Oscars and the Grouch: Tim’s Last-Minute Movie Marathon in LA
By Tim Basaraba
The Oscars are my Super Bowl, and I get real grumpy when the media consensus outside of Letterboxd or Twitter is, “No one has even seen any of these films! The Oscars and Hollywood in general are out of touch!” Out of touch with who? The moviegoing public? Maybe. Out of the top ten domestic grossing films of the year, only two are nominated for Best Picture—one being Dune: Part Two (2024), a film that will not win Best Picture and, more egregiously, a film whose director, Denis Villeneuve, wasn’t even nominated.
Some say the Academy is waiting to shower Villeneuve with praise once the third installment of his Frank Herbert adaptation wraps, but there are flaws in that hypothesis. Peter Jackson, who won Best Director for The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King (2003), was at least nominated for the first two films. Villeneuve? Snubbed. The other big moneymaker among nominees is Wicked (2024), an adaptation of an extremely popular Broadway musical. So the naysayers claim that the remaining eight nominated films are proof that the film industry is out of touch?
So the real beef with the Academy is over nominating A Complete Unknown, a Bob Dylan biopic; Conclave, a drama about the Catholic Church; The Substance, a horror film starring Demi Moore; Anora, Sean Baker’s latest; I’m Still Here, a Brazilian drama; Emilia Pérez, a musical available on Netflix; the ambitious Brutalist; and Nickel Boys. Combined, these eight films made $1 million less than Dune: Part Two and $150 million less than Wicked. Or, with some “Hollywood is out of touch” math, almost twice as many people saw Wicked and Dune: Part Two in theaters as the combined audience for the other eight Best Picture nominees. So maybe the Academy is out of touch with the zeitgeist?
Before I flew to LA to dog-sit for my sister-in-law, I had an opinion on the Best Picture discourse. But how could I truly weigh in when I had only seen seven of the ten nominees? I couldn’t. So I set out to rectify that.
Conclave
Before the title card hits the screen at 4 minutes and 34 seconds, I knew Conclave would be one of my favorite Oscar contenders. What sealed it for me was hearing three acting legends repeat a series of Latin phrases as the Pope lay dead in his bed. Then, in a sequence of well-edited shots, we see the contrast between the reverence for the Pope and the cold, hard reality of his jostling corpse being transported—his body now just an empty husk.
What follows is a two-hour reminder of an important lesson: We all die, and then someone takes our place.
Cardinals from around the world join the conclave to elect the next Pope, and for a film with very few locations and almost no “action,” Conclave is an incredibly tense and taut thriller. The three acting legends giving powerhouse performances as Cardinals vying for the papacy are Ralph Fiennes, Stanley Tucci, and John Lithgow. Actors wait their entire careers for roles like this, and it shows.
Fiennes, as Cardinal Lawrence, the Dean of the College of Cardinals, is especially gripping. From the opening scene, where his anguished face confirms his love for the late Pope, to his stoic questioning of would-be Popes, he delivers a masterclass in catch and release. (No, not in fishing—but in catching our attention, letting tension build, and releasing it with quiet tenderness.)
The rest of the ensemble holds their own, especially the original “Nepo Baby” Isabella Rossellini and Lucian Msamati as Cardinal Adeyemi. Both play pivotal roles, and without their strong performances, the film might have faltered by the second act.
Though the acting is impressive and the script is near-perfect (a lock for Adapted Screenplay), the real standouts are the blocking and set design. Every shot has purpose. As characters navigate cold yet colorful spaces, I couldn’t help but be reminded of the tableaus in The Color of Pomegranates (1969) and The Holy Mountain (1973). The beauty of each set, paired with choices in lens, angle, and a lack of camera movement, made some scenes so breathtaking I often missed important dialogue.
Conclave has been in theaters for over four months, and if you haven’t made it out to see it by now, chances are you won’t. Fortunately, it’s also available on everyone’s sixth-favorite streaming service, Peacock. It pained me to watch an Oscar-nominated film at home, but at least I had the luxury of rewinding.
I’m Still Here
The AMC 8 at the Burbank Mall is a quaint throwback to small theaters—each room probably seats only 40 people. With its beautiful red velvet drapery, I was impressed.
I was there to see I’m Still Here, an Oscar-nominated Brazilian drama and, inadvertently, the catalyst for the Emilia Pérez controversy.
Like Emilia Pérez, this film takes place south of the U.S. border—though not in Mexico, but Brazil. And like Emilia Pérez, it focuses on injustices: the drug cartel in Pérez and the 1970s dictatorship in I’m Still Here.
But where Pérez inexplicably breaks into song, I’m Still Here takes a quieter approach. Its star, Fernanda Torres, delivers a measured, stoic performance that could very well earn her the Oscar for Best Actress. She plays Eunice Pavia, the matriarch of a large Brazilian family building a home in the shadow of the Christ the Redeemer statue.
The first act is near-perfect, setting up the family dynamics with warmth and tenderness. Just when the film might veer into outright melodrama, the director takes an inspired approach: Vera, the eldest daughter, films the family on Super 8mm. These sequences, complete with a shifting aspect ratio, vintage film grain, and carefully chosen music, give an emotional depth that transcends dialogue.
But the film loses some of that magic in the second act when Vera goes to school in London, and we descend into suffering. With Eunice’s husband unlawfully detained and his whereabouts unknown, the film leans into The Passion of the Eunice Pavia. And while the film differs from If Beale Street Could Talk (2018) and Just Mercy (2019), it doesn’t reach their emotional heights.
By the time we hit multiple time jumps in the final act, I was exhausted. Instead of leaving on a high note, I left feeling worn down. I’m Still Here is still worth seeing, and Torres may very well take home the Oscar, but it’s still only my second-favorite film with that title.
Nickel Boys and the End of My Oscar Journey
I had every intention of seeing Nickel Boys at The Grove on Saturday, but after Conclave and I’m Still Here, I needed to refill my joy cup. Instead, I found myself at The Improv watching Esther Povitsky, Rick Glassman, and Ian Edwards kill on stage.
I will be seeing Nickel Boys Wednesday night, just days before the Oscars, with one of my best friends—maybe we weep together? Full review coming soon, but let’s be honest, it has no chance of winning Best Picture. It made the least money of all nominees, raking in a measly $1.2 million.
So maybe the Oscars are out of touch? Nope. Just refined tastes from refined people.
So says the grouch.