So the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences REALLY hates James Cameron. Not that The Hurt Locker didn’t deserve to clean up — it did in a big bad way — but one can’t help but look at the winners of categories like Sound Mixing or even Original Screenplay (which Cameron wasn’t nominated for, of course, but a vote for The Hurt Locker was a vote AGAINST Avatar) and not imagine the director’s peers flipping him off as they mail in their ballots. “Who’s Avatarded now?” laughs one Academy member to himself. “King of the world?” asks another. “You’re barely a prince!” And so on with the funny and original puns. For a lot of Hollywood, James Cameron is as easy to hate as a scum-sucking Republican!
But petulant dismissal of a STAGGERING CINEMATIC ACHIEVEMENT aside, the Academy did manage to do one thing right last night: naming Kathryn Bigelow Best Director, the first woman to win the trophy in the ceremony’s 82 years. You’re King Queen of the World, Kathryn! And LONG OVERDUE!
Photo from The New York Times
Not even Babs presenting the award (or Oprah’s wholly inappropriate appearance ten minutes earlier, but that’s an entirely different post…) could ruin what was an undeniably special and important moment in Oscar history. It meant too much; the victory was practically cosmic. And we’ve finally arrived, one hopes, at the beginning of a label-less era of film direction — one where “female” is no longer synonymous with “Nancy Meyers” (and “terrible”), but simply means that the person running the show…happens to have lady-parts. Equality, baby.
The 2010 Vancouver Games ended on Sunday night not with a dull whisper but with The Marriage Ref a boisterous, nonsensical roar — the most fitting capper possible to a two-week competition that, at every turn, proved more weird and entertaining than it had any right to be. Lifting Fog spent a few days during those two weeks celebrating the people and events that made this happen — see here, here, here, and here — but the Olympics being a HUGE INTERNATIONAL affair, we only really scratched the surface. What did we miss while we were doing keg stands at the Holland Heineken House?
Take it as one of the reasons we don’t post everyday or just a testament to our own false sense of superiority (either works!), but it’s become something of a Lifting Fog mission to not allow this site to become a compendium of Internet paraphernalia. You know the stuff: Downfall Hitler mash-ups*, bizarre music videos** — the endless and endlessly inane stream of clips and images and links that keep us from writing our novel (it’s about a society disconnected) or even getting to that article we bookmarked on avoiding procrastination. “Dude, this is the SICKEST video I’ve ever seen. Starts kind of slow, but you have to watch the whole thing!” will probably be the last thing we hear before collapsing onto our keyboards and embracing warm, sweet death. Lifting Fog doesn’t want to be a party to that! We refuse to drink the Kool-aid***!
…But sometimes the videos really are the sickest you’ve ever seen. And what can you do?
This “History of Western Art”-inspired Hold Your Horses! video is pretty French and yet PRETTY SICK.
No apologies this time — that is SO 2009 — but we’re about a week away from this year’s Academy Awards and waaaayyy behind in our reviews. In the pipeline are ‘Avatar,’ ‘Inglourious Basterds,’ ‘Up in the Air,’ and… ‘Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince,’ but first we’ve got some things to say about the best-yet movie about the Iraq War, ‘The Hurt Locker,’ Bombs away!
A war movie that
Isn’t POLITICAL or
IMPORTANT. Just great. or Hitchcock-like tension
Except in place of psychos
You’ve got f**king bombs
At next Sunday’s Oscars, the fight for Best Picture and Director will come down to two movies — The Hurt Locker and Avatar — directed by two people who were once married. The former Mrs. James Cameron made a tense war movie brimming with authenticity; Mr. Kathryn Bigelow used 3-D cameras to tell a story about giant blue cats. The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences is all about inclusion this year in a BIG WAY. But if they’re separated by subject and budget (and by law), the two movies are united in their creative accomplishments: Avatar, for pushing the boundaries of film and galvanizing a relatively new technological movement; and The Hurt Locker, for finally “cracking” the Iraq War by telling a story whose focus isn’t squarely political. They are both winners in my book!
I don’t know much about Figure Skating. If judging were up to me, athletes would all be graded on song selection (the girl who skated to the Pirates of the Caribbean theme last night would have won) and number of smiles. It is really a good thing I am not a judge! Still, I’m tuned in enough to generally understand what’s going on. I can see the moves. I get that there’s a yin and yang balance between grace and innovation; can spot the difference between a skater executing his program with consistency and one looking to “raise the game.” I know an American from a Russian program. On the ice, I can tell Evan Lysacek and Evgeni Plushenko apart.
But off the ice is so much easier, because one of them is dark-haired and modest and the other one is TOTALLY CRAZY.
OK, as of right now I am looking at t-minus seven hours until official PST LOST episode commencement. Needless to say, like most of the western world who is unfortunately being disappointed yet still gripped by the final season, my mind is a jumble of theories, flash-forwards, flashbacks, and insignificant (or are they?) points about the show. A few weeks back, after a hearty drinking session with a co-worker who shared most, if not all, of my music listening habits of the late 1990s, I went back and started listening again to one of my all time favorite bands The Get Up Kids [RIP]. Headed down this path of musical re-enlightenment, little did I know that my constantly wandering LOST-mind would draw uncanny parallels to songs I have listened to for years without ever making a connection.
I present to you, readers, the song “Valentine” by TGUK: a quintessential track off their quintessential album, Something To Write Home About. This song defined what people came to love about the band. It also ultimately led to their downfall as the band, increasingly tired of their “emo” moniker, felt forced to aggressively alter their sound and, in turn, alienate many fans. The song is below in video form and the lyrics are found after the jump. Bear with me for the mind-melting LOST tie-in.
Like Star Wars and the world of competing tech companies, the “blogosphere” (…) plays stage to a never-ending war of good vs. evil. Defending the light side are blogs about travel and art, simple joys like cooking; that sort of shit. Opposite good? The Perez Hiltons and Gawkers of the world, spewing smug cattiness and snark at every turn; graduates with honors of the “bitch please” school of communication. One side writes, the other criticizes. And the war goes on forever.
Yesterday’s Olympics program was like a blogging ink blot test: you either commented on the beautiful butterfly (US Men’s Hockey team’s incredible victory over Canada; Bode Miller winning his first gold in the Super Combined) or the dog with its head cleaved open (culturally insensitive Ice Dancing outfits/routine). Binary response.
What you probably didn’t see?
7) The Holland Heineken House
In Olympics blogging, as in any great conflict, there is always a third option: house music, drinking, and over-sized medals. Today, we are all Dutch.
Despite a) knowing next to nothing about any Winter Olympics sport, from rules to competitors to the name of the sport and b) through last Friday, not caring at all about the Vancouver Games, I’ve recently found myself — like many Americans and obviously all Canadians — in the throes of full-bore Olympic Fever. IT’S ALL OVER MY BODY GET IT OFF!
What’s made this terrible illness so exciting, I think, is the fact that its contraction was completely unexpected. The Winter Olympics, as we all know, are totally boring. Short of a Tonya Harding attack, there is nothing that can compete with the awesomeness of a record-setting 100m dash; no event on snow that can come close to matching a race in water. The divide is straight up Dickensian; for these Vancouver Games to break free of that would be almost a crime against nature.
So they don’t try. Instead, Vancouver has from the start embraced all that is decidedly NOT summer (you saw the opening ceremonies’ giant polar bear, right?) and reveled in the peculiarities of a community that actually enjoys winter. And comparing 2010 to 2006, it has offered some major improvements in the process!
Let’s be real for a second: the Winter Olympics have always represented something of an un-sexy, boring halfway point to their summer cousin. That’s just the way it is. Too many layers of clothing (not sexy!), too much equipment (who’s running this show?), and too many unusual sports (the winter biathlon is comprised of running and SHOOTING) have made it difficult for the February games to ever capture the imagination. Particularly the collective American one, which demands entertainment and gratification at every turn. It’s just the way we’re wired.
Most of us, I’d imagine, were fully expecting more of the same last Friday when the 2010 Vancouver Games kicked off with three hours of angry tap-dancing and a never-ending tribute to the indigenous peoples of Canada. “These Games are sure to be a waste of our time, honey,” you said to your significant other on the couch. “When is American Idol on again? THAT is a show I enjoy watching.” Yup — another boring Winter Olympics.
Come on. I spend two hours reminding myself how I should hate my girlfriend, buy moderately priced new cars to reassert my masculinity, and check out GoDaddy! for HOTTT Web-only videos…only to be utterly emotions-slapped by a GOOGLE commercial all about finding love in a foreign land. (And not aborting the baby — Tebow approves!) You made me cry, and now I’ve got to drink twice as much Budweiser Golden Wheat just to break even on the man scale. And probably buy stock in Doritos, too. I hate Doritos!
Your striking, poignant storytelling? It’s killing me. Fuck you, Don Draper.
Love,
Henning
PS – Those Volkswagen and Late Show ads you did were also pretty good. Grizzly Bear is totally this year’s Phoenix!
It’s a complicated and scary world out there – one fraught with economic strife, terrorism, and Michael Cera – but in here you can always feel secure. Hello! And welcome to Lifting Fog.
Did a friend tell you about us? A nice man on the street? No matter how you made your way to The Fog, your patronage is deeply appreciated. Completely new to the site? Years of history condensed here for your convenience.
We know you’ve got a lot of choices when it comes to navel-gazing pop culture blogs disguised as records of burgeoning maturity, and we thank you for flying with us. From everyone here at Lifting Fog… you made the right choice. Laughter-filled skies ahead, folks!
Photo from The New York Times
I don’t know much about Figure Skating. If judging were up to me, athletes would all be graded on song selection (the 
Despite a) knowing next to nothing about any Winter Olympics sport, from rules to competitors to the name of the sport and b) through last Friday, not caring at all about the Vancouver Games, I’ve recently found myself — like many Americans and 
Let’s be real for a second: the Winter Olympics have always represented something of an un-sexy, boring halfway point to their summer cousin. That’s just the way it is. Too many layers of clothing (not sexy!), too much equipment (who’s running this show?), and too many unusual sports (the winter biathlon is comprised of running and SHOOTING) have made it difficult for the February games to ever capture the imagination. Particularly the collective American one, which demands entertainment and gratification at every turn. It’s just the way we’re wired.
Henning
DJ Steve
