Welcoming JerzeyStyle!

Over the river and through the Lincoln Tunnel to the Garden State we go. New Jersey: a bastion of cinematic excellence from Harold and Kumar to Kevin Smith to our newest foreign correspondent, JerzeyStyle. Here to report on the Oscar noms from a Wawa near you:

Ok. I'll admit it. I have gotten lazy. There was a time, way back when I had disposable income and disposable time, that I, like all my fellow film buffs, traipsed to the independent theaters and saw every move on the Oscar watch list. I made my little scorecard and patiently awaited the release that came with the envelope rip and announcement. I would get all hot and bothered when my favorite actor got snubbed (Jake Gyllenhaal's performance in Jarhead deserved a nomination at least) and gushed when the best film of the year actually took home the prize (the academy agreed that Chicago was "All That Jazz" despite its snub of Rob Marshall… we're here for you Rob).
But recently, I have felt… in a word… flaccid about the season's supposed masteripices. In fact, 2008 has left me feeling so limp that I fully stand behind the following statement: Transformers, Harry Potter and Enchanted are least more enjoyable and at best more relevant than the proto-violent, carnage-ridden no country, and socipathic, over-hyped Blood, which seem like little more than fodder to fill more xanax prescriptions. They are fun, exciting movies that look like they cost enough to warrant dropping a small fortune to see them . I don't want to talk about the walking train wreck of a performance that was supposedly Sweeney Todd. Where are the Chicagos, and Return of the Kings that used to make my little heart go pitter-pat? The listless offerings of this year's season stand as a reminder that rather than strike, the WGA should be poring over the next good screenplay.
I will say that there are some decent films. Juno is, if nothing else, a charming examination of life as a spunky pregnant teenaged post-millenial, though we're left wondering, why do casting directors think Jason Bateman is such a tool. The songs from Enchanted are gay enough to make the Pope don a tutu and dance the Macarena and worthy of their inclusion, albeit without the inclusions of its leading lady in the best actress category (her perforance was comparable if not better than both Zeta-Jones and Kidman in their respective musicals). Transformers is a shoe-in for best special effects considering half of the cast is entirely computer animated. I would love to see Bourne walk home with the editing award and am certain that the best reviewed film of the year – a story about rats cooking gourmet food (if you just dry-heaved, you aren't alone) will take home gold in February. I would love to see Michael Clayton before the ceremony and may actually try, but as for the rest, I say… go vote Academy. If you stand up to tradition it should be a fairly boring night: Daniel Day will beat Johnny Depp for "Wierdest MoFo in Hollywood", Juno will trounce The Coens and Anderson, because girls rule. And at the end of the night, we'll all roll over, have a cigarette and think, "God, this used to be a lot better…" And who knows, if the WGA is still on strike, it will all be over before we know it.
--JerzeyStyle