The real fun of the Oscars isn’t the cut-throat competition for the little gold naked man but guessing who will make the biggest idiot of himself. 

The Academy Awards show has a fine tradition of pampered celebrities popping off with something stupid when they hit the stage.  It must be something about TV cameras and the opportunity to make damn fools of themselves before tens of millions of people around the world that the Hollywoodoids find irresistible.  Notice how you never hear any fallout from the “technical awards” ceremony?  You know, the non televised ceremony recognizing the boring technological stuff that actually makes movies possible that is usually held at the Beverly Hills Elks Lodge with hosts Steve Guttenberg, Charo and/or one of the lesser Sweathogs.

Some of the past magic moments are legendary.  Remember back in 1993, when Tim Robbins and his then-gal pal, tranny vomit insanity enthusiast Susan Sarandon, harangued the crowd about the detention of Haitian refugees?  Of course, right after that these stars led the way by opening up the grounds of their mansion to these huddled Haitian masses.

Roberto Benigni engaged in memorably tiresome antics after winning “Best Foreign Language Film of 1997” for the Worst Film of All Time, the insanely appalling Life Is Beautiful.  Life has certainly aged well, and Benigni’s shtick has only gotten fresher, contributing to the runaway freight train of success that his career has become since then. (more…)

Here are capsule reviews of films that have already been covered pretty well here at BH or that just kind of faded away in theatres. That’s not a judgment of how good and bad they are, but all things considered, a full blown review seems unnecessary.

Nine:

Be Italian!

What say we don’t.

Set in go-go Rome circa 1965, director Rob Marshall (the wildly over-praised Oscar-winning “Chicago”) does a solid job of (intentionally) recreating a time and place straight out of Fellini’s “8 ½.”  And that’s about all he’s got going for him … other than the rare musical that would’ve benefited from the removal of the musical numbers. The songs are dreadful, and other than to prove Kate Hudson’s not her mother, serve no purpose above clunky, tuneless exposition.

Daniel Day-Lewis preserves his dignity as Guido the Film Director who’s without a script or even an idea for one as all the expensive people and pieces are put into place to start shooting in just a few days.  He’s conflicted, you see… Torn between his wife (Marion “The Truther” Cotillard), his mistress (Penelope Cruz), and his muse (Nicole Kidman) … not to mention the advice he receives from his confidant (Judi Dench) and mother (a completely wasted Sophia Loren).  And in there somewhere is NFL-owner Fergie, typecast as – well, that’s mean – as the Ideal Woman who stirred Guido’s loins as a young man.   (more…)