Killian’s Oscars

Kevin Killian’s hilarious report on the Oscars has all of Kevin’s signature moves — a destabilizing mixture of intellectualism, free-association and straight-up fanboi swoon.

Hopefully our friend A D Jameson will draw some pleasure from Kevin’s assessment of Inception:

“Then there was Inception, so ill it needs its own paragraph, to isolate it, to quarantine the other films from its illness.  OK, I saw the movie with Leonardo DiCaprio mourning his dead wife—but is she alive—or did he kill her?—Or did she just die?  She was in it more than most of the regular characters.  But wait a second, that was Shutter Island, right?  Did Christopher Nolan have this all planned ahead of time, the utter mirror familiarity of Leo’s new role a soothing dose of, “Oh, it’s that movie again, I saw this one.”  Only to whisk the rug under your feet and try to convince you that Shutter Island was a dream?  My friend Peter called me, said he’d walked out of the theater in disgust.  “They should have called it Exposition,” he growled.  Dodie and I rented it on Pay Per View, so there was really nowhere to walk out of.  She said, “We could always walk out of our living room.”  But I would say there isn’t as much at stake about walking out of one’s living room, as leaving a theater in mid-movie.  I remember only one time I had done that, and it was a movie with that pale redhead who’s married to Jennifer Connelly, and he played the flagellating monk in The Da Vinci Code.  In this movie he’s an angel come down from heaven to stop nuclear war, I think, and at that moment I rose like Ignatius O’Reilly in A Confederacy of Dunces, and I shouted out, “Lord in heaven, deliver us from such pap!”  Inception I can recommend for the insidious, refined sex appeal of Tom Hardy, and for the presence of young Ellen Page as the world’s youngest genius.  Her face a perpetually crumpled punctuation mark, Page gets to pose every question imaginable in the exposition—we wondered if Christopher Nolan had encountered angry focus groups behind one way mirrors, and noted down every question: “Are dreams dangerous?”  “Can there be such a thing as a dream within a dream?”  “Can the edges of cities curl?”  I expected her to ask Leo, “Why is the sky blue,” and that’s a question I can never understand the answer to.”

 

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