Bandwagoners suck balls. I don’t want to be one of those ball-suckers. But I am going to have to jump on the “Anti-Hollywood” bandwagon. As arguably the most prestigious awards ceremony in all of the world rears its beautifully tanned face, I am compelled to set Oscar straight.
The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences has had a long-standing love affair with period-pieces and bio-pics; combine the two and you can hear the collective orgasm of its thousands of members. Of course, my saying this is no big reveal; Hollywood’s obsession with past wardrobes and antiquated architecture was around back when screens were originally made with silver. I feel it is my duty, after surviving the latest culmination in this most fatal of attractions with period-pieces and bio-pics, to warn everyone. Lincoln is one of the worst movies ever made.
Let me qualify that.
First, I’m not an average movie-goer, with the attention span of a tween. I am correct when I say Michael Bay movies and the Twilight Saga are bad films. Its not a matter of opinion either, they are simply put, bad. What is a matter of opinion is whether or not they’re entertaining. If you are moved by Kristen Stewart’s WIDE range of acting abilities, good for you. I’m happy for you; I just don’t have any desire to converse or associate with you whatsoever, because clearly we can’t be friends. Don’t get me wrong though, because I’m not a cinephile either. I mean I used to be a movie nerd, and I even took some film classes in college. But I no longer try to stick my nose up at obviously shitty movies. And I promise you I’ve given many of them a fair chance- Christ, Katherine Heigl, One For the Money, really? I figured, why not it takes place in Jersey. Ugh, I’m pathetic, I know.
So, I’m at the point where I no longer need to see something completely original and artsy, nor do I require nonstop action and recycled humor. I’ve reached a middle-ground between the average idiot’s need for car chases and explosions and the snooze-fest hailed by every critic. Who ARE those whackadoos by the way? They truly don’t exist on the same plane of reality as a normal person. For fun, and to make myself feel better about myself, I play out pretend conversations in my brain between two of these Martians:
– “Say, Roderick, I found the director’s use of a rain shower at the end of the second act to wonderfully represent REBIRTH. Wouldn’t you agree?”
- “Cellar door!”
“Quite right, Roderick, my boy. Good form.”
They always have an English accent. But I digress. The compromise between high art and cheap thrills is precisely where a hundred-or-so minutes of entertainment should live. Argo is a good example. It didn’t drag-on needlessly; it had suspense; and it had Hollywood’s latest prerequisite for production- it’s based on a true story. Bear in mind though, I’m not with the majority that thought Argo was Argasmic (see what I did there?); it was good, but not great (what movies were great this year? Off the top of my head… Expendables 2?). Another example- Dark Knight Rises. Christopher Nolan can blend higher art and not-so-cheap thrills better than possibly any filmmaker out there. And it’s guys like him that put the once overlooked superhero genre into legitimate critical conversation. That’s a whole other topic though. The point is, that a quality film should strive for that happy medium between art and entertainment.
Lincoln did NONE of these things. And yet the Academy worships it blindly like a Philadelphia Eagles fan. It did not ENTERTAIN for an hour and forty-five minutes; it LECTURED for two hours and thirty minutes. And that’s fine. It gave insight into the legislative process and context around the oft forgotten months before Lincoln was shot. Great! I need to be educated; hell, I want to be educated. I especially want to be educated about one of the most pivotal political moments in history, and one of the greatest presidents our retarded country has had the privilege of electing. I just don’t want to be put to sleep in a dark movie theater during the lesson. Moreover, I don’t want to be duped into thinking it was going to be anything more than a glorified History Channel special. Look, for the record, the ENTIRE production was flawless- it was superbly acted, well-written, and photographed beautifully. It simply had no purpose being distributed as a BLOCKBUSTER FUCKING FILM. I was “had…, run-amok…, bamboozled,” because I figured that Steven Spielberg knew better than to put his name on a docudrama and call it a thrilling film.
Basically, he took his tiny jew penis out and pissed on the audience and told us it was a wintry mix of Shindler’s List and Amistad.