Well, it happened, that.

Reader, sometimes I wonder what you must think of us. The team behind this blog so often comes across as being of 2-3 different minds on almost every topic that comes up on the radar screen. I'm grateful that you take the time to read, whoever you are. The culture in which we find ourselves puts somewhat of an unfair premium on time and efficiency, and a web page that isn't interesting tends to be ignored or, even worse, skimmed.

I'm guilty of doing that myself all too often, but I wish that I didn't. It's almost as though I'm denying myself the opportunity to gain as much knowledge as I could just because something isn't eye-grabbing at first, or because it's long. Oooooh. Isn't that horrible? Something's LONG. Wow, I might just learn something if I read it. Billy Shakespeare probably said it best, "Lord, what fools these mortals be!"

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How about them Oscars? To be honest, I am/was disappointed in the show. The opening musical number was out of place, although Neil Patrick Harris has a good set of pipes. I must admit that I felt some of its "appeal" was misplaced. Is it supposed to be incredibly ironic that a gay man is dancing between a couple of showgirls? Come on, it's not like no one's ever tried that kind of subtext before! I'd rather that we stop treating people like novelty acts over stuff like that. He's a talented actor and entertainer. Period. Let's stop treating folks any different. Why not take a page from Ellen's book when she hosted the show? Oh, wait, she was forced to cut a significant portion of her material because she was ticked off at the way she'd been treated after her coming-out episode and planned to come out of the gate guns blazing. Maybe we better not follow her example if we're going for "moving past the past."

As far as the opening dialogue went, Martin and Baldwin had some good material (loved Steve's bit about Christoph Waltz having hit the motherlode of Jews), but the way that they pitched to various things was incredibly stilted. Set-up, joke . . . "and here's so-and-so over here from such-and-such-a-film." (campy grin + forced applause = LAME) I heard someone say that the material would have worked better if it'd been performed as a monologue, and I have to agree. When one person is throwing the spotlight around the room at various people, you go with it. When two guys are trying to go back and forth and come across as strangely under-rehearsed, it's just too bad.

The awards themselves were a mixed bag. The major awards were incredibly anticlimatic. Every single one of the acting awards went the way I predicted. The Hurt Locker picked up Best Director and Best Picture. Yawn. This didn't exactly make for an incredibly exciting show. I'm not terribly upset about THL's victory, although I still think that Avatar was a more significant achievement. As for Bigelow being the first woman to win Best Director? Good for her. I would have voted for Cameron, but she did a fine job and it's a step up from recognizing Danny Boyle last year. I almost still can't believe that actually happened! I did feel sorry for her standing up there. She looked so nervous that she seemed like she might faint before it was all said and done.

I did find Mo'Nique's comments a bit strange in which she said she didn't want to make her speech a political one, and then promptly thanked Hattie McDaniels. I'm all for her thanking those that came before her and paved the way for her to stand there, but to say she wasn't going to do something and then do it anyway seemed strange. Personally, I'm a bit tired of all the talk of race at the Oscars. A few years ago, when Denzel and Halle won, it was a big deal. 2 years later, Jaime Foxx and Morgan Freeman dominated their respective races from top to bottom, and was their ethnicity mentioned once? Nope. It seems that we've moved past certain things now. Why must we keep bringing it up?

That said, there were a number of upsets in other categories that I wasn't prepared for. Both writing awards went to films I wasn't expecting, although I had started to get an inkling that THL might use its momentum to snag that one too. I was pretty ticked off that The Hurt Locker won in the Original category, instead of Inglourious Basterds. COME ON! Tarantino's script was virtuosic in its ability to accomplish so many different goals, sometimes at once, that it's a crying shame that he didn't pick up little gold man #2. As for the winner in the other Screenplay category, while I haven't seen the movie, having to hear "Precious . . . . . . Based on the Novel 'Push' by Sapphire" forty-five thousand times proved tiresome. Please, next time, find a better title! (or at least one that doesn't sound like a drag queen's lamaze class play)

Another BIG surprise was The Secret In Their Eyes beating out both Un Prophete AND The White Ribbon for Best Foreign Language film. Does the Palme d'Or mean nothing in America, people? Forget that. Did the Academy voters not realize that Michael Haneke is the guy who directed The White Ribbon? Have they never seen one of his films before? Did they not know about the crazy/twisted/sick stuff he thinks up for characters to do to each other in his movies? Have they installed new security systems and hired armed guards to stand watch outside their homes to protect themselves? Let's hope so.

Finally, I can't let the direction of the actual telecast off the hook. It was HORRIBLE with a capital AWFUL. If I was made to count each questionable choice . . . man, I'd run out of fingers real quick. Worst gaffe (besides all of the times the viewer saw stuff that we were never supposed to see): cutting to a super wide angle shot right after Bigelow won. Come on, she was sitting right in front of Cameron. Everyone wanted to see the two of them. Would he shake her hand? Would they hug? Would they speak at all? Instead, I was left to yell at the screen, calling out instructions to the guy at the switchboard who, sadly, couldn't hear me from so many miles away.

For my second and last finally, I have to point out the sheer strangeness of the so-called "tribute" to the nominated scores. Who on earth thought it would be a good idea to have a bunch of performers do an interpretive dance to the music? Oh yeah, whenever I hear the music from Up, I immediately think "Hey! Let's get a guy to do the robot!" Oh no. What is this? Are we back to the tap dance tribute to Saving Private Ryan? Some things are better left alone.

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As for our scatterbrainededness and hornswaggling over everything that we write about . . . well, we like it that way. Besides that, we've done pretty well up to this point. That's just how it goes. Besides, every so often, it just so happens that we all think the same way, and that always ends up feeling so good.

This year, I think I'm going to read more thoroughly when I'm online. How about it? I think I'll watch Redacted before the year is up, and then read Zanzie's blog. ALL of it.

A Window and a Magnifying Glass

I’ve never been a terribly voracious carnivore, but the best way that I think I can explain what the movies mean to me is to bring up steak. Imagine for a moment that you are a person who loves the stuff. You’d probably have all of your favorite restaurants all lined up in your mind, ranked from best to worst or worst to best, based on the quality of the steak. But the thing that would probably stick out in your mind was the one steak that stood out above the rest; the one steak that started this great love affair. I bet you’d know exactly where it was and how wonderful it tasted. In fact, I bet that every other time you’d go out to eat, that one steak would be in the back of your mind, poking at you. Sure, you might go to Carl’s Jr. to enjoy a hamburger now and then, but you’d know that the strangely named “Six Dollar Burger” didn’t even compare to “the one.” Even if you went to an upscale restaurant with excellent cuisine, while you might enjoy the food, that steak would still be in your thoughts. Then, just when you’d just about began to give up hope that you’d ever have one that good again, you go out and VOILA! Brought to you on a plate that might as well have come borne on the wings of an angel comes another that you’ll remember for a long time, maybe forever.

That is how I feel about the movies. “The one” directly correlates to the films that have left such an imprint on me that I consider the time when I watched them to be a life-altering event. I have often been told that my love of the cinema is misplaced and that the devotion that I bring to the films I love (and the films I hope to love) would be better placed elsewhere. People have said things to me like “it’s only a movie” and “there’s more to life than movies.” By their own statements, they have implied that the type of things that they love and value are somehow inherently more important than the one thing that has become the great passion of my life. I disagree. While I cannot dispute that there is more to life than thinking about, talking about, and watching films, I find it troublesome that these other people feel a need to discredit my connection with the cinema because they do not understand it. At the end of the day, I have decided that I am truly a very fortunate person to have found something that I have connected with on such a personal level. If those individuals who don’t understand have never felt such a passion for something in their own lives, then I sincerely feel sorry for them.

I’ve been blessed with many “steaks” in my life, some of which I have spoken with you about here. I would like to talk about the one that is most prominent in my memory and left the deepest impression.

It was January 7, 2005. My sister and I went to a 1:15 showing at the Block of Orange in Orange, CA. We bought our tickets at 1:00 and entered one of the multiplex’s larger theaters, which was mostly empty, due to the time and the fact that the movie was in limited release. The film was Million Dollar Baby. I sat there in my seat for 2 hours and 12 minutes, and when I left, I was a different person. I don’t think it was something that I really realized at first. My sister and I, who normally don’t have any trouble finding things to talk about, drove the 15 minutes it took to get home in relative silence. The rest of my day was spent thinking about the film. I literally could not take my mind off of it. Even when I tried to think about something else, I just couldn’t do it. The film seemed to be demanding my attention, even though it had been over for hours.

Million Dollar Baby is the story of three people whose lives come together in a boxing gym. Frankie (Clint Eastwood) owns the facility and manages boxers that he deems worthy, and Scrap (Morgan Freeman) serves as the gym’s janitor. Maggie (Hilary Swank) comes to the gym and begins training in the hopes that Frankie will help her become a professional fighter. Frankie reluctantly agrees and the two begin working their way toward a title fight.

What makes this film a tricky one is that, for much of its duration, it’s a conventional boxing picture, albeit a very good one at that. Then, around the midpoint, everything changes. Everything. Million Dollar Baby becomes not only a look at the prices one must pay to get to the top, but also becomes a meditation on the meaning of friendship, loyalty, and what happens when someone is forced to give up a dream. I don’t feel that I am justified in going into detail about exactly what takes place in the film, despite the fact that it’s been out for several years. A part of me seems to rebel against that, due to having had a number of films spoiled for me in that way. However, what I will say is that the film shook me to my shoes, so to speak. It took a very complex issue that, to that point, I had very brusquely presumed that I knew my feelings on and turned it upside down. For the first time, I was forced to truly consider it and question my old assumptions. Easy answers weren’t enough. They couldn’t be. Somehow, Frankie, Maggie, and Scrap didn’t deserve that. For the first time, I became aware that some questions cannot be answered. Some decisions are too terrible to be justified, whether the decision is to do something or not to do something. Either way, with some things in life, perhaps with too many things, someone loses.

I think that my experience watching Million Dollar Baby makes a larger point about what I love about the movies. When I watch a film, I am not interested in merely being entertained, although I hope to enjoy the films that I watch. What I want is a window and a magnifying glass. The window is an opening into the life of another person or group of people. This person might be a lot like me, or we might have nothing in common. The magnifying glass is that chance to do the single most important thing that one person can do for another. It gives me the chance to understand. It is not the enjoyment of seeing beautiful people in exotic locations or seeing people escape dangerous situations with explosions going off all around that entices me. It is that chance to understand that makes going to the movies so special for me. The other stuff may be enough for some people, but not for me.

That’s why I refuse to watch some films. Some friends of mine present the idea that I need to broaden my horizons and watch more movies. However, I remind you of that steak I mentioned earlier. That’s what I’m after, not the cheap imitations. Sure, I might go get “fast food” sometimes by going to see a film that’s just trying to be funny, entertaining, and harmless, but that steak is always in the back of my mind. In fact, I think it’s in the back of my mind every single time I watch a new film. I’m always hopeful that whatever film I’m watching will be another life-changing moment. With high hopes like that, I’m usually disappointed, because those moments are few and far between. Of course, I know that certain films won’t be able to meet those standards, but I always hold out that hope.

4 years later, Million Dollar Baby is still one of the greatest films I’ve ever seen. Since that overcast January afternoon, I’ve seen a few films that have stopped me in my tracks, but those that have impacted me like Million Dollar Baby are fewer still. I believe that that connection is the highest aim and goal of cinema, and that’s why I go to the movies.