Matt vs. the Academy

The first five films of Matt vs. the Academy have been viewed, so now it's time to deliver the first verdict of the project. Perhaps working backwards may be the most efficient method of arriving at a conclusion. However, let me preface this discussion with the honest claim that I found all five nominees to be excellent examples of the power of cinema. They, each in their own way, managed to engage me in their stories. And I suspect that is a sentiment that may repeat itself many times during the course of this project. The nominees for Best Picture of 1966 are: Alfie A Man for All Seasons The Russians Are Coming, The Russians Are Coming The Sand Pebbles Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? Three films based on plays and two on novels, the shortlist for 1966 is an impressive one. And quite a mixed bag, too. Everything from sweeping epic to intimate drama. Despite Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? leading the nominations race with thirteen citations, the Academy chose A Man for All...

Yesterday, my sweet beloved and I hopped on the Long Island Rail Road to visit some friends. Along our way, we passed a station frighteningly named Locust Manor before we disembarked at the pleasantly named Valley Stream to transfer to another service. Whilst waiting for the next train, we were treated to several recorded announcements reminding us to be train smart. Nothing unusual about that. Announcements of that nature are certainly commonplace. Except these ones all began with the sentence, "Hi, I'm Steve Guttenberg ." And it was indeed the voice of Sgt. Mahoney himself that proceeded to warn us of the possible death trap that is the gap between the platform and the train. Now, despite the fact that I have enjoyed several of Mr. Guttenberg's films, he does seem to hold the reputation of maintaining a less than illustrious career. So, I am left to ponder why he chose to lend his vocal talents to a series of public transport messages. Surely, even he does not beli...

What is it about spotting a celebrity in public that is so darn fascinating? It's a bit like seeing an animal in the wild. You don't want him to know he's been spotted for fear he may crawl back into his burrow. So, when you see him from a distance approaching, you surreptitiously elbow your wife and point your nose in his general direction, giggling like a schoolgirl. And yet, Greg Proops is just a person, like any other. He's not a god. But somehow, seeing him casually walking down the street, as I did yesterday, is still a minor thrill. I mean, hey, I've seen that guy on television! At the risk of revealing my geekishness, I've had several such thrills over the years, unsuccessfully photographing Joe Pantoliano at the baggage carousel, narrowly avoiding injury from Meryl Streep 's umbrella, accidentally pushing my wife into Alan Rickman , freezing F. Murray Abraham 's fingers with my cold handshake, being called a "tit man" by Toni Collett...

Before I begin today's instalment of Matt vs. the Academy, allow me this brief diatribe on the utter frustration that is pan and scan. I'm fairly certain I'm preaching to the choir, but for the uninitiated, pan and scan is that hackjob technique that, until recently, was commonly employed to convert the image of a widescreen film to conform to the squarish shape of most television sets. This visual deformation results in a film where the sides of people's faces inexplicably drop off the edge of the screen, camera moves are introduced into previously static scenes and the frame's composition is utterly destroyed. Reference this frame from The Music Man. The whole experience becomes all the more frustrating when viewed on a widescreen television, the square image leaving two black voids on either side of the screen. It's like watching the movie through a keyhole, constantly shifting your head to find the best view. Except someone else is controlling your head. A f...

Everyone has a film that they unconditionally adored during their childhood. You'd watch it over and over, and laugh or cry, or whatever you were meant to do, in all the right places. Now, as a fully grown adult, the nostalgia you feel for the film seems to overpower any critical thinking, and you simply won't have anyone speak ill of your favourite little filmy-wilmy. It's your film-baby. We all have one. Last night, my beautiful wife Kat introduced me to her film-baby, a whodunit farce entitled The Private Eyes. You may not have heard of it, and there's a fairly good reason for that. It stars Tim Conway and Don Knotts as a pair of bumbling detectives attempting to solve a series of murders at an English manor. It comes complete with all the comedy cliches, including a revolving false wall and even a "Walk this way" gag. But it was made in 1980, so I guess it's all forgivable. When the film ended, I was half expecting Kat to turn to me and say, "Hmm,...

Last night, I had a meeting with an actor's agent here in New York. It went well. I performed a monologue. We had a nice chat. And then it was over... I know I shouldn't expect anything to happen immediately. Perhaps I'm just too impatient. But in my head are visions of agents falling to their knees, waving contracts and begging me to sign with them on the spot. Surely, that's not an impossible scenario ... Okay, shutup. In any case, I was on the subway back home, in the midst of my failing attempt to ignore the grubby 11-year-old girl who seemed to be under the mistaken impression she was auditioning for a pole dancing club, when I began to fill my mind with great scenes from great movies. And I realised the other reason for beginning this project - I want to be in a great scene from a great movie. Not that this project will somehow lead me to that goal. I guess I just expect that there will be lots of great scenes for me to watch in the coming months. And I wasn't...