94rd Academy Awards Pre-ceremony: The Nominees

Another year has come and the Academy Awards are almost here, on their second edition of the Pandemic Era.

As I noticed on last year's article, Oscar season is quite appealing to me, despite their many historical short-comes. Their picks often come more from politics and campaigns than out of merit. But as a pop culture lover, they're also the largest yearly event in our sphere, and I can't help but dote upon this celebration of a world I adore, so I reiterate they're a bit o a guilty pleasure for me.

Before starting, let me remind you the ground rules to what I'll be doing here:

1- I have watched every nominated feature-length fiction film this year (as I always do). I don't mean only the Best Picture nominees, but every film that got into any category, from Best Score to Makeup and Hairstyling. Thus, the opinions I express here are entirely my own, and are informed by the actual viewings.

2- Notice I said "feature-length fiction films". Short films and documentaries aren't as easily available, so I haven't watched all of them. In the spirit of fairness, I won't discuss those categories. The sole exception is Flee, which is a documentary, but was also nominated for both Best Animated Feature and  International Feature, so I'll mention it on those contexts.

3- I have my problems with the Best Original Song category. In my book, a song only belongs at the Oscars if it contributes to the narrative or atmosphere of the actual film, or at the very least is based on its original score. Just pasting a song over the end credits of a movie doesn't make it a real part of the cinematic arts, and thus shouldn't be awarded as a cinematic category.

The category must exist, but the rules have to be refined. Take in consideration that this is happening while disciplines that are truly inherent to filmmaking have been neglected for years by the Academy, like the case of Stunt Artists. I won't discuss the Song category in this article either, except in passing, on films that are also nominated for something else.

4- The nominations each film has actually received will be written in bold. If I discuss a category the film didn't get, I will underline it. Film titles are, as always, in italic.

5- The order in which I write about the films is a bit arbitrary. I do have my reasonings for putting them like this, but I don't want you to try to read between the lines here: I'm not really ranking them.

Now lets get to each film. I'm not attempting to review them, just to share a quick portrait of my impressions:

Jane Campion's western has the most nominations of the year, and probably the highest probability of winning Best Picture out of the big ten. That, coupled with a credible chance of Campion herself winning Best Director, would make it the second year in a row that those awards go to a film helmed by a woman, something that was almost unthinkable just a few years ago.

Political factors both for and against doing that surely will intervene, but the crux of the mater is that The Power of the Dog would be a perfectly deserving receiver of either honor, probably even more than Chloe Zhao's Nomadland was in 2021.

The performances are incredible. Benedict Cumberbatch, one of the most iconic actors of his generation is almost a lock for Best Actor, and though I don't think Kirsten Dunst will win hers as Best Supporting Actress, she is also an incredibly gifted actress who still hadn't been recognized by the Academy (she could have easily been nominated for Melancholia, but the Nazi-supporting comments made by director Lars Von Trier didn't generate much good will for that film).

Then there's two Best Supporting Actor nominations for The Power of the Dog. While we all expected Kodi Smit-McPhee to get a nod (and most likely win!) for his quiet, haunting performance, I was also very pleased we got one for Jesse Plemons, an actor who is very underrated but which I've admired in everything I've seen him in. While he's quite adept at playing awful people (from Breaking Bad to Black Mirror), there's also a likeable quality about his acting that shines through even in flawed characters like the ones he portrays in Game Night or Fargo (also with his partner, Kirsten Dunst). Indeed, he provides much of the heart in The Power of the Dog, and this nomination should help his relative low profile.

Much like the acting, the craftmanship of the picture is impeccable. The individual categories probably have stronger contenders, but as a collective piece, few films this year work as a whole. That won't go unnoticed, so it's also likely that the film can nab one of its other nods (Best Adapted Screenplay, Best Film Editing, Best Cinematography, Best Original Score, Best Sound and Best Production Design), and I wouldn't feel cheated at all.

A truly strong entry for this awards season.

I'm usually contemptuous towards Romeo & Juliet and its many, many adaptations. However, I've never felt particularly ill-disposed against the 1961 film version of the famous Stephen Sondheim musical West Side Story, and I was even impressed enough to get behind its Best Picture win, even though it competed against Judgement at Nuremberg, another masterpiece. Yes, part of it is because of Leonard Bernstein's monumental music, but I could even enjoy its story in a way I've never done with Shakespeare's original, even though I'm still much unimpressed about the overblown "love at first sight" thing.

The existence of an already competent film version didn't make me particularly excited about the prospect of a second one, even when learning it would be helmed by Steven Spielberg, a director I always follow. But now, after finally seeing the finished project (pushed back about a year because of COVID), I see the appeal and I'm ready to say it's probably even better than the 1961 one, and there's at least a fighting chance for it to win the same Best Picture award its predecessor did.

Like Nightmare Alley, this movie is not technically a remake, but rather a new adaptation from the same source as the classic one. However, the reverence towards the earlier work is palpable, and there are a few loving homages to it, chief among them the presence of Rita Moreno (who also produces) taking on a new role after winning a Best Supporting Actress Oscar for playing Anita 60 years ago. She's very good this time around too, and though she didn't manage to get a nomination, she passes the torch to the new Anita, this time played by a very commanding Ariana DeBose, who did get a Best Supporting Actress nomination too. I wasn't familiar with DeBose, but she easily grabs the viewer's attention with her range, and is a big favorite for the win.

So, how does exactly the film improve upon its predecessor? First of, Spielberg is always a formal master at work, and in this film, if you're into that kind of thing, he shows an almost supernatural command over the camera work. I was entranced by every frame, every movement. The dance choreography of the actors is second to the camera's ballet, and if he wins his third Best Director Oscar (out of 11 nominations) I'd be very happy (not that he will, with names like Campion and Branagh also on the run). Likewise, Janusz Kamiński ought to be recognized for Best Cinematography (but also has strong contenders). They're combined work here is a thing of beauty.

Then there's Best Sound, Best Production Design and Best Costume Design completing the film's seven nominations, and even if it ends up empty-handed by the end of the night, it's still a towering accomplishment.

This surprise hit is a thoughtful, inspiring drama which managed to get Japan into the Best Picture race for the first time in Oscar history. Is it the absolutely best film of the year? That's always a hard question to answer, but I'd say there are a couple other titles in the list that I found more accomplished. My main grip with this one was the excessive runtime. I felt it would have been much more effective with some trimming. The pace is also very slow; the film's intro credits appear at about the 45 minutes mark, and then it becomes even more deliberate than it started. Despite it's length, it's never actually boring, mind you.

That's not to say it won't win the main award. If anything, its chances are growing everyday, and its international pedigree, once a handicap for this competition, is now bound to help, particularly after Korea managed the big win with Parasites (which, that year, was unequivocally the deserving film).

Whatever the outcome for that category, logic dictates that Drive My Car is bound to win Best International Feature, and as much as I loved Flee, the Asian film should make short work of the competitors.

I'm a bit ambivalent about the Best Director nomination. Ryusuke Hamaguchi's helming is very competent but also quite straightforward, particularly compared with other hopefuls this year, when you have the virtuous flair of Spielberg and the atmospheric direction of Campion (and Villaneuve wasn't even nominated!). But maybe I'm just falling into the easy trap of "more" not being the same as "best", and I failed to fully appreciate the understated accomplishment of Hamaguchi. In any case, I felt  Hidetoshi Nishijima was a bit snubbed for missing out on Best Actor. I really liked his work here.

I likewise appreciate its inclusion among the Best Original Screenplay nominees. Even though I think it could have been enhanced through editing, I feel most of the film's potency comes from its script, and unless The Power of the Dog intervenes here, this category should go to Japan.

What can I write about Dune that hasn't been already written countless times over the past few months? Yes, it's a visual and auditive treat. Yes, its pace is deliberate and not always engaging. Yes, it's more of a sensorial experience than anything else. Yes, it's basically a long, incomplete first act for a film that won't be arriving for a while. At this point, we've heard so much about these notions that they've turned into clichés.

However, they are true, and if you ask me where I stand when I take all of that in consideration at once, my answer will probably be less apotheotic and grandiloquent than most of what I've heard. I did enjoy the film. It's extremely well done, as usual for a Denis Villeneuve product, and most aspects of its craft deserve high praise. I do feel, however, that the final result is less than the addition of its parts. I also feel it exposes a lot of the double-standards we have in the film community nowadays, because this type of inconcluse narrative format has been criticized to death when opted by a more mainstream studio. But because Villaneuve can't do wrong, this time it's praised.

Look, I do love him as a filmmaker too. Prisoners is still one of my favorite films of the decade, and the rest of his work always has spades to offer. But he has become one of those authors who, like Tarantino or Nolan before him, has negated any kind of objectivity among certain cinephile circles. If you've followed the development of Dune, you'll know the types: they had already made the decision that it would be the greatest film ever just as it was announced, long before they had ever seen any of it. They had done the same thing with Blade Runner 2049 and now are doing the same for the Dune sequel. And they will keep doing so until they decide to shift their hero worship and crucify him if he dares to make a significant misstep. That's how we roll nowadays

That aside, I do think all 10 of the nominations the film got are well-deserving (including -and starting- by Best Picture), and I even think Villaneuve himself should have gotten another one as Best Director. From the mostly technical (Best Visual Effects, Best Sound, Best Makeup and Hairstyling) to the mostly artistic (Best Production Design, Best Costume Design, Best Cinematography, Best Original Score) Dune will be all over the ceremony, probably winning many of those. The only thing the film is lacking is presence in the acting categories (because despite it's amazing cast, it barely gives them much of a chance to shine within that overwhelming cinematic atmosphere). Then there's Best Film Editing and Best Adapted Screenplay nominations, which I also think Dune deserves. Despite my apparent misgivings about its narrative structure, those two categories are largely responsible for taming that beast of a source material into a mostly successful and consumable piece.

I enjoyed this Best Picture nominated film, but on the other hand, I feel like it should have resonated with me much more than it ultimately did. After all, it tells the story of a family that has to make the decision to leave their country after political turmoil hits, something that I experienced first hand myself.

But while I recognized many of the emotional beats that come with such an event, including the way children perceive it (my own national crisis has been so long that I lived through it both as a child and as an adult), I never connected as much with it as I did with Flee, the other emigration nominee of the year (more on it later).

Maybe it was because of that infantile point of view, because it meant some of the points of the conflict are glossed over, and I lack enough knowledge about the Northern Ireland Troubles to fully grasp some details that no doubt would have helped me relate to the characters on a deeper level.

For that reason, I'm not completely supportive of Kenneth Branagh's Best Original Screenplay nomination, though his elegant helming o the movie does warrant his Best Director nod.

As for the many positives: all central performances are great, albeit Judi Dench's nomination for Best Supporting Actress feels a bit much given her side role (and the fact that we all expected Caitriona Balfe to get her spot instead). More meaty is Ciarán Hinds' performance, and his Best Supporting Actor nod finally gives proper due to an often overlooked but towering actor.

It also has a Best Song nomination for singer Van Morrison, who also provided the music for the whole film, and Best Sound for it's evocative, well-mixed audio.

 

Sports dramas are a mixed bag for me, but there are some that I find so engrossing that they can defeat my general disinterest in the featured sport itself (Ford v Ferrari was one of my favorite films of 2019).

King Richard doesn't particularly achieve this for tennis. The family drama component is interesting enough, or at least it would be if it didn't smell suspiciously of more artificiality than I would like in a biopic. Indeed, subsequent readings I've made on the subject seem to point in the direction that I suspected: Richard Williams (Venus and Serena's father) was a much less saintly figure than portrayed on the film. You can indeed perceive some hints of how questionable his methods are, but they never come under close scrutiny. The film forces you to accept that he's not in the wrong just because everybody knows those two sisters will eventually become tennis superstars, never questioning his borderline abuse properly, or simply ignoring important context, like his abonnement of other children he fathered.

That said, I would allow for the fact that Will Smith's performance -accurate or not- is compelling enough to deserve his Best Actor nomination, while on the other hand, the Best Original Screenplay nod seems as unearned as the Best Picture one. This is an average film at best.

As for Best Film Editing, I suspect making those scenes feel like real tennis matches played a big part in achieving that nomination, so I'll give it pass. Aunjanue Ellis get a Best Supporting Actress nomination by playing the Williams' mother, a character that feels like a voice of reason but which still abides his husband's methodology, and thus is given a back-seat treatment. In any case, it's a likeable turn for Ellis and I'm okay with her nomination.

The 1947 adaptation is a masterpiece of the Noir genre and though this version by Guillermo del Toro is not exactly a remake, but a new adaptation of the same novel, both follow the story faithfully enough, so there's not much new to offer in the plot department. However, the ending of the new film is closer to the book's (the finale of the 47 iteration was famously interfered by the studios, which forced a more hopeful, and honestly undeserving, fate for the main character).

Where this version shakes things up, and it's no surprise since it's a del Toro film, is on it visuals. The dark world of Noir, and particularly it's early carnival setting are tailor made for this imaginative filmmaker to contribute his twisted yet elegant vision in spades. Thus, the expected nominations in Best Costume Design, Best Production Design and Best Cinematography (by Dan Lausten, of The Shape of Water) could very well materialize into at least one win.

Although a Best Picture victory is a long shot, I think the nomination is still deserved. Despite feeling a bit overlong, and largely a retread of an already beloved film, del Toro's Nightmare Alley was one of the most fascinating watches of the year.

We all saw it coming, but this film's Best Picture nomination is still a slap in the face for most reviewers. Yes, its themes are important and timely, but that doesn't mean the very flawed execution has to be overlooked.

I didn't even hate the movie, as some critics did, but it's not Oscar material, at least not for the top award or for Best Original Screenplay (I can get behind the Film Editing and Original Score nods, though).

Again, I'll allow for the fact that the idea itself is brilliant, and the metaphor worked beyond its original climate change intentions. After a couple of years watching how we humans, and particularly our leaders, have reacted in the most stupid ways to the COVID threat, the idea that we would simply refuse to look up even if a meteor is about to crash with Earth feels real and horrifying, even if McKay's movie makes you chuckle occasionally about it all.

But ultimately, this satire should have much more powerful and inspiring than it ultimately was. That said, the irate responses of some political extremists against the film have been, as expected, absurd.

 

Once the underdog film of the big ten, and among the most loveable ones, CODA's winning chances have increased dramatically in the last few weeks due to some very important victories at other awards.

Instantly charming, and never presumptuous, it stayed with me since I watched it, even though it's among the first entries in the list that I saw, having been released months ago.

The story follows a CODA (Child Of Deaf Adults), who in this case is a teenage girl whose parents and brother are fully hearing-impaired. Despite being non-deaf, she has been raised as one, and thus she feels like she doesn't belong in either world, as she feels different to her family but also has troubles being accepted by her classmates (the fact that she works at her father's fishing boat doesn't help either).

Things start to change for her when she discovers she has a talent for singing, something her family can't really appreciate. It's a simple, earnest story that wins you in big part thanks to its performers, starting with Emilia Jones in the main role. All three of her relatives are played by actual deaf actors, which lends the project a healthy amount of authenticity, and her parents are big scene stealers, bringing both laughs and tears to most of their scenes. The mother is played by Marlee Matlin, probably the most famous deaf actress in the world (in 1986 she became the only one to ever win an Oscar), and though there was a chance of her being nominated again this year, that honor went instead to Troy Kotsur, who gets a deserved nod as Best Supporting Actor for playing the family's patriarch.

Other than that, the film also gets a Best Adapted Screenplay (it's a remake of a French film) for writer-director Sian Heder and, of course, a Best Picture nod that is a triumph on itself, even if it doesn't win it.

Very happy for this film.

I couldn't bring myself to enjoy Paul Thomas Anderson's newest film for extended stretches of time. I think it's very important for a coming of age film that we can connect in some way with its subjects, but I found the two main characters quite impossible to like.

First off: yes, both Cooper Hoffman and Alana Haim give impressive performances in said roles, particularly taking into account that Licorice Pizza marks their acting debut, but both characters keep making decisions that, at their worst, don't make a lot of sense to me or, at their worst, aren't relatable to me anyway.

There's also a prevailing feeling all through the movie that two very different tones try and fail to coexist within the same film. On one hand, it's supposed to be a naturalist "slices-of-life" portrait of a youth in the 70s, and that starts with the casting of Hoffman and Haim, who beyond having a very naturalist acting style, also look refreshingly mundane (I say this as praise, for the moment).

But then, Anderson seems unable to turn the film into some kind of male fantasy. The main character is beloved by basically everyone who meets him. People can't stop talking about how great this boy supposedly is. His love interest (who remember, I just praised for her very mundane looks) is treated as some kind of uber-sex symbol by every man of any age who comes across her. They all fall in love with her instantly or, at the very least, they need to get into her pants. And at one point, she's compared to Grace Kelly. Yes, that Princess Grace Kelly.

All trough the movie, I felt I had seen that exact treatment of the main characters somewhere else, but I couldn't place where until a couple of days after I watched it, and then it hit me: secondary characters talk about the protagonist in the same way as they do in the infamous 2002 film The Room. I know it's sacrilegious to compare a P.T. Anderson film to a Tommy Wiseau one, and I not talking about the actual craft of the filmmaking, but still the similitude stands. Remember how in The Room everyone couldn't shut up about what a wonderful guy Johnny was? And how every men could only talk about Lisa's looks?

Now try to watch Licorice Pizza and tell me there's not a lot of that there. The predictable but still unfair fact that the film got three major nominations (Best Picture, Best Director and, absurdly, Best Original Screenplay, for crying out loud) is representative of how myopic critics and analyst can get with big name directors.

This was one of the most interesting films of the year, and one I watched without any kind of expectations. It's hard to believe this is Lin-Manuel Miranda's first work as a director: his command of the craft feels incredibly self-assured. So I got disappointed by the lack of a Best Picture nod to this one, or even a Best Director one.

I'm not even a Miranda fan. I'll freely admit that I find Hamilton and In the Heights vastly overrated. But the guy is multitalented, even if his kind of music is usually not to my taste (maybe that's why I also enjoyed the musical side of Tick, Tick... Boom!, as it wasn't composed by Miranda but rather by its late subject, Jonathan Larson).

At least, the film was able to grab the two other spots where it shines: Best Editing (it's brilliant) and Best Actor for Andrew Garfield, whose trademark manic energy is never as well used as when he plays Larson here. If it Cumberbatch weren't the obvious choice for that category, I'd say Garfield should get the statue.

This was a good years for Best Animated Film nominees, as all five entries are actually good films, and there's not a single terrible one to fill out the number in the manner of The Boss Baby back in 2018.

Out of the two Disney Animation Studios film making up the list, Raya and the Last Dragon is probably at a disadvantage because it was released months before Encanto, which is still fresh in the audiences' minds (Academy voters have a famously short-term recall capacity). Also, musical Disney films tend to be more popular as a rule than non-musical ones, regardless of actual quality.

However, this South Asian-inspired adventure was rather enjoyable, and the world building was stellar, especially accounting for its relatively short run. Many comparisons have been made between Raya and Avatar: The Last Airberder / The Legend of Korra, and indeed there are many parallels to be made, from said efficient creation of an Asian-inspired fictional world to the eye-catching visual design and emphasis in well choreographed action scenes. Being that the Avatar series are among the greatest efforts in animated storytelling, and that Raya doesn't end up being just a pale imitation, these comparisons are actually praise.

 

As it happened to its Disney sibling, Raya, COVID meant Encanto could never ascend to the very peak of Disney popularity, but it did try its best. If the theatrical performance was understandably weak, its run on streaming has been notable, and the film has enjoyed a large presence in social media, which won't hurt its chances in the Best Animated Picture contest.

As I mentioned before, Lin-Manuel Miranda's musical style is usually not to my tastes, though there were a few pieces on this one that I liked well enough. Count me among those who believes Two Oruguitas was the right call to get nominated as Best Original Song, despite the popularity of We Don't Talk About Bruno. Miranda himself obviously believes that, as he has explained that he chose which song to submit for contention.

Albeit I really appreciated the animation and the carefully researched setting, I found that its screenplay lacked a little something, particularly on the third act, which I found a bit anticlimactic. Thus, I don't think Encanto should be the one to take the award this year.

Normally, I would be pushing for the Pixar production of the year to win Best Animated Picture, but I don't think it should this year.

That said, I absolutely loved Luca, which was adorable and visually stunning. It might among the most simplistic Pixar films, story-wise, but it more than makes up for it by being extremely cute and joyful.

However, there are some critics that have described it as "good, but lesser Pixar", making its chances to win the award weaker, yet not impossible. After all, Brave got the win, so "lesser Pixar" is still a formidable contender in the Academy's eyes.

So, what film am I rooting for in the Best Animated Picture category? That would be Flee, a rather unconventional documentary, where both the interviews and the dramatizations of their events are presented in animated form.

The very real story it presents behind the animation really resonated with me. It concerns Amin, an Afghan man whom, as a child, had to escape his country with his surviving family after political turmoil implodes. You'll notice that's the same overall storyline Belfast has (both films are completely different beyond that), but as I said in my entry for that picture, I connected with Flee's ordeal much more, despite the fact that my own emigration story, thankfully, was more similar to that of the family in Belfast than to that of Amir.

Branagh's film centers the experience through the eyes of a child, while Amir is now an adult looking back at his terrible youth, and the reality of his refugee life is incredibly harrowing, yet life-affirming. Amir, we know from the start, will escape with his life, become a successful academic, and find someone who loves him. But he also gives a voice to those who weren't as lucky, and you also have to consider what kind of a world has allowed us to think about someone as scarred as him as "lucky".

Granted, my own circumstances make me positively biased towards the film, but I believe any empathic person will be able to see its merits despite never having been a refugee themselves. I believe the only way this film will go home empty handed is because voters might be split about which category should it win: besides the animation nod, Flee is also nominated for Best Documentary Feature and Best International Film, an unprecedented achievement itself.

If the Academy wants a more "conventional" winner, or if they give Flee the Best Documentary award and they don't want to double it by also giving them Best Animated Picture, then The Mitchells vs. the Machines could be the way to go. After all, it comes from the same winning formula that got the award in 2019 with Spider-Man: Into the Spiderverse. Sony Pictures Animations, which has mostly produced truly atrocious (The Emoji Movie, the Hotel Transylvania series) or just serviceable films (Angry Birds, Vivo), only truly shines when it collaborates with Phil Lord and Christopher Miller (other than Into the Spiderverse, they're also responsible for the underrated Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs. Their great LEGO movies, though, are not made with Sony).

Now, they're back with The Mitchells, and luckily it lives up to the expectations. The eclectic animation style is almost on par with their acclaimed Spider-Man film, the story is poignant and touching, and the humor is hilarious. A truly well-balanced production which I really enjoyed, and which maybe has only one problem: its technology-related themes could feel a bit dated further down the line to truly endure as a classic.

Aaron Sorkin is well-known for his quality screenwriting, and his debut as a director, The Trial of the Chicago 7, was among my favorite films from last year's Best Picture nominees.

His second entry as helmer, however, was not as successful for me. I was disappointed by its pace and the historical inventions, particularly the climax involving a phone call from a well-known figure. Thus, I didn't miss the usual nod at Sorkin's writing and indeed, the film's only nominations are for three of its performers.

Out of them, I think Nicole Kidman's Best Actress nomination is probably the most deserving. I must admit that I'm not a Lucille Ball follower, but I think Kidman's performance caught a lot of what I know about her without falling into cheap imitation. She also faced a lot of undeserved backlash back when she was cast and replaced Cate Blanched over scheduling conflicts, and in my opinion she did a great work nevertheless.

Javier Bardem is a bit sketchier. I don't think he particularly looks or sounds like Desi Arnaz, but I guess that, for some audiences, a Spanish individual is equivalent to a Cuban one. His dramatic acting is on point as usual, but I think a Best Actor nomination can't fully depend on that when you're playing such a well-known person. A bit of similitude is also necessary. Then again, as I'm not overly familiar with most of Arnaz' work, maybe I'm losing on the subtleties of Bardem's performance.

The same, sadly, goes for J.K. Simmons. He's easily one of my favorite actors, engaging in everything he does. He also is engaging here, as much as he can with his somewhat limited role, but I didn't see why this particular performance should be awarded with a Best Supporting Actor nomination when other times he has been skipped (his amazing participation in Whiplash excluded). I just saw J.K. Simmons doing J.K. Simmons. Good, but not extraordinary.

An interesting storyline that, in my opinion, was terribly executed. I must say I was relieved that this Spanish film didn't get a nomination as Best International Feature, despite the favoritism some circles have towards Pedro Almodóvar (which would go to explain how such a flawed film still got "a nine minutes standing ovation" at its premiere).

Instead, it features in two other categories, chiefly Best Actress, where Penélope Cruz gets her fourth nod as a performer. Albeit clearly a gifted actress, I hardly think her acting on this film is among the year's five best female roles, and as a native Spanish speaker, I didn't find her character particularly convincing. I believe it's mostly because of my dislike of the handling of the material by the screenplay, so maybe I was biased. Same goes for Alberto Iglesias, again nominated for Best Original Score. He's an eminent composer whose impressive work goes far beyond Spanish films, but I found his atmospheric scoring repetitive and uninspiring this time around.

I'm not a fan of royalty, and this film did nothing for me except making me roll my eyes s lot at the "suffering" of the main character.

I'm not being insensitive. I'm aware Princess Diana was cheated by her husband and practically caged by the royal lifestyle. I also understand that depression does affect even privileged people, and that they can still feel as miserable as anyone. But Spencer failed at making me feel this.

I learned nothing new about Diana except that she apparently tilted her head a lot and had some sort of fixation with scarecrows. Oh, and she had a female dresser who was in love with her and she suffered some major hallucinations, including a recurring one of Anne Boleyn. Except I have a distinct feeling that most of these were made up by the filmmakers. Definitely a much less successful historical portrait than two of Pablo Larraín's previous films, Jackie and No.

As for Kristen Stewart's performance, which got the movie its only nomination for Best Actress, I guess it was pretty good. There were a lot of Stewart's trademark lip-biting, empty-stare mannerisms, but she did convincingly portray a woman who has gone quite bonkers. But again, I have no idea if that has anything to do with the real Diana.

Sometimes we underestimate how chameleonic Jessica Chastain is. After all, she jumped into fame with her Supporting nomination for The Help, a role very different for those she has gone to play.

With The Eyes of Tammy Faye, she again transfigures her mannerisms and voice to almost unrecognizable levels. The film itself is nothing to write home about, but it's quite entertaining, and most of it is due to the energic performances of both Andrew Garfield and Chastain, who manages her third nomination, and second as Best Actress. She may go home empty-handed yet again (her chances are good, at any rate), but she's the kind of performer who is destined to eventually win her Oscar, as she always goes for interesting roles.

The picture also gets a nod for Best Makeup and Hairstyling, thanks to its transforming characterization. It's true there's something artificial and unsettling about it all, but so was the appearance of the original Faye.

Macbeth has been done to death in cinema, and this new version by Joel Cohen (in a rare work without his brother) wasn't something I particularly wanted. That said, the film managed to summon some of the most powerful visuals I saw this year, and managed to impress me with novel takes on the classic Shakespearean imagery, from the contortionist witch (which at times becomes the three usual witches through highly imaginative means), to the expressionist castle sets.

My very first thought while watching this picture was "this is sure to get nominated for Best Cinematography and Best Production Design", which indeed it did. Bravo.

Also much anticipated was Denzel Washington's nod for Best Actor. The theatrical stage is one thing, but I've always found the artificiality of The Bard's dialogue too jarring on screen (crucify me if you want). I'm not sure even an actor of Washington's caliber makes the lines work for me, but at the very least I must admit I found the range of his emotional gesticulation impressive, so count me on board with the praise.

I really wanted to like Maggie Gyllenhaal's debut as a director, but I found The Lost Daughter a taxing watch, mostly on account of how unlikeable the main character (and most of the people around her) were.

Of course, by now we all know Olivia Colman is one of the great performing forces of the generation, and she can make even unlikeable work, to a point. So by all accounts, yes, nominate her for Best Actress. I was also impressed by Jessie Buckley's part, almost as sizeable as Coleman's, which is actually a younger version of the same character. She's utterly convincing as such, and thus her Best Supporting Actress nod is welcome. I had only seen Buckley in Chernobyl and the latest season of Fargo, and she also astonished me there.

In short, the nomination I'm not on board with is Best Adapted Screenplay.

I must admit I haven't seen the other films in Joachim Trier's resumé, but this one made me want to. I really enjoyed this Norwegian film, which defies genre with artful ease. It's both a dark comedy and a romantic comedy, but it's full of deft stylistic choices that, at least for me, made it delightful.

The narrative is divided in 14 parts, and its prologue quickly establishes the main character, Julie, played with skill by Renate Reinsve. A high-achieving medical student, she suddenly finds herself doubting all of her choices, from her career path to what she wants from her romantic partner(s).

It made me laugh and think about interesting topics all the way through, and if not for the fact that it's facing at least two very powerful contenders, this one would be a worthy win for Best International Film.

This 2019 film wasn't eligible until now, and it managed to get a spot among the Best International Film nominees on pure sincere charm.

It tells the simple story of a young Buthanese teacher with no real vocation, who (predictably but genuinely) finds his vocation after being sent to the most remote school in the world, located on the village of Lunana, deep into the mountains.

The classroom has no blackboard, paper is scarce and, as the title indicates, there's eventually a yak living there. What it also has is a dozen of students who are very eager to learn.

The pupils, and many of the townspeople, are played by non-actors, but rather actual villagers who lend a lot of veracity to the story. The "class president", particularly, is incredibly adorable with her mixture of precocious seriousness and wide-eyed enthusiasm.

Clearly the underdog among the five International nominees, at least it feels extremely pure, something I can't say about the next one.

Hero-worshipping isn't only stupid, it's one of the most dangerous things for society, particularly when it revolves around a less than virtuous figure. So, I'm firmly against the mere concept of The Hand of God, a film which is mostly a semi-autobiography of director Paolo Sorrentino but also serves as a constant aggrandizement of the "almighty" figure of footballer Diego Maradona, a man whom, however skillful at kicking balls, was hardly a role model for anyone.

Much worse than his well-known drug addiction -which can be seen as an illness- was the fact that he continually took money from and gave support to, some of the worst dictators and tyrants all around the world, including the one who destroyed my home country, along with my life and that of my family. So excuse me if this offends me directly. Also, he occasionally expressed admiration towards the madman who's currently has the planet on the brink of a global war. So you should be offended too.

The first half of the film introduces us to the main character (Sorrentino's stand in) and to his many relatives and neighbors, most of whom are mean spirited people constantly saying and doing mean things to each other. I found that unbearable, even though it's less pretentious than Sorrentino's previous films (which aren't devoid of a certain charm, I'll admit). After a family tragedy hits, the second half gets a bit more involved, and you have to admire the filmmaker's bravery at recreating such a dark moment from his own life. Kudos for that aspect.

But even with that saving grace, in a year when I enjoyed the rest of the nominated International Films, this one is by far at the bottom of that list. I just can't get behind the level of divinizing Maradona gets in his constant mentions through the movie. If you want to get just how undignified this idolization gets, I'll refer you to a scene where the main character gets asked what would he chose between Maradona coming to his city and bedding the woman he is obsessed with. Without any hesitation, the idiot says "I'd chose Maradona".

I'm openly asexual and that's still one of the most pathetic exchanges I've ever heard.

You can count on Joe Wright to know his way around a period movie, at least on the Art Department front. Indeed, his version of Cyrano de Bergerac's much adapted story gets a Best Costume Design nod.

Fans of Peter Dinklage, particularly those who believe the Golden Globes to be of more merit than they actually are, were somehow dismayed when he missed an acting spot.

Now, the film is well performed, particularly by Dinklage, whose sadness and love are beautifully portrayed in his interactions with Haley Bennett. The problem, I think, is that the film around the actor is quite disappointing, particularly on its status as a musical. I found most songs flat, and the dance choreography very uninspired, especially if you watch it soon after something like West Side Story. It's very rare when a performer, talented as they might be, is able to rise above that and get the recognition they merit.

I didn't like Craig's final outing as Bond as much as certain circles. It didn't have the gusto of Casino Royale or (with all of its script faults) Skyfall. It even bored me at times, something that a 007 film, no matter its base quality, should never do. Also, it completely wasted Ana de Armas extremely entertaining character, but that's neither here not there.

As for its nominations, No Time To Die achieved three, the most of any big franchise movie this year. First, there's the traditional Best Original Song, which it might very well win... all bets are off on this category, which mostly awards the popularity of the singer. Billie Eilish's sullen piece is at least better than Sam Smith's terrible number for Spectre -and that one went to win!- but it's clearly not on par with the best of the Bond songs either, especially with Adele's epic Skyfall being so recent in our memories.

Then there's Best Sound, which is a deserving nod but should go to Dune or, maybe, West Side Story. Finally, Bond also achieved a Best Visual Effect nomination, another one that Dune should win. Actually, and maybe it's mostly because of how uninterested I was on the movie, I can't remember any particular standouts of the effects department on this entry.

Despite the need for some major Deus-ex-machina for one of its main plotlines, the third Spider-Man entry in the MCU is a ton of fun done the right way. It also reaffirmed the involvement audiences have with these characters: its massive draw during the pandemic era finally took a big portion of the audiences back to theaters.

There was some speculation that the Academy could take this into account and reward the movie with some major nominations. Luckily, this didn't come to pass. It's not that the film doesn't deserve some: it's indeed a wonderful piece of genre cinema. But if they start to take box-office performance as a metric for these awards, pandemic or not, they're setting a dangerous precedent.

In the end, either reason or the hate among some voters towards big studio movies prevailed, and Spider-Man: No Way Home only got one nomination: Best Visual Effects. It probably should win it, but it's a category that has been historically hard to predict and, in some cases, given way to some big blunders, so things could go any way here.

Out of the other three Marvel films released in 2021, only Shang-Chi gets a nod, also for Best Visual Effects.

Much like Spider-Man, this wuxia-inspired adventure offered solid entertainment, albeit in this case, instead of relying on the love towards an already established franchise, they had the considerable pressure of introducing the world to arguably their most obscure main character to date. Some big hits in that regard.

I actually liked this one, something I wasn't necessarily expecting when I first heard about it. They actually exploited most of the concept, with is rarity with these kind of movies.

It got a Best Visual Effects nomination, and indeed it deserves it, if only because this year we had a general lack of truly ambitious films in that respect.

I'm not a fan of Eddie Murphy's kind of films (among which the first Coming to America was one of the better efforts), but his comedies often feature some commendable Makeup and Hairstyling. Remember the Klumps? Even the abominable Norbit got a nomination in the category.

If you make a movie about Cruella de Vil, you better hope you truly have something to offer in regards to high fashion. Luckily, that aspect delivered and they get the expected nods for Best Costume Design and Best Makeup and Hairstyling.

As for the film, it's certainly nothing notable, but it ended up being better than I expected, albeit I'm quite tired of the "misunderstood villain" revisionist trend.

I'm not crying over the perceived snubs of House of Gucci. Sure, Lady Gaga's performance, as well as most of the cast's, are good enough, but the rest of the film's quality is inconsistent at best, unlike Ridley Scott's other movie of the year, the much better The Last Duel -which sadly didn't enjoy a healthy run in theaters. And Jared Leto's work here? I was amazed at how ridiculous and hard to watch it was, so I can't understand how people even though he could get a nod.

As things stand, the picture got the only nomination it truly deserved: Best Makeup and Hairstyle. Luckily, I'm not a public figure and my opinion will never reach Scott's ears, because otherwise I'll probably become another victim of his bizarre lash outs.

I'll post my thoughts on the winners after the ceremony.