I got a call earlier today from a smart movie guy, and he knows this phantom-like Oscar oddsmaker…a kind of consultant who sees everything and talks to a lot of Academy members and probably wears pricey suits but who shuns the spotlight and doesn’t give his phone number out. The guy funnels his information to…you tell me, maybe exhibitors or gambling operations or whomever. The point is that my movie pal says this guy, whom he’s known for years, has been “Nate Silver-like” and even “spookily accurate” in predicting Oscar winners. And this fucking guy (i.e., the phantom) is saying, believe it or not, that Saving Mr. Banks is going to take the Best Picture Oscar and that Emma Thompson, portrayer of P.L. Travers, is going to win for Best Actress.

Aarrrgghhhh!

I asked if I could speak to this guy and so my friend made the call right away, but the guy hasn’t responded so far. I laughed loudly and feigned shock when he dropped the bomb. “It’s the Driving Miss Daisy syndrome!,” I groaned. “Daisy, The King’s Speech, Argo…always the least offensive, most mild-mannered film with a poignant little emotional tug and the least amount of baggage. Plus it’s Hollywood factory-friendly. The sugarcoat syndrome wins out in the end and the artist goes home in frustration and the movie is a hit.”

I don’t skim lists of just-announced Sundance films and go “okay, here are highlights and here are a couple of apparent themes this year” and blah blah blah blah blah blah. Well, okay, I do skim lists of just-announced Sundance films and then go “okay, here are highlights and here are a couple of apparent themes this year” but I don’t do it right away. I like to think about it for a day or so. The easiest thing is to go from title to title and make snap judgments about which ones I won’t see because they sound repellent or awful or tedious or too Sundance-y, but that’s a little sloppy and haphazard. What I like to do is call two or three buyers and ask if they’ve heard anything. All I know is that I’ve got a place to stay all locked down and that I bought my ticket earlier today.

I’ve received a lot more than just these, of course. These are just the recognizable titles. Still looking for Inside Llewyn Davis and Wolf of Wall Street screeners. What I really want is a Bluray of the XXX-rated, four-hour or five-hour version of Wolf — that would be a real blast of whipped cream on the shortcake.

To the surprise of at least some in the awards-handicap racket, the National Board of Review has handed its Best Film award to Spike Jonze‘s delicate and affecting Her, and awarded Jonze as Best Director. This is a very welcome thing as Her has so far been simmering at best among the Guru-roovies and the Gold Derby-ites. I’ve never felt such rapport with or respect for the National Board of Review as I do right now. Give me a few days and I’ll revert to my default position of not thinking much of this group, but for now they’re very cool.