You hear? John Mayer’s giving up the pot. No lie, seriously– I mean he Twittered it and everything so it’s like got2B true, right?
I’ll bet the break-up with Jen was a wake up call for J-Man cuz I heard she was all P-Yode cuz he had time to smoke herb and Twitter his fans on his European tour but no time to call his girlie girl, and you know how Jen gets when she’s not getting the attention she deserves so she was all like…
Toodles, Bong-Boy!
“Whatever, John. Later, dude!” and I’ll bet John toked-it-up when he got the dump truck and he’s probably been on a maryjane bender ever since, huffin’ and puffin’ his heartache away and I guarantee he woke up one day and realized the best thing he ever had slipped through his guitar-pickin’ fingers and went up in reefer smoke and then I’ll bet he decided it was time to straighten up and put those naz doobies down cuz I mean come on, Jen?!!! He had Rachel (eat your heart out, Ross), and he let her slip away!
Johnnie Boy, we’re talking Jen!!!! Hey, I’ll bet even Brad make Angelia wear a Jen rubber mask sometimes. No disrespect, Angie, but I mean, Jen!!!!!!!!!!
And you heard ’bout Madonna, right? She fell off her horsie the news said but that’s only half the story cuz the real scoopage is the accident happened while she was working to get herself another kid– but get a load of this– she was trying to buy that little girl from “Slumdog Millionaire” from the girl’s dad but some Royal Canadian Mounties heard the deal was going down and they came riding over to bust them and Madonna’s horse got all spooked and everything and threw the Material Girl to the
Oooopsie daisies!
Material World and she got all embarrassed and now is trying to blame her boo-boo on some paparazzi creepolla who was lurking in the bushes with long lenses and a guilty face. Bamm!
And I’ve got it on very good authority Paris Hilton is thinking of upgrading her identity to Paris Ritz Carlton.
Before the stars begin traipsing down the red carpet, The Lint Screen proudly predicts who will clutch statues of golden glory and who will grasp fistfuls of disappointment and heartache.
Hollywood's catnip, yummiliciousness!
Let’s get straight to the biggie–best picture: and the winner will be Slumdog Millionaire. A tough, tough call. I saw all the nominees except Frost/Nixon, but I don’t think it’s going to win since Dick Nixon was never much of a box office draw (he was more of a behind the scenes guy).
Stiff competition with the other pictures though. The Curious Case of Benjamin Button was a spectacular film, but will be remembered more for seamless special effects than anything else.
Milk was an amazing character study and acting tour de force for Sean Penn and Josh Brolin. But, we knew the story before sitting down. Not enough mystery to satisfy our insatiable curiosity.
Then there was The Reader. Fresh, interesting story, great acting, directing, everything. But a little too too for an Oscar handshake. Too much of a downer.
Which leaves us with Slumdog. This film had it all: exotic and mysterious locale (India), incredible storytelling in a non-linear and ever-poke-the-ol’-curiosity-way, terrific performances, romance, game show, good versus evil (Chuck Dickens would be proud), visually stunning, poo humor, Bollywood dance number, captivating music, etc. It’s the entire package. A fresh film from a fresh place Hollywood hasn’t yet exploited. Oh, and it was done by Brits. Hollywood is totally Anglophile, I say… it finds all things English to be quite brilliant. Yep, Slumdog is an Oscar lock.
For leading actress, it’s a fight between Meryl Streep in Doubt and Kate Winslet in The Reader. My money’s on Meryl and her rosary beads. She sent shivers up the spines of any child who ever had a nun as a teacher (a performance so authentic, I had red imprints on my sweaty palms from phantom slaps of the ruler). Then again, Kate is British, so I could be wrong. I just hope it isn’t Anne Hathaway in Rachel Getting Married, an over-hyped soap opera of self-indulgent shaky cam. It was a movie that made every minute seem like five.
For leading actor, it’s Sean Penn versus Mickey Rourke as heavyweight contenders. I have to say Mickey was pretty incredible as a washed-up wrestler, but I didn’t feel his playing a has-been on the ropes was much of a stretch for him as an actor. As for Sean Penn, his was an incredible performance of becoming Harvey Milk. Penn continues to amaze as he transforms himself into varied roles. I think this will be his second handshake with Mr. O. Then again, Hollywood loves the Rocky-style actor comeback plotline, too. If Mickey were British, it’d be an easier pick. But I’m betting Penn, the dark horse.
In supporting actress, it’s a tough call. Could be Amy Adams in Doubt. Could be Viola Davis in Doubt (a relatively short time on film. but a legendary performance). Could be Marisa Tormei for baring darn near everything including her soul in The Wrestler. But wait, Marisa’s got an Oscar and we need a surprise pick. My money’s on Viola Davis. A long shot, I know, but I’m tossing the dice.
It's tough to beat death.
For supporting actor, go with Heath Ledger. Nothing aids fame quite like death. Ledger was terrific, he did some of the best tongue acting of all time, and he certainly caused many people to fear pencils. It’s too bad he’ll be the walkaway winner because there were great competitors with John Brolin in Milk, Philip Seymour Hoffman in Doubt, and Robert Downey, Jr. in Tropic Thunder. But, it’s all Heath, babes. Too bad he won’t be there to get the gold man.
For directing, Slumdog will win. Danny Boyle has a fresh eye, and it’s a brave film with wonderful performances. My quibble with it: too many Dutch angle shots, Danny-boy-o. They drive me nuts, like strong perfume in an elevator. Dutch angles try too hard. I think David Fincher deserves the award because Benjamin Button was a phenomenal story that required tons of special effects and pitch perfect performances, yet he pulled it all off in a perfectly natural way. A real magician’s trick and artistic touch. But, it’s the year of Slumdog. Hey, man, it is written.
In best adapted screenplay, the winner is (oh, these envelopes are so hard to get open), Simon Beaufoy for Slumdog Millionaire. No argument here, it’s a terrific tale well told. Well written. Can I milk this gag any more? Doubtful.
For best original screenplay, give a little fellow to Martin McDonagh for In Bruges. No, I didn’t see all the nominees, but I did love this screenplay and movie.
As for the other categories, well, I’ve got to go with Tony Smidlagg for Best Best Boy. I’ve always said “he’s the best.”
Enjoy the show. Make your picks. Ciao, babe, I’ll be poolside at The Beverly Hills Hotel…
