The Worst Best Picture Field Ever?

David Simon Cowell will cover the worst Oscar snubs later in the week (beyond the obvious, of course). But today let’s discuss not those who were left out, but those who made the cut. Namely, the nine films that were nominated for Best Picture. Keep in mind: the wise and considered Academy didn’t have to nominate nine films. Five would have sufficed under the new rules. But no, voters determined that nine films this year made such excellent cases for themselves that they simply could not be ignored.

I haven’t yet seen all nine films that received nominations. Unfortunately, I am now obligated to do so, thanks to my dedication to PCHA readers. (It’s gonna be a bumpy ride, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close.) But I’m reasonably confident that this field is filled with the mediocre and the damned.

The Artist
The Descendants
Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close
The Help
Hugo
Midnight in Paris
Moneyball
The Tree of Life
War Horse (“A stubborn horse walks behind you, an impatient horse walks in front of you, but a noble companion walks beside you. A WAR HORSE, though, tramples over all the fucking Germans then swoops you up and carries you to safety.” — Author Unknown

I mean…

“Cheers to somehow not even being close to the worst nominee for Best Picture!”

The Biggest Problem With Romney’s Taxes

On Tuesday, Mitt Romney finally gave into the heat from Newt Gingrich and released his most recent tax returns (from 2010).

Unsurprisingly for somebody who made his bones in the shady world of private equity, Mitt’s returns showed a whole lot of pay ($23 million) and not a lot of payback (14%). Obviously, the ridiculous tax rate (and income for an unemployed guy) has caused much comment. And, given that Mitt was part of the lobbying effort to keep capital gains taxes so low, his “I just pay what they tell me” stance is especially obscene.

But, what should really worry Republicans isn’t Romney’s exploitation of our soak-the-poor tax structure… it’s that he didn’t see this coming.

Biggest Oscar Snub

Melissa McCarthy gets a Best Supporting Actress nod for pooping in a sink, and not this lovely, erudite young lady? Not cool, Oscar. Not cool.

Huzzah!

Congratulations to 2012 Best Picture Nominee….

WAR HORSE!!!

Bring home the gold, you magnificent equine bastard!

Three-Minute Records: Having a Party

To observe Sam Cooke’s birthday — Cooke would have turned 81 today — we’re introducing a new feature here at Pop Culture Has AIDS. Three-Minute Records will look back on the greatest songs in pop music history, inspired by the famous line in Bruce Springsteen’s “No Surrender”: “We learned more from a three-minute record than we ever learned in school.” (hat tip) And if you ever snuck a peek at the high school and college transcripts for David Simon Cowell and me, you would know that truth is particularly valid for us.

Sam Cooke’s “Having a Party” is not always thought of as one of Cooke’s best tracks. The song, released in 1962 as the B-side to “Bring It On Home to Me,” peaked at #17 on the U.S. singles chart and #4 on the R&B singles chart. Thirteen of Cooke’s singles fared better, led by #1 “You Send Me” and #2 “Chain Gang.” Its vinyl-mate, “Bring It On Home,” also rose higher on the charts and is better-known as one of Cooke’s signature hits.

At the same time, “Party” doesn’t have the same creative cache as “A Change is Gonna Come.” In the Cooke canon, it’s just another hit record. And that’s not fair to one of the absolute best songs of the 1960s.

Christopher Dodd Will Have His Revenge on America

While Pop Culture Has AIDS didn’t quite go dark to protest SOPA this week, make no mistake that we’re on board with those that did. Instead, we’ll do what we do best: post an angry screed about somebody who’s just the worst.

Growing up in the fabled urban jungle of Connecticut, Christopher Dodd was often viewed as the “Good Senator,” with Joe Lieberman filling the role of the heavy. While we were obviously right about Lieberman — the guy’s a sad joke — we didn’t realize that Dodd was on Lieberman’s team of baddies all along.

Now, as “Hollywood’s chief lobbyist,” the head of the MPAA, Dodd is continuing a streak of corporate servitude that began in the Senate.

A Portrait of The Artist as a Terrible Movie

Oh, you guys. You guys, you guys, you guys, you guys.

You guys.

The Artist is going to win Best Picture at the Oscars, isn’t it? It’s certainly going to get nominated.

And you guys? I am NOT happy about this state of affairs.

Because The Artist is a fucking terrible movie.

Welcome! To 2011′s “Crash”!

The Golden Globes Recap

While they certainly look like much more fun to attend, the Golden Globes are always in the Oscars’ shadow for some inexplicable reason. Just because the awards are decided by only 93 bribe-happy drunks. Just because the awards were banned from network broadcast for 7 years because they are so crooked. Just because Pia Zadora’s husband bought her a Best Newcomer award. Just because Sony was able to buy a nomination for the putrid The Tourist just last year.

But, here at P.C.H.A., we obviously have no standards, so let’s break down the winners.

Ranking The Potential Super Bowl Matchups (With Imagined Commentary By Peter King)

While New Orleans’ loss to San Francisco was certainly exciting, and the humiliation of the Green Bay Packers was satisfying to any right-thinking American, it leaves us with a much less compelling Championship Game weekend. While “any given sunday”, blah, blah, blah, the odds of us watching the Patriots march to another crown now seems fairly likely.

But, what is the best-case scenario for a compelling Super Bowl? And what would Peter King have to say about it? Let’s take a look.

Most Boring Primary Season Ever?

Well, here comes the 2012 Republican primary battle… and there it goes. Not since the season finale of The Killing has so much buildup come to so much nothing.

It’s not like we didn’t see this coming. No matter how many entertaining candidates-for-their-own-CNN-show were trotted out, it wasn’t like they were actually going to be President. Since Herbert Hoover became President in 1929 (he’d never been elected to anything, serving as Secretary of Commerce), every Presidential nominee (except sacrificial lamb Wendell Willkie in 1940) has been 1.) a Governor, 2.) a Senator, 3.) a Vice-President, or 4.) a WWII-winning General. That’s it.

Heading into the Republican primary season, the frontrunner was 2008 runner-up Mitt Romney, who followed the John Edwards game plan of turning one term in office and good hair into a permanent campaign. There were three little-known, boring-as-hell former Governors lurking… Jon Huntsman, Tim Pawlenty, and Gary Johnson. With Ron Paul, there was no room for Johnson’s libertarianism; with Romney, there was no room for Huntsman’s Mormon businessman schtick; and Pawlenty let himself get bullied out by fellow Minnesotan Michelle Bachmann, a decision that should drive him to drink daily at this point. The only former Senator in the race, Rick Santorum, 1.) was beaten by 17 points in his last race, 2.) is batshit crazy, and 3.) is literally a synonym for ass juice.

That left three-plus-term Texas governor Rick Perry as the only chance for an interesting race. He had electoral success in a big state, distinct ideological differences from Romney, and a huge pile of money. His biggest problem was that he seemed too much, biographically, ideologically and smirking-wise, like George W. Bush. Perry decided to differentiate himself by proving himself to be dumber and crazier. Somehow, this didn’t resonate with voters.

The primary battle this most resembles is the Democrats in 1992, when the only “President on the stage” was Bill Clinton. The rest of the field was boring/crazy (Paul Tsongas/Jerry Brown), but there was a general sense of unease among Democratic voters about sending Clinton against the incumbent George H. W. Bush. Obviously, though, Clinton’s issues (womanizing, draft dodging) were slightly more exciting than Romney’s (flip-flopping, downsizing). At least Willard could sexually harass somebody for all of our sake.

So where does this snoozefest rank all-time?

Your 2012 Australian Open Preview

The 2012 tennis season is upon us, and with its arrival comes the first Grand Slam of the season — the Australian Open. We are lucky to be able to watch tennis at a time when three truly great players are competing against one another. Roger Federer and Rafael Nadal are two of the very best players of all time, and Novak Djokovic played better than either of them in 2011.

If 2011 was Djokovic’s year, we’re about to begin finding out to whom 2012 will belong. Can Djokovic maintain his ridiculous hot streak? Can Nadal stay healthy? Can Federer overcome age and the heartbreak of last year’s U.S. Open to win another Slam? The stakes for the Australian Open are high.

To preview the Aussie open, we thought we’d let you hear it straight from the horses’ mouths. Nadal, Federer and Djokovic have all agreed to share their thoughts about the tournament exclusively for PCHA readers.

The Dilemma’s Dilemma: Timmy or Tawmmy?

If you had told me before the season began that I would consider rooting for the New England Patriots in a playoff game, I would have likely conjured a complex, apocalyptic scenario involving an impending nuclear scenario, a supervirus, and Bill Belichick’s peculiar genius to explain how such a thing could happen.

As a Jets fan — and a human being with actual feelings — I despise the Patriots. I hate the team, their coach, the players, the owner, the fans (especially the fans), the stadium and the franchise. They’re loathsome.

Yet a few short weeks ago, I rooted for them to beat the Denver Broncos and manhandle Tim Tebow. Such is my newfound hatred for Tebow, his apologists and his disciples.

Then, the decision was easy: the Patriots had clinched the AFC East and had little to gain by winning. Now, it’s a much different story. They’re two games from the Super Bowl. So do I root for my football archnemesis, Tawmmy Brady and his merry band of scrappy Football Ecksteins, or do I root for a Broncos win that would cause various sports media outlets to spontaneously combust and allow Skip Bayless a fleeting moment of satisfaction?

Welcome to my nightmare.

Rick Reilly and Tim Tebow Walk Into a Bar…

It was bound to happen. Lone Pop Culture Has AIDS Sportswriting Hall of Shame inductee Rick Reilly and Timothy Richard Tebow were bound to cross paths. And like the crossing of the streams in Ghostbusters, the result is too powerful and frightening for us to process. We can’t fully comprehend its might. We can’t stare straight at this column, or our minds will be lost to the world forever, like the unfortunate souls in Infinite Jest who view “the entertainment.”

Riles and Tebow. Together at last. Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.

The Best Sports Conversationalists

For most sports fans, the games themselves are just a jumping-off point. Sure, there’s the excitement of a Hail Mary or a well-developed attack, but there’s also lots and lots of (often impotent) build-up.

The thing that keeps us engaged over the long-term are the conversations, the arguments, the discussions, that often only use sports as a jumping-off point. Like an emotionally-stunted alcoholic’s book club, an in-depth conversation about sports is often only surfacely about the events themselves.

As such, there’s a large amount of overlap between sports fanaticism, and the arts and politics… novelists obsessed with baseball, presidents attached to basketball teams, Ashton Kutcher standing on football sidelines… the examples are legion.

So, who would be the most interesting people to have in-depth conversations with about the major pro sports? I’m talking about the best conversations, not the conversations that would most blow you away. Obviously, I would love to sit down and watch a basketball game with Michael Jordan. But that would be a simpering fawnfest, not an interesting conversation. So, while athletic experience is nice, it doesn’t really get you many points, unless you’re interesting/intelligent about other subjects as well.

Here’s the current rankings (in order of my like of/knowledge about the sports):

The PCHA Baseball Hall of Fame Ballot

The Baseball Writers Association of America elected Barry Larkin — and only Barry Larkin — to the Hall of Fame this week, which has caused the predictable amount of hand-wringing and wailing among the baseball media about who got snubbed, who deserves to get in next year, and of course…STEROIDS!

There are two major issues with Hall of Fame voting in this era: the gross negligence of some writers in properly valuing players (which is driven in large part by a reactionary mentality when violently dismissing advanced statistics), and the industry-wide ambivalence about how to deal with players suspected of steroid use.

On the MLB Network’s excellent new show Clubhouse Confidential last week, host Brian Kenny delineated three options for voters considering players tainted by the stench of performance enhancers:

1) Ignore the issue altogether and vote only based on what happened on the field

2) Purposefully exclude anyone associated with steroids, HGH, etc.

3) Consider each player on case-by-case basis: would he have been good enough to reach the Hall even without drugs?

The P.C.H.A. Era Mix

One of the most annoying comments we hear at P.C.H.A. is, “I just don’t listen to new music anymore.” It’s right up there with “Whitney Cummings may fall just short of being a comic genius,” or “Wanting to make out with Ryan Gosling is kind of gay.”

Imagine how weird it would be for someone to say, “I just don’t watch new movies anymore.” But, for some reason, music seems to be a culturally acceptable thing to lose touch with as people move toward death. I know, I know, music is like good weed… it’s hard to keep the connection going once you get older. But just admit that you’ve lost touch… don’t make it worse by saying stupid things like “Music sucks now” (“Books suck now”), or “Nobody’s ever going to be better than The Beatles, anyway.” (“Nobody’s ever going to be better than Andy Griffith, anyway.”) Help is available.

That’s why, two years ago this month, two scrappy dreamers from the streets of Wicker Park decided to provide guidance to those who’ve lost their way. However, despite a stream of great music ever since, there are still people who are comfortable being ignorant about music in a way they never would be with, say, movies (unless, of course, they have children, in which case death has pretty much already arrived, and it’s better to just back slowly away).

So, as a public service, here’s a mix of the best songs of the P.C.H.A. Era, in case you want to get your head out of your ass and join society.

The King on Film: Every Elvis Movie Ranked

Elvis would have turned 77 yesterday. In honor of the King’s birthday, let’s examine an overlooked and oft-derided part of his career — his filmography.

Elvis’s arrival in Hollywood is usually demarcated as the turning point of his career: the moment when he stopped being a rebellious, race-defying rock singer and began his transformation into a safe lounge singer who tossed scarves at adoring grandmothers. He handed over control of his career (and life) to Colonel Tom Parker, who always chased the easiest and quickest buck — which meant a string of formulaic comedic musicals starring Elvis playing guitar, chasing girls and driving race cars.

The truth is in there somewhere, but as with most things, it’s not that simple. Elvis always dreamed of becoming an actor — he idolized Marlon Brando — and turning from music to film was as much is choice as the Colonel’s. But somewhere along the way, his dream was bastardized, and early rebel-loner roles morphed into the grinning, beach-hopping, clambake-throwing, dead-eyed Frankie Avalon clone of the late ’60s. Upon arriving in Hollywood to appear in his first film, Love Me Tender, Elvis said, “I don’t know anything about Hollywood. But I know you can’t be sexy if you smile. You can’t be a rebel if you grin.”

Somewhere along the line, Elvis forgot that simple truth. Or it was drugged out of him.

A Conversation with 1996 Nicolas Cage

Nicolas Cage leaves the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, clutching his newly won Oscar in his hands. He’s fresh from his post-victory press conference and smiling broadly. I accost him on his way to his limo.

The Dilemma: Nic! Nic! Nicolas! Over here!

Nicolas Cage: Oh hi there.

The Dilemma: Congratulations on your well-deserved Academy Award for best actor.

Nicolas Cage: Thanks, man. Right on. Do you have a pen, I’ll sign for you. I am in a GREAT mood.

The 2012 Republican Candidates Quote Quiz

Ahh, the Iowa caucuses. That magical time of year when white people get to choose which brand of hate they prefer. A time when the Republican field narrows down to just the bare essentials. A time when 120,000 Middle Americans matter more than at any time except when KFC is test marketing their latest atrocity.

As the 2012 Republican primary race moves on, it’s also time to take stock of the remaining field. Often, we can get caught up too much in the visuals… Gingrich’s snarl, Perry’s smirk, Paul’s crazy eyes, Santorum’s haircut, Romney’s plastic smile, Huntsman’s … wait, what does Huntsman look like again? With six major candidates left, let’s see how well you know them.

2011: The Year in (More) Lists

Well, we’ve counted down our favorite films, TV shows and music of the year, but some loose ends still need tying. Let’s look back at 2011 one final time, and look at how pop culture did in its ongoing battle against the ravaging effects of the AIDS virus.

More lists! You know you love them.

Gonna Use The Whole Fist, Doc? (Or, 2011 In Chicago Sports)

Chicago is a sports town… a cursed, pathetic sports town. Other towns may have it worse (I’m looking at you, Cleveland), but none of them are four-team towns. That isn’t to say we haven’t had rays of light… the Bears and Bulls both have solid legacies, and the Blackhawks and the White Sox (ugh) have recent championships. But, for a town that so dearly loves its teams, Chicago normally gets very little in return.

In all the bad years of Chicago sports fandom, though, it’s hard to believe that there’s been a worse one than 2011, a constant, (nearly) unrelenting parade of painful buggering. Let’s put on the rubber gloves and wade back in.

Directors Still Batting 1.000

Two directors with stellar track records recently came out with highly anticipated films, both of which have garnered generally favorable reviews: David Fincher’s The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, and Alexander Payne’s The Descendants (which made my year-end top-ten list). Fincher and Payne are two of the finest American filmmakers of their generation, but only Payne can say he’s never made a bad movie.

Payne is still batting 1.000. Payne is perfect, like the 1972 Miami Dolphins — do you think he gets together with other undefeated directors and clinks champagne glasses when a promising new filmmaker releases his or her first weak movie?

Sorry, David, you’ve got an impressive record, but you did make both Alien³ and The Curious Case of Benjamin Button.

Payne has directed five full-length features: the underappreciated Citizen Ruth, Election, About Schmidt, Sideways and now The Descendants. About Schmidt has its issues, but I’d certainly still classify it as a “good” film, meaning Payne is five for five.

Who can join Payne in the undefeated club? Who else has released at least three films and has yet to screw one up or make a bad choice? (This is basically a version of the bestest pub game ever, but for directors.)

Happy New Year from PCHA and The Boss

and…

Time marches on.

War Horse Facts

The single bullet that killed the Red Baron was spat at him by WAR HORSE.

During the worst of the trench warfare, WAR HORSE was the only one who took the time to bury the dead.

During the famed Christmas Truce of 1914, WAR HORSE neighed Christmas carols for the German soldiers. Pitch perfect, of course.

WAR HORSE’s granddaughter incepted a message in Hitler’s dream that he should kill himself.

WAR HORSE led soldiers to Rin Tin Tin’s kennel. He sensed something magical about the pup.

WAR HORSE was a conscientious objector for both Vietnam and Iraq. He just knew better.

The Top Ten: Biggest Robberies In Best Picture History

The beginning of 2012 will bring two of our favorite seasons here at P.C.H.A.: Election Season & Oscar Season. They have many similarities: the candidates are usually douchebags; the media takes every twist and turn way too seriously; spending money often equals getting votes. But, the most important rule in both campaigns is: you only need to beat the opponents you’re running against.

In searching for both Presidents and Best Picture winners, we often mistakenly search for perfection. But just as Obama only has to be good enough to beat the 2012 Republican field of fucktards, so does a Best Picture winner only have to beat its competition. Just because a weak movie wins or a strong movie loses doesn’t mean that a horrible decision has been made. Oliver!, Out Of Africa, and Slumdog Millionaire should be near the bottom of any ranking of Best Picture winners, but looking at their competition (Funny Girl, The Color Purple, and Frost/Nixon) makes it hard to claim the choice was outrageous. On the other hand, Sunset Boulevard, Chinatown, and There Will Be Blood all seem like no-brainer Best Pictures, but a glimpse at the films they lost to (All About Eve, The Godfather Part II, and No Country For Old Men) shows that no robbery took place. Sometimes you get Kennedy/Nixon and sometimes you get Bush/Kerry.

That’s not to say, however, that the Motion Picture Academy isn’t capable of some truly short-sighted decisions. Here are the ten worst cases of Best Picture robbery: