As I sit down to write my annual review of all the Best Picture nominees, I am struck by the foolhardy nature of this enterprise. Why should I review these films when the epitome of the Oscar occurred back in 1941? You see, in 1941 (and again in 1945), an Oscar for Best Original Song was won by Oscar Hammerstein II. These are the only instances in history where an Oscar was won by an Oscar. The Academy should have just left the party on that high note and gone home.
However, since these award shows have continued, I shall continue to present small synopses of each movie which has been nominated for Best Motion Picture. Also, as is tradition, I will offer these opinions without having seen one single minute of any of the films. Rock and Roll!
Wednesday, February 15, 2017
Tuesday, April 5, 2016
2016 April Poem-a-Day Challenge Day 5 Prompt - an "experienced or inexperienced" poem
America
(in part)
Indentured to a past
bathed in torture,
we struggle to learn ourselves.
So young, runaway,
violence swirls around our core
and drags us to our depths.
We were brash, we were proud,
we were out of our world,
afraid, so very afraid.
Striking out at our parents
before sowing salt in our souls,
are we cursed with hate?
(in part)
Indentured to a past
bathed in torture,
we struggle to learn ourselves.
So young, runaway,
violence swirls around our core
and drags us to our depths.
We were brash, we were proud,
we were out of our world,
afraid, so very afraid.
Striking out at our parents
before sowing salt in our souls,
are we cursed with hate?
2016 April Poem-a-Day Challenge Day 4 Prompt - a "distance" poem
Sunday Afternoon in the Park
(aka The Furthest Sense of Finish)
Sitting next to Thoreau
On this slight crevasse
Signals shine forever
Interjected
Through the branches
Folded over each other
Embracing the sky
Here is nothing
Surrounded by all
And the small-
Ness breaks its place
To peaces
Tumbling
Like gravel down
Weathered walls
Slick from age
The closer we get
The deeper we sink
The distance we own
(aka The Furthest Sense of Finish)
Sitting next to Thoreau
On this slight crevasse
Signals shine forever
Interjected
Through the branches
Folded over each other
Embracing the sky
Here is nothing
Surrounded by all
And the small-
Ness breaks its place
To peaces
Tumbling
Like gravel down
Weathered walls
Slick from age
The closer we get
The deeper we sink
The distance we own
Sunday, April 3, 2016
2016 April Poem-a-Day Challenge Day 3 Prompt - "a Three (blank)" titled poem
3 Lines X
The 1st 1 has 5.
The 2nd 1 has 7.
The 3rd 1 has 5.
Nothing but ink-stained
Words along syllabic faults
Lost down cracked gardens
The 1st 1 has 5.
The 2nd 1 has 7.
The 3rd 1 has 5.
Nothing but ink-stained
Words along syllabic faults
Lost down cracked gardens
Saturday, April 2, 2016
2016 April Poem-a-Day Challenge Day 2 Prompt - "a what he said and/or what she said poem"
Silent Suicide
You knew it a long time
Ago. You never said it
Though. You only held it
Silent. It built inside your
Chest. Boiled to your
Heart. Hardened edges
Sharp. And then you
Died. You died.
And now it is never
Said. It lays quietly
Grave. It haunts cold
Night. Sound bounced
Back. Unspoken
Death. In love.
What I said was never
Heard. And what you said
Lied.
For your forever
Remains. Where my always
Bleeds.
You knew it a long time
Ago. You never said it
Though. You only held it
Silent. It built inside your
Chest. Boiled to your
Heart. Hardened edges
Sharp. And then you
Died. You died.
And now it is never
Said. It lays quietly
Grave. It haunts cold
Night. Sound bounced
Back. Unspoken
Death. In love.
What I said was never
Heard. And what you said
Lied.
For your forever
Remains. Where my always
Bleeds.
2016 April Poem-a-Day Challenge Day 1 Prompt - "A fool poem"
On the Hill
(after The Beatles)
Alone
Silently
Speaking to the sky
As the earth bends
Under his folded feet
Still of breath
Where others seek
Never hearing
The sun's collapse
Behind his closed eyes
No one near
Pausing at his thought
Ancient lines
Appear broken
By a sheepish smile
(after The Beatles)
Alone
Silently
Speaking to the sky
As the earth bends
Under his folded feet
Still of breath
Where others seek
Never hearing
The sun's collapse
Behind his closed eyes
No one near
Pausing at his thought
Ancient lines
Appear broken
By a sheepish smile
Thursday, February 18, 2016
No matter who wins or loses, Oscar always comes around.
This year, I shall start with a little ditty.
Oscar season is here again!
So gather 'round all ye' old friends!
We'll watch the show and drink a bit!
And wonder who made all this fantastic art.
Of course, I joke. We all know I do these annual summaries of the best picture nominees out of love and adoration. Honestly. I enjoy the artistry that goes into film. I respect the hard work and effort of the good women and men in the industry. I envy those who can provide entertainment to others for a living. (Obviously these columns are not providing much.)
But I was worried this year. During the course of 2015, I went to the theater and saw 2, count 'em, TWO movies! That is 200% more than I have seen in the theaters since I began this project many years ago. And, one of them was actually good-to-great and was rumored to be a nominated for a Best Picture award. But, alas, Minions did not get the nod this year, and I am able to proceed with this column still batting 0 for Oscar nominations. (For full disclosure, the other movie I saw in the theater this year was the surprisingly good, original (if you forget about the early, and underrated, 90s Fox sitcom "Herman's Head"), and touching Inside Out. That was the film I was worried might get a Best Picture nod.) If either of these two movies had received a Best Picture nomination, my children were going to be forced to write this column! (Which would have consisted of the following: the case for advanced botany studies to defeat future reanimated corpse plagues, the interpersonal dynamics and resulting co-dependence of the Teen Titans, and several jokes about chicken butts.)
Now that has been settled and it has been clearly established that I have, again, seen absolutely zero minutes of these movies, I give you my summaries/reviews of the eight films vying for the Academy Award Best Picture prize.
Oscar season is here again!
So gather 'round all ye' old friends!
We'll watch the show and drink a bit!
And wonder who made all this fantastic art.
Of course, I joke. We all know I do these annual summaries of the best picture nominees out of love and adoration. Honestly. I enjoy the artistry that goes into film. I respect the hard work and effort of the good women and men in the industry. I envy those who can provide entertainment to others for a living. (Obviously these columns are not providing much.)
But I was worried this year. During the course of 2015, I went to the theater and saw 2, count 'em, TWO movies! That is 200% more than I have seen in the theaters since I began this project many years ago. And, one of them was actually good-to-great and was rumored to be a nominated for a Best Picture award. But, alas, Minions did not get the nod this year, and I am able to proceed with this column still batting 0 for Oscar nominations. (For full disclosure, the other movie I saw in the theater this year was the surprisingly good, original (if you forget about the early, and underrated, 90s Fox sitcom "Herman's Head"), and touching Inside Out. That was the film I was worried might get a Best Picture nod.) If either of these two movies had received a Best Picture nomination, my children were going to be forced to write this column! (Which would have consisted of the following: the case for advanced botany studies to defeat future reanimated corpse plagues, the interpersonal dynamics and resulting co-dependence of the Teen Titans, and several jokes about chicken butts.)
Now that has been settled and it has been clearly established that I have, again, seen absolutely zero minutes of these movies, I give you my summaries/reviews of the eight films vying for the Academy Award Best Picture prize.
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