I'ma Let You Finish: These Things Must Win on Oscar Night

Image via Complex Original

Category: Best Picture

How can someone watch it: Your local theater (opt independent)

The Academy Awards this year (and mostly every year, for that matter) are trash, and there’s no shortage of brilliant essays outlining specifically why this a valid opinion held by many both inside and outside the Hollywood community. But this isn’t an essay for #OscarsSoWhite, rather one for what the hell we should do with what we were served. Two movies in the Best Picture more than deserve their place in the Best Film Category for the brilliant way they tackled topics of trauma, and those are Room and Spotlight. But Room did something special; it told a rape victim’s story without victimizing that person further, a feat extraordinarily uncommon in cinema. 

Room was adapted from Emma Donoghue’s award-winning novel of the same title, which tells the fictional story of Ma (Brie Larson) and Jack (Jacob Tremblay), a mother and child being held in a secured single room prison by a man referred to as Old Nick (Sean Bridgers). Since her kidnapping, Ma has lived in Room for seven years, and Jack is the result of her perpetual rape by Old Nick. But this is where the film did its job well: it tells the story of how Ma and Jack manage to build some semblance of a bearable and at times joyful life for themselves in spite of their captivity, rather than billing Ma as a rape victim trapped in an unimaginable personal hell. It manages with skill to be beautiful, and touching. Even after Ma is forced to stare down her trauma after their escape, the film handles her unraveling with phenomenal care and thoughtfulness.

Both the performances of Larson and Tremblay deserve their owns, and indeed Larson is also nominated in the Best Actress in a Leading Role category. But while a nomination is a good start—and while Larson took it home at SAG, BAFTA, Golden Globes, and Critics Choice (which Tremblay won too)—this film should be recognized for its performances, its narrative, its cinematography, directing (Lenny Abrahamson is also nominated) and the way it managed to transform one of entertainment’s most vile exploitations of victimhood into something truly powerful. This wasn’t a movie about rape, Stockholm syndrome, suicide, or trauma as it could have been. It was a beautiful portrayal of motherhood and the capacity for healing. For that, it certainly earned every nomination it received and the Oscar it so much deserves. —Catie Keck

Oscar Category: Best Supporting Actor

How can someone watch it: It's probably on-demand, or coming to your Amazon cart very soon

Look. I could break down why the Academy should give Sylvester Stallone the Oscar for Best Supporting Actor for his return to the Rocky franchise in Ryan Coogler's Creed because, hell, it's not that often that we get to see a fully-realized character stretched out over a 40-year time period. Sly played the HELL out of Rocky Balboa, an aging man who's basically left the world of boxing behind...just like time left him. He'd lost damn near everything, and when Adonis Creed (Michael B. Jordan), the son of Rocky's greatest opponent—and friend—Apollo Creed, came into his life, he reluctantly took Adonis on as a student, teaching him the right way to become a fighter. He battled cancer, old age, and the very idea of revisiting a world he thought he'd put away for good. It was glorious, and highlighted the timeless nature of both the Rocky story that Stallone wrote and crafted back in 1976, but it showed that Stallone could add new layers to what many probably saw as a one-trick pony.

Fuck all of that talk for just a minute, though.

Without going too deep into #OscarsSoWhite, I have to just say that as a film lover, and someone who has been a fan of Rocky since I was a child, Ryan Coogler deserved a Best Director nomination. Not because he's black, but because he was able to coax Sly back into the role of Rocky. He, like myself, grew up a fan of the Rocky franchise, and loved how it's a film about boxing that's really about so much more. Coogler took the appreciation for the film that his dad placed on him, and made a film his father could love, even working in his father's real-life health issues into the story. Then he had the brilliant idea of casting Jordan as the young Creed. It was genius, and was a role that Michael B. Jordan shined in. Could you have given Jordan a Best Actor nod? Definitely. He became a fighter during this film, and had the acting chops to bring drama and charm and grit to the role. It's one of those films that, because of Jordan, I didn't want to end, because I'd grown to admire Creed's journey, and wanted to continue to see him win.

When Stallone heard about the nomination and the numerous #OscarsSoWhite boycotts, he made it a point to ask Ryan Coogler if he should be boycotting the ceremony. You know why? It was out of respect. Respect for the man who gave him that second (third?) wind in the world of Rocky Balboa. Respect for the movement that's questioning the fucked-up predicament that Hollywood is in when it comes to diversity. Respect for the non-white males that are busting their asses in the industry. While you can't say that a win for Stallone is a win for diversity or Coogler and Jordan, it would be a step in the right direction. Because while we know that this (white) male actually deserved to be nominated, we'll also know why this (white) male is in the position to be nominated. Thank you, Ryan Coogler. —khal

Oscar Category: Best Supporting Actress

How can someone watch it: Local Indie theater

It's easy to be dazzled by the mere presence of Cate Blanchett. The woman is all high cheekbones, old school movie charm and an otherworldly glow. When she steps on screen in Carol, wrapped in furs and silks, like some sort of 50s Christmas present, it's hard to not focus all your energy on her as she traipses about the 50s lesbian drama, the married, worldly love interest of a young shopgirl. 

But this isn't her movie.

Despite all of Blanchett's glamour and gravitation, Mara's stillness and even meekness are what deserves a win for the film. As Therese, Mara begins the film as a young woman who seems unsure in her skin—she has dreams of being a photographer but isn't sure how to make that happen, she's in a relationship with a guy who adores her but really isn't that into. But when she locks eyes with Carol from across the department store, you can see Therese physically light up—you can feel her pulse quicken with each subsequent encounter with Carol and how their eventual romance eases Therese into herself.

Mara's performance gives a full evolution to Therese throughout the duration of the film, to the end, where she's become the self-assured woman that was there all along, but the same that can't shake her pulse-quickening connection with Carol. For any of us who have ever fallen in love, Therese is a real one.—Kerensa Cadenas

Oscar Category: Original Score, Sound Editing, Sound Mixing

How can someone watch it: Theaters

Since 1977 the Star Wars franchise has consistently bolstered iconic props and costumes, embedding the images of Sith and Jedi and their less magical but well-equipped counterparts. Lightsabers of many shapes and colors, Vader’s mask, the Rebel helmet, Sith and Jedi robes, Leia’s slave bikini, Han’s vest, Chewbacca’s ammo belt. All are inseparable with the characters of our youth, with some combination of them appearing in our toy chests. But what the Academy has recognized most, and what are just as essential if not more, are the sounds of Star Wars. Of the franchises 10 Oscars, four of them are sound-related, and all but one were awarded to A New Hope. The O.G. flick won for best original score, best sound mixing, and a special achievement for the alien, creature, and robot voices. The Empire Strikes Back also won for sound mixing. No such awards have come since, but the sonics haven’t been as striking or innovating until The Force Awakens.

Unlike the second trilogy, in which damn near everything was Nebraska level corny, the sounds of Episode VII have captured the spirit of the past while pushing the franchise forward with new and exhilarating characters. BB-8’s beeps and boops and purrs provided by Ben Schwartz and Bill Hader, Kylo Ren’s robotic voice filtered through his helmet for pure aesthetic reasons, the cackle of his three-pronged, jankety ass lightsaber. All instantly iconic and memorable to a degree I, II, and III could never achieve. (Excluding the gawd John Williams, who’s never lost it.) Star Wars is back in our hearts without qualification for the first time, due in large part to the sounds. It should sweep the sound categories.—Ian Servantes

Oscar Category: Best Cinematography

How can someone watch it: Local Indie theater

If you make a career working as Todd Haynes' cinematographer, chances are you'll be heavily rewarded at some point in your life. Edward Lachman, who shot Carol this year, has had no such luck. He was nominated for an Oscar back in the day for his work on Far From Heaven—Haynes' soap about a 50s housewife that takes its look and style from melodrama king Douglas Sirk—but that's been about it for Lachman, who has also worked with directors such as Wim Wenders, Werner Herzog, and Todd Solondz. 

With Carol, however, Lachman does his best, and perhaps most difficult work. Although the film takes place during the same era as Far From Heaven, it's not heavily saturated. Carol is more subtle, muted even—and Lachman isn't trying to paint a world of illusions, but a cold, more naturalistic New York during Eisenhower's presidency. What makes his work on Carol special is that it doesn't always look like a film, but more like a series of photographs (significant considering that Rooney Mara's Therese is an aspiring photographer). 

While Lachman faces competition from mastermind Emmanuel Lubezki for his work on The Revenant, Lachman's work is perhaps more significant to consider. For one, it's not showy work, and his camera is meant to capture the shoulder brushes, the gazes—all the nuances that pass between two people falling in love in a world that would never support them. You sense that in Carol, and we have Lachman to thank for that.—Eric Eidelstein