With the Oscars being delayed until April this year, that means it's been well over a year since my last fake Oscars blog post. At the time of that post, we were on the cusp of an unprecedented and joyously unexpected Picture/Director/Original Screenplay triumph for Parasite, my favorite movie of 2019. Of course, we were also on the cusp of a global pandemic that has irrevocably changed the world, including massive changes to the film industry. After COVID hit in March of last year, I only went to a movie theater twice the rest of 2020—two times over the summer to see Tenet (I wasn't going to miss that experience, COVID be damned). Both times, I was one of only maybe a dozen people in the whole auditorium. But with the worst of the pandemic (hopefully) behind us and the vaccine being rolled out (I've already had both of my shots!), I've already been to the theater several times in 2021 to see some awards contenders—and, obviously Godzilla vs. Kong and Mortal Kombat. But the theaters have been still mostly empty, the lobby a ghost town. I truly don't know if the movie theater industry will ever fully recover, which would be such a huge loss, even if it makes sense on a pragmatic level.
All of which is to say that my film viewing habits were dramatically different than they ever have been last year. I watched about the same number of new movies as I usually do (around 100), but, obviously most of them were watched at home. From the comfort of my couch. With the lights on. With my cell phone at arm's length. With the ability to pause and rewind. This clearly isn't the way all movies should be watched, and I greatly wish I was able to watch more movies in the dark, silent, reverent space of a movie theater. I wonder if some of the... slower movies I thought were just okay (Mank and First Cow come to mind) would have made a bigger impact on me had I seen them in a theater. Another strange, unexpected impact is that I remember virtually nothing about the score of many of the films I saw—another casualty to home viewing. (For that reason, I won't be including the Best Score category I usually do. Maybe next year.)
In spite of all this, 2020 was still a pretty strong year for movies—a variegated, singular, strange year for movies, but a strong one nonetheless. My pandemic cinema top 10 has movies big and small (even if most movies seemed small this year), funny and serious (the best are a mix of both), theatrical and streaming. In other words, not too far off from a normal year for movies (especially with streaming movies becoming more and more common). And I'm just as excited to write this blog post as I would be in any other year. So let's get to it, longer-than-normal preamble out of the way. We'll start, as the real thing does, with the supporting performances. (Obviously, there may be mild spoilers for any of the films discussed below.)
Gold = winner
* = won a real Oscar
Best Supporting Actor
Sacha Baron Cohen – The Trial of the Chicago 7^
Daniel Kaluuya – Judas and the Black Messiah*
Leslie Odom Jr. – One Night in Miami...^
Mark Rylance – The Trial of the Chicago 7
Michael Stuhlbarg – Shirley
AMPAS didn't do too bad with this category, for the most part. The only two who missed the cut in my field were Paul Raci in Sound of Metal and Lakeith Stanfield in Judas. I quite liked Metal and thought Raci was very good, but I have to admit I didn't see anything Oscar-worthy in his unadorned performance. (Perhaps it was too naturalistic for me?) I said "for the most part" above because nominating Stanfield here is laughable—he's a he clear lead, and I believe he was even promoted as such in the lead-up to the nominations. AMPAS gonna AMPAS. (I also didn't see the hype in his just-fine performance.) But my field includes three actual Oscar nominees, including the winner, so let's start with them.
- Daniel Kaluuya was the frontrunner for the Oscar just about all awards season, and his win was one of the few unexpected results in the main categories on Sunday night. In his performance as slain Black Panther Fred Hampton, he balanced the fiery passion of Hampton's speeches with a tough tenderness in his scenes with Dominique Fishback as his girlfried, Deborah Johnson. Some of the speech scenes are just chill-inducing (and a built-in Oscar reel as well). The movie as a whole was more like, not love, for me—it's a relatively traditional biopic, which don't typically do it for me—but Kaluuya is absolutely sensational in it and easily snags a nomination here.
- His closest competition for the real statue was likely Sacha Baron Cohen, who at one point looked like the frontrunner here. Like everyone else in this category (unusual for me; see below), he erstwhile Borat also plays a historical figure: activist and Chicago 7 member Abbie Hoffman. I liked Sorkin's film (a lot) more than most, and Cohen's acerbic hippie-cum-agitator was a charismatic presence, delivering several Sorkin zingers with zest. He was the last name in my field, with stiff competition from Bill Murray (On the Rocks), Will Patton (Minari), Eli Goree (One Night in Miami...), and, yes, J.K. Simmons (Palm Springs).
- Speaking of Miami..., Aaron Burr himself also makes my field for his outstanding turn as Sam Cooke in Regina King's fictionalized meeting of Black leaders in the 1960s. Goree as Cassius Clay and Aldis Hodge as Jim Brown were both very good, but Leslie Odom Jr.'s scenes across from Kingsley Ben-Adir's Malcolm X put his performance on another level. So, too, does his singing, which provides some of the true highlights of the film (especially that a cappella scene). He seems a likely bet to someday add the O to his EGOT (he's already got the G and the T). Maybe a feature adaptation of Hamilton?
- That leaves us with two new nominees. The first is Cohen's Chicago 7 costar and previous Oscar winner, Mark Rylance. I wasn't necessarily a huge fan of him winning for Bridge of Spies (although I have been meaning to revisit that one), but I was won over right away by his portrayal of Bill Kunstler, a perfect balance of courtroom theatrics and world-weariness, and he's responsible for at least as many great moments as Cohen. The stage and screen veteran takes to Sorkin's material with aplomb and delivers a stirring performance that's among the best of the year. I'd have nominated him over Cohen (if there was only going to be one nominee from Chicago 7).
- My final nominee seems to have been largely forgotten by the time Oscar season came around, but this blog never forgets Michael Stuhlbarg, who always makes everything he's in better. In Shirley, he has the unenviable task of playing opposite a completely dialed-on Elisabeth Moss. He more than holds his own as a bemused, rather nefarious husband to Moss's eponymous Shirley Jackson—a feat not many actors could match. He doesn't get a ton of screentime, but he's absolutely magnetic in every scene he's in. How he hasn't at least been nominated for an Oscar yet in his career is beyond me (he was robbed for Call Me By Your Name, yo), but there is no such injustice here.
This was a tough category for me to decide on, and it actually came down to the two nominees who weren't nominated for the real award: Rylance and Stuhlbarg. Rylance had the showier performance in a movie I liked a lot more than Shirley, but I found myself thinking a lot more about Michael Stuhlbarg's performance than Rylance's, so he takes the fake statue here.
Best Supporting Actress
Olivia Colman – The Father^
Elizabeth Debicki – Tenet
Han Ye-ri – Minari
Youn Yuh-jung – Minari*
Helena Zengel – News of the World
Unlike the category above, none of these actresses played real-life figures. But similar to Supporting Actor, I didn't take too much exception to the Oscar field this year. Amanda Seyfried was never not going to be nominated for Mank, and she gives a solid performance in a film that didn't quite have the awards-season impact that it seemed destined for. I expected to hate Hillbilly Elegy for a number of reasons, but I wound up just not liking it very much. Glenn Close was a convincing hillbilly grandma, but I don't see anything nomination-worthy there. Ditto, honestly, for Maria Bakalova—the Giuliani stuff is certainly incredible, and I usually ride for comedic performances, but I think I'm just missing something here. She's good, not great.
- We'll again start with the real-life nominees. The Father was one of the final main category nominees I watched this year, and Olivia Colman easily snagged a nomination in a category I was honestly struggling to fill. Her aggrieved and grieving daughter to Anthony Hopkins's titular Father is a masterclass in subtle reactions and minute facial expressions. It's a wonderfully minor-key performance and a perfect counterbalance to Hopkins's fireworks. I wasn't expecting to like the film as much as I did, and Colman is a huge reason why. Although she didn't win on Sunday, I could easily see her winning a second statue someday soon.
- In a widely expected result (again, one of the few in the main categories) Youn Yuh-jung became the first Korean performer to win an Oscar. Like Close, she also a foul-mouthed grandmother—although Youn's performance was far superior in a far better film. Youn doesn't arrive until about halfway through the film, but she quickly becomes a central character, a key source of humor and drama both, with mischievous eyes that quickly become deadened after a stroke. But her humanity still shines through, even as she makes a tragic mistake late in the third act. It's an indelible performance, and a more-than-worthy Oscar winner. Youn's speech was also among the best of the night—perhaps the very best.
- While I was glad to see Youn nominated, I was confused as to why her costar and onscreen daughter, Han Ye-ri, missed the cut. Her exasperated wife to Steven Yeun's obstinate husband is such a lovely, wounded performance, and Han has no shortage of Oscar reel scenes. (Granted, most of them are arguments with Yeun's character.) Youn's nomination is well deserved and (hopefully) a game-changer, but the Academy has missed out on nominating Parasite's Cho Yeo-jeong and Lee Jung-eun, The Handmaiden's Kim Min-hee and Kim Tae-ri, and, now Han. Let's hope more international performances (not just South Korean) are considered moving forward.
- The final two nominees to make my field are both good bets to garner a nomination in the future. That might sounds ridiculous to say about a 12-year-old, but Helena Zengel just radiates rare star quality even at such a young age. Just like Saoirse Ronan before her, Zengel already looks like an acting powerhouse in the making with keenly expressive eyes and a polished screen presence—she already more than holds her own opposite Tom friggin' Hanks. I don't typically go for child performers here in my fake awards, but 1) it was kind of a weaker year for supporting actress, and 2) she was that good. (Side note: Alan Kim also gave a fantastic child performance in Minari.)
- I had a hard time picking my final nominee here (actually, my final two nominees). I considered each of the three actual Oscar nominees, as well as Viola Davis in Ma Rainey's Black Bottom (who just feels more like a supporting performance to me), and Adèle Haenel in Deerskin (a movie you'll be hearing about more below). But finally I just said "fuck it" and went with the latest Nolan Problemwife, Elizabeth Debicki. Tenet's weakness is its script, and the writing for Debicki's character is especially lacking—but that doesn't mean she doesn't give a good performance. Debicki has been a favorite of mine for a while, and she makes the most of a poorly written character, imbuing her abused wife with real pathos and verve, which is good enough to take the final slot in my field.
I considered each of the first three names above here—Colman, Youn, and Han. Any of them would be a worthy winner: Colman's consummate internality, Youn's enduring humanity, Han's guarded fierceness. In an upset, I went with Han Ye-ri, who imbued what could have been a forgettable wife role across from a Best Actor nominee with something remarkable.
Best Actor
Riz Ahmed – Sound of Metal^
Jean Dujardin – Deerksin
Delroy Lindo – Da 5 Bloods
Mads Mikkelsen – Another Round
Steven Yeun – Minari^
There are a couple of names conspicuously missing from my field here: the would-be posthumous Oscar winner Chadwick Boseman (R.I.P.) for Ma Rainey's Black Bottom and surprise winner Anthony Hopkins for The Father. (I did not consider Gary Oldman's awards-baity performance in Mank. He's... fine, I guess.) Both deliver outstanding performances, don't get me wrong—but they're also of the Capital-A Acting variety, which doesn't tend to resonate with me. Their performances are almost too technically sound to where they seem less an act of organic creation and more of a calculated spectacle. That both roles originated on the stage rather than the screen is unsurprising. Both are deserving nominees and I have no qualms with Hopkins winning the Oscar (I'd have voted for him over Boseman, too), but they narrowly missed the cut here. (Note: I also strongly considered Kingsley Ben-Adir as Malcolm X in Miami...)
- I'll start with the obvious: Delroy Lindo was the biggest main category snub on nomination morning. Once considered a shoo-in, Lindo had several factors working against him: his film was an early-year release, it was on Netflix, and, well, he's black. But how his raw, powerful, rageful performance in the latest Spike Lee joint was overlooked for a sweaty, ho-hum performance by a recent winner (it was definitely Oldman that made it over him) is beyond me. Imagine watching Lindo reckon with a lifetime of pain and internalized guilt in the jungles of Vietnam and deciding to nominate Oldman drinking his way through cocktail parties and, uh "writing." I just can't—and, in fact, did not, Mank you very much.
- Let's continue with the other new names in this field. Jean Dujardin, another previous Oscar winner for a movie I haven't thought about in years (The Artist) was an easy inclusion here for a very different movie than the one he won for. Not a ton of people seem to have seen Deerskin, the latest from Rubber auteur Quentin Depieux (it's on HBO Max!), but this deeply weird story about a man who becomes obsessed with a possibly supernatural deerskin jacket was one of my favorites of last year. It's anchored by totally committed performance from Dujardin, who plays it almost completely straight—every beat, every tic is played perfectly as the movie—and Dujardin—successfully treads a very fine line between darkness and comedy.
- The other new name is Mads Mikkelsen, who has always been a tough actor to read for me. He's mostly known for his villainous roles in his English-language performances (Hannibal, Casino Royale, Dr. Strange, etc.), as well as several B-movie type roles. So his performance as a high school teacher going through a kind of midlife crisis was something of a new side of Mikkelsen to me. Another Year is a charming and, ahem, soberingly humanistic dramedy, and Mikkelsen nails it as he slurs his way through his drinking "experiment" that's a stand-in for decades of regret and weariness—all of which plays across his face in what is actually a rather restrained performance. Except for the very ending, which is one of the best of the year—joyful, exuberant, freeing, and a perfect showcase for this new-to-me side of Mikkelsen.
- Either of the two actual Oscar nominees in my field would be a legitimate contender in most years—and both arguably should have received nominations before. Riz Ahmed was clearly deserving of a Supporting Actor nomination for Nightcrawler, but there was no denying him this year for his performance as a heavy metal drummer who suddenly, inexplicably, starts to go deaf. Ahmed's performance is manic and urgent, with a barely restrained torrent of anger coursing through his every line, every mannerism. But there's also a tenderness to it that becomes more pronounced as the film goes on. I know this was Ruben's story, but I wish the girlfriend character had been a bit better written to give their scenes a little more impact—but that's not Ahmed's fault (and his scenes with Raci are excellent). He'll undoubtedly be back in this field, both in real life and on this blog.
- That leaves us with Steven Yeun, who was never a serious Oscar contender for his coolly villainous turn in Burning (although he should have been). He gets his comeuppance this year for a very different performance in the eminently lovely Minari. In Burning, Yeun is detached and debonair, a slick and aloof possible murderer (man, I need to rewatch that one). Here, he is a prideful and determined working-class father, furious at the world that has held him back but unafraid to challenge the status quo. His resilience is palpable in every scene, even as he nearly ruins the very family he is trying to save. It's a complex role, but Yeun is more than up to the challenge and plays off each of his castmates—even and especially the child actors—perfectly. Although the Academy dropped the ball with Lindo, at least they got it right with Ahmed and Yeun, the first two Asian men to be nominated in this category.
This came down to the two actual nominees and the snubbed Lindo. They all had incredible performances and there are no real losers here. But Delroy Lindo would not be denied for his muscular-yet-vulnerable turn in the latest Spike Lee joint. I hope this respected veteran gets another role like this someday soon and finally breaks through with a much-deserved Oscar nomination.
Best Actress
Julia Garner – The Assistant
Vanessa Kirby – Pieces of a Woman^
Frances McDormand – Nomadland*
Elizabeth Moss – The Invisible Man/Shirley
Carey Mulligan – Promising Young Woman^
Last year, I didn't have any Best Actress nominees in common with the actual field, so we're come a long way in a year-plus. And the two nominees I left out of my field are both deserving enough. I mentioned Davis's performance above—she isn't even on the screen for 1/3 of Ma Rainey, and her performance also falls into the Acting category I talked about with Boseman and Hopkins. She's very good, though, and deserving of a nomination if you truly think hers is a lead performance. Andra Day is also great, but it's another biopic, which, again, I almost never go for. Just looking back a few years, there's maybe only one or two such performances among my nominees each year (except for Supporting Actor this year, which seems to be an aberration). I just prefer original characters, or at least performances that aren't mere impressions (not that Day's falls into that category, for the most part). But onto my actual nominees.
- Carey Mulligan (who somehow only has one previous nomination) entered the Oscars as the co-frontrunner with Davis for her performance in the divisive Promising Young Woman. I'll get to the film itself later on, but there's nothing divisive about Mulligan's performance—she's really fucking good. Working within the confines of a script that does make some missteps (but one that I still really like!), Mulligan delivers a supremely assured, multilayered performance. She effortlessly flits between personas—daughter and schemer, girlfriend and fuckdoll, prey and predator. It's like she has a grab bag of those comedy and drama masks, and she always chooses the perfect one for each scene. It's impressive work that would've earned my Oscar vote had I had one. Now 0-for-2 on Oscar night, is Mulligan going to become the next Amy Adams (herself the next Glenn Close)?
- Frances McDormand entered Sunday seemingly a distant third in the actual Best Actress race but exited the night with a third Oscar. You can't say she wasn't deserving of the win—although you absolutely can say her acceptance speech left much to be desired. In one of the best films of the year, McDormand gives a mostly downtuned performance, her taciturn Fern is a long way from the loquacious Marge Gunderson and the indignant Mildred Hayes. She spends a good chunk of the film by herself, grappling with the twin adversaries of grief and her crushing socioeconomic reality. It's a marvelous, convincing performance (reportedly, many of the actual nomads who appear in the film had no idea she was an actress)—better than Mildred but maybe not quite on the same level as Marge.
- Vanessa Kirby was a late addition to this field, as I only watched Pieces of a Woman a couple nights before the Oscars. I was considering names like Christin Milioti, Rosamund Pike, and even Jessie Buckley—even though I hated her film—before Kirby swooped in. I liked but didn't love Woman overall—it never quite lived up to the promise of that long take, and the pacing got a bit wonky—but Kirby was magnificent, operating on a level well above her talented castmates (including Ellen Burstyn and Shia LaBeouf). Whereas Burstyn and LaBeouf—and the film itself at times—ratcheted the intensity level up a bit too high, too often (tarnishing believability, to me), Kirby nailed every beat, reigning in and cranking up her emotions as needed for each scene. The only things I can remember her from prior to this are action franchise movies (M:I and F&F), so this was a pleasant surprise. Looking forward to both more dramatic and franchise roles from her.
- Julia Garner is another name I had only passing familiarity with prior to this year, really only recognizing her from the Waco miniseries (which was great—and she in it), plus a couple smaller films (Martha Marcy May Marlene and We Are What We Are). But she was a revelation in The Assistant—it's a shame the Academy wasn't able to find room for her in an admittedly crowded field. Perhaps the film hit a bit too close to home? Garner plays a, well, assistant to an unnamed and unseen Hollywood Exec that's clearly meant to be Harvey Weinstein. Most of the film is the day-to-day minutiae of being a Hollywood assistant: answering phones, setting up meetings, getting lunch, etc. But slowly, surely, Garner realizes she's actually aiding and abetting a serial predator. Her transformation from (not quite) blissfully ignorant to remorseful conspirator to taking the first timid steps toward action is a heartbreaking sight to behold. It's a quietly big performance in a terrifyingly quiet movie and portends big things for its star and writer-director, Kitty Green, both (more on her below).
- The last name here is hardly a new one—Elisabeth Moss won on this blog last year for Her Smell. She's almost as good this year in two roles: horror remake The Invisible Man and literary biopic Shirley. (I make the rules for these fake Oscars, so I'm nominating her for both.) In Shirley, she plays more of a supporting role (like Davis) to Odessa Young's lead, but I'm lumping her striking, seething turn here because I can. She does chew the scenery a bit, but her performance is so fervent that it works. She dials things down a bit for Invisible, but not too much—she's still playing a woman everyone thinks is crazy because she claims her dead ex-boyfriend is somehow stalking her. That fear and incredulity are etched onto every expression and gesture that gradually turns into a kind of gleeful insanity as she figures out what's really been happening. Invisible was an unexpected early-year delight, and Moss's performance stuck with me all year.
Any one of these ladies could have won here. We've got two up-and-comers who will likely be back (Garner and Kirby), two established stars at or near their prime (Moss and Mulligan), and a decorated veteran (McDormand). Moss and McDormand were hot on her heels, but the winner here is Carey Mulligan for her dazzling, rangy performance in a complicated role.
Best Screenplay
Emerald Fennell – Promising Young Woman*
Kitty Green – The Assistant
Spike Lee, Danny Bilson, Paul de Meo, and Kevin Willmott – Da 5 Bloods
Andy Siara – Palm Springs
Aaron Sorkin – The Trial of the Chicago 7^
Like last year, I'm eschewing doing two separate screenplay categories. I just generally don't find adapted screenplays to be all that impressive—unless it's something difficult to adapt (Inherent Vice), adds sufficiently original content (The Social Network), or isn't *really* adapted from anything concrete (Before Midnight). Most of this year's Adapted Screenplay nominees don't fit these molds—we've got two books (Nomadland and The White Tiger) and two plays (Miami... and The Father). The Borat sequel, of course, isn't really adapted from anything—but it's also mostly improvised. Of the actual Original Screenplay nominees, I didn't really consider Judas, since it's a fairly straightforward retelling of true events. Minari and Sound of Metal were on my shortlist (along with Another Round and Soul), but I felt other aspects of the filmmaking were more the strengths of those two films rather than their screenplays. I did nominate the two scripts that entered Sunday as the likely Oscar frontrunners, so let's start there.
- Like I mentioned above, Emerald Fennell's Promising Young Woman script makes some missteps. The Nina character—the actual victim of the inciting sexual assault—is basically an afterthought, and I thought some of the supporting characters (the mother and the actual rapist, for two examples) were rather poorly drawn. And the ending drew the ire of Film Twitter—why should Cassie trust the police to do *anything* right? I see and mostly agree with those complaints, but, to me, they don't detract too much from Fennell's achievement here. This is a bold, vibrant take on one of THE defining cultural reckonings of this young century, an outrageous, keyed-up revenge fantasy that deftly avoids the easy and expected. I'll forgive it a misstep or two in exchange for moments like the first time Cassie "sobers up" with one of the guys who took her home (unfortunately massively spoiled by the trailer) or Bo Burnham's reaction when presented with evidence of his involvement with Nina's assault. Fennell would have gotten my real Oscar vote if I'd had one.
- Close behind would be Aaron Sorkin. Sorry not sorry, but I'm always a sucker for his verbal pyrotechnics. I adore both Sports Night and Studio 60 on the Sunset Strip (I know, I know)—although I've weirdly never seen The West Wing. I count The Social Network among my favorite films of all time, and I quite liked Moneyball and Molly's Game as well (I haven't actually seen any of his early films and thought Steve Jobs was just okay). So I, of course, loved Chicago 7, idealistic and melodramatic warts and all. Sorkin perfectly matched each actor to their character: Rylance delivering courtroom monologues, Cohen slinging zingers, Jeremy Strong's stoned musings, Frank Langella bellowing, Yahya Abdul-Mateen's impassioned pleas. I even didn't hate Eddie Redmayne in this, which might be the most impressive achievement of Sorkin's career. Film Twitter might have had a meltdown, but I wouldn't at all have been mad had he pulled off the upset.
- On the topic of being mad, how the fuck was Spike Lee (and company) not nominated for an Oscar? I wonder if the film's production history worked against it a bit (not to mention the other factors mentioned above)—the project was in development for a while before Lee took over, so maybe some didn't view it as a true Spike Lee joint. The premise from the original writers is great—Vietnam vets returning to the jungle to recover treasure they buried during the war—but Lee transformed it into a bawdy, ballsy exploration of race and war and how they intersect even today. The moment you see Lindo's character don a MAGA hat, for example, you know you're watching a true Spike Lee joint. It's a damn shame that Bloods only earned one Oscar nomination (for Terence Blanchard's excellent score—I do remember that one). Bummed to see Spike relegated by the Academy once again, but excited to see where his career resurgence goes from here.
- That leaves us with two new names in this field. One is Kitty Green, whose The Assistant functions as almost a sister film to Promising Young Woman. But instead of an exaggerated, hyperstylized dark comedy, Green's film is small and quiet—but one that's harrowing in its mundanity. It's a study in what *not* to depict on screen, and whose stories are really worth telling. Green could easily have made Garner's boss an on-screen character, or explored the story of one of his victims (a couple of whom only briefly appear). But pieces of shit like Weinstein don't need to be shown to depict their evil, and we know the stories of victims of people like him all too well. Instead, Green's decision to tell the story of a lowly assistant—herself a tangential victim, even if she was never assaulted herself—is genius. It's a story of how small evils left unchecked allow the large evils to flourish, and one that shows how the impact crater of abusers is so much larger than we could ever imagine. Uh, not bad for a narrative debut feature.
- The final name might seem a bit surprising—but only if you haven't seen Palm Springs, one of my very favorite movies of the year. This hilarious, smart, and truly heartening picture is also the debut feature of Andy Siara, whose previous claim to fame seems to have been as a writer on the canceled AMC series Lodge 49. I've never seen it, but if Siara is involved, I'm interested in checking it out. (It also stars Wyatt Russell, whom I love in everything I've seen him in.) Or I could just rewatch Palm Springs again—it's the only 2020 movie besides Tenet that I've already watched twice. (Edit: I did rewatch Chicago 7 after the Oscars on Sunday night. This was written beforehand.) It's just that... charming and bittersweet and thoughtful and truthful. And more than that, you just don't want to stop hanging out with the characters (especially important given that it's a time-loop movie). I seriously considered including Andy Samberg and Christin Milioti in my Actor/Actress fields, but I felt that Screenplay was the right place to highlight this movie. Siara (and co-creator and director Max Barbakow) created this sublime little loop in the desert of California—one that I can't wait to keep revisiting again and again down the line.
This is a really strong field, and any of the contenders would be a worthy winner. But I have to go with the screenplay that made me want to go back for a second helping right away, so Andy Siara takes the fake trophy here. I hope him and Barbakow have another project in the works—I'm 100% in on anything with a "from the creators of Palm Springs" tag.
Best Director
Lee Isaac Chung – Minari^
Emerald Fennell – Promising Young Woman^
Spike Lee – Da 5 Bloods
Christopher Nolan – Tenet
Chloé Zhao – Nomadland*
The Academy did a pretty good job overall this year, even with the strange decision to delay the Oscars into April. Every category this year has at least two nominees in common with the real deal, including three here (up from two last year). I didn't really consider Thomas Vinterberg or, especially, David Fincher here, though. I really liked Another Round, especially that ending, but nothing else really stuck out to me from a directorial standpoint. And I'm a huge David Fincher fan—I mentioned The Social Network above, and Zodiac is also one of the best films since 2000—but Mank is very meh. (More like Mehnk. Eh? Get it?) It was clearly a labor of love for Fincher, but other than a couple great dinner party scenes, it was pretty laborious for the rest of us, somehow boring *and* over-plotted. I honestly don't know why the Academy nominated him here, especially with at least one obvious replacement waiting in the wings.
- That would be, of course, Spike Lee for Da 5 Bloods. I commented in my Oscar predictions post that if you replaced Gary Oldman with Bloods's Delroy Lindo, the Best Actor field would be as strong as it's been in years. I'll take it a step further here and just say that the Academy went with the wrong Netflix film—Da 5 Bloods was much more worthy of the support that Mank got. I don't know which is the biggest travesty—Oldman over Lindo or Fincher over Lee. (It's probably still Lindo over Oldman.) This is one of the things I dislike most about the Oscars—it makes me have irrational negativity toward perfectly decent films like The King's Speech, Green Book (it's not that bad!), and, now, Mank. But watching stolid, perfunctory awards bait consistently get industry accolades over much more accomplished, dynamic films like The Social Network, Roma, and, now, Da 5 Bloods is just infuriating. (I also hate that I have to lump in Fincher with *checks notes* Tom Hooper and Peter Farrelly.) Anyway, Bloods is even better than BlacKkKlansman, the Black war/heist movie we didn't know we needed, as visceral as it is vital. Keep 'em coming, Spike. (Until his next one, I might have to revisit Miracle at St. Anna, which Bloods reminded me of.)
- I can see why Christopher Nolan wasn't nominated for Tenet. His latest would-be blockbuster is somewhat louder and definitely dumber than than headier fare like Inception, easily the closest comparison in Nolan's oeuvre. But 2020 needed a loud, dumb blockbuster more than any other year on record, and Nolan delivered one of the finest examples of the form, one of the best popcorn movies in years in Tenet. It's much derided script deserves most of the flak it has gotten, but the line "Don't try to understand it. Feel it" couldn't be more apt. If you're overanalyzing Tenet's plot or bemoaning it's expository dialogue and not just taking in the spectacle... maybe you're just doing movies wrong. Now, maybe it's just because Tenet was the first movie I saw in theaters during the pandemic that I loved it as much as I did... but I had a huge, stupid grin on my face the entire run time—I think partially *because* of how loud and dumb it was. Like I mentioned above, I even went back for a second dose of inverted bullets, temporal pincer movements, and John David Washington and Robert Pattinson just living it up. Tenet is just a rip-roaring good time at the cinema, and I'm glad I got to experience it in a theater last year.
- The next two nominees are basically the exact opposite of Tenet's loud and dumb aesthetic—both Best Picture winner Nomadland and Minari are quiet, contemplative films meant to be seen on a random Wednesday afternoon with a theater full of polite olds. (I did actually see both in theaters, albeit at nighttime.) Of the two, I agree with the Academy that Nomadland and Chloé Zhao were the Best Picture and Director of 2020, respectively. That's now two years in a row where I agreed with the Oscar Director/Picture winners (of the actual nominees, that is). I haven't seen either of Zhao's first two features, but I was blown away by Nomadland—its rich quietude, its freespirited pacing, it's gorgeous cinematography (robbed at the Oscars, by the way), its sense of time and place. (No, I do not give a single shit about its drummed-up Amazon "controversy".) I have absolutely *no* idea how Zhao's aesthetic will translate to the MCU, but I know I'm excited to find out.
- Lee Isaac Chung's Minari was another awards-season film I didn't expect to like as much as I did. It looked somewhat... Sundance-y from the trailer, a subcategory of indie film that's generally not for me—simple, sentimental, slice-of-life. That's not to say that there isn't a charming simplicity about Chung's filmmaking style, or that Minari lacks sentimentality, or that this peek into a very specific time/culture/place wasn't worthwhile. But Chung resists going overboard on charm (which can be easy to do when child actors are involved), favors ambiguity over sentimentality, and paints a much more vivid picture than the typical slice-of-life movie. It's an exceedingly personal movie, but not so much so that it's not accessible or relatable. Minari is a remarkable achievement by a filmmaker who was all but set to quit the film industry. I'm glad he decided to give it one last shot, and we're all better off that he was able to get this made. I'm interested to see what he does next—perhaps he'll join Zhao in the MCU, or go to the rival DCEU? </saracasm>
- My final nominee came down to two women for the two very related films mentioned above—Fennell for Promising Young Woman and Green for The Assistant. This was maximal vs. minimal, showy vs. subtle, stylized vs. austere. I know that in filmmaking "more" doesn't always mean better—"more" acted, "more" edited, "more" directed. But in this case, I decided to go with that "more" and include Emerald Fennell in my field. I didn't necessarily love every decision she made or agree with every song choice, but I found her overall approach fascinating—the pop sensibility, the ethical murkiness, the audacious unsubtlety. Her approach certainly isn't for everyone, but it mostly worked for me, and I respect her willingness to be so polarizing. I'm curious to see how her aesthetic changes—if her aesthetic changes—as her career moves forward. Her next project will be well worth checking out, whatever it winds up being. (Please not, like, another Harley Quinn movie or something.)
This category was actually a fairly easy call for me. The only two nominees I really considered here were Lee and Zhao, and I had Chloé Zhao winning even before the Oscars. (Actually, pretty much everything besides Director and Picture was written before the ceremony. Just ran out of time!) Nomadland might not have been my #1 movie of the year (spoilers for below), but it would have got my vote for Best Picture anyway, and Zhao was head and shoulders above her peers this year.
Best Picture
Unlike the real Oscars, we'll actually end with Best Picture. (God, that was such a bizarre, miscalculated end to the ceremony that I will probably write something about someday.) As I've said my piece about most of these movies above, I'm just going to count down my top 10 (because 8 is a dumb number) to my #1 movie of 2020. I'll include a link to my Letterboxd review(s) of each movie if you want more of my (brief) thoughts.
10) The Assistant (Letterboxd review)
9) Promising Young Woman^ (Letterboxd review)
8) Sound of Metal^ (Letterboxd review)
7) Soul (Letterboxd review)
6) Minari^ (Letterboxd review)
5) Nomadland* (Letterboxd review)
4) Da 5 Bloods (Letterboxd review)
3) The Trial of the Chicago 7^ (Letterboxd reviews)
2) Palm Springs (Letterboxd reviews)
1) Tenet (Letterboxd reviews)
So there you have it. Neither of my top two were exactly Oscar fare (although Tenet did win Best Visual Effects). But Tenet was the only movie to make me brave the pandemic not once, but twice—it's the perfect popcorn movie in a year that truly needed one. And Palm Springs was the perfect comfort movie to watch at home curled up on your couch. They both made a terrible year infinitely more bearable—as did most of the rest of the movies I watched last year, even the bad ones. You can check out the complete pandemic cinema list, along with micro reviews, on Letterboxd.
I'm thankful for movies, and for you reading, whoever you are. I hope you found something in cinema that helped you get through 2020 like I did. Now, let's see what 2021 has in store.
