In a post-Golden Globes analysis piece (dated 1.12), Hollywood Reporter columnist Scott Feinberg states a general rule about musical scores, i.e., “The score you hear the most in a good film is usually the one that wins [awards]” Okay, then why didn’t Antonio Sanchez‘s all-percussion score for Birdman win last night instead of Johan Johannsson‘s score for The Theory of Everything? Johansson’s score swirls around the film and viewer alike, lifting both into state of simulated cosmic wonderment, and so you can understand why it won. But Sanchez’s all-drumming score is a visceral knockout, all jazzy and punching and popping like corn on a skillet, totally unlike any score….oh, wait, it’s not actually “music”, is it? And so it’s not really a “score.” And so a regular-sounding score with violins and a piano and a brass section is preferable. Feinberg’s amended rule: “The traditional musical score you hear the most in a good film is usually the one that wins awards.”

I’m basically a motorcycle/scooter rider anyway so I’m easily down with buying a three-wheeled, Sting Ray-sized Elio for only $7 grand and change. It’s basically a motorcycle with a hefty engine and many of the comforts of a car (two seats, heat and air conditioning, protection from rain, iPad/GPS screen, radio with auxiliary input), and a relatively light (1200 pounds), energy-efficient thing that security-minded women will avoid like the plague. (Celebrities and young mothers are the main reason why there are so many SUVs on the road — both groups are convinced that big fat tanks are safer, and that the sensation of “safety” they bring is more important than the environment.) If I join the 38,000 who’ve already taken the plunge I’ll have a new black Elio in my garage by late ’15, or so they’re saying. Sales will slow down after somebody gets killed in a freeway accident but until then it’ll be smooth sailing. I’m no more afraid of an accident in an Elio than I am of getting into an accident on the Yamaha. It’s simply a matter of identifying the idiots, drunks, 80something slowpokes and road-ragers before they can hurt me. On top of which I rarely drive on freeways, which is where the bad stuff usually happens. I’m serious — I’m buying one of these things.

Now that he’s President of the United States, Frank Underwood (Kevin Spacey) can’t figure out ways to keep his hands clean? I realize that sociopaths can’t escape their basic natures but isn’t it supposed to be a whole lot easier to avoid the mud and the blood when you’re in the Oval Office? Presumably Underwood’s sordid past (like the murder of Kate Mara‘s Zoe Barnes) will come back to haunt him and he’ll have no choice but to shut people up by any means necessary. I for one want Frank to stay in office. No impeachment, no resignation, no dark fate. I want him to transcend his bullshit and become a better man.

Last night’s HE’s own Leviathan won the Golden Globe award for Best Foreign Language Film…terrific. A nice boost in the minds of Oscar voters. But during the presentation, the off-screen announcer and Lupita Nyongo both flubbed the pronouncing of the title. They called it “LuhVEEyaTHON” rather than the correct “LuhVYathun” — the “vy” rhyming with eye. It’s not like Leviathan is some wildly exotic term that only scholars and academics use. Would it have killed Nyongo and the announcer to simply check online for the proper way to say it? Which would have taken…what, two minutes? They sounded like idiots, and Nyongo is college-educated and was raised by highly educated, professional-class parents. On top of which the announcer pronounced the last name of director Andrey Zvyagintsev as “VAHgintsev”– basic research would have revealed that Russians say “ZvYAHgintsev.” By the way, isn’t Pawel Pawlikowski‘s Ida pronounced “EYEdah” and not “EEdah,” as the GG announcer called it?

Some of the comments last night suggested that I should bring on a columnist who focuses entirely on TV and cable fare. And another who would post two or three times weekly on superhero-fanboy ComicCon cultural-genocide crap. I would do that in a heartbeat as that would broaden the readership, but finding somebody good enough to cover either of those realms means paying them a decent salary and I’m already splitting HE’s ad revenue with my ad guy as it is. And if they’re really good they always move on to the next gig within a year or so and then you have to find someone to take their place. And hardly anyone would be willing to keep up with the day-to-day like I do. It’s a huge pain in the ass. If someone just wanted to post on their own — frequently, I mean — and manage to generate ad revenue on their own, fine…but finding that person would be a needle-in-a-haystack procedure. I tried working with other columnists seven or eight years ago and it just didn’t seem worth it in the end. For better or worse HE is a one-man-band operation, I’m afraid. It’s not like I ignore TV-cable fare. I pay attention with some degree of regularity (The Leftovers, The Affair, House of Cards, Mad Men, etc.) Plus I write about other stuff in life (sobriety, women, travel, party elephants, shrieking girls in cafes). Plus I’ll be running GoPro footage in a month or two. I cover a wide swath.

I’m thinking in particular of Emmanuel Lubezski‘s hand-held photography in Terrence Malick‘s The Tree of Life…photography that swoops and glides and swirls and float-pans in dizzy circles and basically goes “oooh, wow…the wonder of nature and life and the whole quiet, gobsmacking symphony of it all!” Well, the GoPro footage in this 18 month old promotional video beats Lubezski’s stuff all to hell because it can get into and top of more places and POVs. The result, I think, of GoPro‘s constantly expanding visual realm is that Lubezki-like nature-encountering photography will lose (or has already lost) its lustre because no director of photography can beat the GoPro stuff — the “wow” element is totally unchallengable. Which leaves the aesthetic of the cinematographer as the only distinguishing characteristic that can possibly matter at the end of the day — restraint, particularity, focus, stillness, this or that form of transcendence, etc. Or good old, straight-on cinematography that tells a story without getting in the way.