red carpet

March 8, 2010

I love the Academy Awards. It’s a cheesy kind of love, I know, but I’m not embarrassed by it. There’s something about the mix of scripted and unscripted that works. I gotta say that I’m really pleased about some of this year’s awards, especially all the accolades for The Hurt Locker, which I saw when it opened here. It got under my skin, in part because it’s an edge-of-your seat, intense kinda movie, and in part because it gave me a visceral look at the drug of war, which is the drug my dad was addicted to. I didn’t want to be attached to the film winning so much, but inside I was, especially given that it was up against another war movie that glorified vengeance. In my mind, revenge is about suffering, but I don’t want to write a long post here on wrath. Not right now. Because I have been nurturing a crush on Katherine Bigelow since I read a profile of her in the Times. She’s a bad ass director and on top of that she was a painter, can talk about art and appeared in Born in Flames. And she’s tall. And she’s fucking hot. Of course I have a crush. And I’m way, way psyched she won best director, not just for breaking the barrier, which needed to be broken because this fucking gender shit is so remarkably old, but because she really rocked the screen. If you haven’t seen the movie. Go see it.

Plus, I’m always happy to see Helen Mirren. She’s hot. She’s British. And she makes everybody who gets on the screen with her seem about a thousand times better.

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