Oscars

Say Anything Is The Sure Thing’s Lame Younger Brother

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Daphne Zuniga and John Cusack drenched in a scene from The Sure Thing (1985)


At this year’s Oscars, Daphne Zuniga and John Cusack were standing together to pay honor to Rob Reiner for his unforgettable but unappreciated second film, The Sure Thing (1985).

The main character, Gib (John Cusack), immediately became the romantic ideal of this writer as an eleven-year-old, a position he held for decades.

My sisters and I — entranced watching Gib shotgun a beer — all tried the maneuver with soda on our porch, with potentially catastrophic effects on the cement and on our esophagi. Before my ten-year high school reunion, I insisted a friend watch the film as part of our preparatory movie marathon, along with School Ties and other nostalgic faves.

“Why have I never heard of this?” she said afterward.

Exactly.

I know there could be many reasons for its lack of popularity: its distribution, a poorly chosen clip for its marketing campaign, bad timing. But for me, the culprit has always been that boom box, held aloft in the iconic scene from Say Anything four years later. If it weren’t for that image and the earworm song playing along with it, maybe the rest of you would stop talking about that lame Lloyd Dobler and instead celebrate his forerunner: Walter “Gib” Gibson.

Charming, hilarious, endearing Gib, who has a lot more going on than Lloyd, whose lapdog approach verges on pathetic.

Say Anything has always exasperated me. Part of it is my allegiance to Gib. Part of it is my conviction that Lloyd’s obsession is — at best — annoying. But perhaps the worst thing about that film is my confusion over its appeal, as if my peers had said, “Yeah, Alec Baldwin’s acting is okay in Glengarry Glen Ross, but have you seen William Baldwin in Sliver?”

For me, Say Anything would be a complete wash without Lloyd’s lovelorn best friend (Lili Taylor) and the song “In Your Eyes.” Cusack’s charm is considerable, but it’s not enough to gild that turkey of a character.

But of course, to convince you, I need to start where I did: with The Sure Thing, which thanks to Peter Gabriel, too few of you have seen. Once I take you through its many appeals, maybe you’ll take a second look at Lloyd and Gib.

Opening Scenes

Gib’s hopelessness at picking up women in high school is immediately established in The Sure Thing. Was there ever a worse pickup line than “Consider outer space?” Perhaps later, when Gib comes up with “Did you know that Nietzsche died of syphilis?”

We also quickly see that his bro-type friend, Lance (Anthony Edwards), is nothing like him. Gib may not be as sure of himself as Lance, but he’s witty. Gib feels despondent about striking out with high school girls, so Lance assures him that these girls will magically transform once they get to college. Gib, with a wry expression and shake of the head, says, “I’m gonna miss you, Lance.”

Soon Lance will leave for UCLA, while Gib will depart for a small Northeastern college. Unfortunately for Gib, his poor luck with women will continue, especially when he tries to pick up his classmate Alison, a stuffy academic type (Daphne Zuniga, pre-Melrose Place). He asks her to tutor him in English to woo her. It’s not a bad ploy. I enjoyed his dramatic depiction of his fast-food future if he doesn’t pass the class. But he soon pisses her off, making her an enemy instead. So, when Lance gives him an appealing prospect — come see me at Christmas and I’ll get you laid — Gib’s discovery that Alison will be accompanying him on the trip is not a happy moment.

So here we are, a road trip with two people who dislike one another, a rom-com standard since It Happened One Night. Hijinks are about to ensue, which will begin with the couple offering to drive them, played by Lisa Jane Persky and Tim Robbins. The couple wants to spend the cross-country hours singing showtunes. Witness Cusack’s hilariously horrified expression when this plan begins to be executed. He is every teenager everywhere. This guy is gonna be a star.

Believability

One thing I love about 80s films is that they often feature teens who are low on funds instead of focusing on the privileged. (In fact, when rich characters are included, they are often villains.) Neither the hero nor the heroine of The Sure Thing can afford airfare, so they go to the ride board (remember those?) Instead of dressing in fashionable or skimpy attire, the two are wearing unsexy (and in Gib’s case, ill-advised) outfits. Gib’s immature sleepwear looks like he’s worn it since he was fourteen. Neither can afford much to eat; we witness him snacking on pork rinds and snowballs. Alison is so worried about her parents’ rules she misses what constitutes an “emergency” that would enable her to use their credit card. These leads have always seemed like people I know, not the glamorous, unconvincing teens in so many movies I’ve seen since.

Likeability of the Characters

Both Gib and Alison are believably awkward with each other as their attraction grows. The characters’ combination of bravado and insecurity is exactly what it’s like to be that age.

Just a few years after Porky’s celebration of objectifying women, Gib’s character is sensitive in unexpected ways. Sure, he’s stereotypically masculine too. (Note when he shares his distaste for the name Elliot, the kind of guy, he says, who “eats paste,” which he compares to the name Nick, the “kind of guy who doesn’t mind if you puke in his car.”) Yet he checks on Alison after a scary encounter and is careful to respect her boundaries during their trip, making sure not to “try anything” she doesn’t want.

Alison, meanwhile, is afraid she’s not cool. She takes notes on every word the professor speaks in her English class, then can’t get past the professor’s jibe that she needs to live more adventurously. That’s why she overreacts when Gib teases her for being “repressed.” For me, a nerdy girl growing up in the 80s, Alison was pretty darn familiar. Gib was that charming combination of confident and sensitive that isn’t easy to find, especially in someone as attractive as Cusack. As a stressed-out freshman in college, I sought a (comparatively) relaxed boyfriend like Gib, so much so that I started dating the first person I met with terrible posture.

The film has also had some funny and enduring effects on my habits. Alison’s habit of nervously checking around a motel room for anything left behind has haunted me — and has resulted in extra care before departures — in every place I’ve stayed since.

The Humor of the Leads

As a kid, my favorite scene was Gib’s dramatic encounter with a sketchy truck driver. He’s just having so much fun freaking the guy out.

I’ve always loved the way Cusack plays Gib’s insecurity, as when he goes to a bar to escape when Alison is talking to her boyfriend on the phone. Even better is how he tries to impress her by showing off his supposed juggling skills when he returns.

Gib has so many good lines. My favorites are his defense of the nutritional value of pork rinds and when he shares the random questions running through his head: “Does God exist? Who invented liquid soap and why?”

Alison’s failure when she tries to shotgun a beer cracks me up. I also smile at Zuniga’s goofy delivery of “I’m the kind of gal who likes to live on the edge,” which says very clearly that she is anything but.

The Joys of the Minor Characters

Like Better Off Dead, another great Cusack flick, this film is full of funny minor characters.

The singing couple is great, with impressive performances from both actors. I hadn’t heard any of these rusty, awful tunes before, and I laugh aloud when the two become fearful of these teens they’re transporting and try to bar them from returning to the car, screaming, “Lock the doors!” It gets me every time.

I love the roommate who wants his almost certainly fictional sexual encounter to be published in Playboy.

Then there’s the semi driver who helps Gib get his “sure thing” (i.e., get laid without strings) because “my whole life, I never had a sure thing.”

Every single character in the dive bar where Gib goes to avoid Alison’s talk with her boyfriend is hilarious: The deadpan bartender, who looks at Gib’s fake ID and says, “Okay, Dr. Levinson, what’ll it be?” The fed-up waitress with her Flo of Mel’s Diner hair and her disdainful glances at her clientele. The charming customers who cheer up Gib with their Christmas carols and their uncertainty of whether they are “goodlooking” men. I can’t decide which I like more: the guy asking the waitress for critiques on his self-discipline or the cowboy, who tells his companions, “I was in Paris once with my wife. Boy, am I glad she’s dead.”

For those of us who relish funny encounters, The Sure Thing has always felt aspirational as well as entertaining.

The Romance

Zuniga doesn’t have Cusack’s talent, but she was very good in this film. Alison’s uncertainty and awkwardness come through in Zuniga’s voice, posture, and expressions.

Cusack is amazing in it: by turns sarcastic, tender, playful, and wistful. Still a teen when this film was produced, he is a far better comedic actor in this, his first lead role, than actors twice his age.

He and Zuniga have great chemistry, and their growth as characters in the movie is sweet and believable. Gib grows up in Alison’s company, and she learns to relax and act more her age (i.e., not 85). What I love is that these are incremental growths: the characters still are fundamentally who they always were.

Of course, the “sure thing” (Nicolette Sheridan) isn’t much of a character, nor is Alison’s boyfriend. But we get more humorous encounters with Lance (Edwards) in the final scenes, including what he did to set up this situation for his friend.

I won’t reveal the end. If it’s a little cheesy, that sentimentality is earned, and Cusack and Zuniga sell it.

The Comparison

Before I left for my junior year in England in the mid-1990s, I discussed with a friend the horror of a partner being with you with nothing to do. He nodded; he felt the same. The image of Lloyd, sitting in Diane’s (Ione Skye’s) dorm room playing video games and practicing kickboxing, the sport “of the future,” while she tries to enjoy her fellowship was one of the reasons that my own boyfriend and I agreed that long distance was a good alternative for us.

I shivered at these lines from Say Anything, thinking of Lloyd glomming onto her:

Diane’s dad: “What are your plans for the future?”

Lloyed: “Spend as much time as possible with Diane before she leaves.”

Sure, Lloyd looks good compared to Diane’s criminal father. But that’s not a high bar. Being adrift at his age isn’t a bad sign; it’s even endearing. But she is driven and has a once-in-a- lifetime opportunity he’s about to derail. Clingy is not a good look, even on John Cusack.

And Diane, oh Diane. At points Skye’s acting is so stilted I found it difficult to watch, so it was hard to feel for her character. While Diane is attracted to Lloyd, it felt like she was just replacing her dad with another guy to lean on.

I laughed a few times during Say Anything, mainly at Lili Taylor’s funny delivery and descriptions of her ex. Compare that to The Sure Thing. The last time I saw it, it had been over a decade, and I still remembered so many scenes and lines with affection. And even though I knew everything coming, I laughed countless times.

When Rob Reiner died, I hoped there would be a reappraisal of this underappreciated comedic gem he’d directed, which was well-reviewed when it first came out. Roger Ebert had given it three and a half out of four stars and called it a “small miracle.”

Since Say Anything was not one of Reiner’s films, I thought The Sure Thing would finally get the due it had never been granted. Instead, the movie became a footnote in Reiner’s obituary, mentioned as if it were a regrettable blip between This Is Spinal Tap and Stand by Me. What a shame.

Hopefully, Zuniga and Cusack standing together to honor Reiner (still adorable together) will be a reminder to those who love it and a wake-up call to those who have never seen it.

Daphne Zuniga and John Cusack honor Rob Reiner at the Oscars.


Even if you like Say Anything, you should watch Cusack’s first starring role to witness the charisma that would turn him into a heartthrob and beloved comedy icon. There’s a dusting of that charm in Say Anything, but if you want to encounter its full wattage, spend a little time with Gib in The Sure Thing.

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Oscar Noms 2025: Gems & Duds

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Photo of Rose Byrne from If I Had Legs I'd Kick You


Hamnet. Can I say a performance like Jessie Buckley’s is good if it’s just one misery scene after another? I don’t know these characters enough to feel invested in them. The pacing is all wrong. I looked at my watch countless times. What were the slow-mo shots of trees and berries for? I didn’t cry. If I hadn’t known these were depictions of real people, I would have rooted for the plague. This is not the sign of a good movie.

Song Song Blue feels a bit like a Lifetime movie despite the great performances (especially Hugh Jackman’s). The timeline is very misleading. But I thought it affecting, which is more than I can say for Hamnet.

One Battle After Another. It’s an action movie. It’s a satire. It’s a comedy. And it all works. Fantastic acting, biting commentary about the current moment (not easy to pull off), an actually original car chase. the star-making turn of Teyana Taylor. It’s a movie I instantly wanted to rewatch despite its length. I don’t always like Paul Thomas Anderson. But he nailed this one.

Sinners. This is a daring movie. It’s inventive and thoughtful and metaphorical and just new. I don’t think it all works, especially the end. I might give the Oscar to Ryan Coogler anyway because this is a deeply creative film, and I believe directors who pull off something less polished but interesting deserve the accolades. The main reason I wouldn’t give this film the Oscar is my biggest surprise: I don’t think Michael B. Jordan is good in it.

This discovery has been a shock for me, someone who has loved him since his stunning performance in The Wire, who adored him even his small roles (Lie to Me). Who watched a superhero movie for him, loved Creed because of him. But here’s the thing: If you’re playing twins, I should be able to tell them apart. And I was so far from being able to do so that I nearly wrote down which person was wearing what so that I’d stop confusing the characters. Consider this: Tatiana Maslany played so many clones in Orphan Black that I couldn’t count them, and when acting as the main four clones, I could tell when one of them was pretending to be another. Jordan is nearly always good, but I found his performance dull here, even if he hadn’t muddled the storyline by not building enough distinctions between the two men. All the other performances — especially those of Wunmi Mosaku and Delroy Lindo — are memorable.

Sentimental Value. I really loved this film. Affecting, understated and simple, with characters so believable to me — especially the relationship between the two sisters — that I instantly felt invested. Stellan Skarsgård is great in it, even better than Sean Penn with his brilliant portrayal of the villain in One Battle After Another. Renate Reinsve is moving and subtle in it, but I liked the performance of Inga Ibsdotter Lilleaas even better. She plays the more grounded sister who is trying to keep the family together. She’s lovely in it.

Marty Supreme. I don’t know how to feel about this film. Timothée Chalamet is mesmerizing in the role, but as a movie, I don’t know. It gets boring in the middle, and I’m not sure what we come to in the end. The very end is terribly cliché. There’s sadly little ping pong. All the character’s hustles flow together and aren’t really hustles at all. The real person the film is based on seems far more interesting than the character drawn here. I enjoyed most of it, but I’m not sure I can call this a good film.

Blue Moon. I enjoyed this little character study. It’s more of a play than a film, but Ethan Hawke — who has never been my favorite star — is quite good in the role. As far as character studies, this is far more interesting than Marty Supreme.

If I Had Legs I’d Kick You. I’m a big fan of this little fever dream of a film, and Rose Byrne’s was the most stunning performance of all of those I saw this year. More nuanced than Buckley’s and Reinsve’s. Better than any of the men’s performances. By turns funny and heartbreaking and deadpan, Byrne’s acting is something to watch. She won’t win. But she should.

So there you have it: my views on the nominees I’ve seen so far. I’d love to hear others’ thoughts!

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Thank You, Academy, for Not Infuriating Me

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Picture of cat from the animated movie Flow.

Tonight I am not mad after the Oscars. I do not feel compelled to read movie reviews that share my negative view of the winner. I do not feel the need to read anything. I feel at peace. Tonight after the first Oscars in some time, I can actually sleep.

I liked Anora. I loved Flow. While I didn’t agree with all the choices, nothing (from my knowledge of the films I did see) was an out-an-out horrible choice.

Thank you, Academy, for not pissing me off this year. I really need the sleep.

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Challengers (2024) Is a Bad Movie

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Zendaya in Challengers (2024)

Sometimes you see an Oscars list, and you’re happy to see not what IS on it, but what isn’t. Some idealistic prognosticators theorized that this buzzy little tennis film called Challengers (2024) would get a bid. After all, its music had won a Golden Globe.

The only thing more annoying than the film, I can safely say, is that music.

I watched the movie out of lethargy. Anora (2024) had just completed, and Challengers started playing. I watched for a bit, idly thinking, “This has to get more interesting.”

Forty-five minutes in, I thought, “No, it really doesn’t” and turned it off.

I turned the movie on again a week later, committed to discovering what others saw in it, and can now say I liked it–the last five minutes, that is. I yawned through every minute of the rest.

So here’s what I saw:

There are some scenes of tennis, in which I had no stake.

There were some characters, so thinly developed I felt nothing for them–not even dislike. They reminded me of the fly that got into my home the other day after surviving the cold. It buzzed here. It buzzed there. No one could say why. I did watch it. I watched Zendaya too. She’s pretty. I liked her clothes. She flitted here; she flitted there. She frowned a lot, sometimes in sunglasses.

There are two other characters. There’s some implication they all want to have sex. The preview suggests that, as does the brief scene it captures. Actually, they don’t. They don’t seem to like anything, including sex. A sandwich is eaten with more relish than they gaze at each other. The sandwich was my second favorite part.

The tennis was at least more active than the characters’ faces. Right when I would wonder, “What is the point of this?” some loud, abrupt, terrible music would come in, but only after a very awkward pause, kind of like an angry teenager turning on speakers full blast to drown out parents, but a teenager unaccustomed to how speakers work. Then the music would go away for no reason, and then come back. Much like my fly. EDM is bad enough at any time, but I’ve never experienced a less artful use of music in any film, at any time. Apparently, this is what wins an original score award at the Golden Globes these days.

And besides the last five minutes, which I did enjoy?

I preferred my fly.

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Oscar Tribute: The Noms They Got Right

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I’ve ranted about the films I didn’t watch–and didn’t want to–but three of the films nominated for Oscars this year are great films.

NO spoilers.


American Fiction. Clever, funny, and original, this satire/dramedy delivers genuine laughs while also addressing heartbreak. We also experience a mature commentary on race we so rarely see on film. Great performances: Jeffery Wright is dead on, nuanced and believable; Issa Rae is fun; and Sterling Brown is compelling. I particularly loved that scene when he dances with his mom. Great acting all through. I still haven’t seen Rustin and suspect Colman Domingo definitely deserves the Oscar. But of those I have seen who are nominated, I wish Wright would get it for his subtle, winning performance. Of course, it won’t happen.

As someone who has been in higher ed, writing, and publishing, I loved the way the film skewered these professions. Clearly, Cord Jefferson knows what he is talking about. I kept wondering how the film would end–there’s no real way to tie this one in a bow without trivializing the problems with racism that are aired, so I liked that Jefferson didn’t take the easy way out. This one is likely to be a film I watch over and over. Obviously, Jefferson should have been up for best director. I suspect of all the films up for Oscars this year, this one will endure the longest.


The Zone of Interest. How clever to focus a Holocaust film not on the evil doers’ atrocities, but on the simpler, more everyday trait of turning a blind eye to others’ tragedies. There’s an uneasy feeling as you watch, of how many times you shut off the news, how many times you try not to think about others’ suffering throughout the world. This film, unlike the bloated movies that are nominated for best editing, is VERY well edited, with perfect, often unexpected choices. It’s relentless in its focus and powerful in its impact. It has a documentary feel to it, and I love how true director Jonathan Glazer, made the choice to fictionalize less than the source material, relying on actual letters and histories to authentically capture this horrifying family.


Anatomy of a Fall. First of all, Sandra Hüller deserves an Oscar for this role. What a performance! Many people have said that this film is really about a marriage. And it is–a very complicated, intensely believable marriage. If that were all that this movie did, it would deserve an Oscar nomination. But it does something more. This film is truly about a child and what he lives with, not knowing if his mother might be guilty of killing his father. This is a perspective we too rarely see on film (or even on documentary coverages of crime), and it’s devastatingly captured here. Wow. Also, this kid is something. The director, Justine Triet, definitely deserves this nomination.

And, while I’m here, one final wish denied: Andrew Scott gave a stunning performance in All of Us Strangers. Actually, Claire Foy deserved a nod for that film too. Definitely worth the watch if you can take a little weirdness.

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Oscar Rant, Part 3: Flower Moon’s Many Missteps

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Spoilers–but not as many as Scorsese’s


I knew I would struggle to warm to Martin Scorsese’s interpretation of a well-loved book. Killers of the Flower Moon is a heartbreaking, fascinating page turner. And it is a history book. I stayed up till 4 am to finish it. What I didn’t expect to do in watching Scorsese’s film of the same name was flinch. In trying to stay authentic and true to the Osage people, Scorsese walked into one of the oldest stereotypes. And the Academy is about to give his starring actress an Oscar for it.

The dignified, long-suffering man or woman of color is one of those stereotypes Hollywood has struggled to shake. There’s also a smug, self-satisfied attempt to award such films and performances with honors (Green Book, Driving Miss Daisy, The Help). When it comes to a group of people our country systematically oppressed, robbed, and killed–like the Osage and so many other American Indian tribes–granting the characters dignity can feel like a kind of reparation, minor as it may be. But it’s also dehumanizing to reduce a person to such a narrow set of traits.

I understand that Scorsese’s task was not easy. The American historical record is simply more complete when it comes to white men than for anyone else. Author/historian David Grann likely made FBI agent Thomas Bruce White Sr. his central character in part because he had so much information on him. Grann even includes a fascinating later history of his mercy toward prisoners who injured him in a prison break, which helps us understand the kind of man who would risk his life for others. And White was, indeed, a hero, and a fascinating one at that.

I get Scorsese’s attempt to avoid the white savior story he risked writing if White were his lead. But he had a dilemma: What do we know about Mollie Burkhart (Lily Gladstone)? We know she was rich. We know she lost many relatives to murder. That she believed in her husband, Ernest Burkhart (Leonard DiCaprio), far longer than she should have. We know that she was very sick. That’s not enough detail, if she’s your central figure. It was up to Scorsese to breathe life and complexity into her characterization, to make her wholly human in the way our 1920s racist, sexist historical record would not grant her–or lean on the descendants or family members who could tell him more.

Alas, Scorsese’s never been very good at female characters. This is no exception. Besides brief glimpses of a more complex woman during the courtship, he has her either sitting or in a sickbed looking resigned, sad, and stoic for 90% of the film. We don’t even feel the menace or experience her fear as she’s poisoned, as we would for a Alfred Hitchcock heroine, because we have little sense of her inner life.

We don’t get to see a sense of humor or any unique, humanizing quirks–we only know that she suffered. And with Eric Roth as his cowriter, whose credits include Forrest Gump (another film with underdeveloped female characters), what hope did he have of getting it right? Why, oh why, can’t this brilliant man recognize his limitations? There’s nothing wrong with specializing in dark white men as a genre. But this was not the subject matter for that focus. Why not let someone else write the screenplay? An Osage female writer would have been amazing; at the least, Scorsese could have chosen a woman.

Mollie’s is not the only half-baked characterization of the Osage in the film. The subtitles only occasionally translate the Osage language, which is used extensively. Instead, the subtitles spell out something like “speaking in Osage,” which was 1. evident 2. useless 3. distancing. Why not help us know the characters better by having them speak in English if you’re not going to bother to translate? (I kept hoping this was an issue with my streaming service, but I doubt it.) The occasional group scenes with Osage leaders stating the obvious didn’t help.

There was a fascinating real-life federal agent, John Wren (Tatanka Means), the only Native American who’d worked for the bureau by then. He assisted with the investigation and appears briefly in the film, and I kept thinking that Scorsese should have focused the narrative on him. What a fascinating angle that would have been! He was still an outsider to the Osage, but had more of an insider’s angle than the rest of the agents.

Instead, Scorsese doubles down on Leonardo DiCaprio’s Ernest, even minimizing the degree of his crimes by not covering his whole plan (or at least, tacit acceptance of the plan) to include his son and wife in the blow-up-the-house plot. Did he love Mollie? He seemed to in the book–and in how he handled the trial. But many dangerously abusive men have loved the women they attempt to murder. I’m not really interested in getting inside of their heads. Are you?

Also, where’s the excitement? We believe Ernest is pretty innocent for a long while in the book. We don’t know his uncle is a monster. The reveal is breathtaking in the book. Leaving out the suspense is a baffling choice.

It’s a shame to see all the wasted potential here: Robert De Niro is good in it and DiCaprio great (even if they are miscast; De Niro is no cowboy and both are at least two decades too old for their parts). Gladstone is very good with what she had to work with, and captures what we know of Mollie well. I enjoyed her subtlety.

There are so many beautifully shot scenes. That moment right before the bomb was especially powerful, as was the federal agents’ gathering scene. Scorsese shares the history and legal status of the Osage’s rights (or rather, lack of rights) without bogging down the narrative–not an easy thing to do. I thought the best part of the film was the start of the investigation by the private eyes: Whenever Scorsese feels comfortable, he does such great work. I loved how the movie helped me keep the characters straight, something I struggled with in an overpopulated book.

A lesser-known director might not have gotten this important story made into a film; I wanted so much to like it. Scorsese’s earnest attempt in that ending to finally give Mollie her due made me sad; I don’t think he succeeded. But maybe he’ll draw people back to the book, which does. I guess I’ll have to take some satisfaction in that.

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Oscar Rant, Part II: Barbie

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I walked into Barbie with sky-high expectations. I had been tracking the career of its co-screenwriter (and Greta Gerwig’s spouse) Noah Baumbach since 1995’s Kicking and Screaming played on my VCR in college. My roommates and I–and my sister–had fallen deeply and completely into lifelong loyalty with him the moment we pressed play. Baumbach GOT us.

Far more than Reality Bites or other Gen X standards, Kicking and Screaming captured my life and my friends’ and siblings’–not in a literal sense, of course, most of us being female and at large state schools. We were certainly not young, privileged men at a small New England college. But in spirit. He got our reluctance to move on with our lives, our fear of door-to-door salespeople, our reluctance to complain to servers, our laziness (putting a sign stating “broken glass” on the floor instead of cleaning a mess up), all our ridiculous rituals we couldn’t break.

I remember the year I paid roommates for their time if I told a bad story or joke, thanks to the film’s influence. I recall my excitement when The Squid and the Whale (2005) finally showed me others had recognized the writer-director’s brilliance. (Though I don’t think he’s equaled either of those films since; I’m not a huge fan of Marriage Story, for example, and thought Margot at the Wedding cold and half-baked.)

Gerwig won my admiration–though to a lesser extent–with Ladybird and by capturing Little Women‘s Jo so well. She pictured the heroine’s future as Louisa May Alcott would have, had the times she’d lived in been less sexist than they were.

To have THESE TWO creating a funny Barbie movie? I was in–especially with Ryan Gosling starring. I admit I had some apprehension, given Baumbach’s caving to Wes Anderson in The Life Aquatic with Steve Zissou. (Where WAS he in that?)

There is A LOT to like about Barbie: The opening scene is brilliant–& the first half is so funny. “Beach” as Ken’s theme for life and his joy at realizing he’s the beneficiary of the patriarchy are so amazing. The costumes and production design are so well done, and Kate McKinnon’s Weird Barbie is an inspiration.

But then, there’s that by-the-book speech delivered by America Ferrara and the muddled second half. Until the ending, which I loved, the film lost its focus.

I don’t question the lack of an Oscar nomination for Margot Robbie. Best actor/actress awards rarely go to men or women in comedies. (It’s all about supporting with comedy nods; this year’s two best actor comedy nods are the exception, not the rule, and both men are starring in dramedies, not comedies, like Barbie.) In addition, the male characters in this film are better written and thus the men have better roles, which is hardly surprising, since Noah Baumbach, the better writer of the pair, has been perfecting this kind of arrested-development male (aka, Ken) since Skippy of Kicking and Screaming. (Actually, arrested-development male describes nearly every character in that film.)

I do think–given its innovative spirit and how much it had to offer–Barbie deserved to be in the best picture mix, especially with undeserving films like The Holdovers, Past Lives, and Oppenheimer on the roster.

Did Gerwig deserve an Oscar nomination for director? It depends on how you look at it. If I ask, “Do I think this film, with its muddled second half, deserves a directing Oscar nomination?” I would answer no. But does she deserve it MORE than Christopher Nolan for his poorly developed, uninspiring borefest? You better believe it.

In the end, I realize Gerwig just tried to please too many audiences with Barbie. And given that, I’m grateful for what I got, and for the joy I felt in wearing pink with Barbie-loving peers at the theater (my first theater return post-COVID). But I hope she and her spouse streamline their styles a bit more because what amazing potential that duo has. We’ve seen what they can do (in Barbie) if they get it half-right. Can you imagine what they can accomplish, once they get it right?

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My Oscar Rant, Part 1: Snark

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It’s that time again–my chance to rant about the films that shouldn’t have been nominated and moan about better films that weren’t. Next time, I’ll discuss Oscar nominees I loved or at least liked. But for this post, I’m going to embrace the snark.

Undeserving Nominations

Past Lives. If the little boy who used to chase me down after we raced on our big wheels and then kiss me were to re-enter my life 20 years later, would that have been a meaningful, maybe-romance? No. Neither was this.

Oppenheimer. This film has far less to say about our past than an episode of Drunk History. Here are the not-so-insightful themes I gleaned after three hours: dropping bombs leads to regret, and politicians are political. Calling a man a genius ten times in the first hour without showing a single scene of what made him so—or what made him charismatic, a leader or interesting—is not characterization. Jumping in time without reason is not artful; it’s confusing. Usually strong actors mimicking, but not inhabiting real-life characters is painful to watch (Robert Downey Jr. being the exception). Dismissing the reflective president who had to decide whether to drop the bomb in a five-minute, misleading scene is irresponsible. If this film wins, the producers better thank Barbie because that’s the only reason Academy voters viewed it. Give it a year, and none of them will remember watching it. Christopher Nolan is too talented to have created something this bad.

The Holdovers. Mediocre and an hour too long. Solid, but not standout acting? Yes. Occasional clever, funny moments? Yes. But generally lazy writing–a teacher who is a hard grader must be a jerk, all students hate their studies, a teacher has to be self-sacrificial to earn respect. Any of you heard all this nonsense before? Me too. Best moment: the kid barely thanks him. That scene was real and funny, capturing what it’s like to be a young, careless teen (tell me you don’t see your young self in that moment); I only wish there had been more moments like it.

Overlooked Gems & Performances

Air. The most entertaining film of the year. Perfect cast, great writing, smart editing. Every moment counted. Zero nominations. The lack of an editing nomination hurts most; three too-long movies are nominated for best editing. Academy voters apparently don’t appreciate the most difficult role of an editor: cutting.

Eileen. An eerie, truly original mystery. Strong performances from the two lead actresses, a memorable one from a supporting (always reliable) character actor and a brilliant one from a supporting actress. Great editing choices for the adaptation of the book, including some difficult cuts by the novel’s author and screenplay co-writer. Zero nominations.

Blackberry. Clever take on the difficulty of running a business with creative, nerdy types. Where is Glenn Howerton’s best supporting actor nomination, I ask you? He plays an amazing villain; his comic timing is unmatched, and his portrayal is nuanced, believable and always surprising. Oh, how much all those award-granting types underestimate anyone involved in It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia….
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Would Rather Pluck My Eyebrows than Watch

Maestro. I am done with movies more interested in artists’ romances than their work. (I’m looking at you, Walk the Line, Bohemian Rhapsody, Blonde.) John Carney, please direct a biopic so that I can again enjoy a film about an artist. Give me a Once (2007) or Begin Again (2013) based on a true story, please.

Poor Things. I can’t take this director anymore. My sister and I refer to his film The Lobster in verb form: Lobstering is when you recommend a film you can’t stand to someone as a joke. She lobstered me with The Judge (2014); I lobstered a mutual friend with The Shape of Water (2017). I didn’t despise The Lobster, as my sister did. The Favourite (2018) was alright (likely only because Nicholas Hoult excels in odd roles). But Yorgos Lanthimos has a knack for squandering a fascinating premise with meaningless grossness or weirdness, and Poor Things looks like he’s upped the ante on that trend. I’m out.

So there you have it. Stay tuned for next time, when I will be far less harsh, but no less opinionated.

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Aftersun: Too Intimate for the Oscars, Rant Part II

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Aftersun deserved best picture & directing Oscars this year, but it had no shot. The Academy doesn’t like to award intimate little stories about relationships. They like loud message films, and loud action films, and stories about men being men. And when they (rarely) pivot their patterns (Moonlight), it’s never for a woman helmer: It’s no accident that the only females who’ve won directing Oscars did so for stories about war, community job loss, and cowboys.

Academy voters like to throw a screenplay bone at the original, lovely intimate stories–though they occasionally alter that with acting (as with Aftersun) or song nominations/wins (as with Once). Even when a quiet, intimate little film like Il Postino is nominated for best picture, it wins for something else (in its case, score). That’s why when I’m searching for good films I don’t know from past Oscars, I go straight to the screenplay category. There I can find films that weren’t about the Academy trying to prove something, or the fact that many of them are too lazy to view all but blockbusters and movies with their friends in them.

What strikes me most about Academy voters is their fear. They’re afraid of being seen as racist, as they should be (#OscarsSoWhite), but they actually prove they are with nominations for movies like The Blind Side and Crash and Green Book. The pernicious roots of racism don’t lie in big headlines or loud messages or overt acts, but in the everyday moment, and the everyday moment is where all of us make mistakes of every kind. We are vulnerable there. Academy voters don’t like that space.

To nominate Aftersun for best picture or its writer-director Charlotte Wells would take guts. It’s not Oscar bait, and at first appears far less skillfully managed than it is. It fools you, posing as a student film, or just a kid’s camcorder records of her vacation with her dad. It’s slow. If you’re inattentive, you might find it boring. You don’t know at first the reasons for pauses; for impressionist shots; for quick flashes. You must be patient. But if you let the film in, you are caught up in the relationship between a charming young girl, Sophie (Frankie Corio), and her sweet dad, Calum (Paul Mescal). You soon sense, as when reading a book by Marilynne Robinson, that every little choice by the writer-director counts, that each choice has layers of meaning that build upon one another, and that the very everyday nature of the story is the point of the film. That’s what our relationships are about, our love, our pain, our loss, our joy. It’s missing the details of moments that haunt us later if the relationship is lost or even if it alters over time.

Aftersun is poignant because it’s about that, but more. About looking back and examining what you were too young or focused on understanding your own growing-up moments to understand, to see your father as human, with needs, pain, and insecurities. And Paul Mescal’s understated performance is much of what makes the film unforgettable.

This movie will stay with me a long time, will remind me to cherish the loved ones in my life, to try to be a more understanding person. I wonder how many people could say that about Avatar: The Way of Water.

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