Jodie Foster’s…Rather Confusing, Slightly Awkward, Yet Still Brilliant Golden Globes Speech

Posted in Dog and Pony Show, TV on January 14th, 2013 by Nick

Last night’s fairly stellar Golden Globes ceremony, hosted by SNL vets Tina Fey and Amy Poehler, was filled with Tarantino creepiness, smoking hot stars (those Homeland ladies!), and jabs on James Cameran, Ricky Gervais and James Franco. Girls and Lena Dunham had a moment winning Best Actress and Best Comedy or Musical, Les Misérables won shit, Homeland won shit too, and Ben Affleck gave a huge middle finger to his ol’ pal Oscar (well, he didn’t…but his victory sure did). This is all fine and great, but Jodie Foster! And that speech! 

In case you missed it, it’s a must:

Foster was accepting the award for the Cecil B. DeMille Lifetime Achievement-type Award Thingie for her excellence in film over the course of her 47 years in the business. And man did she have stuff to say.

I applaud her, I do. Granted, she came off as a bit manic and rambling, but you could also pin that on her passion. She clearly felt a need for expression and she knew she was going to have the stage, so there you have it. It’s a shame that people dock her for her association with Mel Gibson, but if your closest friend and ally had a bad year or two, most likely you wouldn’t abandon them. Or maybe you would, you asshole. Loyalty. I dig.

I respect her stance on privacy, too, and on Hollywood and the media’s perverse affair. Our whole TMZ/Perez Hilton-led, gossip fueled society is bullshit, and didn’t Fiona Apple tell us that years ago? Looks like we still haven’t learned. Is Foster gay? Probably. But who the hell are we to speculate on something that has absolutely nothing to do with her work?

Jodie Foster is a living legend and her speech was legendary. Plain and simple.

I’m gonna duck out of this blog before I start Foster-rambling myself, but RESPECT, Jod’. I sure hope this isn’t your swan song.

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Clark Gable: Best mustache ever? I think so…

Posted in Epic Film Quest! on January 24th, 2012 by Nick

The Skinny:
-I started a film quest to see every single Best Picture in the history of forever.
-I’m an idiot.

The next stop on my journey through time was 1934 – a land of black and white wonders, and one. killer. ‘stache. Believe it or not, It Happened One Night was my first foray into the land of all that is Gable. I must hand it to him: Dude’s got swag….or whatever the 1930′s version of “swag” is.

So this movie totally didn’t happen in “one night.” What a gross overestimate. “It was multiple nights!” I told my fiance, who really didn’t care what verbiage I was spewing. Did they not have script supervisors back then? Were there no PA’s to point out, like: “Whoa, whoa, whoa, you guys. I think we have a sliiiight problem here.” I guess they were still infatuated with the fact that their pictures were moving and that they could, like, record them and stuff.

Usually my attention drifts with older black and white films, but this movie held a steady pace unlike some of its contemporaries. Gable and lead actress Claudette Colbert had such a funny and dynamic chemistry; their antics, believe it or not, are shining examples of early, early, early screwball comedy and farcical situations making the film so far ahead of its time. Even though it was technically a romantic comedy, I loved watching Gable and Colbert together.

HUGE OSCAR FUN FACT ALERT: It Happened One Night is one of the only films to dominate the Big 5: Best Picture, Actor, Actress, Director and Screenplay. This feat wouldn’t be accomplished again until One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Next (1975) and again by The Silence of the Lambs (1991). That’s pretty badass man. Not even Return of the King can claim that. Impressive, indeed.

I’m pretty amazed by my positive attitude lately. Usually I’m a curmudgeon. I force myself to watch shit that I don’t have time for and I push through begrudgingly just so I can speak of films and TV shows from an educated standpoint…..and later, I naturally tear them to shreds. But so far, I’ve enjoyed just about everything I’ve seen (except for The King’s Speech because I hate Helena Bonham Carter’s face. I HATE IT).  It Happened One Night was such a sweet tale, though. I hope to see it again sometime.

Even though I’m fairly content with my time wasting self-taught Film Appreciation 101 course, I still can’t shake the feeling that I’ll probably want to kill myself somewhere between Ghandi and The English Patient.

Baby steps, my friends. Baby steps.

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