My choices are noted with a ★. Historical Oscar winners are noted with a ✔.
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What are the Katie-Bar-The-Door Awards?
Named for Katie-Bar-The-Door, the Katies are "alternate Oscars"—who should have been nominated, who should have won—but really they're just an excuse to write a history of the movies from the Silent Era to the present day.
To see a list of nominees and winners by decade, as well as links to my essays about them, click the highlighted links:
1888-1927
1927-1939
1940s
1950s
1960s
1970s
1980s
1990s
2000s
2010s
Remember: There are no wrong answers, only movies you haven't seen yet.
The Silent Oscars
And don't forget to check out the Silent Oscars—my year-by-year choices for best picture, director and all four acting categories for the pre-Oscar years, 1902-1927.
About Me
- Mythical Monkey
- Look at me—Joe College, with a touch of arthritis. Are my eyes really brown? Uh, no, they're green. Would we have the nerve to dive into the icy water and save a person from drowning? That's a key question. I, of course, can't swim, so I never have to face it. Say, haven't you anything better to do than to keep popping in here early every morning and asking a lot of fool questions?
What is a Mythical Monkey?
An infinite number of monkeys typing at an infinite number of typewriters for an infinite amount of time will eventually produce Shakespeare's Hamlet.
This is the blog of one such monkey.
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10 comments:
In case somebody drops a line complaining that I only nominated JFK in one category, I'll just go ahead and say that while I enjoy a paranoid thriller about the Kennedy assassination as much as the next guy (e.g., James Ellroy's American Tabloid), I find Oliver Stone's JFK a tedious bore filled with some of the worst scenery chewing of the decade.
So no soup for you.
But, but. . . . The president dIED. Or so they tell us
Ah, but Bubba Ho-Tep clearly established that he didn't die ...
Bubba Ho-Tep is a documentary. . . .
Apropos of zilch, I find that I don't much like any of the movies [even mentioned] since about 1986. I've seen most of the stuff you include in the polls, but my first feeling when reading a title or performers name is one of mild nausea. . . .
I'm missing an apostrophe
I find that I don't much like any of the movies [even mentioned] since about 1986
So I went back and looked at the list of movies I nominated in any category for the years 1986 to 1991. These are the only ones I've watched in, say, the last three years:
Miller's Crossing
Quigley Down Under
Bull Durham
Die Hard
The Princess Bride
Aliens
There are other nominees I like, but don't own and haven't stumbled recently.
my first feeling when reading a title or performers name is one of mild nausea
I find bread, milk and processed sugar give me a feeling of nausea (from mild to severe) since my surgery. Hopefully, that's going to clear up with time. But I had some cheese and crackers two weeks ago that left me with my head in the toilet for an hour!
I'm missing an apostrophe
I'm missing an esophagus. For the first time in my entire life, I know what it feels like to not be hungry. I think I could go all day without eating.
I had a conversation Saturday night at the neighbors where, after the obligatory inquiries after my health, didn't include me spouting about my ex-cancer for, like, an hour. I'm hoping to work up to days then weeks and maybe months and years without thinking about it.
In the meantime, yawn ...
stumbled recently
stumbled across recently
I can talk about cancer 'til the cows come home.
Which is a long time, since no cows have come home in my world since, like, forever.
Michele and I watched Quigley Down Under recently, and I had to bail out. I remembered liking it, but I couldn't stick.
I can watch some scenes in Bull Durham over and over, but the movie has too many scenes that make me want to enlist in the Curacaoan army.
Die Hard was suddenly on a television screen near me, and I watched for a long time. I found it cartoonishly entertaining, and still wanted to climb into the set and beat the shit out of the feds.
On the other hand, I went to see When You Read This Letter, a 1953 melodrama helmed by Melville. It was trite, tawdry, and still . . . just great. Spolier alert -- the nuns killed the aliens!
I will be seeing you quite soon. I doubt we'll meet up in the Red Porch, as neither of us wants to go there at this time. I fear it will rain. May God look after you, and fear you. For you are the Monkey.
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