Out of Focus

SCREW BARBARA AND JOAN

I'm not big on the Oscar pre-show stuff, but for the record, I want to put my prognosticator hat on and do my best picking the winners. Usually, I do pretty well, but if anyone reads this and loses lots of cash ... oops.

I'll give more commentary after the show, but for now, here's who will win, who should win, who got screwed, and who got lucky in the top categories:

WHOLE LOTTA SPIRIT GOING ON

Tonight, the night before the Oscars, as has been the custom for the past 18 years on the night before the Oscars, were the IFP Independent Spirit Awards which honor the year's best in independent film. Lost in Translation was the big winner, as expected, but other worthy films were honored as well. The IFP (Independent Feature Project) is a national organization that provides assistant and support to indie filmmakers. I consider myself very fortunate to be a member of this fantastic organization. The prerequisites are quite demanding: you have to give them $100 (tax deductible) every year, and then ... oh right ... there is no "and then." That's pretty much it.

The first film to win Best Feature was Martin Scorsese's After Hours in 1986. I attended the Spirit Awards in 1992 while I was still at UCLA . Just six years old, they weren't a big deal outside the film community. The ceremony was held under a circus tent covering the parking lot at Raleigh Studios in L.A. It was a really cool, low-key, informal event, hosted by Buck Henry with no TV coverage.

RANDOM THOUGHTS: What's cooler than cold? ICE COLD

I have to play a bit of catch-up:

• What happens if you're this big-name director adapting this big-name prize-winning novel with the help of three big-name movie stars, and it turns out that your male and female leads, who are supposed to experience the strongest possible love at first sight -- enough to propel the entire story -- have absolutely no chemistry? Welcome to Cold Mountain. I must admit, I have yet to be bowled over by Anthony Minghella. I think Truly, Madly, Deeply might still be his best film. The Talented Mr. Ripley was above average, but I've never been a fan of The English Patient, and this movie is really just plain average or slightly above. But nothing is worse than the fact that Nicole Kidman and Jude Law are like oil and water.

• I can't believe this freakish "Sex and the City" backlash over the fact that Big's name is revealed to be "John." I have long loved Alex Richmond's recaps of the show at Television Without Pity, but she's off on this one. Personally, I found the finale to be one of the most satisfying series finales in recent memory. The choice of the name "John" for Big was in fact a perfect little wink at the audience. The writers gave us a name for the first time, but they gave us the most average, almost non-specific name possible. Would people have really been more satisfied if his name had been Chase or Austin or Brad or Ron? There's no name they could have given him that wouldn't have made people say, "Aww, that's stupid," so instead they named him while basically not naming him, and Carrie walks away from the camera into the City that she loves with her man on her phone. It's a visual antonym for the opening credits, and I think it was great.

• Please, someone tell Peggy Noonan to SHUT-UP! I'll never understand why Chris Matthews puts up with her. Her condescending tone is bad enough, but when she starts spewing nonsense about how the cultural divide in this country is between a vast majority of people with conservative values and a teeny, tiny minority of leftist liberals who make-up a media elite trying to impose its will upon the country, she must be off her anti-psychotics. Peggy, you're part of this media elite. Everyone on the major cable news channels is constantly bitching about this media elite ... who the hell is it then? Her suggestion that one can easily view this cultural divide by first standing outside a theatre showing Mel's opus and observing the awe-struck, genuinely moved faces of the exiting moviegoers and then running across the street to pick-up Time or Newsweek who have nothing but hatred for Mel and The Passion. Yeah ... I must be part of the media elite then, but if that's the case, why does Peggy have more money than I do?

WE'VE GOT PASSION, HOW 'BOUT YOU

Yeah yeah ... Mel and Jesus, a new form of buddy picture. I'm sure everyone is sick of all the media attention placed upon the film, and the stoned looks on all the faces of audience members around the country being interviewed by Debroh Norville or Aaron Brown minutes after walking out of the theatre who might as well be saying, "It was better than Cats, I'm going to see it again and again. Give Mel some credit ... all you have to do is torture Jesus for a while and suddenly you've got all the right-wing, ultra-conservative and religious folks who live in that part of the country that I tend to fly-over more than visit and who constantly berate the "media elite" and "Hollywood" for damaging our children with too much violence right after giving Timmy a shotgun for his fifth birthday throwing money at box-office windows. $26 Million it's first day? On a Wednesday? (Thankfully, Hobbits still beat Jesus in Wednesday openings 34.5-26.6.)

Well if you're a good, secular Jew like me (damn, just outed myself), move on from feeling guilty about Mel's version of history by remembering to pick up the just-released issue #5 of Heeb Magazine. If you haven't heard of it, it's not your grandmother's Jewish Bulletin, and their controversial cover (hey, their PR flack quit on them ... that's a controversy, right?) takes Mel to task with the headline; "Back off, Braveheart." The release date of February 25, 2004 was certainly coincidental.

Now I do have to withhold judgment until I see the movie, but if Doug Resin's review is true, sounds like it rocks. (Doug Resin's Joint: King of the Spews)

YEAH, THIS IS LATE TOO!

One reason I finally got my act together now is because I discovered that undertaking any big project during the last part of February in a leap year would bring me much acclaim, fame and fortune.

Or it might have just been the train wreck over which Billy Crystal will preside this Sunday night. Actually, this is one of the few years that aside from the what-the-fuck? that is a best picture nomination for Seabiscuit, I didn't have too many problems with Oscar's noms, and I actually have a feeling I may agree with a bunch of the winners for one of the few times ever. But as I live and breathe movies, new and old, big and small, obscure and ... well ... not, and as I actually have vested, voting interests in both the Spirit Awards and the Razzies, this is a big weekend coming up, and I definitely wanted to post my thoughts and predictions. (I only ask for a 10% commission on any pool winnings. Now THAT would be a good use of "Trackback"!)

But since none of the awards groups truly reflected my own thoughts about the best and the worst, I had to take a moment to do so myself. To be "fair," there are plenty of movies from last year I did not get to, including Cold Mountain (seeing it tonight), but here's what I do know:

WHY A BLOG, AND WHAT'S IN A NAME?

As usual, I feel the need to explain myself. Depending on how much you prefer to overthink and overanalyze everything like I do ... (Oh ... not so much? Good for you! Must save you tons on the pharmaceuticals. Oh ... not so much?)

First things first ... pilot episodes usually suck, and I make no claims for a pulitzer. (There is a blog category now, right?) But as with most new television series, the pilot is really rough, maybe even awful. It may not even truly show the qualities that could make it a good show, even though that's its express purpose. Yet with a little nurturing and massaging, the kinks slowls work themselves out, and the series will blossom, developing into a miraculaously consistent form of entertainment.

Or more often ... not.

Yeah, my pilot might have been cancelled, but hey, if this, this and this could get originally picked-up, and this could last a whole season ... well, I feel OK about my odds, especially since I'm my own network exec.

So really, does the world need another blog? I mean there are thousands ... tens of thousands ... hundreds of thousands ... (I could do this all day) ... millions ... point is, whatever the number, there are way too many out there already. This blog is actually my own prescription for my love-hate-hate-love-hate-hate-hate-love-hate relationship I have with writing. Due to my addictive behavior, I anticipate this little space forcing me to get all the shit out of my head, and since my therapist doesn't think my issues are worthy of actual medication, I'm forced to create my treatment.

My need to vent and rant (I hope that's not a dirty word now that Mr. Miller has lost his mind) has been the one thing that ever made me feel truly close to greatness. Back in 1992, when I was at UCLA (notice the word "studying" is conspicuously absent) and writing for the Daily Bruin, I had the pleasure of interviewing Spaulding Gray (a moment of silence, please ... thanks) before the release of his film "Monster in a Box." It's the only in-person interview I did during my three years as an entertainment journalist that I remember vividly. Sitting across from a small desk in a tiny office of some notable (at-the-time) PR flacks, he wouldn't put down my tape recorder, saying it made him feel "in control." More importantly, I'll always remember what he told me about why he writes: he didn't enjoy it, he said. But he had to do it. Every day. If he didn't, he would no longer be able to think. His mind would become too confused. And he would, quite simply, "explode." Writing was obviously his therapy ... I wonder if it simply stopped working.

PILOT POST: DAY ZERO - I know, I know ... I'm late to the party!!!

Welcome to my blog!

Why a blog? Aren't blogs sort of over? Or at least, new blogs. I mean, all the cool kids have been doing them for years, and as usual, I'm a little bit late.

I've actually been writing this blog for several months now, as long as you recognize (as do I) that "writing" is, in fact, a synonym for "thinking," rather than its own active pursuit involving pen and paper, computer screens and keyboards or the latest craze ... parchment and quill! (It could happen. Now THAT would be retro!)

Actually, I got all caught up with trying to create a good-looking site, I didn't spend anytime just writing entries. Then there were the feelings of intimidation created by the talented people behind all of those links you see to the right ... and once you combine everything together, you get the reason this blog was almost called "Procrastination Station."

I also spent so much time reading instead of writing ... that's why there are so damn many sites listed to the right, and I may even be missing a few. But the wait is over, and here I am. (Yeah, I'll just apologize now.)

I plan to write a little bit about a lot. The undiagnosed ADD won't let me focus on one or two things, but if the subject is film, TV, music, pop culture, media, news, politics and even (gasp!) sports, I've probably got an opinion. So welcome to my musings ... hopefully, they'll be somewhat amusing.

Oh yeah ... starting off on the wrong foot with bad puns. Honey? We're home.