The Oscar nominations are about be announced but here’s to the legendary Alan Rickman, whom cancer has taken at age 69. Not a good week for famous, gifted 69 year-old Brits and their fates, but let’s dwell on the “gifted” and let the rest float away for now.

This is Scott Feinberg‘s current prediction about whom the Academy will nominate for Best Actor tomorrow — Leonardo DiCaprio for The Revenant (locked), Bryan Cranston for Trumbo (a solid-state performance that is 20% Cranston, 20% moustache, 20% cigarettes, 20% moral lecturing mixed with fatigued disdain and 20% bathtub), Eddie Redmayne for The Danish Girl (simultaneously the most open-hearted and the most one-note performance of all the would-be nominees), Matt Damon for The Martian and….Jacob Tremblay for Room? .

Translation: Feinberg cannot support or even be comme ci comme ca about Michael Fassbender‘s performance in Steve Jobs. No matter what happens on Thursday he wants it known that Fassbender was too unlikable, too hammering, didn’t have that schwing.

And shame on Feinberg and all the others who refused to stand by Paul Dano‘s Love & Mercy performance as a Best Supporting Actor-worthy thing. Shame! And please, please listen to my special request that Bridge of Spies‘ Mark Rylance must be gently and respectfully denied the Oscar in this category. He didn’t deliver three or even two big moments, he erred on the side of subtlety, he was good but nowhere close to great. Choose Mr. Dano or Creed‘s Sylvester Stallone. Or 99 Homes/Freeheld Michael Shannon. Or Sicario‘s Benicio del Toro. Or even The Big Short‘s Christian Bale. But no Rylance. Please.

The 13 Hours embargo doesn’t lift until 9 pm Pacific, but I can at least pass along what plenty of folks have been saying on Twitter. It’s an exceptional “American guys get the shit kicked out of them” combat flick in the tradition of Lone Survivor and Black Hawk Down. When it’s doing the pure visceral battle thing it’s awesome, super-crafty, riveting. It’s definitely “political” in that it’s a pro-American, hooray-for-our-side salute of military heroism in the face of Islamic wacko attacks, but Hillary Clinton takes no hits whatsoever. And yet there’s a CIA desk chief character (played by David Costabile) who comes off as a timid procedural asshole between 75% and 80% of the time. 13 Hours is Michael Bay‘s best (i.e., least irritating) and sturdiest film in his entire career, and is weakened only by his attempts to “sell” the Benghazi attack as something more than it might have been at the end of the day with what struck me as needlessly manipulative music cues and sentimental digressions about families back home. The attack is portrayed as a deliberate, organized attack in what is now considered a failed state that has become an ISIS stronghold. 13 Hours looks and feels like a hit — expert enough to rock action fans and almost certain to strike a chord with conservative rural audiences. It’s fast, hard and throttling — the parts that work (roughly 85% of the whole) really work.

A brief Twitter debate broke out this morning between myself, Mark Harris and Vulture‘s Kyle Buchanan over the “due” narrative that has all but ensured Leonardo DiCaprio‘s Best Actor nomination for his Revenant performance. Harris complained that said narrative had been “reinforced by press way before the film was seen, [and] was a punditry low.” I asked both if they’ve ever been pleased when a favorite of theirs won an Oscar because he/she was due, and asserted that despite Harris’s distaste Leo “is due…23 years of slamming it plus his Wolf of Wall Street triumph plus suffering during long Alberta shoot plus bison liver tartare…like it or lump it.”

This led me to a 2.20.15 Christopher Borelli Chicago Tribune piece that lamented how actors often win Oscars for the wrong roles, and that the reason is that (a) they’re due or (b) they’ve waited long enough or (c) they need to be given a make-up for either a relatively recent snub or a long string of them over a decade or two.

Due: Julianne Moore’s 2015 Oscar for a good performance in the dreadful Still Alice. Due: Jeff Bridges wins Best Actor for playing a jowly, boozy, over-the-hill singer in Crazy Heart after having been snubbbed for many fine performances (including his legendary turn in 1997’s The Big Lebowski). Delayed/make-up: Al Pacino’s Scent of a Woman Oscar after being nominated and passed up for both Godfather movies, Dog Day Afternoon, Serpico, et. al. Delayed/make-up: Denzel Washington winning an Oscar for Training Day after his nominated performances in Malcolm X and The Hurricane fell short on votes.

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It’s also one of the finest trailers for a mainstream comedy since…you tell me. I especially love the fact that it says to all the Kevin Hart fans, “This is so not for you and your coarse, pig-trough ilk…sorry but this film just hasn’t been made for people with fast-food sensibilities.” Okay, that’s not fair. People of all stations and creeds like what they like or…you know, get what they wanna get when they’re in a receptive mood. But you know what I mean. Some (most) comedies are made for the lowest common denominator; others aim a little higher.

When I got back to town this afternoon I went down to the local Time Warner office, exchanged the old modem (Motorola SBG6580) for the new one with the faster capability (Arris T61672G), and hooked up the newbie. I needed a Time Warner techie to help me get it right, but it’s now showing speeds between 117 mbps and 122 mbps.  The techie told me the speeds will gradually increase over the next few hours or days. Excellent. Except the new network is identified as “[user name] 5G” with the same password. Which means, of course, that the Oppo player, the Roku player and the Apple TV have no connectivity because they’re coded to communicate with the previous network. (I’ll figure it out tomorrow.) I’m dumped my cable entirely and am relying entirely on wifi and apps — better late than never.

As I was taking pictures of the atmospheric remnants of the North by Northwest cropduster location, the Directors Guild of America was announcing its feature directing nominees. As I read their names under the warm Bakersfield sun I said to myself, “Thank God…now we finally know what the industry thinks…before we were lost in the woods, searching around in the dark, clueless. But now, finally, we know the score.”

The Revenant‘s Alejandro G. Inarritu, Spotlight‘s Tom McCarthy, The Big Short‘s Adam McKay, Mad Max: Fury Road‘s George Miller and The Martian‘s Ridley Scott…salud! Did anyone out there have any hint at all that these five would be nominated? I sure didn’t. I had no idea whatsoever.

Yes, I’m kidding. Yes, the DGA noms are a snooze. Yes, it was fairly clear who the five would be….well, a week or two ago. The most recent hottie is The Big Short‘s Adam McKay, but his inclusion fits in, of course, with everyone chattering about The Big Short climbing and/or gaining.

To what extent will the Academy go along with the DGA? Will they also reject Carol‘s Todd Haynes and Steve Jobs‘ Danny Boyle? Almost certainly.

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Daryl H. Thornhill, grandson of Roger Thornhill, has paid a visit to a hallowed place — a place where his ancestor was nearly murdered by machine-gun fire from a cropdusting biplane. Daryl is standing at “Prairie Stop, Highway 41” — actually an area near the intersection of Garces Highway and Corcoran Road near Wasco, a suburb of Bakersfield. Daryl is standing by the side of the road, taking shots with his iPhone 6 Plus. A SUV appears from nowhere, stops and a rural-type fellow in a brown suit gets out. Thornhill and Brownsuit regard each other from a distance of 60 feet or so. Thornhill decides to walk over and break the ice.

The only area that even remotely resembles the North by Northwest location, and it’s located about a mile south of the alleged shooting spot.

Thornhill: Hi. (pause) Hot day.
Brownsuit: Seen worse.
Thornhill: (Beat) Have you ever seen a film called North by Northwest?
Brownsuit: Can’t say I have ’cause I haven’t.
Thornhill: Well, a couple of websites say they shot a famous scene from that film right here, right on this spot. 12168 Corcoran Road.
Brownsuit: Can’t trust what you read on the web.
Thornhill: My thought exactly. It’s flat out here, but otherwise the area bears almost no resemblance to the area in the film. No corn crops, no tilled soil, no telephone poles. The area in the film looked like rural Illinois or Indiana. This looks like….well, not classic farmland at all. Desert scrub, fruit trees. It looks more like the area outside Ravenna in Antonioni’s Red Desert.
Brownsuit: Red Desert?
Thornhill: Another movie.

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Although I’m personally appalled by obese, junk-food-inhaling middle-class Americans, I believe that Bernie Sanders‘ proposals to cut them a financial break through social services is the right thing to do. I also believe that his scrappy, contentious attitudes about toxic billionaires are more genuine than Hillary Clinton‘s somewhat similar positions. And yet I’ve recently been easing out of my Bernie thing and warming to Hillary because, I’ve told myself, it’s better in the long run to support a Democrat who can definitely beat Donald Trump. And yet Bernie has been polling much better against Trump than Hillary, and now he’s got a five-point lead over Clinton in a new Quinnipiac University Iowa poll — 49 to 44 percent. That’s a 9-point increase for Sanders and a 7-point loss for Clinton since the last Quinnipiac poll in December. On top of which Sanders is leading by double digits in New Hampshire. Sanders has said all along that he’s the more electable candidate. Outside of Iowa and New Hampshire? I don’t know what to think or do or believe.

I’ve been telling myself since moving to Los Angeles in ’83 that some day I’ll visit the site of the cropduster scene in North by Northwest. But I didn’t for the usual reasons (laziness, lack of discipline, pressed for time by work). Well, I’m doing it this morning, dammit. I drove out to Bakersfield last night, and my date with destiny happens in two or three hours after breakfast and whatnot. 12167 Corcoran Road near Wasco, about 50 minutes northwest of Bakersfield, 10 miles north of Highway 46. Major witnessings never happen unless you man up, fill the tank and drive there.

Robert Egger‘s The Witch (A24, 2.19) debuted almost a full year ago at Sundance 2015. It re-appeared last September at Toronto Film Festival. Did I catch either showing? Of course not. Renowned for being uncannily frightening, I’ll finally attend a Los Angeles screening on Monday, 1.18. It opens a month later.

“This movie [is] so scary it not only freaks you out, it makes the world around you freak you out. You don’t sleep well the night after you watch it. You definitely try to do whatever you can to avoid any long walks in the woods or chores involving farm animals. It’s a stunningly impressive debut film from Robert Eggers, who did extensive research into New England folklore, combining various accounts and stories into this movie, which plays like the ultimate 17th century witch nightmare.” — posted today by Screencrush’s Matt Singer.