Last night Paul Walter Hauser (Richard Jewell, Cobra Kai) posted an angry Twitter rant about Manohla Dargis and A.O. Scott‘s 2021 award picks, which were posted last weekend (“And the 2022 Oscar Nominees Should Be…“).
At one juncture Hauser called Scott and Dargis’s preferences “psychotic”, but what he really meant was that he found their selections overly precious and wokesterish, or too far off the planet earth for his tastes.
Scott-Dargis are renowned for their politically attuned taste buds and cock-eyed eccentricity. They reside on a distant planet, and it’s fair to say that in a certain light they’re hated. Remember “DSU,” the derogatary term (Dargis-Scott Universe) that someone invented for them a few years back? Remember their “25 Greatest Actors of the 21st Century” piece (posted on 11.25.20)? 85% informed by virtue-signalling, wokeitude, etc.
I mentioned the Dargis-Scott picks yesterday and had a Hauser-like reaction (“Differing Degrees of Apartness“). I said that “even within their bizarre arena of N.Y. Times woke-itude, Scott and Dargis may be even more eccentric than Armond White, and that’s saying something.” On 1.17 Showbiz 411‘s Roger Friedman posted a similar response, noting that their picks were “ridiculously elitist.”
What is clearly needed in the N.Y. Times‘ film coverage is a third critic, a counterweight type who isn’t so fickle and high falutin’, and isn’t always box-checking for the participation of women and BIPOCs. A critic who just likes a movie or doesn’t like a movie for reasons of cinematic merit alone, and who isn’t so fucking fancy-pants about it. A film-world equivalent of a Bret Stephens or a Ross Douhat. Someone who could pen an occasional movie column called “Down to Earth.” Perhaps an anonymous critic who could file under the name “Clem Kadiddlehopper.” You know what I mean. An anti-wokester, cut-the-bullshit type like myself.
Not that the Times-sters would even glance in my direction, were such an idea to be given the slightest consideration. I am my own man, but I am also, in a manner of speaking, a dead man. Which is the source of my freedom. Because I don’t give a damn about anything. Well, I do when it comes to my granddaughter, Sutton, but what has she got to to do right now with truth and clarity in the realm of motion pictures? Basically I regard the woke Stalinists as nothing short of deranged, and I know that we’re all living through dark times.