Screw The Oscars - Here Are The REAL Movie Awards for 2019 (Patreon)

Every year, the award season comes up and reminds me how many fucking films I haven’t seen yet. As of right now, I literally see Portrait of a Lady on Fire on Monday (and thus I reserve the right to include later in this essay). I have also yet to see The Farewell, Her Smell, Toy Story 4, Ad Astra, Hustlers, The Souvenir, Ford v Ferrari: Dawn of Justice, Beach Bum, and Shazam. But because of the MOVIE RANKING INDUSTRIAL COMPLEX, here I am to do a list anyway! 

To be clear, I don’t actually feel compelled to do a list out of obligation. Nor do I ever like being all that pedantic about ranking and the distinctions within them. Year end lists, like awards themselves, are a reductive mode of engagement that breeds fighting more than it breeds understanding… So why do one at all? Well, in the end, it’s a convenient excuse to talk more about the things we loved. And if its all understood in the spirit of that context, then there sure ain’t nothing wrong with that.

1) Now, I like changing up the format every year, so this year each film proper will get it’s own speciality Oscar that I have assigned. Yes, I have the power to do this now. The Academy is terrified of me.

2) Per usual, whenever I personally know someone involved in some level of a production I mark it with asterisk “ * ” so that you will be aware of my crushing, terrible bias! … Look, excluding things I adored for that reason feels equally dumb, so I just put them in.

Without further ado, let’s get to it…

NON-MOVIE STUFF I’VE LOVED 

Untitled Goose Game

Award: Best Lark - For one brief, shining moment it was as if we - that is the frequent, casual, or non-gamers alike - agreed to stop all hating and adore that little asshole goose as they terrorized a quaint english village. Yeah, fuck off, glasses boy. Chaos reigns.

WATCHMEN

Award: Best Run of Singular Episodes - I’ve been tinkering with (read: stuck on) a larger piece of this series and a few of its more tricky problems, but what remains undeniable is the series’ high points. From “She Was Killed By Space Junk” to “A Little Fear of Lightning” to “This Extraordinary Being” to “A God Walks into Abar”, WATCHMEN offered us these powerful chapters that not just lived up to the source material, but brought the world into the modern age with transcendent insight. There are few higher compliments.

Unraveled

Award: Best Long Con Involving WaLuigi - Over at Polygon’s youtube channel, Brian David Gilbert has been spinning gold by digging into hilariously pedantic video game topics, whether its reading all 337 books in Skyrim so you don’t have to  or calculating your pets HP.  But his pièce de résistance may be this live event where he devised the perfect Pokerap. He is doing THE GOOD WORK (TM).

Succession

Award: Best On-Screen Consumption of Chicken - Season 2 of Succession brought the goods for what might be the funniest show on television. Yes, episodes like “Safe Room” showcase the show’s pitch perfect blend of absurdity, wit, and unblinking satirical malice. But in the end, Tom’s depressed chicken-eating power move may be the series high-point.

The Friday Night at 7:30 Meme

Award: Best Editing - Seriously, I just keep watching it. It's hypnotizing

The Sack Lunch Bunch

Award: Best Unexpected Exploration of The Existential Fears of Children - It’s an exciting time for John Mulaney. After three amazing stand-up specials and a run on broadway, he’s beginning to explore his voice as a larger narrative artist. But where his old sitcom mostly failed to connect thanks to the layers deep irony, the plain-faced sincerity of what is on display in this special is getting at the heart of something vibrant and necessary. PAY ATTENTION!

Joe Pera Talks With You

Award: Best Depiction of Quiet Intimacy - Somehow, the second season of Joe Pera Talks With You is even better than the last. It achieves this not by transcending the bounds of outrageousness or dipping into tangential thoughts, but having the courage to go softer, to simply live in its quiet, aching depiction of life in Marquette, Michigan. And when you see where the show goes, you understand exactly why it does. Extraordinary.

Baba Is You

Award: Best Video Game - I still plan on writing about this (and puzzle games in general), but it’s just one of my favorite video games of all time. What starts as a simple word game explodes and darts out in endless directions. Because the game’s ability to constantly break your brain, build it back up, and then re-break again is unparalleled. And the end game meta-puzzles remain one of the most exciting bits of artistic engagement I had all year. Even then, I know there’s five dandelions out there… I know that I wouldn’t even know how to backtrack to find them… I know that’s part of the point… and I know that is okay.

BoJack Horseman

Award: Best Finale to One of the Best Shows of All Time - You likely know how strong I feel about BoJack Horseman, but I’m still not ready to talk about it. I will in time, believe me. But I just know I’m going to be thinking about those last two episodes for the rest of my life. In the end, nothing other than the chosen ending could feel more right.

The Bon Appétit Test Kitchen

Award: Best Thing That Consistently Made Me The Happy - there is no piece of media in my life that gives me as much daily joy, laughter, and relief to the stresses of said life than the Bon Appétit test kitchen. I know many have talked about it before, but for good reason. Letting the personalities of Claire, Brad, Chris, Rick, Priya, Andy, Gaby, Molly, Carla, Christina, Sohla, Amiel, Delaney, and now Hawa into my life has been… Well, honestly I’m just thankful. I mean that whole-heartedly. Special shout-out to Matt Hunziker, one of the the directors / editors behind the channel’s earnest shift in voice. If you’re not watching, you have so much good stuff ahead of you.

MOVIES I MORE OR LESS LIKED!

Avengers: Endgame

Award: Best Send-Off For A Character - The year end list isn’t so much the place to linger on criticisms, so I’ll mostly allude to them and get to the things that matter. And after all the sound and fury and wheel-spinning and games, what makes Endgame work is that it knew the satisfying way Cap had to go out, and the only scene it could have ever ended on. If I’m being honest, that alone was enough.

Climax

Award: Best Opening Dance Number, Duh - People forget the US release of this was early last year so it’s technically a 2019 film, but the early sequences of Climax are arguably the most joyful and electric work of Noe’s career. And then it… uh… goes to the familiar dark place. Look, Climax ends poetically enough to for me to be more or less on board, but the physically exhausting experience of watching that last forty-five of yelling and verite realism gets into the that tricky area of what happens a film’s intended chaos doubles down on it formally. Namely, it feels so aggressive it pushes more people away than it brings into the empathy of the feeling. So all I can usually offer is the usual adage with Noe’s work: “milage my vary.”

Once Upon A Time In Hollywood

Award: Best Depiction of Actors Watching Their Own Work - So there’s a loooooot to talk about in this movie (I haven’t done it (but I plan to!) because it’s an endlessly complex knot of conflicting feelings and themes that get into the troubling notion of whose fairy tales are for who and why. But the most emotionally resounding aspects of the film for me were, of course, the moments that steep themselves in the adoration of cinema and television. Particularly the two sequences of Rick and Cliff basically riff-trax-ing his FBI episode and Sharon (Robbie) watching herself (the real Sharon) up on screen with adoring eyes. Honestly, it might be the most generous moment of Tarantino’s career.

Us

Award: Best Lupita Nyong'o / Tim Heidecker Collab - It’s plain to see that Jordan Peele’s got a lot of deep thoughts on his mind, but I’d argue the film unfortunately suffers a bit from “Last Second Twist-itis.” Not because the reveal is relatively clear from early on, but because the film’s dramatic thrust would be far more interesting if the twist was brought out half way through, which would have allowed the ramifications to be explored both in terms of story and theme (particularly in the confrontation with her doppelgänger). But by ignoring off such confrontation, Us also pushes away much of the resonant thematic clarity that Get Out sing. We’re instead left with a series of allusions and gestures and puzzles and images that we can only guess at. For some, that’s the point. For others, it is the thing that makes it lack. But I will say, few filmmakers are make their cryptic gestures this entertaining.

John Wick 3

Award: Best Use of Antique Knives - I have no real criticism with the film itself, nor its treatment of cinematic violence… I just have to say this was officially the film where I got tired of seeing people get shot in the head a lot of times. Again, not a criticism of the film. Just a larger statement about how I’m feeling in the world these days. It’s a matter of fatigue. I don’t know if anyone feels the same. Still, shooting good action is one of the hardest things to do in cinema. And there’s no way I can ignore when film executes on this high a level. Also, doggos.

1917

Award: Best Encapsulation of the Stiff-Upper-Lip Brand of Storytelling - To be frank, there were many, many, many, many times in the watching of 1917 where I uttered to myself “this could really use a cut right about now.” But I don’t want to get into the push-pull of “long take” cinematography whose existence often feels like a dare (I’ll tackle that in perpetuity instead). What I’d rather talk about is how the film largely saves most of its emotional impact for the final moments where the audience can finally walk away with understandings of its core thrust (it’s a tricky thing when a film’s deepest moment is a dedication card). It’s part of the instinct to pull off a magic trick, a one-act story building to a series of reveals. Which is fine I guess. I’d just still argue that 1917’s biggest issue is how the film weirdly doesn’t nail the needed points of connected story emphasis (the epic journey of going to the tree, the character’s non arc, certain geography issues, etc). But in the end, the film has gained it’s reputation on being a largely inoffensive bit of technical craftsmanship that celebrates emotional stoicism and reverence for the dignified pain of elders who came before… I mean, of course old Oscar Voters love it.

Uncut Gems

Award: Best Use of A Film’s Setting - Talking about film is sometimes difficult when your brain is always coming at things from a “script first” perspective. So while I could spend a lot of time talking the story in this one, I’d rather note that what works so damn well is the Safdie’s understanding of environment. It’s not just the way they bring us into the world of diamond dealing and sports gambling, it’s the way they articulate people’s character through design itself. The gaudy houses, the sweaty brows, the name brand clothing, the stale coffee. They maximize on environment and texture to rake us with their cacophonous din. Like many people, there’s always this part of me rooting for Sandler, but there’s no doubt by transforming the world around him, they help transform him in turn.

Marriage Story

Award: Best Reminder That Lawyers Are Terrifying - If I’m being honest, I think I overreacted in my first piece on the film’s New York centrism as a fatal flaw, both for the film and the character’s understanding of himself. It’s not that I feel I’m wrong about the matter, it’s just that the relative anger has faded away and I’m still left with memories of the film’s more gutting depictions of moments of love and pain. Like the Chekov’s razor blade in the film itself, they cut quick and deep.

MOVIES I REALLY, REALLY LIKED!

Booksmart*

Award: Best Non-Toxic Depiction of Teens - I’m pretty sure I spent most of the film smiling from ear to ear. That’s because Booksmart is joyful, assured, generous and embodying of an open spirit not often seen on screen. Because where other comedic voices often look at “wokeness” as a joke, it’s reassuring to see a filmmaker engage the subject as it really exists, which is just the language of how young people engage with modern life and mutual understanding. Still, one of the toughest things to talk about with the film is how the decision for everyone in this depicted public high school get into amazing schools can’t help but be more reflective of the private school reality of 1%-ers and those bound for the ivy league (who, not so coincidentally, was the reality for many of the voices behind the film). I’m not sure I even really mean this as a abject criticism, it’s more a lingering meta question of how we think about a film that is so amazing at engaging at certain topics, but where the critical thrust of Molly’s class difference remains unaddressed, like an entire economic conflict that remains just off screen. Maybe that’s even part of the point. I really don’t mean to belabor, it’s just I think about this kind of stuff constantly. Probably more important: ALL HAIL BILLIE LOURD!

JoJo Rabbit

Award: Best Inversion of Specific Micro-Tropes - There’s a greater conversation when it comes to media about the holocaust, chiefly in terms of what a given work “needs” to depict, and certainly what they “cannot” depict. In that spirit it becomes rather easy to talk about what JoJo Rabbit is not. It is not a film that shows the true atrocities of the holocaust. It is not a film that presents the constant feeling of dread and tension. it is not solemn. It is not a faithful accurate depiction. What it is, is something else. And it’s not up to me to decided whether that something else is a viable approach, I can only reflect on what I’ve gained in conversations with my jewish friend about what she loves about it. From the way JoJo Rabbit has zero interest in fetishizing jewish pain and suffering just to teach non-jewish characters and audience members a “lesson.” To the way that Elsa inverts her power dynamic over JoJo and showing him a better understanding of the world not through her meekness, but through her strength, intelligence, and willingness to defend herself against his clumsy dumbassery. Same goes for the fact that the film really isn’t interested in “humanizing” anyone who does something truly fucked up. In case you’re not aware, a lot of Holocaust media is obsessed with the opposite, which makes for a troubling question of who these movies are really “for” anyway. To that, JoJo Rabbit’s strength isn’t in what it isn’t, but what it is.

The Lighthouse

Award: Best Depiction Of Why It Sucks To Have A Roommate - I spent a long time writing about it, but I feel like my words are empty and I should have just posted a bunch of gifs.

Crawl

Award: Best Fun House - My favorite horror movies tend to be of the “spook-a-blast” variety and usually no one does that better than Raimi. He’s only producing here, but the collaboration with Aja brings us a sincere melodrama with perfectly executed gator mayhem. Reader, I loved it.

High Flying Bird*

Award: Best Depiction of the NBA Off-Season - Okay, technically it’s set during a strike, but I love the NBA and in particular, NBA backroom dealings. And this film from Moonlight scribe Tarell Alvin McCraney takes dead aim at the politics, systems, and racial power-brokering that line one of the most profitable sports industries on the planet. Soderbergh brings it to life with his now familiar, effortless guile (though I will say this was the first of his recent entries where even I was like, come on dude, get some light on that guy’s face). But it’s also a stalwart reminder that Andre Holland should be in literally everything. Admittedly, I had one friend see this and was like, “Sorry, it was hard to follow because I didn’t recognize a single proper noun.” But if you follow the sport, there are few films better at getting at the game behind the game.

THE TOP NINE - AKA MOVIES I UNABASHEDLY LOVED

9. Under The Silver Lake

Award: Best Depiction of the Weird Guys I See In My Neighborhood and Wonder What the Hell They Do All Day 

It’s Important to acknowledge that 1) this film is depicting the life of a very specific kind of dumb, aloof shithead who populates the east side of Los Angeles and 2) yes, the film is from his delusional perspective. For this alone, I have absolutely no issue with those who have had to deal with this kind of dude before and simply have to peace out on the movie due to a sense of PTSD-like revulsion. Really. I understand completely. What I can argue to those that remain curious is that Under The Silver Lake is 100% aware of those issues and depicts the problems in clear fashion (Riki Lindhome’s last scene exit tells you everything about the film’s real POV). Hell, the fact that these concerns bounce off him is largely the point. And when following the film from that place of understanding, a whole line of semiotical observations open up for discussion, from the economics of “the partying class,” to musical redundancy, to the problematic legacies of possessive detectives, to old men entombing the earth, to even the conspiratorial spirit of modern youth. But as my friend Damon put so aptly, “sure, what if there are secrets and codes to our modern life, they’re just all really dumb.” In the age of QAnon, it’s surprisingly prescient. And when I’m left to think on it, I can’t help but see this as an odd spiritual sequel to The Big Lebowski, which makes it the rarest of things: a new gonzo noir that actually delivers.

8. Knives Out*

Award: Best Use of Massachusetts / Sweaters

I’ll admit, this was not the movie I expected, but it’s the movie I’m delighted I got. I also understand why the film’s early bait and switch might throw people, but Johnson’s always been this playful with form and expectation. By creating a mystery where you’re not worrying about what happened and instead trying to figure out what’s left so mysterious, the film’s able to pivot to clearer points about class, empathy, decency, and the uglier mechanics of legacy itself. Everyone’s having a blast. Bring on more Benoit Blanc.

7. Dolemite Is My Name

Award: Best Reminder That Eddie Murphy Is Eddie Murphy 

Anytime I see someone say that this movie is too light and airy I feel the pressing need to remind them how damn hard it is to make a movie that feels light and airy. It’s near impossible. Because keeping an audience engaged in a low-conflict scenario means you need to have a lead actor carrying them through the movie beat by beat, often just with personality, verve and the ability to connect. Luckily, this movie has Eddie Murphy and he’s throwing his fastball again. For those who didn’t grow up with him, he really is this once in a generation talent. Not just in his boundless energy and evident capacity for humor, but the fact he’s a remarkable actor. If you go back and watch the “breezy” film, you’ll note how much Dolemite Is My Name relies on you seeing Murphy thinking. How each shot is him reacting to every little thing with his eyes, getting the wheels turning, internalizing, and embarking on making a new decision (read: sales pitch). This is genuine craft, and the movie lives and dies by their ability to execute such moments. And boy does Murphy deliver. If that weren’t enough, you can feel how outrageously generous both Murphy and the film is to his costars (and man did I miss Wesley Snipes having fun). More of all of this, please. Thank you.

6. Portrait of a Lady On Fire

Award: Best Capitalization On Powerful Furtive Glances

Ahhhhh, furtive glances! So powerful! So sexy! So inherently written into the fabric of societal repression! Specifically with gay romances!  Really, it's the same mechanism that drives a lot of stuffy historical British romances. You know, the ones where characters have to keep their feelings bottled up for propriety's sake, allowing the quiet desires to politely build and build (right along side the audience's desire) until it finally bubbles up to the surface. But Céline Sciamma brings this story to life with remarkable calm and little pulp, crafting a film that feels feel both spacious and punctuated, silent but loud, reflecting an emotional maturity that is so assured in its contradictions. It's a maturity best exemplified by an argument near the film's end, which is one of the most intelligent articulations of our real problems with grudges against fatalism and that which cannot be. By doing this, Sciamma makes us feel the immense power of that which we wish to hold onto - and showing what it really means to hold it with another.

5. The Irishman 

Award: Best Reminder of Martin Scorsese’s Thematic Care 

I was unsure what to think of The Irishman going in. I knew enough to suppose we were going to get a film that spanned an epic run of time and American history. What I wasn’t expect was the most thoughtful re-examination of Scorsese’s entire gangster oeuvre (and maybe even career). Gone are the sweeping shots of glitz and glam. Gone is the seductive allure. Instead, we’re treated to long tracks through a mundane funeral home. A powerful story about the trapping of loyalty, the unseating of decades of friendship, and the way repression leads to regret when we fail to examine our own personhood. Anonymous Oscar voters seem to lament that that The Irishman is not another indulgent film about how cool it is to be a gangster. And that it is instead a grim reminder of mortality and the cost of not opening our hearts… But that, as they say, is the fucking point.

4. Midsommar

Award: Best Reason To Fear Grad Students

CW for this entry: discussion of suicide. I didn’t know where I was going to end writing about this experience, but it may as well be here. So. This was the first time I had been deeply triggered by a film. Going in I didn’t know that Midsommar dealt so much with suicide. And from the stark depiction of the open scenes, I could suddenly feel a tightening, constricted feeling in my chest. I was still able to hold onto some control, so I thought I’d be able to move past it. But as the film started to cascade into its wide-eyed, sweaty paranoia, the one where she knows something is wrong, right there in plain sight- my experience doubled as her own. And as the suicides multiplied, I rode this line of being in and out of control. But by the end, I was fully engulfed in the flames of the experience.

I had seen the film alone. I emerged from the theater shaking, mumbling, drenched in sweat. I walked outside, but there I stood… I was three floors up. The cliffside suicide played again and again in my mind. I was right there, dragged back into the space of my old suicidal feelings. I kept thinking the same thing: jump… jump… jump. It just felt so logical, so evident, so necessary… But somehow, I did all the things you’re supposed to do. I managed to call friends. I grounded. I listed objects. I started to calm and slow my heart rate. Soon, I was able to get on the train. By the time I was home… I was okay again.

I have heard people describe the experience of being triggered for years. I sympathized. I even thought I understood. But nothing quite explains the sheer power of the experience itself. It’s just so much more visceral than you can imagine. To suddenly just feel that out of control just from a movie? Yeah. Just from a movie. So every time I see some hack comic or president’s son use the word “triggered” with a cackling sneer, I suddenly think about how they would actually handle the overwhelming panic of that experience. But they don’t know until they would know. And of course, the problems of that closed off, selfish, toxic masculinity is the very thing that makes the movie so powerful.

I’ve had female friends describe Midsommar as one of the most cathartic films they’ve ever seen. I understand completely why. Ari Aster has somehow made a movie that, emotionally and thematically-speaking, actually accepts the most non-qualifying depths of its own guilt and complicity, thus validating Dani’s experience. It’s a film that looks grief and horror right in the eye and says yes, yes it is okay to scream and cry. This is normal. This is healing. We will even do this with you. The horror isn’t in the horror. The true horror is ignoring that life can be horrible. In essence, it is the utter disgust with the stiff upper lips, the denials, the shitty manipulations of manhood, and instead pleads for screaming release. And for me? The film manifested on so many levels. Like a way of looking back at the wreckage, the fears, the guilt, the regrets, and the endless lessons learned. It’s a film that practically demands your culpability, and hopes you can find some reflection in the flames. In that way, it was one of the most cathartic films I’ve seen, too.

Because that’s the thing about movies and triggering and all that. It’s not that getting triggered means the work is BAD or TOO MUCH. It means the just happen to connect with our various traumas. When unprepared for them, they can quickly bring us back to that place. But when grounded? It often means we can connect to that same art in the most meaningful ways possible… Which brings me back to the purpose of this list. 

What I hope this little five paragraph aside does is help reinforce how absurd it is to take a film experience like this and “rank it” in a little blurb. My experience with Midsommar is precisely why we don’t measure art. I can’t tuck these visceral, emotional experiences into little boxes with letter grades. And even if I do, it’s why we don’t get bogged down in the details, because of course I could argue this qualifies as my “number one” of the year. So when I see people tie themselves into knots over relative ranking I want to tell them that it’s okay, that it doesn’t matter. That no one really (should) care. The whole thing is dumb. But what’s not dumb is the power of the connection behind the movie itself… that’s all you need to convey.

3. Little Women

Award: Best Understanding of Characterization

Greta Gerwig is one of our most important directors and she is just going to keep doing this. It’s not because of the unique quality of her voice, nor her pitch-perfect understanding of modern cultural themes. It’s because she understands her craft so implicitly. She is so precise in showing you a character’s interiority so that you are never in doubt for one second about what people are thinking, feeling, and why. And when it comes time to express that interiority? It is brought to life with dialogue that crackles and performances that ring more than true. She specializes in a brand of cinematic language that abstains from the showy and instead brings you right into her character’s humanity. On every level, she nails every bit of communication. Which is exactly how Little Women can move at a lightinng pace, tap dancing across its structure, but we’re always right there with her… There are few filmmakers working on this level, especially on the writing level… Everyone else should be taking notes.

2. The Last Black Man in San Francisco

Award: Best New Voices

I’m having a hard time remembering the last time I was this impressed with a debut. But Jimmie Fails and childhood best friend Joe Talbot have been trying to tell this story for years: it’s the story of Jimmie, the story of being black in San Francisco, and the story of a young man trying to hold onto a house. On the surface, it would be easy to call this a story of gentrification, and it very much is. But the film is much less interested verbalizing the specifics of sociological problems (though it’s clearly aware of them) and much more interested in telling Jimmie’s emotional story with poetic verve, rich symbology, and the mechanics of greek fatalism. But the theatricality never once gets in the way of its aching sense of empathy, which instead allows its characters to emote with desperate pleas and grandeur. Even on a technical level, Talbot’s cinematic language captures the boxed verticality of San Francisco in a way I’ve never seen, giving life to a z-axis that most films rarely bother with. We always seem to be looking up, down, and inward, but always with purpose. The only troubling lingering thought is largely a meta one, the way that Talbot’s involvement embodies the very nature of the appropriation that the film characterizes, but rather then strike as insidious, it just feels like another biting irony in a story that is full of them. And what I am left with all these months later, are the images of Jimmie Fails, skateboarding through his city, on the inside of it, on the outside of it, as he glides right through the solemn myths of America… Just spectacular.

1. Parasite

Award: Best Fucking Picture

For a long time now, Bong Joon-ho has probably been my favorite filmmaker. On one hand, he is one of the most precise directors working today, showcasing a command of cinematic language only a few others seem to possess. On the other hand, he’s so unafraid to be weird. To follow flights of fancy that somehow involve fish and fisticuffs. I understand the ways some people don’t always want to go along with the fun. But now, with Parasite, everything aligns with laser focus. Which is probably why everything that is great about the film is evident: the hot sauce heist, the basement reveal, the family hiding under the table, the eyes poking above the stairs, the peaches, and the hammer throw. I can say these things and they conjure moments and laughs and scares and scenes so evocative as to be burned into our memories. I think it’s often dumb to talk about “perfect” movies, but the film’s runaway success is a testament to the way this story just plays, damnit. It feels like an impossible high-wire act that can’t possibly sustain. And yet, it does. And as the film drifts toward its terrifying climax, once again, it is unafraid to turn its last moments into a meditation on the lies we tell ourselves - chiefly, the ones we need to say to not just get through existence, but to even get a chance at one.

∞. Cats

Award: Best Cinematic Experience

Seeing Cats was hands down, no question, the most fun I had in the theater this year. Similarly, no movie has quite invaded my world quite like Cats, either. Not just in the constant memes and jokes, but I can’t remember the last time a movie has dominated every real-life conversation. For months we’ve been at it. Even at a friends birthday party last weekend, there were literally four independent conversations happening about Cats at once (one unlucky partygoer described it as suffocating). But that’s because our fascination just keeps going. Hell, I’m literally going to see it yet again for a rowdy screening this week (tellingly, the screenings keep selling out). Even one of my favorite podcasts has been doing “My Week with Cats.” Now, I imagine there are probably many wondering of you wondering, WHY? HOW? WHO!?!?!? What brings such utter fascination to so many people??????

It comes down to the fact that Cats is one of the true joys we get in life: a cinematic impossibility, a film that shouldn’t exist on any level. And yet it does. But unlike so many misguided independent efforts that border on the boring and the unwatchable, Cats is studio fare brought to life with energizing professional verge. More over, Tom Hooper’s hubris drips over every moment. It crashes and burns and comes alive in a series of punctuation marks, like a phoenix that’s really just going through some shit. More over, we realize we’ve never saw a film that allowed Hooper to explore his odd sense of humor and now it’s like HOW DOES HE MAKE THAT DECISION TO DO THE MICE AND COCKROACHES?!?!?! The result is something so wrong headed and garish, that when it comes out the other side, it is so terrifically entertaining. 

It is in this space that Cats transcends to cult status. Because sometimes familiarity doesn’t breed contempt, it breeds adoration and blindness to the obvious problems. Together, we can enter the rarified space where good and bad drift away and there is only THE THING and how we think THE THING IS GOOD, DAMMIT. I mean, there’s a reason they call them cult movies, it requires that kind of thinking. And it’s a space where Skimbleshanks’ bonkers exit, MaCavity’s ripped bod, and Judy Dench's endless last monologue become the familiar cues for us to cackle with glee. It doesn’t have to make sense to justify itself. It already exists. And because it exists it needs no further explanation. The raison d’être is Cats itself. 

And so, it is here I admit the ENTIRE reason there’s actually stupid numbers in this list is because I wanted to build up to the infinity symbol joke. But it also makes sense because Cats is beyond everything, it stretches on forever, and yet it’s also a part of everything. Yes, when you look around you realize…

Cats, actually is all around us. 

I genuinely can’t believe I’m going to end this column - one where I also talked emotionally about a personal suicide experience - with that joke, but oh well. Perhaps there’s no better summation of who I am.

Enjoy the show tonight. 

<3 HULK