It’s That Time Again…

Yes, it’s Oscar time in Los Angeles. All you people who don’t live in smog city have the wonderful advantage of a veritable gold mine of good movies to watch, and no billboards on Sunset Boulevard to stare at (all of which proclaim how good each movie is, which really can’t be all true). Okay, so here is my scoop, my picks, my predictions…for the third year in a row (holy crap it’s been a long time).

Best Picture
I haven’t seen all of these, but I’m predicting it’s going to go one of two ways. Slumdog Millionaire is the little movie that could this year (as Juno and Little Miss Sunshine were in years passed…and wouldn’t you know it they’re all made by Fox Searchlight). This movie is great, just a sort of quiet, unassuming and completely unashamedly uplifting. It also won the Golden Globe, which is a good indicator.

The other one I could see winning is Milk. As shitty as this is going to sound, this year with the passing of Prop 8, I could see the Academy making a statement with it. It is a great movie (I literally started crying in the first frame and didn’t stop until the credits rolled…luckily I got to watch it at home so that saved an embarrassing moment).

Potential Upset: Frost/Nixon (I haven’t seen it but have heard mixed reviews).

Best Actor
First off I want to say I’m proud of the Academy for nominating Richard Jenkins who is one of the most underrated character actors of this generation. That being said, he’s not going to win.

This one is either going to Sean Penn or Mickey Rourke. Both of them gave deserving performances. I loved both Milk and The Wrestler. I could see this going to Sean Penn, but it’s a total toss up. Mickey Rourke won the Golden Globe, Sean Penn won the Screen Actors Guild Award…I’m giving this one a 50/50.

Best Actress
I’m calling it…2009 is finally the year for Kate Winslet. She’s the youngest person to garner SIX Oscar Noms, and she hasn’t won any. She’s nominated for the Reader, but she was entered as a Best Supporting Actress for the Reader and the Academy upped her to Best Actress. If you didn’t catch it, she won both the Best Actress (Revolutionary Road) and Best Supporting Actress (The Reader) Golden Globe Awards. This is her year. (Though I was pleased to see Anne Hathaway on the Nomination list because I think she’s underrated as an actress).

Best Supporting Actor
Well, I’m pretty much just calling this one for Heath Ledger. Though I don’t necessarily think he deserves this award (let’s face it, he deserved one for Brokeback and the Academy bricked thinking they’d get him later), he’s going to get it.

Personally, I think Josh Brolin for his role of Dan White in Milk was absolutely amazing. And Michael Shannon in Revolutionary Road was a saving tragically comic role in an otherwise horribly depressing movie.

Best Supporting Actress
This category is definitely the hardest to predict. I have a feeling Amy Adams is finally going to be firmly recognized (she really burst onto the scene when she was nominated for her role in Junebug, which, if you haven’t seen is absolutely fantastic, but I think this is going to cement her as a leading lady). She was awesome in Doubt too, so the award would be well deserved.

I could see this going to Penelope Cruz for Vicky Cristina Barcelona (which I have not seen).

I could see this going to Marisa Tomei, as she was amazing in The Wrestler, but the Academy misfired with her Oscar for My Cousin Vinny so they may be reticent to give her another…even if it was deserved this time.

Viola Davis for Doubt was incredible in her 12 minutes on screen, but if someone from Doubt is winning this category, it’s Amy Adams.

Taraji P. Henson in Benjamin Button is a longshot in my opinion. The movie wasn’t great, though she was very good. I think it’s nominated in a ton of categories and will win none.

Director
I’m saying either Danny Boyle for Slumdog Millionaire or Gus Van Sant for Milk.

AND OF COURSE MY TWO FAVORITES
Original Screenplay
I’m going to say that Milk has this down pat. It’s Dustin Lance Black’s award.

Adapted Screenplay
I’m pretty sure Slumdog Millionaire has this all wrapped up. It won the Golden Globe and it’s really amazing what Simon Beaufoy did to a really hard to adapt book.

So those are my Oscar predictions. I have to say I loved Slumdog, I loved Revolutionary Road, loved The Wrestler, and I loved Milk (even if it almost killed me).

Doubt was good, better if you have experienced the absolute insanity and inanity of the Catholic Church (and even more so if you happen to be Irish as well). Benjamin Button was overrated, but worth seeing. And that’s all I’ve seen so far.

My list to see before Feb 22
Frost/Nixon
Rachel Getting Married
The Reader

Peace, Love, and Awards Season,
Julia

High School Football Hero

So I do fancy myself a writer of sorts. It took a long time for me to be able to call myself a writer, especially in Los Angeles, where too many people call themselves writers who don’t really write. But the thing about being a writer is it’s a pretty solitary action. Sure people collaborate on writing, and some of the best instances of the written word have come out of group efforts. Mainly though, writing is lonely. Even now, I sit in my living room, no one home, nothing but the TV to keep me company. I prefer being alone, but it can get lonely.

Last weekend, my cousin emailed me to come to his rugby game. Now, if you don’t know, I have a ginormous family, so it’s fairly often that family members visit the L.A. area, and I love it. This particular visit sparked something in me though…and yes, a small bit of it was the fact that I was surrounded by buff nineteen year olds (many of whom made me feel like Mrs. Robinson). Much of what I felt had to do with the camaraderie of sports. There was one move in particular, when Oregon played Arizona, that moved me almost to tears on the side of the dusty rugby field. After a particularly hard hit, an Oregon player offered a hand to an Arizona player to help him off the ground.

I know, this isn’t anything particularly special. It isn’t going to solve the economic crisis or the genocide in Darfur. It’s not going to pay my credit card debt or get my room mate a job. But I just couldn’t help be touched by this small gesture. The offering of one hand to another, from one team to another. And I came to a realization. As much shit as we weird kids gave the athletes in high school (and sometimes even in college) there is an underlying tenderness there. Sure rugby is a sport where people smash into each other full force (which is one of the most entertaining things about it) but like most sports, the players take care of each other. They aren’t out to hurt each other seriously, they are out there to play the game.

After working in an industry like entertainment, it’s refreshing to know that there are still some segments of the population where people take care of each other.

Peace, Love, and Compassion,
Julia

Driving Miss Callahan

So I live in Koreatown in Los Angeles. I grew up in what I think may be the most politically correct town in America and was seriously startled the first time I heard someone make a comment about a person based on their race (when I lived in London). I never understood because I grew up so sheltered from any kind of judgement. It shocked me that stereotypes were actually true, even though I fit in to many of them…Hello, I’m Irish. I drink. I’m Italian. I eat. Those are stereotypes and I fit them. But before I moved to London and then Los Angeles, I never really got stereotypes. Like I knew what they were, but wasn’t sure why they were.

Like I said, I live in Koreatown…if we’re talking about stereotypes Asian Driving is a big one. But I realized something the other day. I think that driving, for the most part, does not settle along racial lines. No no. I mean, there are bad drivers in every single ethnic group and good drivers in every ethnic group. Personally, I think that that the real stereotypes should fall along socio-economic lines. Yeah, that’s right, I said it. But it’s not what you think…I promise.

I was driving through Beverly Hills last night and all of this sort of hit me like a ton of bricks. As I sat behind some kind of hybrid SUV that I didn’t recognize (one of those ones that costs more than I make in a year), traveling at approximately 19 miles per hour down Wilshire Blvd. I realized that race had nothing to do with driving skills and yearly income had everything to do with it.

Anyone who knows Los Angeles, and even those who don’t, should know that Wilshire Blvd, like Van Ness in San Francisco or Lakeshore Drive in Chicago is one of those main thoroughfares that cut the city. They are streets that lead everywhere and usually the easiest way to get anywhere is to take these roads. They move fast and move lots of people through, they get the job done. And as such, barring rush hour traffic, the speed usually stays planted above 19 mph. But every time I drive through Beverly Hills I find myself pulling hair from the roots, turning the music up in an effort to distract myself from the desire to ram my Honda Civic into the back of a Bentley.

That’s right, I’m coming out and saying it…rich people are the absolute worst drivers, they don’t give a shit that anyone else is on the road and drive that way. They drive slow in their $300,000 cars and they make absolutely everyone around them crazy as they straddle the center line of a two lane thoroughfare so that no one can get by. That’s right, I live in a part of the city that, stereotypically speaking, should be exceedingly frustrating to drive in, but I find that the real problem lies in when the median income starts stretching into the seven figure range. My solution…nuke Beverly Hills. Maybe our new president can get on that.

Peace, Love, and Bad Rich Drivers,
Julia

No Groupies Required

I’m one of those people who likes to fight technology for a little while before giving myself completely over to it (accepting the iPod which I wanted from it’s first incarnation). I waited the requisite three years or so before getting a cell phone, content with my pager (yes pager), I couldn’t imagine ever owning a DVD player until My So-Called Life was released on DVD in 2003, when I jumped on board wholeheartedly. I am still avoiding trappings of Blackberrys and iPhones (though that is more of a not wanting to get work emails when I don’t want to get them, then actively avoiding the technology).

Now I haven’t wanted nor have I owned a video game system since Sega Genesis came out; it turned out to be the perfect companion to my original Nintendo. I could care less about playstation and X-Box. Never wanted a Game Cube or a Dream Cast. But after carrying hundreds of Wii’s to people’s cars on a Dr. Phil giveaway my interest was somewhat piqued. Even still, I had little interest. Sure the sports looked cool, the Wii fit is somewhat intriguing, but why on earth would I spend $250 on something that held minor thrills for me.

On the other hand, I’d also heard rumblings of this game called Guitar Hero for the past few years. Now, I consider myself a musician, seeing as I am able to read and play music (yes I have a problem with people who are ‘musicians’ and don’t read music, I don’t care who you are). I’m not a great musician, I’m not currently in a band, but I have the ability to play a handful of instruments relatively well. As a musician I kind of detested Guitar Hero from the get go. Basically you push buttons and the game makes it seem like you’re playing a song. Whoop-di-doo. It is not that hard to learn how to play Nirvana songs poorly, just do that.

Last weekend, one of my roommates bought the other one a Wii and Guitar Hero. We got the super deluxe kind where you get a drum set and a microphone. I’m a big girl, I can admit when I was wrong, and boy was I wrong. Guitar Hero might just be the best video game of all time. Better than Atari, better than Tetris, better than Mario Brothers 3, better than Duck Hunt, it’s amazing.

The best is the fact that all three of us, who live in this house, can be a band together. Yes, it satisfies the emptiness that not playing music has left and all of us can play at different levels. I can go a little more difficult when I’m ‘playing the bass’ while my other roommates can go a little easier, since they’re not trained musicians (and yes being a musician makes you a better Guitar Hero player).

Now, when I was eight some people gave us a demonstration of musical instruments at school. They were offering lessons if anyone wanted to learn how to play an instrument. I came home from school that day and told my mother I either wanted to play the trumpet or the drums. As the smart woman she is, she immediately offered to buy me a trumpet, and that’s how I came to play the trumpet. But a small part of me has always wanted to play the drums, and Guitar Hero made it possible.

It’s the best thing ever, and the reason I’ve been tardy in writing my usual weekly email.

Peace, Love, and Fake Musicianship,
Julia

I Found My People…

They were on a train the whole time.

So I left the Bay Area on New Year’s Day, sad to be apart from my beloved San Francisco (I’ve come to the conclusion I’m going to have to be fabulously wealthy so I can have a place in L.A., S.F., New York and London. Instead of being bi-coastal I’ll be quad-habitative), but glad to be going back to my lesser beloved, though still loved, Los Angeles. Instead of heaving my too heavy bag onto an airplane or renting an automatic transmission vehicle (which I can’t stand) to drive down the 101 (since I also can’t stand the middle of our wonderful state), I decided to try something new. I took the train.

Whenever I fly to San Francisco or take the bus or BART or MUNI within the Bay Area, I’m always struck by how many people carry books in their hands, intently focused on them as they wait for a flight to take off. Reading quietly as they jostle back and forth patiently waiting to get to their destination. Los Angeles, on the other hand, has a decidedly less literary lease on life. Sure, the people I’m surrounded with, for the most part, are avid readers, but I also work in a bookstore. Sitting in LAX, however, there are a plethora of blackberrys and iPhones, a veritable sea of portable DVD players and computer screens filled with the faces of movie stars. I’ve always suspected that there had to be more than just the crew of astonishingly brilliant minds I work with in the Los Angeles area and I found them on the train.

That’s right, as we all sat back for our long, yet relaxing trip down the insatiable California coast, the group of Amtrak riders were transported to another time. A simpler time (if that ever existed) when travel was long and tedious, sure it feels like flying across the country or the world takes forever, but in contrast those trips are brief little blips. A time when the train passed by small towns and villages that have long been forgotten as highways and interstates and airports took over.

As I sat on the train, looking out the window at the fallow fields, the lone country houses, the small main streets of towns I’d never known about, I heard a girl tell someone that she could do this for another week. That she could sit here on this train car and loose track of time and space and distance for as as long as it would take to drive across the whole of America. And I couldn’t help but feel like I finally found a place for wanderers like me.

Peace, Love, and Trains,
Julia