Welcome to the 5th Annual edition of “My Mom’s Oscar Picks.” Please know that my mother takes this interview very seriously and prepares for it every year by seeing as many of the nominated films as possible. She often tries to talk to me about these films right after she’s seen them but I have to cut her off with “Save it for the blog, ma!” Now, at long last, we can finally rip La La Land to shreds. So, without further ado, please enjoy my Mom’s 2017 Oscar Picks.
Mom: So, we’re ready to do my interview. But I have some comments.
Me: You have comments before we start?
Mom: Yes. As you know, I enjoy going to the movies tremendously…
Me: I do know this.
Mom: I read the reviews. I choose the movies I want to see and I pay my money. Sometimes I rent them. So I’m a different kind of reviewer, from the people who don’t have to do any of that…
Me: You’re saying you work for it? Unlike professional film critics who are given special opportunities to see all of the films.
Mom: Exactly. When I go to a film, I take it very seriously. And I must admit, every year the films are getting better, there’s a tremendous variety. That’s the positive note. Now, on a negative note: films have become too long.
Me: I agree!
Mom: I think any film that goes over the 2 hour mark is losing the audience. It is not good.
Me: I could not agree more, mother.
Mom: So that’s my comment. We can begin now.
Me: Great! Once again, I want to thank you for joining me for this interview. And I want you to know that your fans have been very anxious. They were worried that perhaps they missed this post…these are just 2 individuals, by the way…
Mom: [laughs loudly] Two people! That’s not bad…
Me: And I assured your 2 fans that they hadn’t missed the post and that we were doing this interview on Saturday…
Mom: [continues laughing]
Me: So every year I like to start the interview with some self disclosure about which nominees we saw and which nominees we didn’t see. As you said, unlike the professionals, we aren’t provided with screeners. That limits what we are able to see and not see.
Me: I’ll go first. Out of the big categories—Best Picture, Best Actor and Actress, Best Director, etc.—this is what I haven’t seen: Lion, Elle, Jackie, Florence Foster Jenkins, and Nocturnal Animals. These omissions will obviously impact my picks.
Mom: Well, let’s look at Best Picture. I’ve seen every film in that category except Hidden Figures, unfortunately. It has not been On-Demand, you can’t even buy it. I would have gone to see it in the theater, but as you know, I’ve had that awful cold-slash-virus. I just didn’t want to take the chance [of spreading the virus].
Me: And you haven’t seen Elle, right?
Mom: No I did not, and I have a comment about that.
Me: Okay we’ll talk about that…Did you see the Meryl Streep film, Florence Foster Jenkins?
Mom: Ohhhhhh, you can’t miss that! She is…well…
Me: Wait, let’s hold off on talking about acting.
Mom: OK. Go ahead.
Me: This year, instead of starting with what we liked the best, let’s start with what we liked the least out of the Best Picture nominees.
Mom: I do not understand why Arrival was even nominated. It was a “blah” movie.
Mom: I’ve seen better Sci-Tech [Note: She means “scifi”], horror, scary, weird stuff and I’ve liked them all much more than I liked Arrival…You know I had problems just staying and watching it.
Me: I’m with you. I didn’t love it the way so many other people did. It was an interesting story, certainly not a story I’ve seen before. It was beautifully put together—the sound, the cinematography, were all really lovely—but I agree with you that, at times, I had trouble paying attention to it.
Mom: And then when you finally got to the end and realize what it was about? It was just—in my opinion there’s only one word I can think of: silly.
Me: I’m with you.
Mom: I didn’t care for the whole premise of the thing. It was so silly. I’ve seen better stuff in Star Wars! They were up in that thing, and they go up there, and the arm comes out. I think people who like unusual, not-enjoyable films will like it.
Me: What else didn’t you like out of the Best Picture nominees?
Mom: La La Land.
Me: Oh good, can we get started on La La Land?
Mom: So I certainly wouldn’t say “Don’t go see it.” It was interesting and lovely to watch. The best part of the film was the male lead [Ryan Gosling] because he looked fabulous in his clothes.
Me: He does, Mommy!
Mom: And she [Emma Stone]…was inconsequential.
Me: I’m very confused as to why this movie has so many nominations.
Mom: Me too.
Me: There are two possible explanations. First, Academy voters love stories about Hollywood. They go crazy for movies like this. It’s very nostalgic for old Hollywood. I think the other reason is that we haven’t had a lot of musicals recently and people have forgotten what a musical is supposed to be like. This was not a musical. This was a movie where sometimes the actors would sing and dance.
Mom: I don’t know what the justification was. The best part of the film was Ryan Gosling’s clothes and how he looked in them. It was fascinating to watch, I understand, that the two of them were never really dancers or singers. Is that true?
Me: Ryan Gosling, when he was a child, was a singer and dancer. He did the Mickey Mouse Club.
Me: But it’s not his thing and I think it showed. I think their dancing was very perfunctory. If I’m gonna watch a musical, I want to see beautiful dancing. I want it to look natural. I don’t want to be thinking, as I’m watching, “I wonder how long it took Ryan Gosling to learn this dance?” You don’t think that when you watch Fred Astaire dance. You don’t wonder about how hard Fred Astaire trained.
Mom: Not even close. Ginger Rogers, Fred Astaire…The one scene in La La Land that I will almost consider watching again, the one scene that was phenomenal in the whole film, was the opening scene.
Me: On the bridge? Yes.
Mom: I learned later that that take took two whole days to film. They shut down that freeway. Can you believe that? Can you imagine the people who had to use that?
Me: Yeah I thought the opening number was pretty good. It was a true musical opening: you have the characters hanging out and then all of a sudden they start singing about whats going on, there are all these different people joining in and its very natural. It was a great opening and the film never got back there.
Mom: What was different about that, compared to something from years ago, is that they shot it right there on the bridge. It wasn’t “Make a bridge and then we’re going to film this.” I thought that was fascinating and it’s the best thing I can say about La La Land.
Me: I think we’re in agreement. Lets move on from that. What else didn’t you like?
Mom: I was not impressed at all with Hell or High Water.
Me: I really liked that!
Mom: I didn’t care for it.
Me: I don’t think it was one of the Best Pictures of the year.
Mom: That’s what I mean. I decided to watch it because it was finally available to rent. This is not something I would go to see in the theater. Another nominated movie is Hacksaw Ridge.
Me: I hated that movie.
Mom: If you’re into realism and war movies, then it was phenomenal.
Mom: Ohhh! Yes.
Me: Mom, I whole-heartedly disagree.
Mom: That’s the way it is.
Me: Hacksaw Ridge was my least favorite out of all the Best Picture nominees.
Mom: Oh I know. I’m not saying it was a favorite. I was surprised that I didn’t have a positive feeling about it. But I started thinking about what it is [Mel Gibson] was trying to do.
Me: The story itself—its based on a true story—is fascinating. There’s this man [Desmond Doss] who saves 75 men during single battle. That’s amazing. Having said that, I found the whole film to be very hokey. I thought it was disjointed. There were portions of the movie that were funny, that were out of place, like Vince Vaughan cracking jokes, I thought that was weird. And I thought [Gibson] got way too grisly. I mean, I like gore…
Mom: I do too…
Me: But I thought he reveled in those dead bodies in a way that I don’t think war films should do. It was almost pornographic. You’d see the rats eating the faces of the dead soldiers. It was too much.
Mom: He was trying to show, as realistically as possible, the way that…
Me: [interrupts] But we know! We all know war is horrible!
Mom: If you will recall, you had a lot of criticism about a film I happened to like very very much…
Me: American Sniper?
Me: I didn’t like American Sniper but it was a better movie than Hacksaw Ridge!
Mom: You felt American Sniper glamorized war and this film [starts laughing] did not glamorize war.
Me: No, it did not. But it was just so gory. And it wasn’t necessary because we all know war is hell. [Note: I read All Quiet on the Western Front in my 7th grade English class]
Mom: Maybe this is another criticism: I don’t think [the Academy] should worry about nominating a certain number of films every year. I think they struggled this year.
Me: I agree!
Mom: Arrival should have never been nominated, you hated Hacksaw Ridge…
Me: Right. Why don’t we transition to what we did like?
Mom: I’m going to tell you the one I think should win and then I’m going to tell you the one that I think probably will win.
Mom: The one I think should win is Lion. I thought Lion had everything—where it was filmed, the emotion of the child, the filming of it, incredible! And I’m pretty sure it was filmed somewhere in India. [Note: Nana is correct. Principal photography for Lion was shot in Kolkata, India]. And of course the acting was phenomenal. Dev Patel was just amazing. But the movie that will win? Fences. Because Fences is an August Wilson play, and he’s a superb writer. I’ve seen this play on Open Stage here [in Harrisburg, PA]. It’s always been memorable and of course when you add Denzel Washington and Viola Davis..
Me: They were great.
Mom: Yes. But if I were voting as a [member of the Academy]…
Me: And that’s what I’m asking for here, for the film you liked the best…
Mom: Then it’s Lion.
Me: So this is unfortunate, mom, because both of our Best Picture picks are the one nominee that the other hasn’t seen.
Me: Because my Best Picture pick is Hidden Figures, and I will tell you why. For me, the Best Picture has to hit every note. It has to be well-made, well-acted, it has to have a good script, the story has to be interesting and important. And what I liked about this film is that it told a remarkable story. When I watched this movie I couldn’t believe that I had never heard about these women working at NASA in the 1960s. How did we not know that these women were so important?
Mom: How did that happen?
[Note: How did this happen? The answer is, of course, racism]
Me: So that’s one reason I loved it. The other reason is that the story is told well. The women in the movie are incredibly charming—I don’t think any of them deserve acting an award because no one performance stood out to me. Best Picture winners tend to be inspiring, profound. For me, the movie that I came out of the theater and felt really great about, is Hidden Figures.
Mom: That’s how I felt about Lion. But I am going to see Hidden Figures next week.
Me: You should. And I’m going to see Lion. Let’s move on and talk about two other movies we haven’t talked about much, but that we both liked. The first is Manchester by the Sea.
Mom: Oh yeah.
Me: You liked it, but its not your pick.
Mom: No. Lion, especially, is better. Casey Affleck is not going to get Best Actor. In the beginning [of Awards season], there was a lot of publicity and hype. But it’s never gonna happen this year because, guaranteed, there will be a black actor chosen for Best Actor. I’ll wager you five dollars.
Me: Are you saying that because you think [Denzel Washington] doesn’t deserve it and he’s just going to win because he’s black?
Mom: Well last year, all that hype [she is referring to the 2016 “Oscars So White” campaign] was unwarranted.
Me: It was warranted.
Mom: The only black actor who wasn’t nominated last year but should have been was the guy who was in the Grateful Dead.
Mom: He was a supporting actor in the Grateful Dead.
Me: The Grateful Dead? The band?
Mom: Oh wait, I mean, The Hateful Eight.
Me: Jesus Christ, mom.
Me: That was Samuel L. Jackson. But I do disagree with you here, mom. Every year, not just last year, the films with the most hype generally have all white casts and directors. So we’re going to have to agree to disagree. But my question to you was about Manchester by the Sea and what you thought of it.
Mom: I enjoyed it. I don’t know that I enjoyed it as much as my friends did. It was a very dark movie.
Me: It was!
Mom: You know I love violence, like Quentin Tarantino violence, but I don’t love realistic violence, like children dying in fires. I get very very upset with stuff like that.
Me: I agree with you on Manchester by the Sea. It was very well done but it was a tough movie to watch. I saw it as part of a double feature with Fences…
Me: I cried—and I’m not exaggerating here—from the halfway point in the film, where we find out what’s happened to the children—until the final frame, I sobbed like a baby. But I did enjoy it. It deserves a Best Picture nomination. I especially like that the story ends—not with Affleck’s character being redeemed and fixed, but with him still broken. He’s just going to live his life.
Mom: It was realistic.
Me: It was so realistic, and I appreciated that. So, good for them. Now let’s talk about Moonlight. Again, I thought this was a beautifully done film, it was a story you don’t hear very often—love stories involving black gay men—it’s not a story that is told by mainstream cinema. I appreciated that. It wasn’t my favorite movie of the year, but I really did like it.
Mom: Oh it was just wonderful. It was my second favorite of the year, after Lion. That was so well done. I’ve never seen a film where 3 different actors play one role, plus the mother of the boy [Naomie Harris]. She starts out at the beginning as a normal nurse’s aid, and then you see her in the 2nd part, when she gets down into drugs, and then the 3rd part, where she’s older and in that rehab center. She was phenomenal. That’s gonna be a tough one for me to call.
Me: I’m with you. My pick for Best Picture is Hidden Figures, but if I had to pick a second, it would be Moonlight or Manchester by the Sea.
Mom: Oh Moonlight! It was so different! That’s one where you put a star on top for being an unusual film. It was so creative. I don’t know how much is grossed…
Me: Neither do I.
Mom: But it was one of the best.
Me: There we are in agreement. Let’s get into the acting awards. I think it’s gonna come down to two people: Casey Affleck for Manchester by the Sea and Denzel Washington for Fences.
Mom: And it better not be Ryan Gosling.
Me: I agree. Because I saw Fences and Manchester by the Sea on the same night, I could really compare those two performances. I gotta say, for me, it’s a draw. Both actors gave superb performances and they were very different roles. One was a big, loud man who is always telling stories and is full of bluster [Fences]. The other is this quiet, withdrawn role [Manchester by the Sea]. But I loved both. Who is your pick for Best Actor? Are you just gonna say Dev Patel and bypass the whole system?
Mom: No. Denzel is going to win.
Me: But who do you think did a better job: Casey or Denzel?
Mom: [long pause] They were such different roles. But Denzel showed deep remorse and sadness in his performance, but he also showed how you could be upbeat, to laugh and enjoy a marriage. Casey Affleck was just morose. I’m trying to remember: was there any point when he laughed?
Me: In the flashbacks with the wife and kids.
Mom: I have to give it to Denzel this year.
Me: What about Best Actress? Here I have to confess that I’m very ill-equipped for this category, because I have not seen 3 out of 5 performances.
Mom: I saw all of them but Elle.
Me: My pick is Ruth Negga from Loving. In fact this is a movie that should have been nominated for Best Picture over La La Land and Hacksaw Ridge.
Mom: I didn’t see Elle, so I’m going to say that one.
Me: Tell me why Ruth Negga doesn’t deserve it.
Mom: I just wasn’t moved by her performance.
Me: Didn’t you see her as this quiet Southern girl who is in love and then finds herself at the center of this history-making Civil Rights case? I can’t believe the man who played her husband [Joel Edgerton] wasn’t nominated. He was great, too.
Mom: I kept falling asleep. I watched it when I still wasn’t feeling that well.
Me: I was really moved by the film. Her performance was quiet and subtle, but very moving.
Mom: Well, I’m gonna take a stab at something—its never gonna happen—but you really must see Florence Foster Jenkins…Meryl Streep is a genius. There isn’t another actor out there, male or female, who compares. [The Academy] at least nominated her, which she deserves.
Me: But she won’t win. She’s won too many times. She has enough Oscars. They need to just retire her from the Oscars. She can still be in movies, but no more Oscars. It’s not fair. So you’re saying your pick is Meryl Streep?
Mom: No, my pick is Isabelle Huppert in Elle.
Me: Even though it’s the one film you didn’t see?
Me: Okay! Moving on to Best Actor in a Supporting Role.
Mom: This is a tough one. It’s between Mahershala Ali in Moonlight, and of course, Dev Patel. I’m going with Dev Patel because his performance blew me away.
Me: I’m going to totally blow your mind and go with Lucas Hedges from Manchester by the Sea. The whole time I’m watching the movie I’m asking myself “Who is this kid? Where did he come from?” He was perfect. How about Supporting Actress?
Mom: This is another tough one. Let me tell you who should win: Naomie Harris. I felt furious with her character, but I also felt sympathy for her. But I think Viola Davis will win.
Me: My pick is Viola Davis. I feel like I’ve seen the Naomie Harris character before: the drug-addicted single mom looking for redemption, etc. But Viola Davis’ character was new to me: a late in life marriage to a man she loves but also disagrees with a lot. And maybe it had something to do with the way it was filmed: it really showcased her acting.
Mom: She’s great in anything she’s in.
Me: We’ve covered the major categories but I do have a follow up question for you: are you disappointed that Leonardo Dicaprio wasn’t nominated for anything this year?
Mom: Well, I don’t think he was in anything this year.
Me: That doesn’t matter.
Me: Any final thoughts?
Mom: I’ve enjoyed watching the films. It gets even more interesting with your chosen field [film professor] because we can have pretty good discussions about this. It’s a joy.
My Mom’s other 2017 Oscar picks:
Cinematography: La La Land
Costume Design: Florence Foster Jenkins
OG Bae of All Time: Leonardo Dicaprio
If you’d like to read my Mom’s previous Oscar Picks, click:
Dearest readers, please forgive my lengthy absence from the blog. There are many causes for this: I’ve been freelancing more, I’ve been working on my next book project, and perhaps, most significantly, I have come to conclusion that blogging is not going to get me a raise at work or pay for my kids to go to college. In fact, as I recently argued in an essay for Film Criticism , I believe that the academic film blog as a concept is dead or dying.
But don’t start the dirge for Judgmental Observer just yet. I still have things to say that can only be said in the loose, informal, ad-free space of the blog, such as my mom’s annual Oscar Picks! If you’d like to catch up on my mother’s picks in previous years, you can see 2012, 2014 and 2015. As for the rest of you, let’s get started, shall we?
Me: Welcome back to the blog, Mom! It’s been a year since we heard from you, and your fans eagerly await your picks. Are you ready to discuss the 80th Annual Academy Awards?
Mom: Oh I can’t wait!
Me: As always, in the interest of full disclosure, I’d like for you to tell the readers which of the nominated films you were not able to see. Let me give you my list: Bridge of Spies, Brooklyn, 45 Years, Trumbo, or Steve Jobs.
Mom: Unfortunately, I did not see: Brooklyn, Room, Carol, 45 Years, Joy, or Trumbo.
Me: Let’s start our discussion with the Best Actress in a leading role category. What were your favorite performances of the 2015 season?
Mom: I really don’t have an opinion one way or another because I wasn’t able to see any of these performances.
Me: That’s so unlike you! Well, I’ve seen three of the five nominees (Carol, Room and Joy) and I thought all of the women whose performances I saw were great. So Joy was one of my least favorite films of the year. Normally I’m a big fan of David O. Russell but I found her casting in this film–as a down-on-her-luck single, 34-year-old, working mother–to be completely absurd. Jennifer Lawrence is a great actress but no amount of acting will make that young, fresh-out-of-the-womb face look 34 and tired. I thought Brie Larson was excellent in Room but for me, the young actor who plays her son, Jacob Tremblay, stole the show. So my pick for Best Actress is Cate Blanchett in Carol. I didn’t enjoy her performance on an emotional level–I found it icy and severe–but it worked in the context of this film as a stylized melodrama. There are also so few great roles for women, it’s always hard to pick “best” performances.
Me: So let’s move on to the category I know you’ve really been looking forward to discussing: Best Actor in a leading role.
Mom: The actor who should win the Oscar…is without question… [takes dramatic pause] WITH…OUT…QUESTION…
Me: Who? Who are you gonna pick? I’m on the edge of my seat…
Mom: …Leonardo DiCaprio! For his role in The Revenant. Now I will tell you why. I was blown away. It was a phenomenal film, and his acting in the film, and what he went through…
Me: But what did he do, exactly?
Mom: To portray someone living in the beginning of our country, going through horrific weather and violence between his own people, hunting for skins and hiding from the Indians–his portrayal of this man was just amazing. But not only that, he also gave you the feeling of getting to know what someone in that situation would go through. It was much more than surviving the violence. It was also learning about a man who wanted to move on to a better place. And he truly loved his son…
Me: Okay but you’re not telling me about Leo’s performance. You’re just describing the plot of the film.
Mom: He just came through as someone who survived the worst conditions. I found it fascinating that Leonardo DiCaprio performed just about every scene himself. Evidently the temperature was 20 below zero. It was a horrific situation for everyone involved in the film and the director just pushed them through it, which was worth it. In my opinion, this was the best film of the year.
Me: Hold on, let me chime in here even though I am woefully underprepared for this category–the only performances I saw were Damon’s and DiCaprio’s. I thought Matt Damon was fine in The Martian but nothing special. Honestly I’m a little shocked that he was nominated at all for this role. As for DiCaprio, I agree with you, it was a great performance. I will say this though–and I’m not trying to be cynical–but a lot of the role felt to me like it was screaming “Nominate me for an Oscar!!!” And I feel like sometimes actors will take on these roles and then make a big fuss in interviews over all they had to go through to prepare, all the suffering, and I’m kind of over that. I don’t care what you had to do to play the role. I just care about what appears onscreen. Having said that, I do think Leo deserves to have an Oscar on his shelf and I do think he will win this year, perhaps as an acknowledgment of his past body of work.
Mom: I see what you’re saying, but his performance was incredible. No matter how much people might say that he took on a role to show how tough it was and how he can do all of this stuff, I just don’t think that’s true. DiCaprio, no matter what role he takes, he is so brilliant. Every film he’s been in, and every time he’s been nominated, I feel like he should have won.
Me: I think we need to establish for our readers, that you do in fact have a Leonardo DiCaprio bias. I think you heavily favor him anytime he’s in a film. Why do you think that is?
Mom: The first role I ever saw him in was The Aviator, then Catch Me if You Can, then Blood Diamonds…
Me: You really liked him in J Edgar.
Mom: That’s another one! I cannot believe he did not win for that role…I mean, talk about a difficult role.
Me: Here is something you have said to me in the past: “Leonardo DiCaprio is penalized by the Academy for being a good-looking man.” Can you say more about that?
Mom: Absolutely. I still believe that and it’s been part of the Academy’s nomination process for a long time.
Me: Why do you say that?
Mom: Two absolutely gorgeous men–Paul Newman and Robert Redford–have been nominated many times. And Newman won once [editors note: Newman received an honorary Oscar for his body of work in 1986]. Redford, another incredible actor, has never won [editor’s note: Redford won an Oscar for Best Director in 1980 for Ordinary People]. I think the Academy is absolutely biased against handsome men.
Me: That theory is insane, Mom. Plenty of handsome men have won Oscars!
Mom: I’m talking model-looking, gorgeous men. There have been very many nice-looking men who have won. I just feel it’s a bias. When you’re that good-looking, they just look at you as a pretty boy actor. But that’s not done with women. Just with men.
Me: Last year you threatened to quit my blog if JK Simmons didn’t win Best Supporting Actor for Whiplash:
Mom: [laughing] Yes I said that.
Me: And luckily for my readers, Simmons did, in fact, win the Oscar.
Mom: Of course he did.
Me: Are you prepared to never appear on this blog again if Leonardo DiCaprio doesn’t win Best Actor for The Revenant?
Mom: AB. SO. LUTELY.
Me: Really? You’re willing to give up all this?
Mom: Yes. I’m sorry. I must. If he does not win this year for Revenant, I’m done.
Me: Okay. Before we leave this very contentious category, I would like to talk about a performance I thought was snubbed by the Academy this year: Steve Carrell’s performance in The Big Short. I thought he was absolutely fantastic in that movie. There were a lot of characters in that film and a lot of visual tricks–it was a very “busy” movie–and he was the emotional heart of that film. He took what was a very reflexive and theoretical film and he expressed the human toll of the short selling phenomenon. And by the same turn, I was frustrated that out of that entire cast it was Christian Bale who got the Oscar nomination. This brings me back to my earlier complaint regarding Leo: I just hate how performance gets wrapped up in process. We all know that Christian Bale learned how to play the drums for his role as Michael Burry. And he didn’t even need to learn how to drum! There was no point to that stupid scene where he drums–the movie would have been the same with or without it. He just wanted to make a big fuss about his process. Then he gets a nomination and Steve Carrell doesn’t.
Me: Let’s talk about our picks for Best Supporting Actor. Out of all of these performances–and of course I can’t speak about the Bridge of Spies actor–I’m gonna have to go with Tom Hardy. I thought he was great in that movie. He’s a gorgeous man who you want to stare out but he made himself into such an ugly person in this film–not just physically, but his overall character. He was just so despicable you almost had to look away from him, which is hard because, holy cow, it’s Tom Hardy! I did like Mark Ruffalo in Spotlight but that was a more understated role.
Mom: I agree with about Christian Bale. He should not have been the nominee from The Big Short. As for Tom Hardy, I just thought he was so overshadowed by Leo in that film. I can’t even remember a lot that he did…
Me: He was the antagonist! He had the second biggest role in the film!
Mom: I just didn’t think it was that impressive…
Me: Wow you ride hard for Leo.
Mom: Mark Ruffalo in Spotlight was phenomenal. I’m glad he was nominated. And Mark Rylance in Bridge of Spies was so low key and brilliant. I’ve never seen him before, I don’t know who he is. But throughout the film I just kept thinking “This guy! He’s got it down.” But then I did see Creed and the way Sylvester Stallone portrayed the old boxer trying to help the young boxer, the way he moved his body, his whole persona, I just thought he was terrific.
Me: Was he really terrific, Mom?
Me: Wasn’t he just a big dumb guy?
Mom: When you see Stallone you expect to see him in the role of a warrior, of a fighter who wins. But in this film he’s a down and out ex-hero and I thought he added a lot of passion to that film.
Me: Let me bring up another role I felt was snubbed this year and that is Oscar Issac’s performance in Ex Machina. It was an amazing movie and his performance as this sleazy tech bro–young, thinks he’s hot shit–was great. He was the puppet master for most of the movie, until he isn’t, and he plays the role very cool and hard to read, yet there’s this vulnerability there too. That was my favorite supporting actor performance of the year. Also, that jumpsuit!
Me: Let’s talk about our pics for Best Picture. What was your favorite film of 2015?
Mom: The Revenant.
Mom: There was so much involved in that film. The one thing I remember while watching it was the beauty of the photography. It was a joy to watch. The realism of the violence, and what the characters endured, their lives were so tough… I just thought it was a beautiful film. No other film from 2015 had such a dramatic effect on me.
Me: I agree with you. The cinematography was unreal. Iñárritu is famous for those amazing long takes he uses that last for minutes. The film is filled with those gorgeous landscapes. But for me my Best Picture selection is The Big Short. First, it’s incredibly timely–it’s talking about the subprime mortgage crisis, which America is still reeling from right now, and which literally impacted everyone in the world. To make a movie where your topic is sort of dry and dull and you make it compelling to a mainstream audience, to non-experts, is so important. I mean, that’s how we got into this crisis in the first place–people being uninformed. As a society, Americans (I include myself here) don’t know much about how Wall Street or the stock market works. The economic recession was the direct result of a few people who had specialized knowledge and who took advantage of loopholes that no one else knew about. I appreciate a movie that illuminates that to the audience. In addition to that, it was a really innovative film. I love how they illustrated difficult concepts like “synthetic CDO” with Selena Gomez and an economist playing craps. And of course the performances were great, as was the script. For me, The Big Short hits all my Best Picture marks.
Mom: Well my second choice is Spotlight. This was a film highlighting one of the greatest tragedies in this country.
Me: I just watched Spotlight and I did find the story to be equally compelling and horrifying. This crazy conspiracy! It highlights how important good journalism is to justice and truth in this country. In many ways it reminded me of All the President’s Men. But overall I wanted a little more from that movie.
Mom: You kept hearing it was wonderful and then you watched it and it let you down.
Me: Yes that’s true.
Mom: That’s the problem. It’s best to see movies cold, before you hear the reviews. Now one film I am very sad to see with a nomination for Best Picture is Mad Max: Fury Road. It was absolutely horrible…
Me: Whoah, whoah. I am delighted that film was nominated. In fact, that film is my second choice for Best Picture…
Mom: [horrified noises] If you like a film that is nothing more than looking at filthy, dirty men with blood coming out of their mouths, and their bodies torn apart…
Me: It sounds like you’re describing Revenant, you realize that?
Mom: …and there’s this stupid guy, playing the guitar…
Me: Yes, see that’s what was missing from The Revenant! We needed a bear playing a flaming guitar!
Mom: Now that’s not fair. Mad Max was absolutely disgusting.
Me: How can you praise The Revenant and the Hateful 8 for their violence but critique Mad Max for its violence?
Mom: Mad Max made The Revenant and The Hateful 8 look like a fairytale.
Me: WHAT?! What is the difference?
Mom: There’s a huge difference! The violence in Mad Max is pretend and it’s over-the-top. I mean one character in Mad Max captures this guy and straps him to the front of his car so he can drain the blood out of him. [shakes her head in disgust]
Me: Well I loved Mad Max…
Mom: LOVED IT???
Me: They took this character who is the star of this franchise, this hero, Mad Max and they put him in the film with the words “Mad Max” in the title. So you’re going into this movie assuming Mad Max is the center of the story, the hero of the narrative. The movie starts with him…
Mom: …eating a live lizard…
Me: …and then he is literally pushed aside so that we have these female heroes instead. And it’s one-armed Charlize Theron? Come on, that was awesome. It was a feminist action film. I mean, if you’re going to praise a movie like Revenant for its intense and realistic depiction of violence, why critique Mad Max for that?
Mom: First of all, The Revenant was about American history. Mad Max is nothing but horrific people rolling through a desert
Me: I see no difference there. Revenant was nothing but horrific people rolling through the woods.
Mom: You’re insane.
Me: Okay, let’s discuss The Martian.
Mom: I really enjoyed it.
Me: Me too.
Maisy [my 9yo daughter]: Can I say something about The Martian? I thought it was awesome! It was so cool.
Me: Yes, that’s why I liked it. It was such a great family movie. I wish there were more movies like that for the whole family to go to.
Mom: It was a very pleasurable movie. I learned about how an astronaut could grow plants in space!
Me: Okay, any final thoughts, Mom?
Mom: Yes, one person who I felt really deserved an Oscar nomination was Samuel L. Jackson in The Hateful 8. He was just great in that film. I can’t believe he wasn’t nominated.
Me: Well, Mom, as always, it was a real pleasure talking to you about the Oscars.
Mom: Thanks for having me!
Editor’s note: I received this email from my mom today:
There you have it, folks. We’ll be back again in a year to discuss the 2016 nominees, that is unless Leonardo DiCaprio loses the Oscar. Then I’ll be on the search for another mom who wants to talk movies with me. Keep an eye out just in case, won’t you?
Did you know that Clueless was released 20 years ago? That’s the year I graduated from high school and the year, I think, Gen X was pushed out of the cinematic spotlight. I wrote about this for Salon:
“In an early scene in “Clueless,” a close-up reveals the sagging waistbands of a pack of young, SoCal teens, all loping to class in the signature Generation X uniform of baggy jeans, exposed boxer shorts and wallet chains as World Party’s cover of Mott the Hoople’s “All the Young Dudes” blares on the soundtrack. Then Cher Horowitz’s (Alicia Silverstone) chipper, California Girl uptalk—surely the vocal fry of the 1990s—cuts through the straining authenticity practiced by the pack:
Here, with a single toss of her healthy blond coiffure, Cher, the “Clueless” protagonist and moral center of Amy Heckerling’s 1995 adaptation of Jane Austen’s “Emma,” dismisses the entire ethos of Generation X. As Jeffrey Sconce explains: “X’ers have long been regarded as the most cynical, detached and ironic of population clusters. Boomers, the logic goes, got all the good jobs and prime real estate, while Gen Y (aka, “the Millennials”) got a renewed sense of earnestness, enthusiasm, and optimism. X marks the spot in between—those pissed off at baby-boomers for their narcissistic entitlement and pissed off at the Millennials for not being more pissed off.”
Read the rest here.
My Mom takes her yearly Oscar picks seriously (you can read her previous picks here and here). She tries to see all of the critically acclaimed films. She even attended a screening of the Live Action Short Films. Her pick? Boogaloo and Graham (Michael Lennox and Ronan Blaney). I’ll have to take her word for it. You can watch that short here:
Amanda: We need to start by putting our cards on the table by telling the readers what we haven’t yet seen. I’ll admit, 2014 was a very busy year for me, and many of the nominated films never even played in my city, so while I tried to cram in as many of these as I could before our annual interview, there are still a lot I never saw. The critical darlings I have yet to see include: The Imitation Game (Morten Tyldum), Foxcatcher (Bennett Miller), Still Alice (Wash Westmoreland), The Judge (David Dobkin), Wild (Jean-Marc Vallée), and Inherent Vice (PT Anderson).
Mom: Of the big movies, I haven’t seen Selma (Ava DuVernay) or Still Alice. Everything else, I have seen.
Impressive! So what is your pick for Best Picture?
It’s very difficult this year; I loved all of them. One of my favorite films through the entire process was Theory of Everything (James Marsh). I thought it was phenomenal the way Hawking’s life was portrayed. But, recently I’ve changed my mind a little, maybe because I’ve been reading the reviews and editorials and American Sniper…
…was one that they truly loved because it managed to bring people back into the movie theaters.
It did, but is that what a Best Picture is? A film that a lot of people go to see? Because if that’s the case, then 50 Shades of Grey (Sam Taylor-Johnson) will win the Oscar for Best Picture next year.
Good point. But I loved American Sniper because it’s portrayal of an American soldier going to war and what he had to deal with and the effect on him as well as his family, was so powerful.
I agree with you there. It was powerful. But for me, the big problem with American Sniper is that I thought it’s message was very confused. I don’t know what Clint Eastwood thought he was doing with that movie because it seems to be telling two very contradictory stories about contemporary war. I thought the film glamorized Chris Kyle (Bradley Cooper), who was a devoted soldier and an excellent marksman, but what was problematic for me was that it also glamorized what he was doing: shooting people. I think it’s possible to honor the soldier and tell his story without glamorizing killing. Having said that, it was a well-made film because Eastwood is a good filmmaker.
But Eastwood is giving us the perception of the soldier. If my son, or grandson, or granddaughter, were in the army and going in and out of those homes, I would like a sniper there to protect them!
I’m not disputing the need for a soldier like Chris Kyle. I’m disputing the way Eastwood depicted the act of killing, the way he glamorized it. I think that was irresponsible and I also think that’s precisely why the film is so popular right now.
Well, look, Eastwood was just following the book written by Chris Kyle, that’s all he did…
Look, we’re not going to agree on this one. But still, I keep coming back to Theory of Everything. That’s my pick for Best Picture. I know you didn’t care for it.
Can you tell me something that was good about Theory of Everything that *doesn’t* include Eddie Redmayne’s performance?
Well, it’s the story of this genius and what he endured and what he’s accomplished and the fact that he’s still alive. I thought it was a beautiful film.
Let me pause you right there. I agree that Stephen Hawking’s story is amazing. The fact that he was struck with this debilitating disease and the fact that he was also a genius who profoundly shaped the way we understand the universe, those are two remarkable stories happening to the same man at once. But that’s my point — Hawking’s is a great story on its own, regardless of how the filmmaker tells it. I don’t feel like the movie did anything interesting with this truly remarkable story. I think Hawking deserves a better film than this. Eddie Redmayne’s performance is the only redeemable part of the film for me.
I should also say that one of the other best films I saw this year was Whiplash (Damien Chazelle).
I was very “meh” on Whiplash.
I thought the portrayal of Fletcher, by J.K. Simmons, and this young vulnerable boy (Miles Teller) at a music conservatory — and this was obviously supposed to be Juilliard — was so amazing. We get to watch this professor, who knew he found a great talent who was not responding, and the way he chose to address that. Definitely one of the most memorable films that I’ve seen.
I’ll give it that. And frankly, I thought Miles Teller, who plays Andrew, should have been given a Best Actor nomination…
I don’t know about that — he was so overshadowed by Simmons.
And you know, the problem for me this year is that there were a lot of really wonderful films. It’s hard to pick.
I disagree! I was disappointed with pretty much everything I saw.
So let’s talk about Boyhood (Richard Linklater). I thought it was very cute, very nice, how they filmed this boy from when he was a child up through his young adulthood but…
[ she trails off, shrugs her shoulders]
I agree. I love Linklater — Dazed and Confused (1993) is one of my favorite films — and the performances in Boyhood were just fine. But had this been a film with different actors playing the role of Mason (Ellar Coltrane), I don’t think I would have given it a second thought.
Exactly. It was very sweet, but that’s all it was.
Boyhood was very satisfying. I really enjoyed the cinematic experience of watching a character age over time. Just lovely. But now that the film is over? I just don’t care. I mean, whatever, he grew up, so what?
Right. Another film we haven’t talked about is The Imitation Game, which was superb because of Benedict Cumberbatch. Other than that? It wasn’t that great.
And we can’t base a Best Picture pick solely on the strong performance of the lead actor. Let’s chat briefly about Grand Budapest Hotel (Wes Anderson). I am huge Wes Anderson fan. But I fell asleep during this movie and I had no interest in waking up.
I thought it was stupid!
I also thought it was stupid. I guess we can move on then?
I’d like to talk about Selma even though you haven’t had a chance to see it yet. I thought the film was well-directed, but there was nothing remarkable about it. The best thing about it — beyond the story — was the performance by David Oyelowo. I thought he was really great in this role and that he absolutely should have been given a Best Actor nomination. Eddie Redmayne remains my Best Actor pick but Oyelowo’s portrayal of Martin Luther King, Jr. was subtle and powerful at the same time. It would have been very easy to get it wrong — after all, we’ve all seen footage of King giving speeches on television, but Oyelowo did a lovely job. But as for the film itself? Like Theory of Everything, Selma tells a remarkable story in a rather bland film. A Best Picture has to do something other than pick a good story. It’s also about how the story is told.
Let’s move on to the only movie that I think should never win Best Picture and that is Birdman: The Unexpected Virtue of Ignorance (Alejandro González Iñárritu).
And that is actually my pick for Best Picture.
And let me tell you why. It was the only movie from the Best Picture list that really stuck with me after it was over. The movie is essentially, except for the very end, a single take (or what appears to be a single take). The movie never pauses. To achieve this — beyond the use of CGI to mask the moments where the cuts actually took place — Iñárritu and his crew had to plot out where every actor had to be at every moment. Everyone had to hit their marks at the exact right time. To do all that, to coordinate all that with everyone on set, is amazing. And then on top of the technical feats, I thought the story of an aging action hero trying to do an adaptation of a Raymond Carver story for the stage, was really smart and timely. It stuck with me.
So you want Birdman?
As Best Picture of the year?
So let’s talk quickly about the acting categories. We’ll start with Best Actor in a leading role.
This one is tough for me. Through the entire season, Eddie Redmayne has been my choice. But, there was another actor whose performance has haunted me, and that’s Steve Carell in Foxcatcher. He is very disturbing — you hate him. He attracts these young men who are wrestlers and he wants to be their coach, their father, everything. I went home and Googled this guy, duPont, and Steve Carell looked, talked, and acted just like this man. One of the most disturbing films I’ve ever watched. But his performance of this mentally deranged man was really impressive. Still, Redmayne is my pick.
Me too. He truly gave the best performance. And granted, the role provided a lot of opportunities for Redmayne to demonstrate his acting skill. He had to both impersonate a living person whose demeanor and expressions are well known and it was also a very physical role, mimicking the impact of ALS on his character’s body. It was pretty amazing…
So we agree on that. Let’s move on to Best Supporting Actor. I haven’t seen two of these movies, so…
Well, I’ve seen all of these films and if JK Simmons doesn’t win for Whiplash then I am done with these interviews.
Really? You’re willing to give up ever appearing on this blog again…
You’ve seen Whiplash?
Well then. I would accept no pay to keep me back in [your blog]…
So I’m going to have to call the Academy is what you’re saying?
Wow, that’s a shame, because I think Ed Norton should win for Birdman.
[ noises of disgust, growls?, other indistinguishable noises]
Why can’t I have my pick?! On top of all the crazy stuff that was going on in that movie, all I could think about was Ed Norton. He was electric in that film: funny, twitchy, narcissistic. So dynamic…
I can’t even remember him from that film…
WHAT? We clearly didn’t see the same movie. He’s my pick, he’s not going to win…
He better not…
But he’s my pick all the same. Let it be noted.
[blows a raspberry]
Best Actress. Now I’ve only seen two of these so I don’t feel qualified to make a pick.
I’ve not seen Still Alice but I hear Julianne Moore is great.
She is great in everything she does. Let’s just both award this to Julianne Moore.
Yes, let’s do it! I’ll you why: I wasn’t impressed with any of the female roles this year.*
Know why? Because all the female roles were shit.
Well, you might be right.
Best Supporting Actress. Once again, I haven’t seen two of the nominees but I think Patricia Arquette deserves this one. I was so fascinated by her character. We meet her as this struggling single mother who gradually collects these degrees and then becomes an intellectual in her own right. But she keeps marrying the worst men.
I’ve seen all of them and none of them impressed me. They were all just there. Sure, we’ll give it to Patricia.
I just really hated Birdman.
*The day after this interview, Nana admitted to being a little hasty with her Best Actress pick. Over breakfast she told me she wanted to change her pick to Reese Witherspoon in Wild. She also called me from the road today to be sure that change was noted. Please note it.
Academic writing has taken quite a bashing since, well, forever, and that’s not entirely undeserved. Academic writing can be pedantic, jargon-y, solipsistic and self-important. There are endless think pieces, editorials and New Yorker cartoons about the impenetrability of academese. In one of those said pieces, “Why Academics Can’t Write,” Michael Billig explains:
Throughout the social sciences, we can find academics parading their big nouns and their noun-stuffed noun-phrases. By giving something an official name, especially a multi-noun name which can be shortened to an acronym, you can present yourself as having discovered something real—something to impress the inspectors from the Research Excellence Framework.
Yes, the implication here is that academics are always trying to make things — a movie, a poem, themselves and their writing — appear more important than they actually are. These pieces also argue that academics dress simple concepts up in big words in order to exclude those who have not had access to the same educational expertise. In “On Writing Well,” Stephen M. Walt argues:
jargon is a way for professional academics to remind ordinary people that they are part of a guild with specialized knowledge that outsiders lack…
This is how we control the perimeters, our critics charge; this is how we guard ourselves from interlopers. But, this explanation seems odd. After all, the point of scholarship — of all those long hours of reading and studying and writing and editing — is to uncover truths, backed by research, and then to educate others. Sometimes we do that in the classroom for our students, of course, but even more significantly, we are supposed to be educating the world with our ideas. That’s especially true of academics (like me) employed by public universities, funded by tax payer dollars. That money, supporting higher education, is to (ideally) allow us to contribute to the world’s knowledge about our specific fields of study.
So if knowledge-sharing is the mission of the scholar, why would so many of us consciously want to create an environment of exclusion around our writing? As Steven Pinker asks in “Why Academics Stink at Writing”
Why should a profession that trades in words and dedicates itself to the transmission of knowledge so often turn out prose that is turgid, soggy, wooden, bloated, clumsy, obscure, unpleasant to read, and impossible to understand?
Contrary to popular belief, academics don’t *just* write for other academics (that’s what conference presentations are for!). We write believing that what we’re writing has a point and purpose, that it will educate and edify. I’ve never met an academic who has asked for help with making her essay “more difficult to understand.” Now, of course, some academics do use jargon as subterfuge. Walt continues:
But if your prose is muddy and obscure or your arguments are hedged in every conceivable direction, then readers may not be able to figure out what you’re really saying and you can always dodge criticism by claiming to have been misunderstood…Bad writing thus becomes a form of academic camouflage designed to shield the author from criticism.
Walt, Billig, Pinker and everyone else who has, at one time or another, complained that a passage of academese was needlessly difficult to understand are right to be frustrated. I’ve made the same complaints myself. However, this generalized dismissal of “academese,” of dense, often-jargony prose that is nuanced, reflexive and even self-effacing , is, I’m afraid, just another bullet in the arsenal for those who believe that higher education is populated with up-tight, boring, useless pedants who just talk and write out of some masturbatory infatuation with their own intelligence. The inherent distrust of scholarly language is, at its heart, a dismissal of academia itself.
Now I’ll be the first to agree that higher education is currently crippled by a series of interrelated and devastating problems — the adjunctification and devaluation of teachers, the overproduction of PhDs, tuition hikes, endless assessment bullshit, the inflation of middle-management (aka, the rise of the “ass deans”), MOOCs, racism, sexism, homophobia, ablism, ageism, it’s ALL there people — but academese is the least egregious of these problems, don’t you think? Academese — that slow nuanced ponderous way of seeing the world — we are told, is a symptom of academia’s pretensions. But I think it’s one of our only saving graces.
The work I do is nuanced and specific. It requires hours of reading and thinking before a single word is typed. This work is boring at times — at times even dreadful — but it’s necessary for quality scholarship and sound arguments. Because once you start to research an idea — and I mean really research, beyond the first page of Google search results — you find that the ideas you had, those wonderful, catchy epiphanies that might make for a great headline or tweet, are not nearly as sound as you assumed. And so you go back, armed with the new knowledge you just gleaned, and adjust your original claim. Then you think some more and revise. It is slow work, but it’s necessary work. The fastest work I do is the writing for this blog, which as I see as a space of discovery and intellectual growth. I try not to make grand claims for this blog, mostly for that reason.
The problem then, with academic writing, is that its core — the creation of careful, accurate ideas about the world — are born of research and revision and, most important of all, time. Time is needed. But our world is increasingly regulated by the ethic of the instant. We are losing our patience. We need content that comes quickly and often, content that can be read during a short morning commute or a long dump (sorry for the vulagrity, Ma), content that can be tweeted and retweeted and Tumblred and bit-lyed. And that content is great. It’s filled with interesting and dynamic ideas. But this content cannot replace the deep structures of thought that come from research and revision and time.
Let me show you what I mean by way of example:
Stanley has already taken quite a drubbing for this piece (and deservedly so) so I won’t add to the pile on. But I do want to point out that had this profile been written by someone with a background in race and gender studies, not to mention the history of racial and gendered representation in television, this profile would have turned out very differently. I’m not saying that Stanley needed a PhD to properly write this piece, what I’m saying is: the woman needed to do her research. As Tressie McMillan Cottom explains:
Here’s the thing with using a stereotype to analyze counter hegemonic discourses. If you use the trope to critique race instead of critiquing racism, no matter what you say next the story is about the stereotype. That’s the entire purpose of stereotypes. They are convenient, if lazy, vehicles of communication. The “angry black woman” traffics in a specific history of oppression, violence and erasure just like the “spicy Latina” and “smart Asian”. They are effective because they work. They conjure immediate maps of cognitive interpretation. When you’re pressed for space or time or simply disinclined to engage complexities, stereotypes are hard to resist. They deliver the sensory perception of understanding while obfuscating. That’s their power and, when the stereotype is about you, their peril.
Wanna guess why Cottom’s perspective on this is so nuanced and careful? Because she studies this shit. Imagine that: knowing what you’re talking about before you hit “publish.”
Or how about this recent piece on the “rise” of black British actors in America?
Carter’s profile of black British actors in Hollywood does a great job of repeating everything said by her interview subjects but is completely lacking in an analysis of the complicated and fraught history of black American actors in Hollywood. And that perspective is very, very necessary for an essay claiming to be about “The Rise of the Black British Actor in America.” So what is someone like Carter to do? Well, she could start by changing the title of her essay to “Black British Actors Discuss Working in Hollywood.” Don’t make claims that you can’t fulfill. Because you see, in academia, “The Rise of the Black British Actor in America” would actually be a book-length project. It would require months, if not years, of careful research, writing, and revision. One simply cannot write about hard-working black British actors in Hollywood without mentioning the ridiculous dearth of good Hollywood roles for people of color. As Tambay A. Obsenson rightly points out in his response to the piece:
Unless there’s a genuine collective will to get underneath the surface of it all, instead of just bulletin board-style engagement. There’s so much to unpack here, and if a conversation about the so-called “rise in black British actors in America” is to be had, a rather one-sided, short-sighted Buzzfeed piece doesn’t do much to inspire. It only further progresses previous theories that ultimately cause division within the diaspora.
But the internet has created the scholarship of the pastless present, where a subject’s history can be summed up in the last thinkpiece that was published about it, which was last week. And last week is, of course, ancient history. Quick and dirty analyses of entire decades, entire industries, entire races and genders, are generally easy and even enjoyable to read (simplicity is bliss!), and they often contain (some) good information. But many of them make claims they can’t support. They write checks their asses can’t cash. But you know who CAN cash those checks? Academics. In fact, those are some of the only checks we ever get to cash.
Academese can answer those broad questions, with actual facts and research and entire knowledge trajectories. As Obsensen adds:
But the Buzzfeed piece is so bereft of essential data, that it’s tough to take it entirely seriously. If the attempt is to have a conversation about the central matter that the article seems to want to inform its readers on, it fails. There’s a far more comprehensive discussion to be had here.
A far more comprehensive discussion is exactly what academics have been trained to do. We’re good at it! Indeed, Obsensen has yet to write a full response to the Buzzfeed piece because, wait for it, he has to do his research first: “But a black British invasion, there is not. I will take a look at this further, using actual data, after I complete my research of all roles given to black actors in American productions, over the last 5 years.” Now, look, I’m not shitting all over Carter or anyone else who has ever had to publish on a deadline in order to collect a paycheck. I understand that this is how online publishing often works. And Carter did a great job interviewing her subjects. Its a thorough piece that will certainly influence Buzzfeed readers to go see Selma (2015, Ava DuVernay). But it is not about the rise of the black British actor in America. It is an ad for Selma.
Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not calling for an end to short, pithy, generalized articles on the internet. I love those spurts of knowledge, bite-sized bits of knowledge. I may be well-versed in film and media (and really then, only my own small corner of it) but the rest of my understanding of what’s happening in the world of war and vaccines and space travel and Kim Kardashian comes from what I can read in 5 minute intervals while waiting for the pharmacist to fill my prescription. My working mom brain, frankly, can’t handle too much more than that. And that is how it should be; none among us can be experts in everything, or even a few things.
But here’s what I’m saying: we need to recognize that there is a difference between a 100,000 word academic book and a 1500 word thinkpiece. They have different purposes and functions and audiences. We need to understand the conditions under which claims can be made and what facts are necessary before assertions can be made. That’s why articles are peer-reviewed and book monographs are carefully vetted before publication. Writers who are not experts can pick up these documents and read them and then…cite them! In academia we call this “scholarship.”
No, academic articles rarely yield snappy titles. They’re hard to summarize. Seriously, the next time you see an academic, corner them and ask them to summarize their latest research project in 140 characters — I dare you. But trust me, people — you don’t want to call for an end to academese. Because without detailed, nuanced, reflexive, overly-cited, and yes, even hedging writing, there can be no progress in thought. There can be no true thinkpieces. Without academese, everything is what the author says it is, an opinion tethered to air, a viral simulacrum of knowledge.
Like many professors, I live on the same campus where I work. As a result, I’ve watched drunk East Carolina University students urinate and puke on my lawn and toss empty red solo cups into the shrubbery around my home. But one evening I had a more troubling run-in with a college student. It began when I woke to the sound of my dog barking. It took me a minute to orient myself and understand that my dog was barking because someone was knocking on the front door. It was 2 am and my husband was out of town, but I opened the front door anyway. On the stoop was a college-aged woman dressed in a Halloween costume that consisted of a halter top, small tight shorts, and sky-high heels. The woman was sobbing and shivering in the late October air and her thick eye make up was running down her face. She was incoherent and hysterical– I could smell the tequila on her breath — so it took me a while to figure out what she wanted .
She told me that she was visiting a friend for the night and that she had lost her friend…and her cell phone. She had no idea where she was or where to go. I think she came to my door because my porch light has motion detectors and she must have thought it was a sign. As she rambled on and on I could hear my baby crying upstairs. I told the woman to wait on my stoop, that I had to go get my baby and my phone, and that I would call the police to see if they could drive her somewhere. “Nooooooo,” she wailed, “don’t call the police!” I urged her to wait a minute so I could go get my baby and soothe him, but when I returned a few minutes later with my cell phone in hand, she was gone.
I felt many emotions that night: annoyance at being woken up, panic over how to best get help for the young woman, and later, guilt over my inability to help her. But one emotion that I did not feel that night was fear. I was never threatened by this young woman’s presence on my stoop and I never felt the need to “protect” my property. Why would I? She was a young woman, no more than 19 or 20, and though she was drunk and hysterical, she needed my help. I was reminded of this incident when I heard that Renisha McBride, a young woman of no more than 19 or 20, was shot dead last fall after knocking on Theodore Wafer’s door in the middle of the night while drunk and in need of help. Wafer was recently convicted of second-degree murder and manslaughter (which is a miracle), but that didn’t stop the Associated Press from describing the Wafer verdict thusly:
McBride, the victim, a young girl needlessly shot down by a paranoid homeowner, is described as a nameless drunk, even a court ruling establishing her victimhood beyond a shadow of a doubt. Now, just a few days later in Ferguson, Missouri, citizens are actively protesting the death/murder of Michael Brown, another unarmed African American youth shot down for seemingly no reason. If you haven’t heard of Brown yet, here are the basic facts:
1. On Saturday evening Michael Brown, an unarmed African American teenager, was fatally shot by a police officer on a sidewalk in Ferguson, a suburb of St. Louis, Missouri.
2. There are 2 very different accounts of why and how Brown was shot. The police claim that Brown got into their police car and attempted to take an officer’s gun, leading to the chain of events that resulted in Brown fleeing the vehicle and being shot. By contract, witnesses on the scene claim that Brown and his friend, Dorian Johnson, were walking in the middle of the street when the police car pulled up, told the boys to “Get the f*** on the sidewalk” and then hit them with their car door. This then led to a physical altercation that sent both boys running down the sidewalk with the police shooting after them.
3. As a result of Brown’s death/murder the citizens of Ferguson took to the streets, demanding answers, investigations, and the name of the officer who pulled the trigger. Most of these citizens engaged in peaceful protests while others have engaged in “looting” (setting fires, stealing from local businesses, and damaging property).
Now America is trying to make sense of the riots/uprisings that have taken hold of Ferguson the last two days and whether the town’s reaction is or is not “justified.” Was Brown a thug who foolishly tried to grab an officer’s gun? Or, was he yet another case of an African American shot because his skin color made him into a threat?
I suppose both theories are plausible, but given how many unarmed, brown-skinned Americans have been killed in *just* the last 2 years — Trayvon Martin (2012), Ramarley Graham (2012), Renisha McBride (2013), Jonathan Ferrell (2013), John Crawford (2014), Eric Garner (2014), Ezell Ford (2 days ago) — my God, I’m not even scratching the surface, there are too many to list — I’m willing to bet that Michael Brown didn’t do anything to *deserve* his death. He was a teenage boy out for a walk with his friend on a Saturday night and his skin color made him into a police target. He was a threat merely by existing.
Given the amount of bodies that are piling up — young, innocent, unarmed bodies — it shouldn’t be surprising that people in Ferguson have taken to the streets demanding justice. And yes, in addition to the peaceful protests and fliers with clearly delineated demands, there has been destruction to property and looting. But there is always destruction in a war zone. War makes people act in uncharacteristic ways. And make no mistake: Ferguson is now a war zone. The media has been blocked from entering the city, the FAA has declared the air space over Ferguson a “no fly zone” for a week “to provide a safe environment for law enforcement activities,” and the police are shooting rubber bullets and tear gas at civilians.
But no matter. The images of masses of brown faces in the streets of Ferguson can and will be brushed aside as “looters” and “f*cking animals.” Michael Brown’s death is already another statistic, another body on the pile of Americans who had the audacity to believe that they would be safe walking down the street or knocking on a door for help.
What is especially soul-crushing is knowing that these events happen over and over and over again in America — the Red Summer of 1919, Watts in 1964, Los Angeles in 1992 — and again and again we look away. We laud the protests of the Arab Spring, awed by the fortitude and bravery of people who risk bodily harm and even death in their demands for a just government, but we have trouble seeing our own protests that way. Justice is a right, not a privilege. Justice is something we are all supposed to be entitled to in this county.
When the uprisings in Los Angeles were televised in 1992 I was a freshman in high school. All I knew about Los Angeles is what I had learned from movies like Pretty Woman and Boyz N the Hood –there were rich white people, poor black people with guns, and Julia Roberts pretending to be a prostitute. On my television these “rioters and looters” looked positively crazy, out of control. And when I saw army tanks moving through the streets of Compton I felt a sense of relief.
That’s because a lifetime of American media consumption — mostly in the form of film, television, and nightly newscasts — had conditioned my eyes and my brain to read images of angry African Americans, not as allies in the struggle for a just country, but as threats to my country’s safety. I could pull any number of examples of how and why my brain and eyes were conditioned in this way. I could cite, for example, how every hero and romantic lead in everything I watched was almost always played by a white actor. I could cite how every criminal, rapist, and threat to my white womanhood was almost always played by a black actor. And those army tanks driving through the outskirts of Los Angeles didn’t look like an infringement on freedom to me at the time (and as they do now). They looked like safety because I came of age during the Gulf War, when images of tanks moving through wartorn streets in regions of the world where people who don’t look like me live come to stand for “justice” and “peacemaking.” Images get twisted and flipped and distorted.
The #IfTheyShotMe hashtag, started by Tyler Atkins, illuminates how easily images — particular the cache of selfies uploaded to a Facebook page or Instagram account — can be molded to support whatever narrative you want to spin about someone. The hashtag features two images which could tell two very different stories about an unarmed man after he is shot — a troublemaker or a scholar? a womanizer or a war vet? The hashtag illuminates how those who wish to believe that Michael Brown’s death was simply a tragic consequence of not following rules and provoking the police can easily find images of him flashing “gang signs” or looking tough in a photo, and thus “deserving” his fate. Those who believe he was wrongfully shot down because he, like most African American male teens, looks “suspicious,” can proffer images of Brown in his graduation robes.
Of course, as so many smart folks have already pointed out, it doesn’t really matter that Brown was supposed to go off to college this week, just as it doesn’t matter what a woman was wearing when she was raped. It doesn’t matter whether an unarmed man is a thug or a scholar when he is shot down in the street like a dog. But I like this hashtag because at the very least it is forcing us all to think about the way we’re all (mis)reading the images around us, to our peril.
The same day that the people of Ferguson took to the streets to stand up for Michael Brown and for every other unarmed person killed for being black, comedian and actor Robin Williams died. I was sad to hear this news and even sadder to hear that Williams took his own life, so I went to social media to engage in some good, old fashioned public mourning, the Twitter wake. In addition to the usual sharing of memorable quotes and clips from the actor’s past, people in my feed were also sharing suicide prevention hotline numbers and urging friends to “stay here,” reminding them that they are loved and needed by their friends and families. People asked for greater understanding of mental illness and depression. And some people simply asked that we all try to be kind to each other, that we remember that we’re all human, that we all hurt, and that we are all, ultimately, the same. Folks, now it’s time to send some of that kind energy to the people of Ferguson and to the family and friends of Michael Brown. They’re hurting and they need it.
When my 4-year-old son asked me if I would take him to see The Amazing Spider-Man 2 (Marc Webb) on Memorial Day, I’ll admit that I wasn’t even aware the sequel (to the reboot) had been released. I was also unaware that X-Men: Days of Future Past (Bryan Singer) or Captain America: Winter Soldier (Joe Russo) were playing in the same theater. I guess I’ve lost my taste for super hero films. I used to love them. In fact, when I was 13-years-old I became obsessed with Batman (1989, Tim Burton). I had posters and collected trading cards and listened obsessively to the soundtrack:
My interest in films like Tim Burton’s Batman and Sam Raimi’s Spider-Man (2002) was due less to their super hero antics (the amazing weapons, the acrobatic fight scenes, the spectacle of urban destruction) and far more to do with the idea of normal people who feel an obligation to act on the behalf of others. Because I loved these dark, brooding, almost-noirish heroes, I forgave these films for their lifeless female characters. Or rather, I never thought much about them. I never once identified with Vicki Vale (Kim Basinger) or Mary Jane Watson (Kirsten Dunst). I didn’t want to be rescued by Batman (Michael Keaton) or Spider-Man (Tobey Maguire), I wanted to be Batman and Spider-Man and rescue folks myself. Now, it’s no secret that super hero movies have a major gender (and race and ethnicity and sexuality problem). Almost all of the major stars of the super hero franchises are white, heterosexual, cis men. And after a while, the white male fantasies of control and power over a chaotic and inherently evil world were no longer interesting to me. I stopped going to see super hero movies.
Though I did not see the first film in the franchise reboot, The Amazing Spider-Man (2012), I wasn’t expecting to see anything other than 142 (!!!) minutes of CGI fight scenes, smashed cars, franchise-building, and pretty girls who need rescuing — and that’s exactly what I got. Now I don’t want to shit on Gwen Stacy (Emma Stone). She’s adorable. Her outfits are amazing (amazing!). She’s the valedictorian of her graduating class. Her hair curls in all the right places. She snagged a sweet job (internship?) at Oscorp Industries immediately upon graduating. She wrinkles her little nose when she laughs. She even got into Oxford to study sciency stuff. She also uses her knowledge of high school science to help Spider-Man magnetize his web shooters, a key trick allowing Spider-Man to wrangle with Electro (Jamie Foxx).
All of these character traits and plot points appear, on the surface, to elevate Gwen above the usual superhero girlfriend role. Indeed, when Gwen finally decides to leave New York for England (Oxford! Science stuff!) Spider-Man cribs a move from Charlotte’s Web, by writing the words “I Love You” in giant web-letters. He then tells Gwen that he will follow her to Oxford. He will follow Gwen anywhere. He will be her trailing, Spidey-spouse, doing fixed term work across the Pond. OMG, swoonsville, right ladies?
But even as someone who knows nothing about the Spider-Man I know that shit is not going to happen. Spider-Man cannot give up his gift, his “great responsibility,” for the love of a woman. He can’t be secondary because he’s primary. He’s the protagonist. And Electro is totally sucking up all of New York City’s power so Spidey basically says “Now I’m gonna tie your ass this police car with some of my webs. Bye.”
This enrages Gwen, who is all “Fuck off, Spider-Man,” because she is a modern postfeminist woman (with GIRL POWER!) and she makes her own choices, and no one, not even fucking Spider-Man, is going to tell her what to do. She yells something to this effect and it is adorable but pointless because as we all know, this is not Gwen’s movie. Still, Gwen pulls out some scissors or a Swiss Army knife or something and hacks away at those sticky webs and then shows up at the big show down between her boyfriend and Electro at some magical place in New York City where all the electricity is kept. Gwen uses her vast knowledge of New York City’s power grid (what?), to help Spider-Man destroy Electro and save New York City from a black out, which is a super dire situation because then planes crash.
Despite Gwen’s key contribution to this epic CGI-battle, the whole scene felt a lot like the scene at the very end of the film (SPOILER ALERT!) when a little boy, dressed up in a Spider-Man costume, attempts to face off against an Oscorp-generated villain, Rhino (Paul Giamatti). It’s admirable and it’s adorable (his costume is too big for him!), but ultimately, we take a deep sigh of relief when Spider-Man finally appears on the scene, thanks the little boy for his bravery, pats him on the head, then delivers him into the arms of his weeping mama. Gwen is like that little boy: we admire her, she’s adorable and brave, but ultimately, she needs to move aside so the real heroes can do their work. Superheroing is a (white) man’s game. It is not for women and children. It’s not for poor, lonely, invisible Electro either.
This became most apparent in the final battle of the film between Spider-Man and the newly villainized Harry/Green Goblin (Dane DeHaan, looking like a cracked out, lost member of One Direction). Because although Gwen reminded Spidey about how magnets work and knew how to access New York City’s power grid (again, I must ask, how does an 18-year-old who jut started working at Oscorp know this?), she is, at the end of the day, just a woman. And a woman’s main value in cinema, especially a summer blockbuster reboot of a successful comic book franchise, is in her to-be-looked-at-ness. That is, Gwen’s purpose is to be an object of the Gaze: Spidey’s gaze, Green Goblin’s gaze, and the audience’s gaze. Her greatest value and power in the film lies in what she means to Peter Parker/Spider-Man. Gwen’s photograph appears all over Peter’s bedroom. She is an image to be adored. She is Peter’s everything. She is his crime-fighting muse. After they break up, Spider-Man sits atop New York City buildings,
stalking watching Gwen going about her day. We watch her too. Her outfits are amazing.
Gwen exists to be looked at and she exists as an object of exchange. Harry/Green Goblin values her only because Peter values her. That is, Gwen’s worth is determined by the men around her. As Gayle Rubin argues in her seminal essay, “The Traffic in Women: Notes on the ‘Political Economy’ of Sex” (1975):
If Harry possesses Gwen, he can exchange her for something he values, in this case, the blood of Spider-Man (which Harry believes will save his life). Gwen gains nothing in this exchange of her body (other than, she hopes, the opportunity to remain alive) because she is the object, the gift, that the powerful white men toss back and forth like a beautiful little rag doll. In the film’s (almost) final battle scene, Harry, now in full Green Goblin mode, scoops up little Miss Gwen and carries her off to a Dangerous Place. Spider-Man, predictably, chases after his love, intent on both saving her life and stopping Green Goblin.
And so, near the end of Spider-Man 2 we find ourselves in a familiar situation: our beautiful damsel, our muse, the gift/ransom exchanged between two men (one selfless, the other selfish), is literally dangling by a string. Here Gwen becomes more valuable than ever because she is now the audience’s gift. Because we identify with Spider-Man, the protagonist, Gwen’s peril is intended to fill us with the worst kind of dread. If she dies, how will Spider-Man feel? I mean, it’s gonna really fuck him up, right? Gwen’s life is the film’s climax.
Look, I get it. The movie’s title is The Amazing Spider-Man 2, not Gwen Remembers How Magnets Work or Gwen Goes to Oxford. Of course every supporting character’s role is there to do just that — to support the story of the Amazing Spider-Man. But I suppose it’s Gwen’s postfeminist accoutrement that leaves a sour taste in my mouth. I almost wish Gwen were more helpless and passive, stupider and more frightened. But it’s the fact that Gwen is so damn capable: she’s pretty and smart and plucky and brave and has the love of a good man. She is living the postfeminist dream (until she dies, that is!) and for that, she gives the film an appearance of some kind of gender equality. “Look, she helps Spidey! Look, she’s pursuing a career!” At the end of the day, these stories belong to the same white men they’ve always belonged to.