by Daniel Erenberg
I’ve been watching the Red Carpet show on E! for an hour and I’m already pissed.
I should probably give you guys a disclaimer. I thought Slumdog Millionaire was a totally lame movie, and I don’t care what anyone says. And don’t try to explain the film to me. I don’t care that it’s a fairy tale. I don’t care that it’s being honest about real life events that have occurred in Mumbai. I don’t care that it’s an underdog masterpiece with many wonderful amateur actors. I don’t give a shit. I hated the “message,” I didn’t buy the plot contrivances and I thought the characters were motivated by completely false impulses, and it’s not “feel-good” if it just makes me feel disdain. Also, worst ending ever. And I’m referring to the phone call, the race across the train tracks, the “Destiny” choice and the Bollywood number. It was all awful. But it’s going to win Best Picture tonight. And it may be the worst Best Picture winner of all time. That’s right. Crash was better. So was Million Dollar Baby. So was Shakespeare in Love. If Slumdog wins tonight, it would be worse than if Little Miss Sunshine had beat The Departed three years ago or if Michael Clayton had taken down both No Country For Old Men and There Will Be Blood last year. The Academy is gonna be really embarrassed about this in a few years. Also, I’m sick of Danny Boyle’s smug face. So let’s get going. Time for the Oscars!
