Updated: I’ve been given a more accurate capturing of yesterday’s volatile Twitter volley between Awards Daily‘s Sasha Stone and Hollywood Reporter columnist Scott Feinberg that occured in the wake of the BAFTA Awards.
Boiled down, Feinberg is an advocate of journalistic impartiality, and Stone, to her credit, is an advocate of the Oscar nominees she believes in. And never the twain shall meet. Here’s how it went down (with edits):
AwardsDaily: The Artist [wins at] BAFTA. What a shocker! The most painful BAFTAs I have ever endured, honest to God.
ScottFeinberg: People dumping on The Artist: have a little class and shut up.
AwardsDaily: Watch out, Feinberg talking about class again!
ScottFeinberg: Absolutely. Why don’t you overreact to this again too like the Rooney Mara thing?
AwardsDaily: That doesn’t hold as much interest for me. But class has nothing to do with bagging on the Artist because to do that is to bag on awards season.
ScottFeinberg: Class is not spending every waking minute suggesting a film’s unworthy just cuz you don’t like it — obviously a lot of others do
AwardsDaily: I don’t know who ever made you the moral authority on class.
ScottFeinberg: Who made you it? You’re the one writing lengthy essays about me saying that I personally didn’t appreciate someone’s behavior.
AwardsDaily: You tweeted it to all of your followers. That is different from saying it. That’s being a cog in a smear campaign.
ScottFeinberg: So how would you classify your incessant dumping on The King’s Speech or The Artist?
AwardsDaily: I haven’t once dumped on The Artist. It didn’t deserve Best Screenplay. The King’s Speech flat out didn’t deserve to win
ScottFeinberg: I’m not saying I necessarily even disagree with you, but that’s not any less inappropriate than what you’ve accused me of.
AwardsDaily: You’re saying people who are dumping on The Artist are lacking class. And I’m saying [that] shutting up for a studio campaign is hardly class.
ScottFeinberg: Yes, I do think it’s classless to dump on a movie that you’re supposed to be objectively covering minutes after it wins an award
AwardsDaily: Who says I was supposed to be objective about anything? That’s the last thing I claim to be.
The Artist dominated the BAFTA awards this evening — Best Picture, Best Director (Michel Hazanavicius), Best Actor (Jean Dujardin), Best Original Screenplay (Hazanavicius), Best Cinematography, Best Costume Design, Best Music. With each successive award I felt number and number. I am berefet of all feeling…nothing. I’m a cypher sitting in a leather chair.
Previous Update (1:32 pm Pacific): Nobody with their mind and feet half-planted in the real, non-movie-blogging world (like me) gives a damn about the BAFTA awards. The BBC America broadcast is delayed until this evening, and you can’t even watch a live feed online. There’s Twitter, of course, and the blow-by-blows on various film fanatic sites (like In Contention) but who cares anyway? It’s already turning into a celebration of Artist and Hugo love.
All right, I can support the BAFTA guys giving Tyrannosaur director Paddy Considine their Best British Debut award…fine.
Wait…the BAFTAs gave Best Foreign Language Film to Pedro Almodovar‘s The Skin I Live In? Almodovar never makes a bad film and I enjoyed Skin as far as it went, but c’mon — it’s unmistakably one of his lesser efforts. And they blew off A Separation to do this?
Guillaume Schiffman‘s black-and-white cinematography for The Artist was won a BAFTA award. But it didn’t offer a scrupulous recreation of a late 1920s film, which is what The Artist is all about (revisitings, film styles, getting it right) and what it should have been. It looks a little too glossy and fluid. 1920s films were much more static and antiquated looking.
THE WINNERS:
Best Film: The Artist.
Best Actor: Jean Dujardin, The Artist. Wells response: Sigh..whatever.
Best Actress: Meryl Streep, The Iron Lady. Wells response: Maybe this isn’t such a shocker. The Brits voted for a story that portrayed, or at least reflected, their own history and culture. A vot efor Viola Davis would have obviously been a vote portraying or reflecting American culture, so there you are,
Best Director: Michel Hazanavicius, The Artist. Wells response: Why not a BAFTA award for director of most widely-liked default consensus film of 2011?
Best Animated Film: Rango. Wells response: I understood and appreicated of what Rango was up to, but I was bored.
Best Adapted Screenplay: Bridget O’Connor and Peter Straughan, Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy. Wells response: Brits standing up for their own.
Best Documentary: Senna. Wells response: Why not?
Rising Star Award: Adam Deacon. Wells response: Who’s Adam Deacon?
Best Original Screenplay: Michel Hazanavicius, The Artist. Wells response: Better than the original screenplays of Midnight in Paris or A Separation? This is lunacy.
Best Supporting Actress: Octavia Spencer, The Help. Wells response: This means Meryl’s not winning Best Actress…right?
Best British Film: Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy
Best Supporting Actor: Christopher Plummer, Beginners. Wells response: Fine.
Best Production Design: Hugo
Best British Debut: Paddy Considine, Tyrannosaur
Best Foreign Language Film: The Skin I Live In. Wells response: They’re serious?
Best Makeup: The Iron Lady.
Best Costume Design: The Artist. Wells response: Those 1920s outfits were wonderful! I loved them! So accurate!
Best Cinematography: The Artist. Wells response: Not that special, certainly not deserved.
Best Film Editing: Senna.
Best Sound: Hugo.
Best Music: The Artist. Wells response: Give me a break!
Best Visual Effects: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2.
Nobody cares!
The BAFTAs are not even being broadcast live in the UK. They take the raw footage and edit it all into a two-hour package — and then the show is broadcast a couple of hours later.
I went out for groceries tonight at West Hollywood Pavillions. I naturally bought the 2.20 edition of the National Enquirer when I saw they had a story about Whitney Houston being back to her old ways. It begins on page 10 and 11.
This is footage of an East of Eden screen test or reharsal of some kind between James Dean and Richard Davalos, who played Aaron, the older brother of Dean’s character, Cal. Impressions?
It’s very difficult to summon the energy to do this as it’s very hard to care, but here are my picks for likely Oscar winners in the major categories:
BEST PICTURE: The Artist (p: Thomas Langmann). SHOULD WIN: Moneyball (p: Michael De Luca, Rachael Horovitz, Brad Pitt) or The Descendants (p: Jim Burke, Alexander Payne, Jim Taylor). SHOULD HAVE BEEN NOMINATED: Drive.
BEST DIRECTOR: Michel Hazanavicius, The Artist. SHOULD WIN: Alexander Payne, The Descendants. SHOULD HAVE BEEN NOMINATED: Bennett MIller, Moneyball.
BEST ACTOR: Jean Dujardin, The Artist. SHOULD WIN: Brad Pitt, Moneyball or Demian Bichir, A Better Life or George Clooney, The Descendants.
BEST ACTRESS: Viola Davis, The Help.
BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR : Christopher Plummer, Beginners. SHOULD HAVE BEEN NOMINATED: Albert Brooks, Drive.
BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS: Octavia Spencer, The Help.
BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY: Moneyball, screenplay by Steven Zaillian and Aaron Sorkin, story by Stan Chervin, OR The Descendants, screenplay by Alexander Payne and Nat Faxon & Jim Rash. (Undecided)
BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY: Margin Call, written by J.C. Chandor, OR A Separation, written by Asghar Farhadi. (Undecided)
BEST ANIMATED FEATURE: Rango, d: Gore Verbinski.
BEST DOCUMENTARY (FEATURE): Undefeated, p/d: TJ Martin, Dan Lindsay and Richard Middlemas.
BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY: Emmanuel Lubezki, The Tree of Life.
BEST FILM EDITING: Christopher Tellefsen, Moneyball.
It took her many years to get there, but Whitney Houston, 48, has finally bought it.
Five or ten minutes ago Associated Press music industry reporter Nekesa Mumbi Moody reported Houston’s death, stating that publicist Kristen Foster has confirmed. Deadline‘s Nikki Finke is reporting that Houston died at the Beverly Hilton hotel. The 911 call came in around 3:25 pm this afternoon.
The specific cause of the pop singer’s death is unclear, but c’mon…this has been in the cards for ages. Houston’s rep as a poster girl for drug abuse long ago eclipsed her fame as a singer.
Here’s Gerrick D. Kennedy‘s L.A. Times/”Hiss and Pop” 2.11 piece about Houston doing “handstands by the pool” a couple of days ago.
TheWrap‘s Sharon Waxman is passing along “initial media reports [that] Houston was found by the veteran music producer Clive Davis, but few details [are] immediately available. Houston was reportedly in Los Angeles for a party that Davis holds every year on the eve of the Grammys.”
Here’s a 9.13.01 ABC News story in which publicist Nancy Setlzer denied reports of her death following Houston’s “shockingly thin, even skeletal” appearance at a Michael Jackson tribute concert at Madison Square Garden.
Honestly? The only Houston song I ever responded to was “How Will I Know?” I kinda liked her in The Bodyguard. I’m sorry for her friends and family but I feel no pity or sadness for a person who has been so self-destructive for so long and with such commitment.
Many people are shocked by Houston’s death, but find me one person who is genuinely surprised. The New York Times/AP report mentions “drug use” and “erratic behavior” in the first paragraph. What are they trying to do, Barnes78 — jump the gun?
Houston also appeared in Waiting To Exhale and The Preacher’s Wife. She also costarred in an unreleased Salim Akil film called Sparkle, which the IMDB says is about “three sisters [who have formed] a successful singing group and must deal with the fallout of fame and drugs.” Houston plays a character named Emma.
Houston confessed to drug problems (cocaine, etc.) in a 2002 Diane Sawyer interview. “The biggest devil is me,” she told Sawyer. “I’m either my best friend or my worst enemy.” Houston went into rehab several times, blah blah.
In response to Thursday’s post about What’s Up Tiger Lily?, HE reader John Muller posted this clip yesterday.
I love the visual panache in today’s front page so I figured I’d capture it as everything will shift over in a few days. Dylan’s Damien Demian Bichir ads went up this morning, and I’m really delighted with the red-orange Extremely Loud skin — one of the best-looking ads we’ve ever run.
Taken somewhere near 6613 Sunset Blvd, and with an iPhone yet — Friday, 1.10, 6:25 pm.
Either a lady likes me and gives me the green light, or she doesn’t. Either way is cool. Every time I’ve connected with someone I’ve known within minutes if I’m “in” or not. It’s in her eyes or it isn’t. That doesn’t mean we’re instantly whoopsy-doopsy. There are many, many ways you can persuade someone who’s initially attracted to back up or do a 180. But a green light at the outset is never earned. It is either given or not given free of charge. I don’t believe in jumping through hoops and balancing beach balls on my nose in order to charm a woman into wanting to catch a film or whatever. “I can let it all go,” as Robert Mitchum once said. I’m not a salmon swimming upstream.
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