win: Blanchett, because she’s there.

Coming soon: Thoughts and predictions on the non-casting categories! Keep your eyes peeled. (Ew.)

Academy Awards, Oscars, Oscar nominees

The U.S. primary elections aren’t a movie—not in the literal sense, anyway—but it seems to the CH staff that maybe they should be. We’ve got record voter turnout, a small field of candidates who seem like people who might actually be able to run the country, people dropping out right and left, and a big prize at the end. So maybe it’s more like The Amazing Race than anything else, but we digress. The point is: excitement! No matter which side you’re eyeing for November, things are happening in and for these fifty states.

But don’t you ever wish you could design a presidential candidate? Someone who looks like Mitt Romney, for example, without the sense that he might try to sell you a watch out of his trenchcoat? A candidate with Barack Obama’s rhetorical skills and the gravitas of General Patton? That’s the fun that casting directors get to have all the time: name an actor; make him or her President. So, readers, who would you pick?

Michael Douglas has already inhabited the fictional White House once, and the camera loves him (apparently, I’ve heard, because he has a head the size of Nevada). Bill Pullman seems a little like the John Edwards of the group—not a bad guy, but not exactly a Kennedy either—but he did give a rousing speech before heading off to alien war in Independence Day, so he can’t be all bad.

If America were looking for a movie president, who would you put on the ballot? Check out our picks:

Patrick Dempsey: Could win on hair appeal alone. We’d almost advise him to wait four years, but by Inauguration, he’ll be as old as JFK was when he took office. Fair game!
Allison Janney: If living in a country run by Allison Janney is wrong, I don’t want to be right. So smart! So funny! So tall! So electable! Plus, she already played the world’s coolest Chief of Staff.
George Clooney: Oh, like he wouldn’t win. You know you’d vote for him.
Arnold Scharzenegger: Kidding. No, really. KIDDING.

And, to close, a short PSA: If you live in one of the 24 states having primaries this Tuesday, and you’re eligible, please vote! Whatever you have to say, make your voice heard.

movie presidents, president of the united states, patrick dempsey, allison janney, george clooney, arnold schwarzenegger, barack obama, mitt romney, john edwards

Do you ever get the sense that some actors win awards for who they are, and not necessarily for what they do?

In re-reading my last post, I realized that my thoughts on Cate Blanchett seemed a little…I don’t know, catty? And I don’t mean them to be; Blanchett’s obviously talented and consistent in her work. I’m not saying she doesn’t deserve to be nominated awards, or that she doesn’t deserve to win.

What bothers me is the proportion of number of performances to number of performances nominated for awards: Blanchett appeared in two movies in 2007 and was Oscar-nominated for both of them. And, you know, maybe she’s just that good. Maybe she deserves to win a major award for every time she shows up on camera. But consider the possibility that Academy voters choose her because she’s there and she’s Cate Blanchett, and what else are you going to do but nominate her?

Blanchett is, of course, not the only actor in this situation. She’s not even the only actor in this year’s Oscar field who gets nominated every time she leaves the house: the entire Best Actor category feels like a bit of a standardized ballot. Likewise, Jodie Foster and her series of increasingly unappealing Strong Female Movies and Meryl Streep for just being herself and being brilliant. They can’t help it. They have strong bodies of work, and tend to have won major awards before, and then they can’t not be on the list, either because Academy voters aren’t looking for alternatives, or because they somehow believe these actors will track them down and hit them over the head with their statuettes from previous years. Nobody at CH is willing to say which, though we have a healthy respect for those sharp little wings.

Anyway. What we really want to say is: Cate, it’s nothing personal. Couldn’t you just make something really bad? We won’t tell. And trust us, it’ll help your average.

Cate Blanchett, Jodie Foster, Meryl Streep, Oscar nominees, Academy Awards, Oscars

Wow. Now here’s a particularly shocking piece of news:

Heath Ledger found dead in his SoHo apartment.

Ledger was considered one of the most promising young actors in Hollywood, having been nominated for an Academy Award for Brokeback Mountain (which he might actually have won, had Philip Seymour Hoffman’s Capote performance not been in the race as well) and cast as the Joker in this summer’s Batman movie, The Dark Knight.

Sad. He’ll be missed.

Heath Ledger, celebrity death

I just finished watching In Her Shoes, which I’d requisitioned from Netflix after finishing the book over New Year’s in the desert. Most of my deep thoughts on this movie fall somewhere in the “where can I get a wedding dress like that?” range, but there is one really very serious thing I’d like to talk about:

In what kind of universe is Mark Feuerstein not worthy of being a girl’s first choice?

I get that Simon Stein is a winner in the end, and that we’re supposed to believe that Rose is just too wrapped up in her own misery to notice. But do you look at this guy:

and think “Wow, he’s not really cute enough to get a date”? I just don’t think that’s a universe in which I can exist.

Mark Feuerstein, In Her Shoes, Toni Colette, Jennifer Weiner