Salma Hayek must have been up at three in order to look as good as she did for the press conference announcing the Oscar nominations, which is held at 5:30 PST in order to dominate the day’s news on the East Coast … and even so, she looked kind of groggy, like she’d nodded off in the makeup chair just moments earlier.

Hell, maybe she thought she was still dreaming, being present at the biggest rally of Mexican talent in the history of the Academy Awards. With the not-so-curious excision of “Dreamgirls” from most of the major categories — clearly, it was supplanted in Oscar’s kitsch slot by “Little Miss Sunshine”, though it still managed to pick up a total of eight nominations — Alejandro Gonzalez Inarritu’s “Babel” became this year’s dominant force, with nominations for Picture, Director, Screenplay and two Supporting Actress nods, for Adriano Barazza and Rinko Kikuchi.

Meanwhile, Alfonso Cuaron’s “Children of Men” and Guillermo del Toro’s “Pan’s Labyrinth” — probably the two best films of 2006, each of them far superior to Inarritu’s festival of artfully lit misery porn — had to settle for consolation prizes. But those prizes are still fairly impressive: “Pan’s Labyrinth” is up for no less than six statuettes, including Best Foreign-Language Film and Best Original Screenplay; that’s more than just the pat on the head the Academy has offered to most critical favorites in the past, that’s genuine recognition.

(More discourse after the jump.)

Continue reading How ‘Bout Them Oscars? →

Here’s my Metro review of “The Hitcher“, producer-demon Michael Bay’s latest attempt to cash in on the horror remake trend. It’s about as successful as his “Texas Chainsaw Massacre” pictures, which is to say it’s extremely violent, logistically questionable and — when you get right down to it — entirely unnecessary.

The original “Hitcher” is not a great movie, but it lingers well in the mind — the dynamic between Rutger Hauer and C. Thomas Howell is charged with homoeroticism as well as sadism, Eric Red’s script slithers along with the implacable logic of a nightmare and the violence, when it comes, is genuinely shocking.

None of that made it into the new version. It’s just wall-to-wall screeching tires and screaming victims, with Sean Bean stalking a couple of fresh-faced idiots across New Mexico, killing everyone with whom they make eye contact. There are a couple of boo! moments, but no real scares. This is what the kids are looking for in a horror movie nowadays?

Well, maybe not: It seems “The Hitcher” came in fourth at the box office over the weekend, behind “Stomp the Yard”, “Night at the Museum” and “Dreamgirls”, respectively. Maybe the kids stayed home and spun up the DVD of the original film. About half an hour in, that’s what I wished I’d done.

The Academy Award nominations are announced on Tuesday, which means the studios are playing it safe this weekend — widening the runs of a couple of likely honorees (like “Pan’s Labyrinth” and “Letters from Iwo Jima”), and bringing back a few Golden Globe successes (like “The Last King of Scotland”, which roars back onto screens after Forest Whitaker’s Best Actor – Drama award, and “Babel”, which expands considerably in the wake of its Best Picture – Drama win).

Also, there’s the week’s requisite dead-zone genre picture; today, it’s “The Hitcher”, which didn’t screen for critics until last night and therefore avoids a slew of opening-day reviews that will call it unnecessary, superficial and silly. (Don’t worry, I’ll be using those terms on Monday.)

And then, tucked away in small runs, there are two very good little movies:

“13 Tzameti“: In Gela Babluani’s striking debut, a young man (the director’s brother George) sees an opportunity for a big score and winds up trapped in a terrifying nightmare. Don’t watch the trailer, don’t read any other reviews, don’t even look at the poster — just go down to the Royal, buy a ticket and strap yourself in.

“Venus“: Age has not dulled Peter O’Toole’s magnificent screen presence, and he makes the most of his sympathetic wobbliness in this only slightly trite drama about a decrepit actor who’s smitten with a comely — if rather obnoxious — young woman. Director Roger Michell packs the film with marvelous performances: There’s Vanessa Redgrave as O’Toole’s tolerant ex, Leslie Phillips and Richard Griffiths turn up as O’Toole’s fellow luvvies, and newcomer Jodie Whittaker very nearly steals the picture as his yawpy crush object.

Also opening this week is “This Film is Not Yet Rated”, which Rick reviewed for Metro and therefore slipped past me. But since Mongrel’s releasing the DVD in a couple of weeks, I expect I’ll see it soon enough.

Home for twelve hours, and I’m already racing to catch up with myself — CTV NewsNet is having me on in the 10:30 AM block to discuss the Golden Globes, which means I have to get there in about fifteen minutes. So, well, check it out if you’ve got cable. In the Toronto area, Rogers subscribers can find it on channel 62.

And as far as the Globes … “Babel”? “Dreamgirls”? Really?

The Palm Springs film festival, she is concluded, and we have our winners:

Best Foreign Language Film

Pan’s Labyrinth, directed by Guillermo del Toro

Best Actor

Mads Mikkelsen, “After the Wedding”

Best Actress

Blanca Lewin, “In Bed”

You can find more specific coverage, including my expanded review of “Pan’s Labyrinth”, as it goes up at the FIPRESCI site. Now, however, it is time to crawl into bed and get as much sleep as we can before the obscenely early wake-up call, and then it’s off to Toronto with the customary bagful of American candy.

(It turns out they still sell mint chocolate M&Ms at Christmas … just not in Canada. But now they’re really cheap!)

I am such a six-year-old sometimes. But a six-year-old who gives prizes.

Sure, I’m on the other side of the continent, but the world keeps turning, and there are plenty of movies opening this week.

“Arthur and the Invisibles“: The ascent of one-note child actor Freddie Highmore may finally be thwarted with the release Luc Besson’s messy, spastic kid’s film, in which Highmore discovers a magical world of computer-generated elves in his grandparents’ backyard, or something. Creepy auteurist note: The love interest voiced by Madonna is a dead ringer for Milla Jovovich in Besson’s “The Fifth Element”. Eew.

“Fired!“: A personal documentary from actor Annabelle Gurwitch, who got fired from a Woody Allen play and turned them lemons into lemonade (and a profitable franchise; there’s also a “Fired!” book and a stage show). At the Royal through Monday; tonight’s screening also serves as a book launch.

“Letters from Iwo Jima“: Clint Eastwood’s bookend to “Flags of Our Fathers” has an intimacy and a focus that eluded its predecessor, suggesting that this is the movie Eastwood wanted to make all along, and the other was just a contractual obligation. Moody and slow and heartbreaking, and beautiful to regard … it’s got “boffo box office” written all over it!

“Miss Potter“: Beatrix Potter spent her days playing with her imaginary friends and telling her stuffy parents she didn’t need to marry. Charming fantasist or unmedicated schizophrenic? Chris Noonan’s fluffy, pointless costume drama is hell-bent on selling us the former interpretation, with Renee Zellweger bustling about while Ewan McGregor and Emily Watson look on admiringly.

“Stomp the Yard“: What would happen if you threw “Footloose”, “Rize” and “You Got Served” into a blender? Finally, we have an answer to the question that’s haunted America for years …

Catching “Primeval” today or tomorrow … did you know it’s about a crocodile? Because it is.

Indian movie, not so great. But Indian Canyons — now, that was something.

If one is very lucky, FIPRESCI jury duty isn’t all movies and lattes; sometimes, one gets to experience a little of the host city beyond its megaplexes and coffee shops. There won’t be any of that tomorrow or Tuesday, but today our gracious jury wrangler took us out to the wilds for a mile-long hike along the foot trail through Andreas Canyon.

(Well, all of us except for one member who’s recuperating from a back injury, and really wouldn’t have been up for scuttling over rock outcroppings for an hour and a half. But the rest of us managed.)

I’ve been out to California a few times before, but never had the experience of going out to the raw earth … there’s nothing like this in L.A. or San Francisco, and Santa Barbara, on its wide, flat mesa, didn’t offer much in the way of angled hiking.

This, though … this was the West, or at least the West the way it was in every cowboy movie I saw as a kid — brush and cactus and sagebrush and sawgrass, all surrounded by magnificent rock formations and dotted with holes where the rattlers have made their burrows. And every ten minutes, all the minor struggling was rewarded with another gorgeous vista.

I’m not an outdoorsy guy. But this has been the highlight of my trip so far. After this, it seems almost wasteful to spend so much time indoors, watching movies and drinking coffee.

That said, it’s been pretty good coffee. And tonight’s party is at an Italian restaurant, which seems like a very good idea: All that walking can give a dude a powerful thirst.

I’ll do my best to strike a balance, somehow. And I’ll keep you posted.