Why, then, do I become so obsessed with the Oscars every year? I love speculating, crossing my fingers, crying during the acceptance speeches, and feeling uplifted when they play clips from movies I’ve never seen. It’s very strange.
Maybe it’s my “list.” A few years ago, my dad and I were discussing how hard it is to determine which movies are “good” nowadays. You see, my dad and I are movie snobs, and so we only wanted to deal with *the best* when it came to cinema. Wedding Crashers need not apply. So we decided to compile two lists: one of all the movies that had won the Academy Award for Best Picture, and a second of all the movies that had been nominated for Best Picture. We figured if any award show is an indicator of quality, it’s the Oscars. Everyone knows the popular movies rarely win, so the winners should be artsy and “meaningful” enough for us snobs.
We haven’t made too significant of progress on both those counts, although being able to borrow movies from Half-Price has been convenient. Hence, why I informed you of watching Finding Neverland and Lost in Translation. Plus, as snobby as we are, we both watch our fair share of *everything else.* Me? I’m a fan of rom-coms and period pieces based on Jane Austen novels. My dad, while a much bigger movie buff than I, likes to watch westerns on A&E.
Anyway, whatever the reason, I’m now obsessed with the Oscars. I’m especially nervous if I’ve seen any of the films nominated for Best Picture. I rarely go to the movie theater anymore, and so I’ve never seen the winner for Best Picture before it’s won. This year, my odds were pretty low with 10 nominees (which I thought was a stupid idea). I only saw Up and Up in the Air. However, I get so attached to the movies I DO see, I’m always hoping against hope they’ll win. Juno, Capote … all these films failed me in the clutch. Plus, even though I didn’t want Avatar to win (James Cameron is so full of himself), I figured I would see it in the near future. No such luck. Now I have to track down the potentially intense Hurt Locker and hope it doesn’t make me cry. Oh well.