Results tagged “javierbardem”

Yes, they're overblown and sure, it's tiring to watch 4+ hours of Hollywood patting itself on the back, but it's the Academy Awards, fer fuckssake. We can't not watch Sunday's big show. From the red carpet fashion to the drawn-out musical numbers to the people-who've-died montage and the Academy's tribute to gaffers, the Oscars offer something for everyone. Plus, this year it's hosted by Jon Stewart and, though his comedy is not exactly made for Hollywood insiders, we still love that wee little funnyman. (Fact: Jon Stewart is approximately Oscar-sized.)

A couple of Seattlest haters and their friends went to the SIFF Cinema last night to check out the new Coen Bros. movie, which is still every bit as good as we already said it was when we saw it months ago. Lucky for us No Country for Old Men is more along the lines of vintage Coen masterpieces like Blood Simple and has absolutely nothing in common with the turd-arific misfires of their more recent crap, which might be the only sign of a loving and forgiving God than anything you're going to get out of the Coen's trademark brutal-ass nihilism. Warning to whiny pussies: Don't go see this movie if you're already depressed; it won't help.

Next up was Juno, the latest comedy from Jason Reitman. We loved his first feature, Thank You for Smoking, and had heard nothing but good buzz about this flick, which is kinda Knocked Up meets Superbad, if Judd Apatow stopped focusing so much on male friendships and paid more attention to the pregnant girl. As the titular acid-tongued, preggo high schooler, Ellen Page keeps on getting better and better, and the rest of the cast (JK Simmons, Allison Ranney, Jennifer Garner, and Jason Bateman, reunited here with his TV son, sweet baby Michael Cera) ain't no slouch neither. A couple minor quibbles: if anything the film is too cute by half. We don't need pop culture references for the sake of pop culture references: "No, It's Morgan Freeman. I'm here to collect some bones." And we certainly don't need a quirky folk song introducing every goddamn scene (Wes Anderson much?). Still, the film was ultimately very moving -- we always appreciate it when a foul-mouthed movie turns out to have some heart.

This weekend the National Weather service is calling for mid-70s to 80 degrees. You may want to recover from heatstroke by rehydrating in an air-conditioned theater with other bepinkenned Seattleites, and their melanin-endowed friends savoring their little moment of schadenfreude. (Here's the Seattle Times cheat sheet on the various venues.)

Holy schnikes, people. Is this a show or is this a show? Wait, we'll answer that for ya—yes on both counts. Of course, as with any highly-anticipated season finale, we did get a shocking plot twist: Turns out, Izzie's last name isn't Stevens at all. It's Kevorkian. Girl has gone bat-caca crazy, we are telling you. But boy-oh-boy are we enjoying the ride. And as much as we drool over, er, appreciate the artistic merits of the performance of (note to self: nice save!) Javier Bardem-lite, we're sorta rooting for his demise if only to see some more mega-dramatic moments. Though Izzie's please-please-please-don't-leave-me let-me-do-this-I'm-an-excellent-driver-dad-lets-me-drive slow-on-the-driveway-please-please-please-let-me-kill-you meltdown will be arguably tough to top.