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Time to grow up, Hollywood.

Anyone else feel The Academy Awards are old fashioned? Outdated? Irrelevant? Then you're not alone. Many people are already subscribing to this school of thought and I think I'm about to sign up.

This year's Official list of Nominees was released Monday and I was shocked at several glaring omissions, and a couple of zany inclusions-- all of which completely upstaged the decent, and pleasantly surprising nominations.

I'll start with the good before the bad...

Most impressive was Nick Nolte being recognized for excellent work in Warrior, which could be simply described as the MMA version of The Fighter, or more specifically pitched as a look at the bond between two estranged brothers whose metaphorical conflict becomes literal after a long journey to the climax during which they must first battle their own demons. With Nick Nolte in it. I was afraid that, because of the subject matter ("Another fight movie!? Who wants to see that...") it would be overlooked. I was wrong, and couldn't be happier. Easily his best recent performance, even managing to steal scenes from an excellent (and abrasive) Tom Hardy.

Rooney Mara for The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo was another pleasant surprise considering the shadow of Noomi Rapace's performance of the same role in a previous adaptation. The fact that she was able to make me forget about any other incarnation of Lisbeth Salander is impressive, and I'm glad it was recognized despite the fact this excellently constructed film is missing from so many other categories.

From here, I think I'm going to get nasty...
A couple years ago they changed the number of Best Picture nominees from five to ten so that they could give more films a chance. This move was quite foolish because it convoluted the voting pool, but there was justification in that they wanted to include more 'popular' films. More commercial affairs. So where the hell was Harry Potter And The Deathly Hallows Pt2? Not typical best picture material, no, but if you're going to do this so that you could nominate popular movies, why not something that was a solid inclusion in its genre/ frenchise? Where are said popular movies, Academy!? Not only that, but they didn't even nominate ten this year. After aaaallll that, they only put nine into the official running for 2011....

SO WHERE THE FUCK WAS DRIVE!?

It took me a while of scanning the list again and again before I realized that this exquisitely constructed, POPULAR film that has been sweeping awards in several different festivals, was completely ignored in every category but sound editing. Nicolas Winding Refn for best director? Nope. Ryan Gosling for best Actor? Nope. Carey Mulligan for Actress (or supporting, even?). Nope. Even Bryan Cranston or Albert Brooks for best Supporting Actor (I'd stand behind either, but Brooks takes the cake playing completely against-type).

Far too cool, I s'pose.

Drive is definitely that 10th movie, and I've got a theory. It's not new, but I need to vent because it's silly. But we'll get to that shortly...

...because we all live in a world where Michael Fassbender is nominated for nothing despite the fact he worked his arse off this year, featured lead and supporting in several flicks, and got no recognition at all for any of it. I figured Shame would be pure Oscar fodder considering its deep digging into human desire and emotions with raw performances by a small cast, but alas I was wrong. Apparently they don't like inappropriate nudity, or sexuality.

Certainly not. Not even a little.

But a few years ago The Reader was nominated. (Instead of The Dark Knight, I might add, which was a commercially and critically successful film. In fact they say that's the reason we now have 10 slots. Or had, I guess.)

Extremely Loud And Incredibly Close made it this year, though. I have no idea what this movie is about except Tom Hanks is in it for a little while and the preview I saw was incredibly dull.
The poor thing has a 6.3 on IMDB.
47% on Rotten Tomatoes.

Yeah Academy, REALLY popular choice there dicksmacks.

I'm sorry. I'm possibly not being fair-- maybe Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close is a good movie? But if you're going to ditch the 10 nominees, opt for only 9 for some reason, then how the hell does this film get on instead of Drive? Girl With The Dragon Tattoo? The Adventures Of Tintin? It seems callous to leave that 10th nomination bare when there are so many that could fill its void. They don't even have to win, guys. People say all the time 'To be nominated is enough.' (That's what Scott Rudin is writing in his diary over and over I'm sure.)

And speaking of Tintin...
Puss In Boots, yes? But not the animated film that was several years in the making and provided some awesome advances in motion tracking technology.
I could puke.
We're in the same place now, in terms of the animated category, that we were a few years ago when traditional animation was waning and digital was beginning to occupy the forefront. When do we start embracing the fact that this is animation, too? And what's more, it's not just voice acting any more but real people embodying the animated characters!? It's just another push forward.

This guy worked to record his voice in a studio for two weeks and posed for this picture. He is now getting more recognition than...

These guys, who spent a couple months putting on the tight suits and actually acting their roles.

AND SPEAKING OF MOTION CAPTURE... Andy Serkis (right, above) not being recognized for his work on Rise Of The Planet Of The Apes (a surprise hit) is a crying shame, and one that will be regretted in a few years when all current Academy members are dead and gone, and forward thinking young new professionals will take their place and MAYBE, just maybe the Academy Awards will reclaim their relevancy in the world when it comes to recognizing quality flicks... sorry, rant. What I meant to say is that it will be regretted in a few years time when industry professionals recognize mo-cap as a legitimate acting form at which Andy Serkis is at the forefront, and rocking it.

Whatever Nomination system they have now is clearly inadequate and broken, governed by old purists who can't handle Ryan Gosling impaling some guy's head.

But this was OK in 1996? Huh?

A few hundred years ago all parts were played by men, on a stage. We've kind of come a long way since then in terms of acting, storytelling, writing, technology... but apparently not very much in mentality.

Change in this industry should be encouraged! I'm well aware none of the above happened overnight but lately we seem to be moving at a snail's pace when it comes to seeing past the barrier of perceived smut, placed in the way by old traditions.

I think it's time that the Academy start embracing the paradigm shifts currently ongoing in the industry in which it's trying to promote and recognize quality and innovation. Contemporary quality films are not 'safe' any more by the standards of old conservative academy members who outnumber the recent inductees.

It is indeed time for Hollywood to mature a little. Something needs to change to compliment the times. A new voting system, maybe? People's Choice? There are a billion options, I'm sure. Grow up, guys. Michael Fassbender has a penis. BIG DEAL. You constantly nominate (and award) girls who take their tops off for roles, why not a man who drops trou?

Was his bigger than yours?

It's sexist, elitist little stuff like that which will take away the credibility of a once prestigious award and drop it to a point where a Razzie has more clout.

Please, no more?

One could say that the studios presiding over the aforementioned snubs are to blame for not properly promoting their films as options for nominations, 'for your consideration'. Is that kind of promotion a requirement*? Or is it too much to ask that academy members watch good movies as professionals who know their industry?

Will anyone kick up a stink, I wonder?
Peter Travers of Rolling Stone Magazine already has, and seems to share many of my thoughts. Or do I share his? How does that work, if he's the more popular guy?

I'd love to see an issue made of all this. But I know it won't. The Oscars are set in their ways for decades to come, and I'll just have to resign to this fact and let it happen.

Will I watch this year? (which always seems to be the ultimate question)
Yes. Because Billy Crystal is not to be missed. He's the only man I know who could possibly bring life to this year's ceremony, and that'll be refreshing after Ricky Gervais' dull (oddly preserved) turn at the Golden Globes.

But will any of it matter to me, like it used to?
Likely not.

What is 'Lost'

...outside of a great TV show?

There's something to be said about it. Getting lost.

In time!?
(Cardiff, Wales^)

I imagine that, in days past, such a thing would be a more serious affair for me. But the fact is that I do it an awful lot, mostly by getting on the wrong bus. Happened in St John's a LOT. But I learned never to do it again, and even more useful: I learned my way around. If I ever caught the wrong bus at the end of a shift, I'd hop off and retrace the steps until I got myself home. I didn't know St John's before moving there, but you can be damned sure I knew my way around after I left, and that was all completely by accident.
Lots of experimentation, too. "Hey, I'll try going this way today! See if I end up anywhere familiar!" So I would. And I did. Caught the wrong bus around town a few times, made note of some landmarks, and voila.
In fact, I think half my knowledge of the geography of St John's comes from accidental bus rides.

Cut to London.

Don't we all wish we just 'could'

I was here once before with a friend way back in '08. He knew his way around. I followed his lead and before long, I was leading. Four years later I come back, and first thing I do is look at a map (no, that's not cheating) and take note of where I need to go, and it's location relative to where I've already been. Then I re-acquaint myself with the tube. Done in an instant.
Bam, I know my way around.
But to be fair, I'm more used to it on the tube... what to do there?
Well, I get out of a show early... so I decide to walk. Get lost, and find my way. Again, it's knowing where to go relative to where I am... not hard. I'm somewhat of a directional aficionado.

Cut to my return from Cardiff.

Perhaps a Church will give me direction?

I get the rail back, try to connect from Liverpool to Harlow Mill.
Not happening, engineering delays. Line is cut.
Ok, I have to take the bus.

Thrilled.

Guy at the ticket counter tells me what train to get so I might connect with a bus. Naturally, in true style, I get on the wrong one.
This put me in all kind of unfamiliar places tonight. I said I was 'lost'. I was, really, but I put my trust in others who knew where I was going-- the kindly National Rail UK folks.
And now I know how to navigate the rail-replacement bus system from London to Harlow.

Keep going. Find a landmark. Look at the sun. Find a body of water. Trust in others. Never Panic.

There's a metaphor in all these stories but I can't think of a single one. Just apply it to your life like a good little reader, eh?

Now I'm patiently waiting for my Sister to come visit tomorrow. It's been some time since she last visited London, so I'm giving lots of advice. Maybe too much. What I don't know, I ask about (another important tool in the lost-man's arsenal, as previously demonstrated.) but for the most part, it's just one tiny detail of transportation. Which I guess isn't all that tiny.

So.. where was I?
Oh right, there's something to be said about getting lost.
Do it. Do it often. Find your way again and it'll help you gain a little more perspective during your travels. Or life in general.

So to answer the title, 'lost' is a great means of finding your way, if you let it.

And that's all for now. I'm going to find my way to my bed.

Dreamy

Three days' charm

Friday's a mess. As much as I'd like to blog about it I actually cannot remember the correct sequence of events, because I really only got an hour of sleep (at most) between 10am NL time and 9:30pm UK time. Whatever span that is...
I can try and jot note it.
Arrival in the UK.
Baggage claim. Realizing, ten minutes off the plane, that I'd left my gloves and hat onboard. Whoops.
Drive to Harlow. Very scenic, very confusing. Sleep a little more... but not much.
Arrival. Heartfelt hellos. Quick tour. Settle in to room. Get layout of campus.
Sign in officially as residents/ students.
Get changed. Make plans to find phonestuffs.
Marquis.
More Hellos
Journey to Tesco.
Getting lost on the way to Tesco.
Finding Tesco.
Not understanding how their phones work.
Getting directions to an actual reliable phone dealer.
Finding phone dealer.
Getting SIM card, balking at how very easy it is. I'll interrupt the flow to point out that I could have bought a phone at the GROCERY STORE, gotten a free SIM by doing so, then topped up my account as I went along while here, activated BBM+ Social networking, for WAY cheaper than it cost me to Jailbreak+Continue to pay monthly BellAliant fees. If ever there was a bloodsucking coorporation that cared nothing about its loyal customers and their convenience, it's BellAliant.
Back to Tesco.
Stock up on Wine.
Campus.
Exhaustion hits like a brick. By the time we sit down for Friday supper in the Caf, I am way gone.. and yet somehow manage to stay awake for...
Hangouts and catch-up chats with classmates in the kitchen.
Marquis again.
More amazing albeit tired chats.
Worst variation of Nachos ever.
Campus.
Unpack, fall assleep by 9:30
Wake up thinking it's the next morning and everyone is going to the kitchen (right next to my room) for breakfast. Walk in to see that it is still night and everyone is coming in with their drunk snacks. It is only 12:30.
Pass out again...

Until Saturday morning, when my wonderful friends had to knock twice to finally rouse my out of bed for our first Orienteering trip to London.

This is my second time in England's expansive capital, and I think the only difference is my personal growth in the subsequent years between then and now. Whole different interests, whole different attitude.

What a town. Or city, if you prefer.

Camden market was visited, things were bought. Pizza was consumed. Yadda yadda... the tube was confusing but got easier as time passed. Like riding a bicycle.

The real highlight came when myself and two classmates sat down in the queue to wait for return tickets to see the hottest ticket in town right now, "Jerusalem".

We started around 3:00 with two ladies already ahead of us. One had been waiting since one o'clock, the other since shortly before us. Apparently this is the norm for must-see productions of this kind, and the stakes were even higher considering this particular gem is a little less than a week away from closing.

Showtime was 7:30pm. The game, it was afoot.

For those of you who don't know, Queueing for returns is when people line up outside the theatre doors in the hopes that someone will return their ticket for the upcoming days' performance. Usually people don't return 'till the last minute, but obviously you want to be as far in the front as possible because there is never any kind of guarantee of any tickets at all for the night's sell-out show. So on this brisk London day, the three of us (soon thereafter joined by a fourth) plunkered down to take the chance of seeing it... or not seeing it, a completely plausible outcome. We took turns standing in line or exploring in shifts, never leaving less than 2 behind - usually 3. I'm not sure how unique this experience of London was, but for my first day (and potentially my first play) I wouldn't have had it any other way because in such a constantly moving city, I witnessed so many and so much from this limited vantage point. I could have read, but instead we talked and watched as the bustle hustled past us.

Truly amazing. Try it sometime.

The queue grew steadily behind us to include another 8 or so people with the same aspirations as us. As the time grew closer we began to devise contingency plans to see other plays, juuuuustincase it didn't work out. Lucky for us there are plenty more great pieces playing around any corner in the West End, and I was totally fine with seeing any one of them. I might have even tried my hand at the VUE's IMAX. That's the luxury of London, so far as I can tell right now... always another option around the corner. A plan is appropriate but you can always deviate.

Come 7:00, and the returns begin to arrive. The first was not actually from the theatre, but from a man who personally went directly to the first person in the Queue and offered her the seat himself. That seemed like such an amazing gesture to me.

Then another; the lady directly before us was so ecstatic when the box-office attendant came out holding the piece of paper, we were all agreed that it didn't matter whether we saw the show or not because the experience was enough.

Then we came up with an order of priority, just in-case.
Because I took first shift in the line I was told to take the first to come out, but I figured that at 7:10, if any more came out that would be it. I wanted to share this experience, and waiting again come Tuesday or Wednesday was entirely OK. So Margaret went first. Then Samuel, then myself, then Melissa.

Around 7:15, a ticket came for Margaret. Baclony, second from the front. Prime spot. Hugs, and she was off.

More time passed. 7:20, and the attendant walked up with not one, but two more tickets. Samuel and I were in. A heartfelt 'good luck' to Melissa and we entered, paying the outrageous price without consideration, and descended to the entrance, and ending up in our seats at the back of the stalls.

Around 7:27-- after the bells, minutes before the play began, we spied Melissa running in behind a woman. She'd made it, and landed a pretty wicked spot closer to the front than us. Turns out this lady's friend hadn't arrived, so rather than let the seat go to waste she'd checked the Queue same as the first man. Melissa was the last person to make it in from that line up.

We all got in.

Show ends, and We make our way back to Liverpool Station all by our lonesome, successfully navigating the tubes in time for the second last train heading north to Harlow.

Amazing night, to say the least.

Reconnect with Margaret (who had made her own way back) and discuss the play.

Sleep.
Sleep in, in fact. Breakfast at the Marquis, grocery shopping, then it's into the schoolwork- re-reading 'Scorched', finding a monologue for tomorrow's Masterclass... and now.

A review of 'Jerusalem' will come shortly.

And apologies for being so vague in this post, but I tried to cover a lot and couldn't remember a lot. Should be fresher from now on.




Also, Soy Chocolate Milk is quite good. I recommend it.

As the iPod charges...

... I'll take a quick break from nothing to elaborate on yesterday's tweet:
"Ok, so I'm not actually on a plane right now. To answer the inevitable questions: for once it was not Air Canada's fault, but my own", which was the last from my phone-- now prematurely disconnected by Bell-Aliant, a service I arranged previous to my trip because I thought I'd be leaving for the UK by January 4th.

As a 4th year student in Grenfell's Theatre Program, the trip to Harlow is a required part of our degree. We do not, however, always go as a unit. More recently, students who could afford the extra trip have taken to European destinations for new years before beginning the term. Our presiding professor did, however, recommend certain flights to take very early on and, not being able to foresee affording Amsterdam, the latest New Year's destination, I opted to follow his suggested flights and booked without really consulting anyone else. I'm a one-man wolf pack.

Not having a credit card at the time I booked through my sister Dawn. This was payed for and confirmed September 29th, and I spent the next three months anticipating and preparing for a January 4th departing date. 4:10 flight from Deer Lake to Halifax. Whoopee!
I arranged to be done work by then.
I arranged for my phone service to be cut by then until February 26th, my return.
I told my landlord I'd be outta town by then, and moved home the night before, accordingly, to pack like mad.
I was leaving January 4th according to everyone on Twitter and Facebook. I was pumping myself up for the trip to come.

Wake up the morning of Wednesday, January 4th, and all is calm. I have a few things left to throw into the carry-on bag, a few notes to leave behind for the cast of my film 'The Boys', and then I was off. Forecast called for 5cms of snow.

everything was going according to plan. AND THEN

By the time I finished delivering the notes where they would be found, the snow was coming down a little more heavily than anticipated.
Ok, better get on the road a little sooner...

By the time I got home, the roads were in pretty terrible condition. Mother was freaking out a little, and insisting we get on the road sooner than later. I shower, throw on my planned travel gear, and try very quickly to fill the carry-on with my intended items.

Snow gets heavier. Fears rise. As do tensions. Doors are slammed, voices are raise. In the end, though, all passengers are in the mazda and ready to go by 1:30, the pre-ordained time of departure from Corner Brook.

In the meantime, Ma had called Pa to see if my flight was on-time. He was in Deer Lake working, nipped over for a glance at the board, and confirmed it was on-schedule.

We gas up, and leave.
But the highway is not at all pretty. Unplowed. Incredibly slippery ice. Mother is not impressed. Father senses this and opts to meet us halfway in Little Rapids and drive us the rest of the way. The normally 30 minute drive takes us somewhere close to 50, but we arrive safely at the departures gate.

Go inside, line is long. Get at the back of it. Some people tell me I am in the wrong line. Go to the right one, which is thankfully shorter. Wait.

While in the queue up I try with great effort to stuff little odds and knick nacks into what free space is left in the checked baggage. A line grows behind me.

Get to the desk, finally, after so many agonizing hours of apprehension and so many months of excitement. I'm finally going!

I tell the attendant my name is 'Butt', B-U-T-T.
Butt is not on this flight.
Ryan Butt.
...nope, nothing. What flight are you on?
(I check my email...) Triple-eight five for Halifax, final destination Heathrow.
(typing, pause) My love, there's no triple-eight five today (another pause) That's tomorrow.

In retrospect, I have no idea how it could have happened. My sister and I are both very observant people. My Father went to the airport, saw that the flight to Halifax was on-time, and that was enough for me. Never did it occur that we had the date wrong.

In all the times I checked the flight confirmation emails to make sure that 16:10 was the departure time, I never checked to make sure I had the anticipated DATE right.

THE DATE.

I doubt that my face has at any point in my 22+ years been redder.

The attendant made a quip about how excited I must be to get going, printed off my itenirary, and sent me on my way.

Upon checking with Dawn, she is as dumbfounded as I am. As I drive home, again in the storm, she checks old emails and digs up the initial forward from my prof, telling us that the only best available date to fly Hali-Heath was the 5th. So that's what was booked, from the beginning.

For the last three months I have been living a very foolish lie.



I wake up this morning. Make breakfast. Fix the packing problems I'd been so stressed to do in a rush yesterday. Watch a bit of 'Sherlock'. Dad drives me to the airport. I'm a full 2 hours early and, as it happens, manage to make an earlier flight to Halifax because of this example of over-punctuality. Today's attendant quickly changes my luggage tags, I bag the hiking pack, and run to make the flight. Empty pockets, skip through security, re-dress, and run to the gate...

...where yesterday's quipy attendant recognizes me from the day before.

"Here you were yesterday ready to go, now you're late! (newfie-nod)Tsk tsk, my goodness..."

See you later, Newfoundland.