This Is The End (2013)

A-

Enlightenment does not arrive upon request. Nor does it ever seem to visit for as long as one's mother does. And perhaps even more baffling still is the inability to predict the source of our next moment of enlightenment.

As a self-branded "film snob," I frequently anticipate, yearn for, and even predict enlightenment from the earliest possible stages when engaging with films. Search my blog and you will find few zero-star movies. Oh, they're out there. It's just that I anticipate what I'll hate and then avoid it completely. When I'm making my annual year-end best and worst lists, what qualifies as "worst" is often the film that disappointed me the most, rather than any genuine steaming turd of cinema. I go to movies to be moved by them.

In spite of my snobbery, I make valiant attempts to explore the film choices of the common man with regularity, though always stopping short of watching the People's Choice Awards, because the people don't know squat. And yet it was with some trepidation when a dear friend of mine encouraged me - no, make that stalked, badgered and accosted me - into seeing "This Is The End." It's got James Franco in it! Seth Rogen directed it! Its plot is a largely improvised, self-reflexive meditation on celebrity! These were but a few of the film's alleged appeals.

But nothing gelled with my current state of being. Then on the cusp of 40 (I've since hit that mark in the weeks between seeing the film and finally writing this review), I wasn't interested in a mostly improved film. I'm a writer and I value good writing. (Never mind that I'm also an actor who values good improv.) Nor did I give a damn about James Franco, Seth Rogen, or any of their cronies, all men who suffer from colossal cases of arrested development and squander their genuine, young talents through their perpetual public engagement with cannabis and prurient senses of humor. And the actors play themselves? How is that supposed to attract a guy like me... one who revels in the transcendence of a sublime character acting performance? True, I did exhibit a moment of weakness while enjoying Neil Patrick Harris in "Harold & Kumar Go To White Castle," and in retrospect, that performance was probably the prototype for the characters-but-not-exactly-characters in this film. But I digress...

Regardless, I went. I went because my friend had seen the film already and had promised me that I would like it. She even paid for my ticket. She bought it in advance online to provide herself with the trump card of guilt, should I try to back out. And so I went to see "This Is The End," the kind of movie that I tend to avoid like bathroom door handles at truck stops. And I'm still a little bit shocked by what happened to me.

I found enlightenment. 

There, I said it. I'm 40 now, the age where - I'm told - you start caring less and less about what other people think. I laughed and laughed - so hard, in fact, that my friend and I nearly resorted to physical abuse upon each other, no logical physical outlet remaining beyond our spasming diaphragms and gasps for air. I laughed because I was shocked, of course. But I also laughed because there were as many moments of clever in the movie as there were moments of shock. Even when the film went off the rails of good taste, I found myself laughing, and let me say that this film was more or a tetherball to taste then it was on the rails of taste, so frequently did it jump that track. So how did I react to the now infamous scene where James Franco and Danny McBride have a nearly five-minute-long argument over the etiquette of masturbating on a friend's property and with his literature? I laughed harder still.

And that's not even the enlightening part, though it contains a component of it. 

Maybe I should back up here, though there's little in the way of plot summary to mention, and I also feel that the less you walk in expecting, the more engaged you'll be in the film. The movie's loose structure of a story is that Seth Rogen (all actors here are, again, playing versions of themselves) picks up his friend Jay Baruchel from the airport for some quality bro chill time and Baruchel is disappointed that his proposal for videogames and weed is dismissed for a huge Hollywood party hosted by Rogen's "other friend," James Franco. Baruchel is not pleased, as he believes Franco to be a pompous, disingenuous and condescending ass. And not so secretly, he appears hurt that he will no longer have all of Rogen's attention.

Franco's party is filled with celebrities including fellow Hollywood stoner Jonah Hill, and I don't want to give away too many more names because discovering the party guests was one of the film's charms in its opening minutes. It doesn't matter anyway, though, because the party is disrupted by an earthquake. Or an alien invasion. Or an inexplicable, unidentifiable supernatural experience so specific and awesome in power that it could only be...The Rapture?

The first sign of a potentially divine catastrophe is one of the film's most clever conceits, the almost instant decimation of Hollywood's elite, all slack-jawed and ground-bound as not a one of them is offered a tractor beam to Jesus. Rogen, in a state of semi-stoned that seems to be his persona de rigueur, isn't sure what just happened and perhaps feels that his altered state has imagined it. It's Baruchel who first explores the possibility of the end of the world and attempts to convince the few remaining partygoers of their need to do good works and repent, stat. 

The bulk of the film focuses on Rogen, Baruchel, Franco, Hill, McBride and Craig Robinson attempting to navigate post-apocalyptic survival under self-imposed quarantining, with occasional reconnaissance missions outside of Franco's house. As their nerves wear more thin and their personalities increasingly clash, the boy-men begin to sell each other out, their cabin fever erupting in a variety of hilarious interpersonal wars of wit. Meanwhile, outside, a preponderance of evidence that this threat is indeed apocalyptic amasses, and I am not going to be the one to spoil some of the more outrageous moments involved therein, though I will tease by saying that the film has moments of emerging as a live-action "South Park: Bigger, Longer and Uncut."

It's important for me to note that I have little to no patience for weed culture and the personalities that surround it, and so going in, I sat in judgment of what I'd experience. I say this because if I can emerge from "This Is The End" as such a fan of the film given my prejudices, maybe others can, too. And I think it's because labeling this movie as a "stoner movie" is too simple. And, quite frankly, it's simply unfair. 

So this is where that enlightenment thing comes in. "This Is The End" provided me with two levels of enlightenment actually, both in terms of the viewing experience and the film's content itself.

In terms of the viewing experience, I was reminded that genius can sometimes coexist with the profane, and that snobbery can sometimes be the shackles that prevent us from being fully present in our lives. I felt good while watching "This Is The End." Yes, I was disgusted at times, merely shocked at others. I also winced and shook my head at things that others found funny that were just too far over my line. But I was alive during that movie, not just a breathing body in a seat decoding entertainment data. Everything I felt, I felt to an extreme. It was, in short, that true roller coaster experience that so many people go to thrilling movies to experience, the kind of popcorn-movie thrill that I so frequently eschew for academic nerd-outs. 

What might surprise you more about "This Is The End" is that the movie itself, cloaked in fountains of profanity, graphic word play and substance abusing ridiculousness, is perhaps the most spiritual movie I've seen in a year, and possibly longer. It's a movie that would so terribly shock the far Christian right within five minutes that no clean-living Lord lover would make it through to the center of the film's Tootsie pop, which is nothing less than the very primal discussion of heaven and hell and the perceived requirements of the quality of one's character in order to experience a positive outcome in the wake of the end of days. 

I have always believed in God, and in my understanding of the scripture that to each of us is given different spiritual gifts, I've come to realize that mine might just be that belief itself, which has not wavered through profound loss and the senselessness of our times. As a kid, I was required to memorize Ephesians 2: 8-9, which states that we are saved by grace through faith, and that this is a gift from God and nothing we can do on earth in terms of good works can buy that gift. To watch a small handful of admired Hollywood actors - who seem to have lives we all envy - grapple with the potential reality of impending eternal damnation and wonder what they can possibly do to repent before time runs out, was not only a delicious bit of irony but also a reaffirmation of my spiritual beliefs. 

Don't get me wrong. "This Is The End" is not perfect. It's running time is about 30 minutes too long, clear evidence of the self-indulgence of a newbie director laughing too hard at his own inside jokes with his buddies. And the jazzy improvs send the film in almost unsustainable situations from time to time. 

But then here I am again, nitpicking at a movie because it's not "my usual thing." So since the power of 40 compels me (and in that phrase lies an inside joke for those who have seen the film, in one of its greatest dialogue exchanges), I have to step up to the plate, not care what anyone thinks, and tell the truth. "This Is The End" is possibly the best comedy of 2013 so far, and my favorite film of the summer. 

Oh, and did I mention that Michael Cera gives an Oscar-worthy performance? 

Please bear with me!

The time is long overdue for me to update the look of my blog to something fresher and more user-friendly. But doing so has turned out to be a lot more labor intensive than I imagined.

I took a coding class a few years ago, but damned if I remember any of it. And when I download new blog templates, I can't figure out how to change their original elements. Long story short, this is going to take a while.

You might notice any number of crazy looks as you visit the page. Please bear with me. I am hoping that you can simply focus on the reviews themselves, rather than the look of the page. And when I'm actually done, I will gladly let all of you know!

In the meantime, stay tuned for my reviews of the following:

This Is The End (2013)
Elysium (2013)
Lee Daniels' The Butler (2013)

Thanks for reading my reviews!

Despicable Me 2 (2013)

B-

Just a few short weeks after Pixar lobbed the sub-par prequel "Monsters University" into theatres comes "Despicable Me 2," the follow-up to the surprisingly delightful and charmingly wicked 2010 animated hit. And just like "Monsters University," "Despicable Me 2" is 360 degrees of mediocrity, a sequel that abandons the things that made its first film so good. And yet this film makes you laugh a lot harder and enjoy yourself a lot more, because it has one thing that Disney does not...

Minions!

Can they do no wrong? Can these charming, mumbling, canary-colored Weebles generate comedic misfires? Methinks not.

And so, a film with none of the sinsiter bite of its original, in which its main character, Gru (Steve Carrell), literally plots to steal the moon itself, is rescued single-handedly by the pure joy of watching an army of individually characterized yellow pills bounce around a movie screen, plot be damned.

The narrative of "Despicable Me 2" was perhaps doomed to begin with, as it finds the once famously evil Gru now reformed and settled into domestic life (albeit in an Addams Family-sort of way), parenting the three girls he picked up during the first film. His exciting life of crime has been exchanged for more honest pursuits, and while Gru has settled nicely into being a dad, he's found no footing in terms of finding satisfying work for himself.

Opportunity knocks when a woman named Lucy Wilde arrives. She's with an organziation called the Anti-Villain League and has been sent by her boss, Silas Ramsbottom (a guy with a name the minions can't pass up having a joke over whose head looks like the entirety of Jabba the Hut squished on top of a body that looks like an additional Jabba the Hut) to enlist Gru's help in catching a criminal they feel is operating under the cover of a local shopping mall business. At first, Gru wants no part of it, but when his trusted sidekick Dr. Nefario (Russell Brand) leaves him so that he can actually do evil again, Gru reconsiders. And his kids are excited for the adventure because they see mom material in Lucy (played thanklessly by Kristen Wiig at her most aw-shucks and clumsy, with no real breakout moments of humor).

Confict arises when Gru argues with Ramsbottom over which store owner might be producting and hiding a serum that could turn whoever is injected with it into pure evil, which is later evidenced by its effects on the minions, who turn purple and essentially develop attitudes like that of the Muppets' Animal but with rabies.

I'd tell you more about the plot if there was more to tell. Suffice it to say that "Despicable Me 2" attempts to go for a love story and a family message and because of it, the characater of Gru oddly takes a back seat in all of it, nearly becoming a support player in his own story. Yes, there are some moments of genuine heart. Far more, actually, than in the aforementioned "Monsters University." But everything lacks the devilish bite of the original film. The evil isn't evil enough, or fun enough. This film's true villain, El Macho, is comically obese and not even remotely scary. And while Gru uses his experiences to lead himself to El Macho, he doesn't do much to excercise that sinister side of his brain, which made the original film so funny.

Still, I'd be lying if I told you that none of this matters much when you have the Minions. They hold some sort of charm power over me that I can't seem to explain. Whether one is using another as a golf tee, or one is vaccuuming the living room as a French maid, or - most comically - two are serenading Gru with their indecipherable rendition of the early-90s slow jam, "I Swear," I'm kept entertained in spite of myself, laughing harder still when allowing myself to also take in what audience members around me are reacting to and saying about the little guys when they are on screen (which is, mercifully, a lot).

All things considered, "Despicable Me 2" won't be that much of a letdown for anyone who enjoyed the first film, largely because this Minions thing just works. So well, in fact, that Universal Pictures has already greenlit "Minions" for a Christmas 2014 release. And may I be among the first to say I can't wait.

"Despicable Me 2" is truly an average film. You don't have to think very hard, and narrative analysis is futile. And yet sometimes you just want to watch a movie that makes you laugh, the kind you know you're not going to flip past when it ends up on HBO. And thanks to my darling little golden pills of mischief, this fits the bill.

Monsters University (2013)

C

Perhaps no film studio in the modern era has a better track record of success than Pixar, whose every effort has struck box office gold while almost always managing to please not only fans but critics alike. Now fully absorbed into the Disney company (who, like some sort of planet is sucking in things as big as Marvel comics with its gravitational pull), Pixar is made to suffer through conflicting mojos with its parent company, whose track record of sequels is notoriously weak, especially in the animated department, where most sequels have been straight-to-home-video affairs. (Quick, name me your favorite song from "Return of Jafar"! Didn't think you could...)

In the Pixar oeurve, 2011's "Cars 2" is widely regarded as the company's weakest release artistically, a naked ploy for toy tie-ins so obvious that we shouldn't be remotely shocked that a third film - this time using planes - is headed to theatres. Not all sequels, of course, have been missteps for the studio, as the Toy Story franchise followed its landmark opening entry with a strong sequel and even a third film, which I would argue was far and away the best of that series.

So why another "Monsters Inc." film?

Okay, stupid question. This is Disney we're talking about. But in an attempt at something fresh, instead of getting a follow-up to the 2001 film, we get a prequel, "Monsters University." The result, however, is sadly far from fresh. Audiences will enjoy spending another 90 minutes with the likes of the furry blue Sully and the wisecracking green orb with stick apendages, Mike Wazowski, and yes, John Goodman and Billy Crystal both return to authenticate them. But disappointingly, "Monsters University" is paint-by-numbers theft from films ranging from the Harry Potter series to, well, "Animal House."

As an impressionable young whatever-he-is, Mike experiences the scare floor where famous monsters working for the Monsters, Inc. power company work their magic. He dreams of one day joining their ranks but finds, instead, that he is funny, rather than scary. Of course, once this idea is established, the film immediately suffers, as viewers of the first film will understand instantly where this film must be headed.

Mike manages to gain entry to Monsters University, where he's forced to join the loser-est fraternity on campus (the hilariously named Oozma Kappa) and room with a guy who is nothing like him. That guy, naturally, is Sully, a second generation scarer-in-training who plans to ride through college on charm and pedigree and has no intentions of actually doing work. And, in another well-tread plot development, the two strongly dislike each other. Again, if you've seen "Monsters, Inc.," you understand that they have to be friends by the end of this film!

So early into "Monsters University," the audience already knows that humor will compete with fear for talent and that Mike and Sully will become the best of friends. The perils of the prequel, I suppose. The bulk of the film then focuses on the challenge of the wayward frat to compete against more robust organizations in the Scare Games (insert Harry Potter or Hunger Games without the killing), an annual campus event overseen by the Voldemort-meets-the-Dragon-that-got-trained-in-that-superior-but-not-Disney-film, Dean Hardscrabble (played deliciously with dripping disdain by Helen Mirren). Oozma Kappa is challenged with winning the tournament to avoid explulsion from Monsters University for both Mike and Sully. And, again, exit dramatic tension, as of course they will and must win.

Little that happens in "Monsters University" surprises, and some of the film's best lines are sadly looped in television promotions, which is a problem for most movies but rarely a Pixar one. So the only delights and surprises, then, come via the introduction of new characters to the Monsters franchise. Forturnately, a few of them are quite entertaining and memorable. I am partial to two in particular. One is a furry purple U-shaped thing named Art. Slyly voiced by Charlie Day, he gets the film's funniest line (one for the grown-ups, at that), and his physical efforts during the final challenge of the Scare Games are a visual riot. The other pure pleasure is the mother of frat brother Squishy. Ms. Squibbles, voiced by Julia Sweeney, is like an animated Edie McClurg (my fellow 80s TV and film lovers know who I'm talking about), and she gets some of the film's funniest and most unexpected bits.

I have to be hard on "Monsters University," because when compared to some of Pixar's other efforts - particularly "Wall-E," "Up" and "Ratatouille"), this film feels purely disposable, designed for little more than a firm grab for a few hours of kids' attention, aspiring for none of the sweeping human storytelling and transcendent themes of other films in the studio's canon. "Monsters University" looks fantastic, as one would expect. It is occassionally funny (my kids thought it was more than just occassionally funny). And animated films can and usually do fare far worse ("Hotel Transylvania," anyone?).

But let's face it, "Monsters University" is purely average in virtually every way possible. It feels like a tossed-off effort (though a better one than "Cars 2"). It adds breadth to the Monsters universe but no depth. It lacks the genuine passion and emotion of other films from Pixar. And the sum of all of this is that we're left with a solid summer animated entertainment from a studio famous for so much more. Taken in isolation, "Monsters University" is fine. As a piece of a larger history, it's disappointing.

The Great Gatsby (2013)

B

For those who found themselves disliking the cinematic Candy Land of visuals that is Baz Luhrmann's "The Great Gatsby," all I can say is that you should have known better. It would be like if you rushed to a Quentin Tarantino-directed remake of "Mary Poppins" and found yourself disappointed and stunned when Mary proved herself capable of shooting bullets out of the metal tip of her umbrella and Burt slashed the throats of all the other chimney sweeps on that roof because they were in competition with him for work. Some directors, you see, are true artistes. They see every story through their own, unique eyes and brain. Every story looks like theirs.

And so it goes without saying that "The Great Gatsby" is - and perhaps first and foremost - chock full of Baz Luhrmann-y goodness (or overkill, depending on your tolerance level for his style). There are gradiose widescreen zoom-ins and zoom-outs that look vaguely computer-generated. There are deep, deep warm and cool colors sharing residency in each frame. There is moment after moment when you feel as though your eyes could quite possibly explode as a result of the ocular orgy in front of you.

There's also this "Great Gatsby" thing. You know, the F. Scott Fitzgerald novel? This paragon of American literature that one speculates might sit second (behind the Bible) on a Library of Congress list of books to save in the event of a fire. There is scant exaggeration in my saying that English teachers all over America sat at the ready, waiting impatiently to see what Luhrmann would do with the green light. Certainly our reverence toward his source material weighed on him as he co-wrote his screenplay and directed his film. 

I watched "The Great Gatsby" with a palpable sense that Luhrmann was forever looking over his shoulder to "get it right." To draw more accurate comparisons between mediums, I reread the novel (a book that I have publicly and shamefully admitted that I had not read since my junior year of high school, even as an English teacher in a department full of Gatsby disciples) not long before seeing the film. And so it is the greatest strength and also the most obvious liability of this latest adaptation of Fitzgerald's work that this "Great Gatsby" is very, very faithful to the source material. One who knows the novel well could have sat in the movie theatre with the book in his or her lap, checking off each page as it passed on screen. Now, there is a certain geeky thrill to this devotion, to be sure. But there was also a bit of joy sucked out of what strongly felt like duty or obligation. 

I'm not going to spend much time on plot summary, but instead put on my English teacher hat, wag my finger,  and tell you to read the freaking book if you haven't already or if you don't remember it. I refuse to be your Spark Notes! The novel is rightfully celebrated as a sparse and lean 180 pages of thematic and symbolic genius and wisdom, with characters equally worthy of study regardless of whether they seem fully formed or merely sketched. If you think you might have read "The Great Gatsby" this one time in high school, I urge you to follow my example of treating yourself to a re-read. Trust me when I tell you that your adult self can glean so much more from this masterwork than your hormonal young brain had the ability to process back then. 

Suffice it to say that "The Great Gatsby" is, in many ways, the story of Nick Carraway, a young man who moves to the "less fashionable" West Egg, one of a chain of islands on the Long Island Sound about 20 miles from New York (5). (See what I did there? That's called parenthetical notation, kids.) While renting a modest cottage tucked back in what he thought would be a quiet place where he could study up on the banking and investment industries to take advantage of the unbelievable prosperity of Wall Street in this decadent decade prior to the great stock market chrash, Carraway is - through a drawn-out sequence of somewhat mysterious interactions and not-so-mysterious introductions to intoxication - brought face to face with Jay Gatsby, his next door neighbor.

Fitzgerald's writing focuses on Carraway's analysis of Gatsby, including his hero worship of him (or, if you like, his desire for him, as some want to interpret it) and Gatsby's motivations for throwing legendary parties on a weekly basis in his palatial residence. In early encounters, Nick is barely ankle deep in a wading pool in terms of truly knowing Gatsby. Eventually, of course, he falls down the well. His infatuation turned to understanding is not unlike what it must have been like for a disciple of Jesus to perhaps become magnetized and energized by him long before fully understanding his messages. 

Of course the relationship that matters most in terms of the dramatic tension of "The Great Gatsby" outside of the budding friendship between Nick and Jay is that of Jay and Daisy Buchanan, a vapid socialite who lives with her husband Tom (who oozes machismo) directly across the bay in East Egg. (Luhrmann shows us that a green light perched atop the end of the Buchanans' pier marks the location of their estate by night, while during their day, their gargantuan display of Tom's own immense weath is clearly visible across the water.) Daisy and Nick are cousins, and before long the viewer (or reader) learns that regardless of whether or not Gatsby ever has any genuine motives in befriending Nick, he is most certainly doing so to get in contact with Daisy. The rich and mysterious charmer and the Kentucky girl had a thing five years earlier before Gatsby disappeared. She settled for Tom in the interim. And Luhrmann hammers it home multiple times that everything Gatsby is doing - every life choice he makes - is an attempt at reclaiming Daisy. 

I can't use up my film blog space for novel analysis. I'd be here all day. So I'll focus on the adaptation aspects of the story. So let's talk about the actors, first. 

Tobey Maguire plays Nick Carraway, and while I had my doubts about him going in, I was immediately struck with the thought that Maguire looks older in the film. He looks like a man. And I thought he handled the character very well, particularly in his recreation of the novel's narration, mostly lifted verbatim from the original pages and frequently delivered in voiceover. I thought his eyes and body language captured the excitement of a young man infatuated with another. If a viewer wants to believe that Carraway is gay and in love with Gatsby, I think that viewer can find evidence in the performance. And if a viewer wishes to take a more traditional interpretive approach concerning why Nick would be so affected by Gatsby, that evidence is more than amply provided as well. 

Leonardo DiCaprio, of course, plays Jay Gatsby, reteaming with Luhrmann for the first time since the director last adapted classic literature with 1996's "William Shakespeare's Romeo + Juliet." I have always found DiCaprio to be a solid actor who grows more deeply into his talents with each passing role, and whole-heartedly enjoyed his wicked turn as a slave owner is last year's "Django Unchained." But this was the first time I think I really understand his charm as a beautiful person. Perhaps this was the right director and the right part for DiCaprio at the right time, but he seemed to best convey what Gatsby requires in a purely physical sense. Only Ryan Gosling pops into my head as someone else who could have communicated this charm as successfully. 

But DiCaprio is better than charming here. In ways both subtle and overt, his Gatsby is at times terribly nervous and regretful, and DiCaprio sneaks out glances and moments where the audience can see that Gatsby is terrified of both rejection and the uncovering of the truths about his past that he's built magnificent backstories around. There absolutely has to be a vulnerability to Gatsby, and I think it's important that Nick is unable to detect it until much later in his life. The film gets this right. To me, DiCaprio was fully effective as Gatsby in every possible way. 

The support cast is equally effective. In fact, I have few complaints about the film's performances. Friends of mine have debated the casting of Joel Edgerton as Tom Buchanan, but I might have enjoyed his performance most of all, as he surprisingly managed to add a level of humanity to Tom's douchebaggery that is tough to glean when reading the novel. His is a physical performance that reminded me a lot of the work Corey Stoll did as Ernest Hemingway in Woody Allen's recent "Midnight in Paris." Both had a raw and animalistic masculine energy, and I thought that served the character of Tom well here. The audience has to buy why Daisy would try to replace Gatsby with Tom. Money and sex are the reasons, of course, and Edgerton communicates both. 

As Daisy, the excellent Carey Mulligan conveys the boredom and ennui of a spoiled girl who is either never satisfied or unable to make up her mind. I read one review that referred to Daisy as the "biggest piece of shit character in all of American literature." I'm not sure I'd go to that extreme, but if there's a grain of truth to such an assessment, Mulligan mixes in the necessary softness to help us understand, if only just a little bit, Gatsby's motivations. 

But talking about "The Great Gatsby" is the most fun when discussion its technical details and directorial choices, and given Luhrmann's clear status as an auteur, I believe that the credit for both the film's successes and flaws lie with him. Yes, there were moments when his operatic, flashy camera work betrayed a need for intimacy or stillness to let some emotion seep through the film's celuloid pores, but can you think of another contemporary film director who could better portray the decadence of the era than Luhrmann? Somewhere in a warehouse they are already engraving the plate for art direction Oscar with this film's title. Costumes and settings are as meticulous and sumptuous as we've come to expect from a Luhrmann production. In this area, only Tim Burton is his peer in terms of visual mood mastery. 

Like Burton, though, such emphasis on these physical details frequently amounts to shallow emotion, and as I've hinted at before, the unbelievable feast for the eyes we're given here, coupled with a need to translate the novel almost word for word, laquers the film with a sheen of stiffness and emotional distance. Case in point... I happened to see "Man of Steel" before "Gatsby" (though "Gatsby" was released almost two months prior), and I choked up with emotion much more in the Superman movie than I did here. Was there a way to prevent that? I'd like to think so.

An early party scene - the one when Nick tells us it is the first time he's ever been truly drunk - is a great example of Luhrmann using his trademark style to the hilt. His "Moulin Rouge" readily comes to mind as partygoers in an illicit rendezvous for Tom and his mistress, Myrtle, are surrounded by drinking and flying feathers from pillow fights, scantily-clad women draped over velveteen chaises and a random man on a fire escape blowing a trumpet while the soundtrack delivers the jarring anachronism of contemporary hip-hop flavored faintly with jazz-aged rhythms. This scene really represents what we get most of the time, this bag of tricks for the eyes. 

Certainly every visual symbol present in the novel transfers successfully here. The eyes on the billboard. The green light. The yellow car. The views of Gatsby's and Buchanan's homes. The film is even a bit too heavy handed in ensuring that the less literate audience member is aware that these things are, in fact, symbolism. And Luhrmann adds his own touches, such as the identification of Gatsby only via glimpses of a garish, rectangular onxy ring on his finger prior to the revelation of his identity; the ring then becomes a motif throughout the film. No doubt I could scarcely ask for more in terms of capturing all of these little things from the book. 

Still, something clearly fails with this "Great Gatsby," or at least I think so. I thought it telling when, upon the film's end, I turned to my wife and asked her what she thought. Her answer? "That was pretty." Hmm. I completely agree, though I'm not sure that's the way I would have liked to respond. 

The real problem with "The Great Gatsby" is the one evident in almost every scene, such as the one I described a bit earlier, and that is the fact that the film's individual elements - the camera work, the sound, the style - are all so individually ostentateous and interesting that the sum of them never gels into the whole of its parts. If you're offended by a Jay-Z-supervised song score in a film set in the 1920s, you will find yourself pulled away from the story's emotional core every time you hear a song that doesn't seem to fit the era. If you're completing a mental checklist of each of the novel's elements while watching, you only find yourself diving in emotionally up to the waist. There's never a full immersion. 

Perhaps what this all comes down to is that those of us who know Fitzgerald's novel well have already so thoroughly considered the work's depth and dense thematic elements that no one else's interpretation of the work can compete with our own. Which is unfortunate, because Lord knows this director sure tries. By the end of the film, I felt myself emotionally at about the place where Nick is in the first third of the film: eyes wide with wonderment, head filled with questions, heart pounding a mile a minute. Even in the film's violent climactic moments - which, by the way, I think were pulled off nicely - I never became as emotionally overwhelmed as I was intellectually interested to see if Luhrmann would "get it right." He gets everything right. But that's basically all he does. And why isn't that enough?

Unless I'm mistaken, for all of Luhrmann's bold visual and sonic choices, he only really tampers with one aspect of the novel, which is to frame Nick Carraway's narration as a conversation with a doctor in a mental hospital. Luhrmann's devotion to sticking to Fitzgerald's language is so complete that we frequently view his words physically on the screen. This device - yet another visual distraction - is justified by the conceit that Carraway's doctor has encouraged him to write down his stories of his time with Gatsby. This invention is developed through a glimpse of paperwork that lists Nick's visit as a patient being a result of a cocktail of insecurities and alcoholism. A stretch? Perhaps. But is it an unbelievable construct? I don't think so.

There are those who don't like this tampering, but I absolutely loved it. I find voice-over narration to be a difficult thing for a director to successfully pull off, so who would Nick be talking to without this bold choice on Luhrmann's part? When I read "Gatsby," Nick is talking directly to me; for whatever reason, the act of reading manages a level of intimacy between page and person that is lacking in movies. A movie cannot just be a physical manifestation of words from a book marching to life in page order. "The Great Gatsby" suffers from stunted emotion in many places specifically because it works too hard to attempt its carbon copy script translation. It breathes and is energized in those few moments where liberties are taken. The message must be right for the medium. 

Wherever liberties were taken, I was energized. I thought I'd hate the anachronistic music, but it blended energetically with elements of authentic jazz and worked just as well as "Romeo + Juliet" and "Moulin Rouge" did in this regard. This is, after all, simply another detail within Luhrmann's authorial style, and I simply embraced it. So, too, did I embrace the dramatic and quicky camera work and the art direction overkill. "The Great Gatsby," after all, takes place during a time of exorbitant decadence and excess! Did not Baz Luhrmann successfully communicate this, even if other aspects of the film did not meet expectations? 

I could see myself watching "The Great Gatsby" multiple times, studying different aspects and angles. I could see myself watching the film with my annotated copy of Fitzgerald's too-flimsy-to-be-this-rich paperback in my lap, taking note of moments where dialogue was expanded upon, highlighting direct lines of translation. Though I have not seen all of the other versions of this book that have been sent to movie theatres, I can see this one being considered the definitive film interpretation. 

But what I also know is that my fondness for "The Great Gatsby" will always be best represented by the image of an isolated Gatsby at the end of his pier in the dark, his arm outstretched in an attempt to physically grasp the green light in the distance. Somehow, whether it can be explained or not, the film manages to be too faithful and too bold at the same time, leaving audiences to find the space in the middle, which is, well, pretty.

Man of Steel (2013)

A-

I'm not sure how a comic book-loving kid meets the moment when he bends toward either the DC universe or camp Marvel, but when I send my memory back as far as it can go, I find myself in a local deli just a few blocks from my childhood home, spinning the squeaky metal rack that sat to the right side of the store's entrance, searching for the latest Superman or Batman comic.

For reasons I can't fully explain, I'm a DC guy. And with the advancing wonders of film-making technology, it's been a bloody nightmare to be a DC guy when the Marvel machine, now powered by Disney, has run circles all over the comic book-to-film industry in the last decade. Marvel Studios gave us a slam-bam-fantastic boot-up of Iron Man on the screen. It muddled through mediocrity with the Fantastic 4, only to spin out a solid and often thrilling X-Men film franchise. 

And I got "Green Lantern." 

Yes. That horrifying moment when your favorite superhero - for as long as you can remember...the one whose logo you have always wanted to tattoo on your body...the one on whom you've dropped much childhood allowance and adult bank - faces its moment when film technology met the challenge of what the storytelling required, and failed miserably. Like making the top 5 worst comic book-to-film adaptation of all-time list miserably. It still hurts. I think "Howard the Duck" is on that same list.

True, we have Batman, and most fanboys, Marvel or DC, are inclined to rank Christopher Nolan's recently completed Dark Knight trilogy as the gold standard for comic book movies. But damn. Can't a brother get a Flash film? A respectable and realistic Wonder Woman (sorry, Linda Evans...it's not because I didn't dream about you often as a kid)? A Green Lantern film to truly establish DC's most far-reaching franchise (with at least six individual titles published monthly, by my last count) as the Star Wars of the DCU? 

One forgone conclusion I've long since made peace with is that the superhero who seems least fitted for our world today is the one who essentially started it all, the one whose logo is most likely as well known as the handicap symbol or a cross. Left abandoned at the side of the road after the world lost Christopher Reeve, the Superman story would lay in repose until 2006, when an otherwise accomplished filmmaker, Bryan Singer, couldn't make the Man of Steel work in a post-9/11 world. Superman had never truly left the cultural landscape. Reincarnated as a housewife's fetish for "Lois & Clark" and then as an emo teen's dream on "Smallville," Supes has maintained some level of a profile on the small screen, the latter show successfully running for a stunning 10 years. But Brandon Routh, bless his chiseled body and strangely vacant soul, did as much to kill Superman as DC Comics did in the literal sense - and infamously - in 1992. 

Enter Christopher Nolan, the apparent savior to the DC Universe when it comes to imagining its characters on a movie screen, and here we are today with "Man of Steel." We've got a new Superman (Henry Cavill), a new director (Zach Snyder), and the creative team behind the Dark Knight trilogy. But, to return to my earlier thought, can Superman be adapted to fit our times? Can a character who is built on the bedrock of "truth, justice and the American Way" compete with the vigilantism and the resourcefulness of the 1 percent present in Iron Man and Batman, both severely flawed and brooding existential anti-heroes with the cash to built themselves into superheroes? 

With apologies for burying my lede on this one, I'll finally get around to the point of saying that Snyder's "Man of Steel" is, in fact, a promising and successful re-imagining of the most famous comic book hero of them all. That success, however, is a qualified one, as "Man of Steel" succeeds fantastically in the emotional department and solidly in the origin story department but only marginally in the technical department. 

As with any superhero film trilogy (and let's just be honest...that's where this is heading), the first film is the origin story. "Man of Steel" follows this tested template. The film opens on the planet Krypton, a corrupt and literally physically decaying planet where a dignitary by the name of Jor-El (Russell Crowe) and his wife, Lara (Ayelet Zurer) are reaching their wits' end in their pleadings with the Kryptonian government to forge an agreement that would settle its people and sustain its existence. 

Defiantly and secretly, they have borne a son and named him Kal-El, and the infant is the first naturally-conceived child in more than a generation. Knowing that the planet itself is on the brink of destruction, Jor-El secures a vehicle capable of transporting Kal-El to another place so that the people of Krypton can live on after the planet's implosion. Through some research, he discovers that Earth's atmosphere is acceptable to Kal-El and that, in fact, its sun would help him to thrive. Lara pleads with Jor-El to find any other way, but is soon resigned to agree with her husband, and Kal-El escapes Krypton in a pod-like spaceship that can carry only him as his parents valiantly face the inevitable. 

Another Kryptonian is equally interested in preserving the life of his people, though General Zod (Michael Shannon) proposes far more militaristic ways of doing so. And the source of the traditional comic book action in "Man of Steel" arises when Zod discovers that Kal-El exists, and where he exists. Kal is from Krypton. Zod wants him as he attempts to rebuild his planet and re-establish his people. 

Kal, as we know from a multitude of retellings, hits ground in Kansas, where he's raised by Jonathan and Martha Kent (Kevin Costner and Diane Lane), and in my opinion, the film's best moments are those when we watch Clark (Kal-El's earthly moniker) grapple with the evidence of his being different. Loved ceaselessly by his parents and coached with whispered, masculine resolve by Jonathan, Clark is advised to keep his powers to himself. The world is not ready for the likes of him, Jonathan tells him wearily, and yet any of us with children can identify with the urge to help our kids fit in. Unfortunately for the Kents, a series of events forces Clark to use his unearthly powers out in the open. And after one heartbreaking moment where Clark restrains himself from using his abilities - a moment, by the way, that had me on the edge of tears - there's no turning back for Clark. He must learn to be...

...well, something. In one of the film's few moments of levity (one could either gripe that "Man of Steel" lacks the typical superhero movie moments of humor and gut-busting one-liners or find it refreshing that they are absent, and I can see it both ways), Clark is about to be dubbed "Superman" during an interrogation by a feisty Lois Lane (Amy Adams) and is interrupted from doing so. The "S" on his chest, it turns out anyway, means "hope" on Krypton. Here, it probably really means "sexy."

The back half of "Man of Steel" toggles between Superman's attempts at getting the local Earthly authorities to see him as an ally rather than a threat and Zod's arrival to Earth to demand that Superman be turned over to him. And this second plot point provides the film with what I consider to be its weaker moments of action.  In fact, what frustrates me most about "Man of Steel" is just how absolutely four-star fantastic the emotional core of the film is - the stuff that explores the man, and how that amazing storytelling is cut off at the knees by what I consider to be poor directorial choices with regards to the climactic fights between Superman and Zod - fights in which a great many things are destroyed but with no audience investment. It's just two guys who can't seem to get hurt punching each other so hard that they fly backwards into shit and explode it.

Snyder films much of the action in frustrating close-ups. Yes, he breaks out the wide shots for those spectacular moments such as when we see Kal-El leap from the ground straight into the heavens. And not coincidentally, it's in these operatic, widescreen moments that the film is most successful visually. But I consider it a serious flaw that the framing is maniacally controlled, tight and ridiculously shaky, the use of hand-held camera work so overused that its purpose loses all meaning even when in certain moments it might have been effective. Why do all contemporary directors believe that hand-held camera work is the only way to communicate verite?

And "Man of Steel" experiences further setbacks thanks to the production work. Its color palate almost competes with the Dark Knight films in terms of its drabness. Thank God I didn't see it in 3-D, a medium that dulls the color of every film. I suspect (and someone who has seen it this way can let me know), that a 3-D print of this film is damn near gray. A little saturation would have gone a long way. But even this concern, along with that of poorly chosen camera work decisions, pales in comparison to the raging volume of the film. The Hans Zimmer score is not his most memorable, but I'd call it effective. Yet it's deployed in moments when, combined with the on-screen action, the film is a decibel level so high that one feels as though a wall of the theatre has dropped out to reveal a 747 preparing for takeoff. This is unquestionably and unnecessarily the loudest film I have ever seen. Ever. Period.

While I'm discussing the ways in which "Man of Steel" goes wrong, let me sigh deeply and admit that I'm still struggling with the ending, too. I can't say that I really liked it. For minute stacked upon minute, Superman and Zod engage in a high-speed fist fight, and as I mentioned, this climactic act plateaus in a narrative sense because it is so visually confusing and sonically loud. And then, well, I won't spoil it in case you haven't seen the film, but it involves Superman doing something very un-Superman-like, and I am trying to debate whether or not I am outraged at the heresy of Snyder, screenwriter David S. Goyer, and Nolan's betrayal of Superman's character, or whether I think it was actually a brilliant plot development and a gelling moment in creating a 2013 Superman. What I do know for sure, like it or not, is that the scene truly took my breath away, and Cavill's performance in the scene left me bereft and emotionally drained. I teared up!

And speaking of Cavill, I've read mixed reviews of his performance as Kal/Clark/Superman. Most of the negative reviews lament that he lacks the goofy charm of Christopher Reeve's work as the character. But those who are judging Cavill's performance against Reeve's are so far away from the point that their reviews of the film should almost be discredited wholesale. The point they are missing is that Christopher Reeve was MY childhood superman. He was a late 1970s-early 1980s Superman. That Superman doesn't work now (refer, again, to "Superman Returns," a clear attempt to lovingly recreate the Reeves-era Supes that just didn't work).

Henry Cavill is not just physically amazing enough to make not only women swoon but men envious - he is subtle and scared. Cavill understands that Superman is, at his core, a pacifist, and that reluctance is in his eyes - placed there by the conflict created by what his birth father wanted for him and what his earthly father expected from him - a conflict between fully-realized nobility and near godliness and a humble charge for a quiet and noble life of service. That is a 2013 Superman. He wants to help, not be the subject of a TMZ investigation. He doesn't want to destroy things (though so much is destroyed in the film that I just plain lose track of what it is being destroyed). He can't stomach fatalities. I thought Cavill was perfect.

In a cast of strong supporting performances, including not only Adams but an under-used Laurence Fishburne and a crazy-good Michael Shannon as a villain whose intentions the audience can actually fully understand and perhaps even somewhat sympathize with, it was the work of Kal's two dads that burned in my memory the most. As Jor-El, Russell Crowe was more svelte than I've seen him in years - regal and noble with an air of a Jedi to him. And even better still is Costner, turning in what I daresay could be considered one of his very best performances, ever. The fact that Crowe and Costner do such understated and emotionally stabilizing work in a comic book film will surely cause both to be overlooked without a second thought when awards are handed out, but it was because of them that I found "Man of Steel" to have more genuine emotion than any comic book film I can think of.

There is so much more I could say about "Man of Steel," but this review is already so long. I'd love to talk about the many moments of Christ-like crossover, most of them far, far from subtle (such as when Superman stabilizes himself mid-atmosphere in a crucifixion pose, or hey - did anyone else immediately catch on to the fact that the film mentions repeatedly that Kal/Clark is 33 when the present-day action of the film takes place, the same age Jesus was when he was killed?). I could talk, as a comic book fan, about the way that the story was changed from the comics to propel the movie and whether I liked them or not (mostly, I did). I could talk about how most Superman movies jumped straight from Kal's crash landing on Earth to his working at the Daily Planet, and this film finally and gloriously fills in that formative space in between.

But instead, I'll leave with this impression, the one that allows me to forgive a lot of what I found to be serious flaws in "Man of Steel." And that is the fact that this movie was rightfully (and hopefully not just coincidentally) released in theatres on Father's Day weekend. For "Man of Steel," when you strip the rest away, has been re-imagined for today's world as a story of the love of fathers.

Past Superman incarnations have focused on his pure goodness or his spectacular, alien powers of heat vision, flight and super-human strength. And in doing so, I think, they've rendered Superman one of the most boring comic book heroes ever. Who would choose the never morally conflicted, always righteous and vanilla Superman over the brooding, tortured, mortal Batman or even a mutant X-Man? Let's face it, Superman lacked conflict, especially of the internal variety.

"Man of Steel" deftly corrects this problem, though I'll cringe to find that some will feel that the film paints Superman's inner turmoil with a Dark Knight brush, an accusation that whifs of validity but is quite frankly too simple. Because this film, this film is about fathers and sons. About being super not just in a Kryptonian, alien, super-human sense, but also being super in service to others, in the content of one's character, and in loving and learning. "Man of Steel," as unnecessarily cacophonous as it can be, moved me and made me feel deeply, not just about Kal-El but about the wisdom I wish my father had imparted to me and the ways I'd like to evolve as a father to my own son.

My Oscar Predictions!

I've been so busy watching as many nominated Oscar films as possible this year that I've fallen off the wagon when it comes to actually reviewing them here on my blog, and for that, I'm sorry to those of you who actually read this with any regularity. I am going to make a better effort to see films more regularly in 2013 so that reviewing them doesn't gang up on me, though who are we kidding...the best stuff all comes out at the same time, anyway. I've also been so busy that I can't seem to locate where I put my statistics from last year, though if I remember correctly, I had one of my better years in predicting the Oscar winners. In fact, I think of the 24 categories, I got 18 of 19 of them correct.

I don't expect to do as well this year, and that's a good thing. And there are a few reasons why these predictions will not be as accurate.

For starters, there is no one film that is poised to sweep everything this year. The film most in position to do so, "Argo," is not the year's most nominated movie, and much has been written and spoken now about how everyone's favorite nomination for the film is the one it didn't even get, that of Best Director for Ben Affleck. The idea of a write-in vote is a tempting thought, and if that possibility were a legal one, I could see it happening. That's how crazy all of the "Argo" love has gotten. But alas, the Academy banned write-in votes after it last happened in 1936. And so Ben will have to be satisfied with the one Oscar he'll take home as the producer of the film, instead of the two many feel he deserves. Poor guy.

Another reason I might not do as well this year is because I've actually seen more of the films this year than I think I ever have. I have seen all nine Best Picture nominees. Of the 20 nominated acting performances, I've seen 19 and might try to sneak in the last one before the show starts. Best Documentary and Live Action Shorts are the only two categories in which I've seen none of the nominated films, and that's only because I couldn't find any online (whereas in past years, I was able to find and watch many of these films). In total, I have seen 27 of the 51 nominate films. Whether or not that seems like much (at 53 percent), that includes every film, including the shorts. Take out the 15 short films and the five I've seen and I've seen 22 of 36 films, or 61 percent of them. Not everyone can say that, unless they are people who review films for a living.

The problem with seeing everything is that you actually develop opinions about them, and I have developed a great many. They range from an overall sense that 2012 was an excellent year for movies to a strong belief that "Argo" as Best Picture is more trendy revenge voting than it is a legitimate choice.

But here you are anyway: my attempt to cut through the voices and online clairvoyants and just pick something, already. And on Monday, you can make fun of me all you want.

BEST PICTURE 
Will win: "Argo," because this nonsensical Hollywood outrage will see itself through to its ultimate completion. If everyone thought Affleck deserved these awards, how was he kept from being nominated in the first place? Quick, name me the guy who was nominated for directing "Beasts of the Southern Wild"! You can't!
Could win: "Lincoln," if voters got tired of all Affleck, all the time.
Should win: "Lincoln." "Argo" is going to look dated on my Best Picture shelf, and I'm sorry, it's as slight as people thought "Crash" was when it won. "Lincoln," on the other hand, is going to be timeless. It's important. It's going to be taught in schools. Once again, a Spielberg film for the ages will lose to genre fluff. Sigh.

BEST DIRECTOR
Will win: Steven Spielberg for "Lincoln." I've read some things online that said that his direction here wasn't innovative in any way and didn't expand his abilities. Give me a break. He's Spielberg. What further expansion of his abilities is required? I think this was his most nuanced work in a decade. He deserves it.
Could win: Ang Lee, for "Life of Pi." Though the film has its troubled spots (read: the entire ending), what director had greater challenges than Lee? An "unfilmable book" for a script, working with children and animals, filming in and on water, prolific usage of CG effects that look both realistic and painterly, and using 3-D successfully for the first time since James Cameron. Some might call a win for Lee payback for his loss for "Brokeback Mountain," and the Academy loves to correct its mistakes. But I think he deserves it here on its own merits.
Should win: Spielberg, for making what was ultimately an action-less film into a riveting experience. And to those who say that his direction wasn't the best of what he's capable of, I ask you to name me another of his films so centered on the acting performances. Never before has he placed his actors so much at the center of his storytelling.

BEST ACTOR
Will win: Daniel Day-Lewis for "Lincoln," because he had the award wrapped up when the first still photo of him in makeup leaked during filming, and because if you know anything about acting you know that it is truly a nuanced and beautiful performance, filled with small and brilliant choices.
Could win: Hugh Jackman's work in "Les Miserables" is the only possible spoiler here, and he had to sing as well as act to even be the runner up who will likely be 20 percent behind in the voting.
Should win: Daniel Day-Lewis, because any other choice, however worthy, would just seem like punishing him for being too good.

BEST ACTRESS
Will win: Emmanuelle Riva for "Amour." I know that I'm taking a risk with this one, but there's usually one surprise in the acting categories, and I expect it will be here. Riva is just unbelievable in "Amour," a film that not a lot of people have seen, but I'm guessing that once voters did see it, they couldn't get her off their minds. Add to that the fact that she is truly a legend in the film industry (even if she's not a known legend Stateside), and the fact that all four other options are going to split some of the votes, and I think she can take this.
Could win: Of the remaining options - none of which are impossibilities - Jennifer Lawrence is the most likely to get on stage for her excellent work in "Silver Linings Playbook," a film that I can't see going home empty-handed (but see my next category for my theory on that).
Should win: I haven't seen "The Impossible" as I'm writing this. It's the only nominated performance of all 20 I haven't seen yet, and I'm told that Naomi Watts is revelatory in it. So bear in mind that my thoughts here lack the benefit of having seen her work. That said, I'm not sure anything was as amazing this year as Emmanuelle Riva was in "Amour." Like Day-Lewis, she brought subtle choices to a new level in a truly full-bodied and moving performance.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR
Will win: Robert De Niro, "Silver Linings Playbook." We don't get to see the final numbers from Oscar voting, but I'd be shocked if the winner of this category clears 25 percent of the overall vote; it's a horse race between five past Oscar winners. Given that the Academy finally renewed its love for Meryl Streep last year after 30 years since her last win, it's time to do the same for the King of the Hollywood Actors as was afforded to its queen. De Niro last won in 1980, about the same distance from today as Streep was from her previous win going into last year's ceremony. When I reflect on "Silver Linings Playbook" as such a well-acted movie, I often think of De Niro's work. I bet the voters felt the same way.
Could win: Most people would have said Tommy Lee Jones, and he was certainly first out of the gate for this award with his scene-stealing turn in "Lincoln." But then, during the long approach to the red carpet, it became obvious that Jones is a grade-A grouch, and I don't think he's liked enough to win. So if anyone else will win, it will probably be Christoph Waltz, because giving an award to "Django Unchained" is something that many voters will want to do and the film stands its best chance for a victory here. Plus, how good is Waltz?
Should win: All five of these performances were stellar, though I felt Waltz was essentially riffing on himself from his last Tarantino film, a role for which he already won this award. So to me, it doesn't seem right to give him two Oscars for versions of the same performance. If I could pick, I'd award Philip Seymour Hoffman's work in "The Master."  While I found the film on the whole to be a pretentious mess, I thought both Hoffman and Joaquin Phoenix were forces of nature in it; both, in fact, have never been better. It's the most quiet of the five nominated performances, and arguably the greatest.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS
Will win: Anne Hathaway, "Les Miserables." How can she not win? Her "I Dreamed a Dream" scene was shot in a continuous take in close up with her dirty and head-shaved. And it was the most gut-wrenching performance of a song that I have ever witnessed in a film musical, period. So although her character was such a minor part of a grandiose story, I can't think of anyone who would have forgotten about her by the time the movie was over. She's a force, and it's her time.
Could win: Nobody. But if I have to choose, I'd say Sally Field's work as Mary Todd Lincoln in "Lincoln" has the only shot at playing spoiler, if for no other reason than the fact that Sally Field has never lost an Oscar she's been nominated for.
Should win: I do believe that Hathaway deserves this, but a close second worthy of mention to me is Helen Hunt for "The Sessions." I was just very moved by that performance and shocked by the bravery of it. Hunt spends maybe three scenes in the movie with clothes on, and is so incredible in what is truthfully a leading role that she is capable of pulling your attention away from her nudity. She also manages to make discussions about sex be about more than, well, sex.

BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY
Will win: I truly don't know which way to go with this one, which is a three-way race between "Amour," "Django Unchained" and "Zero Dark Thirty." If "Zero" doesn't win here, it runs the risk of going home empty handed, which seems strange to me. But the same could be said for "Django." And yet while "Amour" has Foreign Language film on lock and could also take home Best Actress, I get the feeling that it could eke this one out as well. I'll pick "Amour" and plan to get this one wrong.
Could win: As mentioned above, either "Django Unchained" or "Zero Dark Thirty" are worthy and willing.
Should win: I haven't seen "Moonrise Kingdom" yet. I know...shame on me. I agree with one critic's assertion that "Django Unchained" is little more than "Tarantino masturbating for three hours." "Flight" was brilliant and daring in its structure but pedestrian in its characterization of an alcoholic, telegraphing almost everything. So that leaves it between "Amour" and "Zero Dark Thirty." Considering how Mark Boal has essentially - along with Kathryn Bigelow - created a new genre of narrative documentary, I think he deserves it for "Zero Dark Thirty."

BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY
Will win: This is one award that "Argo" doesn't deserve but winning the screenplay and editing along with Best Picture will go a long way toward legitimizing its win despite the fact that it will be only the third film to win Best Picture without a nominated director. Historically, the film is deserving of as much hubbub for embellishing history as "Lincoln" or "Zero Dark Thirty" is, but the fact that it's managed to steer completely clear of such criticism tells me it's going to grab this one.
Could win: Tony Kushner took only a few pages of Doris Kearns Goodwin's "Team of Rivals" and built a luxuriously verbose masterpiece on it, and the choice to focus on no more than Lincoln's final four months of office and life was shrewd. I think it deserves this award and would love to be wrong with this pick.
Should win: "Lincoln," though it's worth noting that the script for "Silver Linings Playbook" outshines the film's direction (though not its acting), and I would have picked "Life of Pi" had I not felt that it got the ending wrong, seeing as how many thought that a film could not be made from Yann Martel's beautiful novel.

BEST ANIMATED FEATURE
Will win: "Wreck-it Ralph," which shockingly, I've never seen and therefore can't exactly criticize, though it feels like an awfully middle-of-the-road choice here.
Could win: "Brave," for the same reasons that "Wreck-it Ralph" will win.
Should win: Without question, this one should go to Tim Burton for his full-length expansion of "Frankenweenie," which began as a short film he made while still working for Disney at the start of his career. The full-circle moment for Burton contains all of the trademarks of his work and has the added gravity of a wonder-filled creation that touches on hints of autobiography and magically delivers all that Burton is capable of.

BEST FOREIGN LANGUAGE FILM
Will win: "Amour." It's up for Best Picture. Just like how an album nominated for the Album of the Year Grammy always wins its individual genre category, so too will "Amour" win here. If any other name is called, the screen will go to fuzz.
Could win: ...I'm not even going to bother, and I'm not just saying that because "Amour" is the only nominee I've seen in this category.
Should win: Though I should abstain from this one, I'm doubtful that I will love any of the other nominees here as much as I loved "Amour."

BEST DOCUMENTARY FEATURE
Will win: "Searching For Sugar Man," a charming but slight documentary that I must admit I was far less giddy over than most people I talk to who have seen it. But every other nominee in this category is a film about some of the most depressing situations on Planet Earth, so I don't see how any of them rise above a genuine feel-good movie.
Could win: "How to Survive a Plague," about the AIDS epidemic, seems like the most likely spoiler here, though film insiders have said a lot about how much they thought "The Gatekeepers" was the best film of this bunch.
Should win: "The Invisible War" is understated work from provocateur Kirby Dick, and the film actually sparked the U.S. Secretary of Defense into action upon seeing it. (He launched an investigation into cases of sexual assault in the military and took the power of review of such incidences out of the hands of officers and gave it to civilian panels, a step in the right direction.) In addition, watching "The Invisible War" was the most angering experience I had with a movie all year - the injustice of it all is just that ridiculous. The film should be required viewing for all enlistees in the armed forces.

BEST CINEMATOGRAPHY
Will win: Since "Life of Pi" will likely lose out on its above-the-line nominations and since I don't expect it to go home empty-handed, it seems like this is the most deserving award to give to a film that is remembered for how it looks. Recognizing both director Ang Lee and cinematographer Claudio Miranda is not out of the question, but I feel a little more confident that the film will be recognized here. It's one unbelievable visual moment after another, and Miranda pulls off the near impossible by giving depth to the nothingness of the water and air that serve as much of the film's background.
Could win: "Skyfall" runs such a close second to "Life of Pi" in this race that it's tough to call. And I wouldn't be the least bit upset if I got this one wrong, though ultimately, "Life of Pi" feels like the right choice.
Should win: Roger Deakins has been nominated 10 times and has never won. Enough already! His work on "Skyfall" is to die for. Every frame looks like a carefully composed photograph. I could have cared less what was going on in the movie and was even bored with it when an action sequence wasn't going down. But I could barely keep my mouth closed from looking at one stunning visual moment after another.

BEST EDITING
Will win: "Argo," because Best Picture and Best Editing go hand in hand.
Could win: "Zero Dark Thirty"
Should win: Actually, I think "Argo" is worthy of this award!

BEST PRODUCTION DESIGN
Will win: "Anna Karenina" had a unique premise as a story that seems to come to life off of a proscenium arch stage while still managing to plunge the viewer into czarist Russia.
Could win: If voters want to go more the fantasy route, they would pick "Life of Pi."
Should win: "Lincoln" deserves this award for the way the film meticulously creates a 19th Century White House with its dim lighting and browned-out look. And I should think that Spielberg's obsessive use of items actually owned by Lincoln himself or borrowed from that actual era would be reason enough to reward such loving recreation.

BEST COSTUME DESIGN
Will win: "Anna Karenina"
Could win: "Les Miserables" (for its sheer volume of period costumes) or "Mirror Mirror" (because often this award goes to a film that seems un-Oscar-worthy in every other possible way).
Should win: "Anna Karenina," "Les Miserables," and "Lincoln" are the three I've seen, and they all seem worthy of this award. And though I have not seen "Snow White and the Huntsman," I've heard its costumes are its best feature.

BEST MAKEUP AND HAIRSTYLING
Will win: "Les Miserables." Look no further than the physical transformation of Hugh Jackman throughout the film; Jean Valjean looks as though he could have been played by three different actors.
Could win: "The Hobbit," I guess. It's hard to imagine a Jackson/Tolkein film walking away with nothing.
Should win: "Les Miserables," because the work done on Anthony Hopkins for "Hitchcock" wasn't all that impressive and the best visual effects in "The Hobbit" are digitally created.

BEST VISUAL EFFECTS
Will win: "Life of Pi" is going to win at least one Oscar for its stunning visuals, and it has the potential to win three. My guess is that this is the closet to a lock of all of its chances.
Could win: If "The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey" is to walk away with anything at all, here's where it has its best chance, and that chance is really, really slim.
Should win: "Life of Pi"

BEST ORIGINAL SCORE
Will win: Could "Life of Pi" end up with the most overall Oscar wins this year? Composer Mychael Danna mixes East and West in this memorable score, which I think elevates it above the more classic charms of "Anna Karenina"'s beautiful and conspicuous score and the contrasting extremes of "Lincoln"'s subtlety and the bombast of "Skyfall."
Could win: After driving last year's "War Horse" into the ground with an ethos-heavy work, perennial nominee John Williams lightens up for one of the most effective scores not only of this year, but of his career.
Should win: I must admit that I found all of these scores to be interesting and effective. In a toss-up between "Life of Pi" and "Lincoln," I'd go with "Lincoln" as a sentimental choice.

BEST ORIGINAL SONG
Will win: "Skyfall" by Adele and Paul Epworth, for so many reasons. If the previously-announced Bond tribute taking place at the awards isn't hint enough, whom among voters is going to resist sending Adele to the halfway mark on an EGOT? And is there any other nominee in any other category that audiences at home would rather hear give an acceptance speech? And a Bond song hasn't won this award yet?
Could win: When Adele sings "so let the sky fall" in her nominated song, she's also talking about what will happen if anyone else gets their name called for this award on Oscar night. I just don't see it happening. However, if forced to select a second choice, I'd go with "Suddenly," since it's from an actual musical.
Should win: "Skyfall." "Suddenly" is the latest in a long-standing tradition of stage-to-screen translations adding one newly-composed song to the film version so that it can qualify for the one award it seems most worthy of but would be otherwise ineligible to win. Aren't we sick of that yet?

BEST SOUND EDITING
Will win: I am genuinely uncertain on this one, and could see it going to either "Skyfall" or "Zero Dark Thirty," though I know that there has been fierce campaigning on the part of the "Life of Pi" team for this award. I'm going to make the mistake of going with my gut over logic on this one and I'll choose "Skyfall." But it's the least confident I feel about any award here.
Could win: I keep wondering how it is that "Zero Dark Thirty," one of the year's best films, could actually go home empty-handed. Certainly it has as good of a shot in this category as anywhere, right?
Should win: "Skyfall" was really loud. Seems obvious, but loud tends to win this one. That said, there's not a film in this bunch that wasn't worthy of a nomination in this category.

BEST SOUND MIXING
Will win: If "Les Miserables" deserves an Oscar, surely it is for this category, given the fact that all of the actors' singing was recorded live on the set, a first for a movie musical and most certainly an amazing technological feat to pull off.
Could win: "Life of Pi" or "Skyfall"
Should win: "Les Miserables"
 

BEST LIVE ACTION SHORT
Will win: If applying the same rule used on Documentary Feature, I'm told that the only film of the five that won't make you want to slash your wrists after seeing it is"Curfew."
Could win: "Death of a Shadow" looks the most artistic and stars Belgian actor Matthias Schoenaerts, who was quite fantastic in "Rust and Bone," probably the greatest film of 2012 among those overlooked completely by the Academy this year.
Should win: Sadly, I haven't seen any of these this year. A pity, because I really enjoy watching them and have managed to find them online in the past. Security must be tight this year. And so I'm not qualified to select a favorite.

BEST DOCUMENTARY SHORT
Will win: Most of the critics seem to be going for either "Inocente" or "Open Heart" in this category. I'll go with "Open Heart" here, as it seems to be the more sentimental choice.
Could win: "Inocente" or "Mondays at Racine"
Should win: This is the only other category for which I've seen none of the nominees and can't pick.

BEST ANIMATED SHORT
Will win: "Paperman" blends traditional animation with computer-generated animation and has the benefit of being both heart-tuggingly romantic and a product of the Disney studios.
Could win: "Adam and Dog" is a little longer and is quite beautiful. I could see it charming many voters. There's also a temptation to go with "Maggie Simpson in 'The Longest Daycare'" because it would be cool for the longest-running TV show on prime time to add an Oscar to its collection.
Should win: "Fresh Guacamole" is brilliant but is barely two minutes long, and I can't see an Oscar going to a film so short. Plus it lacks a narrative story. I was charmed by most of the films this year, but watched "Paperman" multiple times. I think it's pretty great.

So there you have it. And if these predictions would come true tomorrow night, there would be four films sharing the top of the winner's column with three Oscars apiece: "Argo," "Amour," "Les Miserables" and "Life of Pi," with pairs of awards going to "Anna Karenina," "Lincoln" and "Skyfall." I'm not sure if the awards can be so evenly distributed. But we'll find out for certain in just a few hours!