Jeffrey Wells

Gladstone, Melton, Gerwig Snubbed in BAFTA Noms

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Lily Gladstone’s identity-propelled Best Actress campaign re Killers of the Flower Moon isn’t cutting any ice with the BAFTA gang.

To even HE’s surprise Gladstone has been flat–out snubbed in the just-announced BAFTA Best Actress nominations — six names (including The Color Purple ‘s Fantasia Barrino) but not a Gladstone among them.

A friend believes that BAFTA’s token woke nominee, Rye Lane ‘s Vivian Oparah, apparently elbowed Gladstone aside. The Native American “great reckoning” thing just isn’t resonating in England, I guess. That plus they’re probably not approving of Team Gladstone’s contention that Mollie Burkhart is a lead role.

And speaking of snubs. May December ‘s enigmatic Charles Melton, an early Best Supporting Actor favorite stateside (Gothams, NYFCC, NSFC), is also, in that category, a BAFTA MIA. Seven nominations and the Criterion closet Eo fan didn’t make the cut. And yet All Of Us Strangers Paul Mescal did; ditto The Holdovers’ Dominic Sessa.

I’m genuinely shocked that Barbie helmer Greta Gerwig was also blown off. Perhaps the BAFTA committee simply felt drained by the hype or something.

The fact that Poor Things got 11 nominations suggests that Emma Stone is a Best Actress favorite.

Killers of the Flower Moon helmer Martin Scorsese and lead actor Leonardo DiCaprio were also snubbed.

The Gladstone and Melton snubs are yet another indication that woke derangement syndrome may be on the wane. Which suggests, in a roundabout way, that woke scold critic Bob Strauss may need to pour himself a cup of coffee and rethink things.

On the other hand a SAG/AFTRA sympathy backlash may happen in Gladstone’s favor.

Mia Farrow’s Best Performances?

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Can’t decide which performance is better, although I’ve always leaned toward Tina Vitale, her cynical New Jersey moll behind the shades, in the latter film, which opened almost exactly 40 years ago (1.27.84).

The Purple Rose of Cairo opened just over 13 months later, on 3.1.85.

Less than a year later came Hannah and Her Sisters (2.7.86), in which Farrow also dramatically stood out (alongside Oscar-winner Dianne Wiest).

Sleet, Icy Rain

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Finally some actual inclement weather. Took long enough. For the first time since cold weather began a few weeks ago I have my black leather gloves stuffed into my motorcycle jacket pockets.

Not Interested

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Ten minutes into last night’s opening episode of True Detective: Night Country, I was shaking my head, faintly groaning and muttering “nope…me no like.”

Set in the fictional village of Ennis, a grubby blue-collar hellhole in northern Alaska (but filmed in Iceland), it’s about a murder mystery (eight missing scientists) mixed with spooky horror jolts (a human tongue lying on a linoleum floor, a barefoot hippie wacko standing in a snowstorm) or, if you prefer, gulpy, uh-oh, nightmarish pan-flash stuff.

And I didn’t care…sorry. I was frowning. I actually watched episode #1 twice…well, nearly. But good God and Lordy Lordy. I hated the grimness and the gloom, the atmosphere of working-class gunk and chilly vibes, fleurescent lighting and the constant downer vibes…lemme out.

Miserable Me: “Who could stand living in this godawful one-horse town?”

I didn’t like any characters except for Jodie Foster’s “Danvers”, an aloof, flinty, sourpuss chief of police who’s no fan of the Beatles. I didn’t care for Kali Reis’s “Angeline Navarro”…didn’t like her sulking, sullen attitude or her cheek studs. There’s a young, good-looking cop (Finn Bennett) I took a shine to, but within a short while, as noted, I was sinking into a puddle of despair.

My spirit surged slightly when Reis came upon a CG polar bear on Main Street, but then we go in for the close-up and OF COURSE the bear is a bit scary due to a missing left eye. As soon as I saw that gnarly black eye socket I said to myself, “Fuck this show.”

Aftermath

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It’s interesting (telling) that no one reporting about last night’s Critics Choice awards has mentioned any surprised, raised-eyebrow reactions about Emma Stone’s Best Actress win. Stone herself clearly didn’t expect it. Kyle Buchanan’s table “yelped in surprise”, he said.

And this morning, it seems, showbiz media reporters and columnists are all passing along the news in emotion-less, no-big-deal, police-blotter fashion.

Why is this? Because, I suspect, they’re probably terrified of acknowledging the Stone triumph as indicative of any kind of shift in the winds, as they don’t want to convey the slightest whiff of approval or excitement as that would go against “the narrative”, and hence might be read as an unfriendly-to-Lily sentiment.

The identity-counts-more-than-quality-or-depth-of- performance sentiment has been the foundational basis of the Gladstone campaign all along.

Stone’s Golden Globes win, last night’s score and her likely forthcoming win at the BAFTA awards will be three-in-a-row. If SAG gives it to Lily regardless then all bets are off — agreed.

Jordan Ruimy: “I think Stone wins the Oscar. If voters actually watch both films [Poor Things and KOTFM] Stone wins due to Lily clearly being a supporting turn.”

Friendo #1: “Academy voters might feel one person of color is enough with Da’Vine Joy Randolph and will not therefore feel obligated to pick Lily. That’s the best argument I can make for a Stone win.”

Friendo #2: “I’m not a fan of Gladstone’s performance, and even the misplacing of her in the lead actress category is a kind of performative identity bullshit. But sorry, I think she’s a lock to win the Oscar. (Might not be true if Stone hadn’t already won.)”

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