The Washington, DC-Area Film Critics Association announced their winners yesterday and I was looking the other way. Brilliant. Best Film — Up in the Air (Paramount); Best Director — Kathryn Bigelow (The Hurt Locker); Best Actor — George Clooney (Up in the Air); Best Actress — Carey Mulligan (An Education); Best Supporting Actor — Christoph Waltz (Inglourious Basterds); Best Supporting Actress — Mo’Nique (Precious).

Plus: Best Ensemble — The Hurt Locker; Best

Breakthrough Performance — Gabourey Sidibe (Precious); Best Adapted Screenplay — Jason Reitman and Sheldon Turner (Up in the Air); Best Original Screenplay — Quentin Tarantino (Inglourious Basterds); Best Animated Film — Up (Walt Disney & Pixar); Best Foreign Film — Sin Nombre (Focus Features); Best Documentary — Food, Inc. (Magnolia); Best Art Direction — Nine (The Weinstein Company).

Envelope/Gold Derby guy Tom O’Neil‘s confirmed this morning that no Oscar glory will be shared by Precious executive producers Oprah Winfrey and Tyler Perry, who climbed aboard in (or after) post-production to give Lee Daniels‘ film a promotional push.

A Lionsgate rep told O’Neil that “the rule is up to three producers get statuettes,” and that “the producers are Lee Daniels, Sarah Siegel-Magness and Gary Magness.”

Here’s some front-page attention for a reply I posted earlier this morning to HE reader “alynch” regarding the the current Mo’Nique hoo-hah. Acknowledging my comment that Mo’Nique “sounds obstinate — like someone who’s pointedly not interested in winning, a la George C. Scott or Marlon Brando,” Lynch asked me if I could apply my standards to them as well — i.e., do I believe the Academy should’ve refused to recognize Scott & Brando, since they didn’t care about the award either?

(l. to r.) Monique, Marlon Brando, George C,. Scott

All Academy recognition should ideally be about the work and nothing but, I replied. The reputation of the Oscars rests or falls upon the honoring of quality work, and particularly the perception of honoring great work that has endured over the decades.

It follows that the Academy’s decision to give Best Picture Oscars to Around The World in 80 Days or Driving Miss Daisy doesn’t make the Academy seem all that deep or wise in retrospect. But it does enhance AMPAS’s rep that they gave Best Actor Oscars to George C. Scott for Patton and Marlon Brando for The Godfather, in part because they ignored whatever those guys were saying about the value of an Oscar (i.e., deriding the process, calling it “a meat parade” and whatnot) and just focused on the work.

If people feel that Mo’Nique’s work in Precious is the best female supporting performance they’ve seen all year then they should damn well vote for her regardless of whatever obstinate, politically unfortunate, pretending-to-be-dumb statements she’s made. Never trust the artist — trust the tale.

But there’s a distinction between Mo’Nique has said and what Brando and Scott were reported to have said in the early ’70s. Those guys, it seems, were primarily offended by the lack of dignity in the idea of this or that actor competing for a prize. That I get and respect. It wasn’t a very wise way to look at it, but I get their point and if they wanted to play their cards that way, fine. But I don’t think Brando and Scott pretended to be morons as a way of obscuring their true convictions. And I don’t think either of them ever said, “Okay, I’ll campaign in this and that way, but you gotta show me the money!”

Additional point: The definition of quality work is in the eye of the beholder, of course, but there’s one thing that tends to kick in more than we want to admit — we usually admire good/great performances by good/great actors because we like or admire or enjoy the characters they’re playing.

Everyone loved Brando’s Vito Corleone, especially after that backyard garden scene with Al Pacino and particularly after he stuck that orange peel in his mouth in order to mock-frighten his grandson. And everyone fell for Scott’s rebellious and impolitic Gen. George S. Patton because they saw he was a romantic at heart, especially after he spoke about being a reincarnation of past warriors. And they related to a man who was politically punished — made into a pariah — for standing his ground and simply being who he was and being true to his instincts.

But who in their right mind could love Mo’Nique’s lazy and sadistic welfare mom who makes her daughter’s life a living hell and permits her husband to rape that daughter repeatedly as a way of currying favor with him? It’s one thing to throw your own life away but to systematically torture and poison the life of your child? She’s garbage — arguably the lowest and scummiest character ever portrayed in an Oscar-quality feature.

Daniel Day Lewis‘s oil man in There Will Be Blood was a cold alcoholic monster during the last two scenes (“Bastard in a basket!”), but at least he had the flair and panache to say “I drink your milkshake!” and “I’m finished” at the very end, and at least he showed a tough determination in the early stages of building his oil business and showed a kind of malignant pride in his ability to prevail in a very tough racket. He was a monster but he did it with great style and a sense of perverse contentment about himself. “Good God, look at me! I’m a selfish fiend…and I don’t care all that much that I am, partly because I half-love it!”

But he did love and care for his son in his own way…until he decided to give him up when his son lost his hearing because his ability to help expand Daniel Plainview’s business was lessened, and because he was furious with his son for having started a fire in that cabin. And he did despise Paul Dano‘s religious hustler — I gave him points for that.

The key point is that being an evil person is about what you do to yourself but when you do it to your child, you’ve moved beyond “being” evil to spreading and creating new evils in another person, and an innocent to boot.

The venality in Joe Pesci‘s Goodfellas character or Ben Kingsley‘s in Sexy Beast is confined to themselves — i.e., self-generated and self-directed for the most part. They aren’t injecting their poisons into a kid. Their maliciousness is otherwise directed at certain adults who’ve made the choice of hanging or working with these guys for whatever reason, but they’ve made this choice as adults.

But polluting and destroying a young child is way beyond the realm. A person who does this is truly the keeper of Dante’s Inferno.

Last night I gave an attaboy to amctv’s Bilge Ebiri for noting that Up In The Air is Intolerable Cruelty and vice versa. This morning N.Y. Film Festival honcho (and departing L.A. Weekly critic) Scott Foundas reminded that L.A. Weekly critic Robert Willonsky said the same thing on 12.2.

“Not sure I agree on how ‘big’ Bilge Ebiri’s discovery is vis-a-vis Up in the Air and Intolerable Cruelty,” Foundas writes, “but I know for sure he wasn’t the first one to make it.”

“There is something oddly familiar about Jason Reitman‘s Up in the Air,” Willonsky wrote, “in which George Clooney plays a commitment-phobic business traveler with no use for meaningful human interaction. Could have sworn we’ve been here before. When was it? And where? Oh, yes, of course: Joel and Ethan Coen‘s Intolerable Cruelty, released in the fall of 2003 and forgotten by that year’s first freeze.

“The screwball comedy with a dizzying topspin featured Clooney as Miles Massey, the divorce lawyer who was the love of his own life, till she came along — Catherine Zeta-Jones, that Cinemascope devil in a red dress, who convinced the heartless Miles he had, gulp, soul. Which is why, just as he was set to deliver The Big Speech to a roomful of attorneys about how to gut unhappy couples, Miles stepped up to the microphone, tore up his prepared remarks, and decided, instead, to speak ‘from the heart.’ Poor bastard never knew what hit him.”

Mo’Nique, I mean. The Precious mom-from-hell thought to be the leading contender for Best Supporting Actress. She’s done interviews but hasn’t strenuously “campaigned.” She’s told handlers she wants money to make promotional appearances. Her obstinacy led a publicist to resign after two weeks on the job. And now Scott Feinberg has provided a transcript of an 11.9 Mo’Nique Show discussion about the Oscar game that further conveys her “screw this Oscar stuff, what’s in it for me?” attitude.

Mo’Nique during taping of BET’s Mo’Nique Show.

You know what, Academy? Don’t give her the Best Supporting Actress Oscar. In fact, deny her a nomination and teach her a lesson. She doesn’t want to play the game and show the respect so, you know, give the Oscar to someone who really wants and values it. You didn’t really want to give an Oscar to someone for playing a cold-blooded Hannibal Godzilla daughter-killer anyway, right? Admit it — you had qualms.

Bilge Ebiri has hit on something fairly big in an amctv.com article — Up In The Air is Intolerable Cruelty and vice versa, He mentions five big similarities in the piece (with spoilers!); this evening he passed along a few more by e-mail.

1. Our Cynical Hero, George Clooney

Up in the Air: Termination counselor Ryan Bingham travels the country firing people on behalf of other companies. He’s at the top of his field, and he’s best-known for a motivational speech he gives to various business groups about shedding all the material and emotional baggage in their figurative “backpacks.”

Intolerable Cruelty: Miles Massey is a divorce attorney who spends all his time coldly dividing (or seizing) marital estates. He’s at the top of his field, and he’s famous for “The Massey Prenup,” an iron-clad prenuptial agreement that protects wealthy spouses from losing their assets due to divorce.

2. …Who Meets His Match

Up in the Air: Alex (Vera Farmiga) seems to know as much about travel, frequent flier mile programs, and rental cars as Ryan does. But they’re both lonely, and they find themselves falling for each other in a more profound way.

Intolerable Cruelty: Manipulative, ice-cold lawyer Marylin Rexroth (Catherine Zeta-Jones) is initially on the other side of a divorce case involving one of Miles’s clients. But they’re both lonely, and they find themselves falling for each other in a more profound way.

3. …Who Isn’t What She Seems to Be

Up in the Air: It turns out that Alex isn’t exactly the single road warrior she made Ryan think she was. Instead, she’s happily married, with kids — as Ryan discovers when, in a burst of romantic inspiration, he drops everything and surprises her at her house in Chicago.

Intolerable Cruelty: It turns out that Marylin has been conning Miles all along, and is just after his money — as he discovers when, in a burst of romantic inspiration, he drops everything and marries her.

4. The Revelatory Convention Speech

Up in the Air: Ryan finally gets the chance to give his “What’s in Your Backpack” speech at the very prestigious Goldquest Convention. But after taking the stage, he realizes that he loves Alex and no longer believes his own cynical spiel.

Intolerable Cruelty: Miles has to keynote the annual convention of the National Organization of Marital Attorneys Nationwide. But after taking the stage, he realizes he loves Marylin and no longer believes his own cynical spiel.

5. A Last-Minute Reprieve!

Up in the Air: Ryan is about to be grounded for good thanks to a newfangled virtual firing system…but then someone they fired earlier commits suicide. Faster than you can say “deus ex maquina,” the new system is scrapped, and Ryan goes back up in the air.

Intolerable Cruelty: Miles is about to lose everything he’s got after Marylin decides to divorce him. But then Miles’s former client and Marylin’s ex-husband has a sudden heart attack, she comes into a ton of money, and Miles gets the upper hand in their divorce proceedings.

Extras: (a) Loaded exchanges with airplane crews (the stewardess saying “you’re gonna win” to Clooney and later saying “you didn’t win” to CZJ; the conversation with Sam Elliott-as-god in UITA); (b) The

craven boss who likes to quote statistics; (c) The earnest travel companion (Clooney’s fellow lawyer in Intolerable Cruelty is less severe than Anna Kendrick in UITA but they’re both essentially earnest professionals who have bought into their companies’ official lines of bullshit).

“Several knowledgable executives” have told The Wrap‘s Sharon Waxman that director Roland Emmerich, that secret comedian, will pocked $100 million from his 2012 deal — i.e., $20 million vs. 20% of the gross. Emmerich’s faux-slapstick disaster film will eventually take in $700 million worldwide so Roland is beaming, sitting pretty, a pig in shit.

Last night I met the great Vlad Ivanov, the Romanian actor who was named 2007’s Best Supporting Actor by the Los Angeles Film Critics Association for his abortionist performance in Cristian Mungiu‘s Four Months, Three Weeks and Two Days. Ivanov was at the Tribeca Cinemas for a Romanian Film Festival screening of Corneliu Porumboiu‘s Police, Adjective, and an after-party.

Vlad Ivanov at the Tribeca Cinemas’ downstairs lounge — Sunday, 12.6, 9:55 pm.

Ivanov plays a small but pivotal role as a police captain in a dreary Romanian town (i.e., Vasilu) in which busting and punishing three young pot smokers consumes an enormous amount of police department strategizing and man-hours. It’s a fascinating non-thriller — a kind of slow-mo, at times dryly amusing police procedural — that’s essentially a lament about bureaucratic inhumanity and a lack of cultural flexibility in today’s Romania, which is still following the psychology of the Ceausescu era.

I admired and respected Police Adjective enormously. The prolonged static shots — a staple of Romanian cinema — are, as always, fascinating. And the recurrent theme of the particularities of language being perverted and mis-used makes it one of the more thoughtful and ethically grounded films I’ve seen this year. At the same time I can’t say I felt knocked flat by it. A film about the banality and inanity of the Romanian bureaucracy seems…well, less riveting than I wanted or expected it to be, in the end. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar, Sigmund Freud once said, and sometimes a slow-paced film is just a slow-paced film.

But at the same time it’s more than that. This is a hard one to figure but impossible to dismiss. Not that I (or any reasonably intelligent film fan) would want to. Respect must be paid. Police, Adjective has a certain integrity and a trust in the audience detecting and responding to the political undercurrent that is quite profound, the more I think about it. It has my vote as far that goes. Then again, I took a six-minute bathroom break and didn’t feel I’d missed anything important.

On the currently available French Antichrist DVD/Bluray, there’s a featurette about what happened when the film was shown at the Cannes Film Festival last May. This same doc is on the British version (due 1.11.10) and will presumably be included in the U.S. version. In any event I can’t imagine it being any better than this YouTube version.

The doc includes , of course, that wonderfully confrontational press conference question by Daily Mail columnist Baz Bamigboye that essentially said “why in the name of all that is sacred and holy did you make this rancid revolting film?”

I still think that IFC dropped the ball when they failed to convince a toy manufacturer to bring out a limited edition animatronic fox that raises its head and says when you raise the tail, “Why, Baz Bamigboye, did you put such an assaultive question to the glorious Lars Von Trier?” As well as “chaos reigns!” and whatever other statements they might want to throw in.

There are few things more excruciating than to listen to well-paid filmmakers talking about how truly delighted they are to be working on this exciting and wonderful new film, etc. I want to reach for my samurai sword. It’s comforting, of course, to be once again reminded that the Harry Potter franchise will soon be over and done with. I got off the boat years ago (i.e., after the Alfonso Cuaron one), but I’m actually thinking about seeing the Deathly Hallows finale. The final one, I mean.

“Hollywood has this idea about what’s commercial [but] they don’t really know what’s commercial. What’s commercial is what people want to see. It’s that simple, and sometimes they want to slow down and experience something. It isn’t always dack-dack-dack, boom-boom-boom rocketing along. This is what Hollywood has convinced itself that people want to see.

“There are scenes in Avatar that accelerate and intensify things in this fashion, but there are other moments that slow down and see the wonder of this world. There’s this motif in the film of seeing…perceiving through the eyes of another person. Coming in one door and coming out another door — the door of perception.

“[The film] is a political comment on all human history, and the basic pattern of people laying waste to a primitive territory to get what they need. I didn’t want to explain what unobtainium actually is or does. It’s whatever gets people out of their cities and go to other countries and take stuff that doesn’t belong to them.

“The story of the 21st Century is going to be about the depletion of resources. And the wars of the 21st Century are going to be about ‘we need your stuff, and we’re going to justify going in and getting it.’ We’ve already seen that happen over the last decade.

“Technology is a part of us, who we are…we absorb the technology that interests us. How is it primarily used today? Social networking, howya doin’?, monkey chatter. I’ve never seen technology as something outside of the human experience.

“Every film is individual and unique. I believe today that we fulfilled the goals that we set out to do [with Avatar]. Now, we’ve yet to see whether it’s something people actually want to see. I’m happy to be done. I’ll be even happier if people like the movie.”

Pretty much everything on Pandora, the tropical-rain-forest moon in James Cameron‘s Avatar, is either “inspiring and dangerous,” to listen to Sigourney Weaver‘s narration in this travelogue piece. But it seems a little too crammed with scary predators. And too effin’ noisy. To me anyway.

Outside of the Na’vi, those glowing dandelion fuzzies and the six-legged direhorses, Pandora seems to be all about hexapods, flying banshee dino-birds, viper wolves, those dino-hammerhead guys, the especially dreaded thanator, etc. What about the grazing animals — the Pandoran equivalent of elephants, giraffes, wildebeests, zebras, etc.? What about the Pandoran monkeys and benign birds and silent slitherers and small burrowing mole-type animals?

And why do the Pandoran predators have to howl and growl and roar all the time? I’ve almost gotten to the point of muttering “will you shut up?” as I watch those trailer clips of Sam Worthington‘s Na’vi being chased through the jungle as his pursuers yowl and bellow and shriek. Predators — hello? — are silent when hunting because growling eats up oxygen and wind power. They primarily growl when they’re defending their turf or trying to scare off other predators from taking their food.

Think about how much scarier it would be if the Pandoran monsters were silent as they chase Worthington around. A very cool thing. But no — the CG culture (those highly paid guys sitting around their flatscreens and doing exactly what the other highly paid guys on the last super-CG epic have done) has decided that all scary creatures must bark and howl at all times because the fanboy multitudes have been trained to expect this going back to King Kong and would be thrown for a loop if they didn’t. “Hey…I want my digital lion roar!” Make no mistake — the FX community is defined by institutional follow-the-leader instincts first and genuine creativity second.

Pandora, says Weaver, is “a dreamlike landscape reminiscent of a Magritte painting.” (It’s called “Castle in the Pyrenees.”)

“Vast magnetic fields…unobtainium….bio-luminescent…Greek mythology…the Pandoran ecology works and communicates like a nervous system, suggesting that amid the savage and fierce creatures…this strange bewitching polace might hgld hope for ourselves, our planet and the fturue of all living things.”