Known better than to get excited, crossing Oscar-nominated films off my 'SEEN IT!' list just because they were Oscar-nominated. I mean, have you seen Avatar? Have you seen Pocahontas? Have you seen Fern Gully? Right.
I was a ballerina. I loved Black Swan. Great movie. I even saw The Kids are All Right; Annette Bening should win. I stalk you using my the facebook (Justin Timberlake has not come over to suggest I drop the 'the' yet... so I'm still waiting); The Social Network was phenomenal. Despite my lack of affection for Helena, The King's Speech made my week. My dad has guns and watching Jeff Bridges do just about anything proves that men are capable of being inherently likable. I had to see what all this The Fighter chit chat was all about.
Big mistake. I knew I hated boxing movies, so why did I assume this one would be any different? Christian Bale is nominated for an Oscar for his performance, but I can only assume it's because his intense portrayal of the wildcard crackhead brother threw everyone else off during production. All the Americans who took a break from Glenn Beck to run out to the cinema to see this movie won't be pleased, but I wasn't floored by his performance. I assumed since it was based on a true story, there should be just that: a story. I kept waiting for a plot twist: he kills the girlfriend in a fit of jealous rage, he's diagnosed with HIV, he hosts a smackdown in prison...even a Million Dollar Baby ending would have been better than the predictable nonsense that ensued.
And sure, everybody acted their little tracksuits off. Marky Mark stared defeated into the distance wearing strategically placed butterfly bandages. Melissa Leo led the army of "skank"-haters with the power of a thousand Teen Mom grandmas. Christian Bale was scary as usual, though still not nearly as scary as Kevin Bacon. Even in Footloose. Unfortunately, the best risk-taking in The Fighter came from Amy Adams and her willingness to gain and display an ample, pasty beer belly.
What, may I ask, is everyone smoking? This movie was horrible. The Town was better than this, and not just because the trashy people were less disturbingly trashy. The Town had a plot. It had characters that you rooted for and didn't root for. The Town had nun masks and the potion-maker from Romeo and Juliet. AS A BAD GUY!
This cinematic experience was far from my favorite and even my fellow moviegoers were letting me down. For example, if you decide to go see a movie called The Fighter, that doesn't mean that you yourself need to smell like a fighter. I swear the man in front of me had just changed his own oil while eating handfuls of garlic before deciding to finally go and see that fightin' movie on 7:30 on a Wednesday. Come on, people. Let's show a little self respect. And stop clapping at movies. You aren't watching American Pie for the first time at age 13, and you aren't Mel Gibson at the screening of your own movie about Jesus.
I normally don't participate in this sort of Oscar prediction spat/self-indulgent behavior (ha!), but if Toy Story 3 doesn't win, I'm moving to Sweden. Preferably to star in a spin-off TV show as Lisbeth Salander. I will need to learn Swedish.
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