Four Down, One to Go...

So I saw Slumdog Millionare Friday night.

For the first time in my personal history of watching the Academy Awards, I am honestly divided over which movie I will root for for Best Picture of the Year. For the past five years or so, I have stopped reading most of the pre-Oscar discussion in the media. I've found that ultimately no one really knows anything; after all is said and done, and all the hostile and ardent bidding complete, no one remembers who thought was going to win. Case in point, a few years back, before the Grammy's (and I probably rememeber this because I don't tend to follow the Grammy's) the only artists the publications would talk about were Bruce Springsteen and Eminem. Norah Jones won and it essentially launched her career.

All this to say, I honestly have no idea who is "favored" this year for the Oscar. But I imagine that Slumdog Millionare is near the top. I would also imagine that The Reader is probably not near the top, given it's leaning toward being a more intimate film.

But both films are stunning examples of what can be done with the medium. And both have left me thinking about them for more hours than I might want to admit. The Reader is impressive because it is visually stunning and ninety-percent of it is cobble-stone and crappy apartment and 1960's German courthouse. The dialogue is impressive because it is so sparce at the end, and yet my head was swiming with thought, filling in those silences. Slumdog Millionare moves quickly on all levels and yet maintains a gentle intimacy in the face of horrible circumstances.

Tomorrow I'm off to see The Curious Case of Benjamin Button. I can't say I have great expectations - seems awfully cutesy to me - but I'm going with my mom, who sparked the whole thing years ago when she took my brother and I to see everything.