Sweet Nothings

On the ball as always, the Oscars have just happened so here is a personal roundup of this year’s main contenders (plus one that surprisingly wasn’t). Not that I’ve seen all the Best Picture nominees, of course. I really can’t be bothered with Avatar , no matter how pretty it may be. Precious promised to be such heavy going that I shied away from it, leaving the whole “grief porn” debate aside. And I somehow managed to miss out on The Hurt Locker , which is unfortunate seeing as it won. Hey, if someone paid me to write these things then I’d clearly make more of an effort. Sorry about that. Anyways, I had the chance to see a preview screening of Sandra Bullock’s Best Actress turn in The Blind Side this evening. For the uninitiated, this is the real life story of a southern belle who decides to take in a poor, uneducated black kid named Michael who has become an NFL offensive tackle. The feelgood cliches come pretty thick and fast, with ripe “Honey you’re changing his life!” “No, he’s...

The main problem with being an avid fan of Mark Kermode and the Kermode/Mayo "Wittertainment" brand is trying to avoid basing my opinions exclusively upon his. I try not to always agree with him, but such is the strength of his character that I find myself absorbing his views by an odd kind of osmosis. Take Inglourious Basterds , for instance. Even though I really enjoyed the movie and it had those two incredible sequences (the opening one in the house and the one in the bar), I share every criticism the good Doctor made of that film and its creator - overlong, undisciplined, self-indulgent in the extreme, etc. It's just that I love Tarantino's style so much that I can forgive him an awful lot (I've not seen Death Proof , to be fair). Basterds wasn't my film of the year though. Film studios and critics everywhere will be devastated to know that I haven't really decided on one. All the big Oscar-fodder came along in January in what has become the annual ...

Wrestling is a funny old thing. I can never satisfactorily explain why I enjoy watching it, beyond a few lame-sounding lines about male soap operas, the primal (male) love of combat, etc. The Wrestler isn't going to change anybody's minds about the sport (or "sports entertainment", or whatever), especially after the genuinely gut-churning hardcore bout involving glass, barbed wire and a staple gun. However, the film is far more concerned with universal themes of fear of getting old, and the struggle to find one's place in the world, and Marisa Tomei's single-mom stripper is just as important to its success. The role of ageing fuck-up Randy "the Ram" really does fit Rourke like a glove and an Oscar win would be well deserved. Ultimately the story is fairly generic, the sub-plot involving Randy's daughter being especially predictable, but as a wrestling fan I can attest that this film has been made with care and attention to detail, and as a viewe...