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Showing posts from February, 2016

What another lovely day.

Oscar Winners 2016


So said costume designer Jenny (Beaven), quite a declaration since she presumably had to sit through the entire three-and-a-half-hour ceremony.
By most accounts, Chris Rock acquitted himself reasonably well, defusing the controversy over the whiteness of the nominations with some well-aimed quips, from the introductory “Well, I’m here at the Academy Awards. Otherwise known as The White People’s Choice Awards” to his reason for not boycotting the show (“I didn’t want to lose another role to Kevin Hart”) to the widespread indifference to Mrs Will Smith’s non-show (“Jada boycotting the Oscars is like me boycotting Rhiana’s panties… I wasn’t invited”; a risqué one, that) to drawing comparison to the ‘60s, when there were real things to protest, with African Americans “too busy being raped and lynched to care about Best Documentary Foreign Short”. Then there was his suggestion that the in memorium would be dedicated to “black people shot by the cops on their way to the mov…

Nothing is over until we decide it is! Was it over when the Germans bombed Pearl Harbor? Hell no!

Top 1o Films
10. Dawn of the Dead
I ummed and ahhed several pictures for the Ten spot on this list; Alan Parker’s Midnight Express, Fred Schepsi’s The Chant of Jimmie Blacksmith, Terrence Malick’s Days of Heaven and Robert Altman’s A Wedding (which Pauline Kael, generally a big advocate of the director, called “a busted bag of marbles”). In the end I decided to fill it with a horror movie, that least respected genre, and it was a toss up between Halloween and Dawn of the Dead. While Carpenter is one of my favourite directors (most of his post-’80s output aside), Halloween has never been in my top tier, despite an marvellously oddball Donald Pleasance, mesmerising camera work and being his most iconic work. So I opted for George Romero’s equally influential Dawn of the Dead.
I’m decidedly not a gore hound, and not all that big a fan of Romero’s oeuvre (he doesn’t have the greatest finesse). I don’t even care that much for Night of the Living Dead (sacrilege, I know), but it’s hard to igno…