Time for Hollywood to slap itself on the back and pretend that its self-importance isn’t laughable. Time for the elite of the acting world to sit in black-tie judgment (and mock humility) of their peers. It’s the most over-the-top night in entertainment.
And we couldn’t be more excited.
This year’s Oscars are relatively straight-forward. The general absence of megalomaniacal directors and politically charged films leave room for an array of interesting subplots.
There are few certainties going into this year’s telecast. (Christian Bale is as close to a lock as you can get in the Supporting Actor category and The King’s Speech will undoubtedly win a number of undeserving technical Oscars because of, well, the Academy just being too predictable sometimes.) But, a couple of things are for certain. Natalie Portman will cry. And Helena Bonham Carter will look like hot death.
My only regret about this year’s Oscars is that we have to wait until next year to pick Big Mommas for anything.
But, I’ve rambled on enough. To the picks: