Matt vs. the Academy

It's the Labor Day weekend here in the United States and last night, my darling wife Kat and I attended a party with some friends. To make a long story short, I got a little intoxicated. Don't panic, I didn't embarrass myself (at least, I don't think I did) but I did suffer from some crazy dreams last night, no doubt induced by that hazy dehydration the human brain experiences when its owner has consumed too much alcohol and not enough water. I don't remember the details exactly, but I'm sure it had something to do with the films of 1939. A sign that I'm too obsessed with this project? No, probably just a sign that I shouldn't drink so much. Yesterday, before the imbibing began, I reached the halfway point of the 1939 Best Picture competition when I watched... Of Mice and Men Director : Lewis Milestone Screenplay : Eugene Solow (based on the novel by John Steinbeck) Starring : Burgess Meredith, Betty Field, Lon Chaney, Jr., Charles Bickford, Roman Bohnen...

A brief and inconsequential anecdote from today's journeys in the Big Apple: I was on the 5th floor of a building on 42nd Street, heading to the elevator to go back down to the lobby. There was already a woman waiting, and as I approached, the elevator doors opened, so I naturally just hopped in after her. She asked me, "What floor?" and I told her the lobby, simultaneously noticing that she had already pressed number "9". Oops. I hadn't bothered to check to see that the elevator I was stepping into was actually going down. And obviously it wasn't. She graciously pressed "1" for me as I uttered the clichéd joke about going along for the ride. But when we got to the 9th floor, she took half a step out, realised she'd forgotten something, stepped back in, pressed "5" and giggled with embarrassment. So, back we went to the 5th floor, she got out and I continued my ride down to the lobby. Going along for the ride, indeed. Nothing mean...

This marks the first time in the project that I have watched two films (and, therefore, made two posts) in the same day, something that may need to occur more often. As mentioned in my first post , to successfully meet my arbitrary deadline, I need to keep up a steady pace of at least six movies per week. A little over two weeks into the project and I'm already behind! I'm somewhat restricted by how quickly Netflix can send me my next DVD, but also by other circumstances, including a brief trip to Atlanta next week, where I may not have any access to DVD-playing devices, let alone the time. Thus, now I attempt to catch up, before I fall even further behind, by increasing the movie to day ratio. It's a hard life. Tonight, Kat and I watched another nominee from the 1939 Best Picture race... Goodbye, Mr. Chips Director : Sam Wood Screenplay : R.C. Sherriff, Claudine West and Eric Maschwitz (based on the novel by James Hilton) Starring : Robert Donat, Greer Garson, Paul Henreid...

Since I have an international audience (if I have an audience ... are you out there?), let me briefly ponder the differences in spelling between Australian English and American English. As an Australian, I correspondingly spell words using Australian English, which, presumably, is directly derivative of English English, so no further explanation needed. But now that I live in the United States, I am introduced to what is almost an entirely different language. Having been exposed to so much American culture as a child, I have been fully aware of most differences in spelling for quite some time, but I still wonder how things got changed in the first place. I mean, who on earth decided that Americans didn't require the use of the letter 'U' in certain words? And who first did the presto chango of the 'R' and the 'E' at the ends of other words? And why, oh why, does 'aluminium' lose an entire syllable? Was it all a result of the first Americans' hos...

As I launch into the Best Picture nominees of 1939, I am reminded of the stark differences between films from that era and films of today. There has been a great evolution in the art of cinema over the last seven decades. Acting has developed, directing has matured, but one of the most obvious transitions in my mind is that of the film score. It must have been an innovative composer, indeed, who first discovered that his orchestration did not need to consist entirely of instruments from the strings family. I mean, seriously, had composers in the golden years of Hollywood not heard of the flute or the oboe or the trombone? Or were violin manufacturers offering some kind of pay-per-use scheme? It seems almost every score in classic cinema is an oozing mishmash of stringsy drones and sighs. How on earth did people survive before rock and roll? Pardon the rant. Obviously, I'll need to wear my respectful film connoisseur hat when I watch these movies and accept that there were different...