11 Quick Observations about the Oscar Nominations

Did you toon into the Oscar nominations this morning. Jack Quaid and Zazie Beetz (in particular) did a fine enthusiastic job of announcing the nominations in Oscar's 23 categories. There were surprises and shut-outs and overperformers as per usual. You can see the complete list of nominations at the Oscar Charts Index Page (though the individual charts per category are not yet updated).

Herewith 11 quick obversations about the nominations before we dive in to individual categories.

1. BARBIE FATIGUE (SORT OF)
While America Ferrera nabbed the Oscar nod we predicted for her in Best Supporting Actress (we went 5/5 on that volatile category in our predictions) Barbie received just 8 nominations overall. That's a lot, of course, but it isn't a lot in terms of expectations and how well the film had been performing at precursors...

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Drag Race RuCap: “Rate-a-Queen”

Paraphrasing Alyssa Edwards, the RuCaps are back back back back back again. For the next few months, Nick Taylor and Cláudio Alves will be following RuPaul’s Drag Race season sixteen…

Since Queen Bey won't do it, Sapphira Cristál provides her own RENAISSANCE visuals.

NICK: Okay, let me just say this to the readers right off the bat: These will not be as lengthy as they were last year, god willing. This is a challenge, a plea, a threat made to us, by us, for us. We are back, and we promise that no matter how long it takes us to finish, we’re gonna go over these episodes with so much depth, such thoroughness, that your heads will spin off your fucking necks. At least the split premiere means we don’t have to jump out of the gate evaluating fifteen queens. I for one enjoyed meeting half of this season’s contestants, all of whom seem entertaining and eager to be there. What did you think of season 16’s debut?

CLÁUDIO: First of all, I make no such promises cum threats. I know us and our propensity for verbal diarrhea so that just seems like an invitation for disappointment. We’re two size queens at heart, and we might as well accept it…

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Paul Mescal must be stopped

by Cláudio Alves

Something must be done about that Irish menace known as Paul Mescal. He's out there ruining perfectly great songs, attaching such emotional devastation to them one can't help but start tearing up when listening to them. It's akin to a cinema-induced Pavlovian response, and it's making me feel like an insane crybaby. Last year, it was "Under Pressure," forever bound to Aftersun. This year, it's "The Power of Love" by Frankie Goes to Hollywood and the ending to All of Us Strangers. Twisting the horror out of Taichi Yamada's ghost story, Andrew Haigh re-imagined the book's conclusion as a melancholic gut punch, romance played for earnestness rather than betrayal.

It's probably the picture's most divisive element, but it works partly because of Mescal and how fleshed out his depressed stranger grows into being, narrative circumstances notwithstanding. I won't go further because everyone deserves to discover those surprises by themselves. However, I want to pose a couple of questions. First, has any film forever changed the meaning and effect of a song? Second, what did you think about the All of Us Strangers final goodbye?

Review: "Orlando, My Political Biography"

by Cláudio Alves

The future of cinema is in non-fiction. Though conventional narrative cinema still dominates the mainstream, it's within the documentary realm that the medium's most radical innovations tend to manifest, paving a path to the seventh art's tomorrow. That said, to consider cinema in binaries may be holding on to an outdated model. The way forward could entangle the cinema, as Iranian and Portuguese filmmakers have done for decades. In that regard, Orlando, My Political Biography is the future of cinema dressed in ruffs, non-binary, and transgressing past neat categorization.

Philosopher turned director Paul B. Preciado rejects structural dualities in search of something somewhere between academism and anarchic theater, a reflection of his and his subjects' essential queerness…

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Goodbye, Terence Davies (1945-2023)

by Cláudio Alves

A moment ago, I knew exactly what I wanted to say to you. I have run through this letter in my mind so very often and I wanted to compose something eloquent, but the words just don't seem to be there.

So mused Hester Collyer in The Deep Blue Sea, and so I felt this past week, trying to articulate a fitting farewell to Terence Davies and failing to do so, over and over again. Words don't seem enough to describe what the filmmaker meant to me. Suddenly, my limitations as a writer became obvious, heavy on the soul, almost accusatory, for I can't seem to express what cinema lost on October 7th, 2023. It feels too big a calamity to encompass within a measly obituary. At the same time, this bruisedness that conquers me seems foolish, one of those idiocies of celebrity culture. How can I not feel silly for this grief over someone I've never met and will never meet? How can I worry about this considering everything else going on in the world? I don't know, yet I do.

Eloquence and intelligence, sensibility and sense have slipped from my grasp, so vulnerability might have to be the last resource available to confront this text, clumsy as it might seem. At my wit's end, it's all that's left…

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