Oscar Prognostication 2026

DONOVAN’S OSCAR PROGNOSTICATION 2026

Oooo, a fun new theme for the Oscar films this year: generational trauma. A lot of dads (and some moms) making movies in 2025, doing therapy on film and trying to work through their fears as a parent (and hoping their kids don’t end up hating them and writing a book about them). As usual, it makes for such a fun crop of movies. So get comfortable for our session, while I lay on a couch and rant about my 27th annual Academy Award predictions. (We'll both probably need therapy by the time this is over.)

BEST PICTURE:

SHOULD WIN: Train Dreams

WILL WIN: One Battle After Another

GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Wicked: For Good

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: It Was Just an Accident

I should start every article with an apology. Every year, I have some egregiously bad opinion about a movie that flies in the face of popular opinion, critical analysis, rational thought, and, it seems, common decency. This year, that opinion is about One Battle After Another -- the film that's been heralded by the masses and the cineastes as the clear Best Picture choice, a modern masterpiece, and, by some, the greatest film of this century. To think anything less of this triumphant achievement for the ages means, in the words of many an online commenter, "you're stupid." And so: I'm sorry. But I'm going to be a wet blanket. I've put a lot of thought into how to articulate my feelings, and I've reached the conclusion that One Battle After Another is… meh. In fact, it's my least favorite of all the nominees. This is the kind of movie experience that truly makes me believe that I'm insane, because (like with Parasite) I'm not seeing what everyone else is seeing. (I also think Citizen Kane is overrated. But that's a story for another time.) In a futile effort to defend my apathy, my main takeaway is that I didn't feel anything. Part of that is the unevenness of the film -- the tone, the humor, the structure. Part of that is the performances (we'll discuss Leonardo DiCaprio's detachment and Sean Penn's histrionics later). But the biggest thing is my lack of emotional connection to the story. You spend all your time trying to save your kids, but it turns out they don't need saving -- they don't need you. That concept breaks your heart and makes you proud. And that seems to be the intent of the film -- but I didn't feel that watching the movie. There are, of course, things I like in the movie, but ultimately I didn't pull much of substance from it. I get it, parenting is hard, even for revolutionaries. (Maybe I just like my revolutionaries more in the vein of The French Dispatch -- cheeky and vaguely European.) I've picked One Battle to win, as it's been the prohibitive front-runner all season. But as I type this, there's an upset brewing…

Sinners is a lot more fun than any high-minded Oscar film has a right to be, and has a lot more depth than any vampire slasher flick has a right to be. It's an engaging mash-up that has been embraced by moviegoers, critics, and voters (a record 16 Oscar nominations). There's a lot of meat on the bone with this film (to use a phrase that I assume is popular with vampires). One of the things I find most intriguing is the portrayal of the vampires' motives. Yes, they are trying to obtain the power of music that transcends time and space, and are an obvious metaphor for cultural appropriation. But their desire is more altruistic. They are not trying to kill or conquer, necessarily; they are trying to build a community. They are offering true equality and collectivism, at a time and place when that was largely non-existent. They quite literally and genuinely offer freedom to people who cannot realistically achieve it any other way. It's compelling, and they know it. They're not trying to trick their victims, they're being completely honest. They don't want to turn you, they want you to join them. They want it to be your choice. (But of course, when you refuse, they're happy to force you.) Writer/director Ryan Coogler has spoken at length about his interesting decision to have the vampires in 1932 be Irish immigrants because of their similarities to southern Blacks -- facing oppression in their own country and using music as a form of expression. It was important to him for them to have a kinship instead of an antagonism at the core -- it would make it more compelling to join them. Plus, the Irish are fun vampires! (Their rendition of 'Rocky Road to Dublin' is a banger.) Of course, the real bloodsuckers in the film are the Ku Klux Klan -- even murderous, soul-sucking vampires don't like the Klan. Sinners is one of my favorite movies of the year -- and I would theoretically be cheering for it to pull an upset over One Battle After Another… except I want my predictions to be right. Sinners has become a popular pick as we come down the stretch, so watch out.

In a stunning upset, my choice for Should Win Best Picture is Train Dreams. Yes, you heard me right. In a sea of high-profile, star-studded, stylistic, dynamic, off-beat films (and arguably two vampire flicks), the one I like the most is the simplest and dullest and has the fewest race cars. (It's also the least likely to win.) Even I wouldn't predict me picking Train Dreams as my favorite. It's not even a story per se, there's barely a narrative. It's a memory piece, a contemplation, a reflection on life. And it's extremely downbeat. I usually get annoyed by a lack of plot, but with this film, it's sort of the point. And, holy cow, it looks amazing. Without the excellent craftmanship and naturalistic beauty, it wouldn’t be half as appealing. What makes it even more of a marvel is that it was filmed in 4:3 ratio (i.e., old-timey TV dimensions), completely digitally, with all natural light. It's easily my pick for Best Cinematography as well, which is its best chance at an Oscar, but it's unlikely. I hesitate to recommend this movie to people, because it's a bummer, to be sure. But it's also a reminder of how beautifully moving a film can be.

Marty Supreme: It's the feel-blah movie of the year! This is another movie where I'm just not seeing what everybody else is. I don't even really know what this movie is. I know what I've been told the movie is: writer/director Josh Safdie has said unhelpful things like "Marty’s dream is a heist on fate" and "It's larger-than-life realism". But what is it actually, in terms of story? I know what it's not: redemption, coming of age, boy makes good, or hero's journey. The main character is so abrasive and self-destructive that he prevents it from being any of those kinds of stories. Or… in a contrarian Safdie-esque way, maybe it's all those kinds of stories, but inverted and perverted in a way that I hardly recognize them. Instead, it feels like a series of side quests that have increasingly less to do with the plot. (On one such quest, in a scene reminiscent of The Brutalist, Marty has an encounter with his wealthy benefactor that literalizes their power dynamic. But this evil billionaire -- played by Kevin "Mr. Wonderful" O'Leary -- has a different kind of domination kink than The Brutalist. Shark Tank contestants beware.) To the film's credit, I was locked in the whole time, more than willing to go along for the ride. There's enough tension and stress to keep me invested in what's coming next. I just don't understand what the point of the ride is. (Fortunately, I had already seen the previous Safdie movie, Uncut Gems, so I was primed for an unpleasant time. If I hadn't, this film might have given me an ulcer.) With the power of Timothée Chalamet behind it (a positive or a negative, depending on your taste and probably your age and whether you like ballet), the movie seemed like a real contender for the top prize when it debuted. But now it's clearly somewhere in the middle of the pack, safely out of contention.

There's nothing like coming out of a high-octane, fist-pumping, eardrum-rattling racing movie and getting into a 10-year-old minivan that frequently gets stuck in second gear and goes 0-to-60 in just under three minutes. F1: The Movie (not to be confused with F1: The Sport) is, yes, a very long (and compelling) commercial for international auto racing, but is also a highly-satisfying, breezily-fun summer movie. (The movie was such a blast that I'm going to start watching real Formula One racing, right? Nah.) I had a rush of adrenaline walking out of the movie theater that I didn't get with other summer action movies, like Superman. (The snarky, geopolitically-sensitive Man of Steel was theoretically exciting, but not actually exciting.) F1 beat out Avatar: Fire and Ash and Wicked: For Good for the 'big blockbuster' slot in this category… which in hindsight was not much of a challenge. Why have Academy voters responded to it? Easy: It's the Top Gun of auto racing. Well… actually, Days of Thunder was the Top Gun of auto racing. Since F1 has the same director as Top Gun's sequel, it must be the Top Gun: Maverick of auto racing. But then again, it stars Brad Pitt as a past-his-prime star trying to claim glory while wearing retro shades, so maybe it's the Once Upon A Time in Hollywood of auto racing? But with Kerry Condon as the spunky Irishwoman who's the brainy voice of reason among men who act like children, it could be the Banshees of Inisherin of auto racing. But when it comes down to it, the driving in F1 allows two people from different backgrounds to work past their racial differences… so it is definitely the Driving Miss Daisy of auto racing.

I'm frankly surprised Hamnet isn't the favorite to win Best Picture. 20 or 30 years ago it would have won, no question. (Comparisons to Shakespeare in Love, while off-base, abound.) It seems to have everything that critics and voters adore. And it's got wide-ranging appeal, with a surprising (mostly international) box office and the highest user-ratings of all the nominees in several metrics. (For the record, I wholeheartedly reject Rotten Tomatoes and its flawed scoring, on principle.) Even while winning the Golden Globe and the Toronto Film Festival's People's Choice Award, it hasn't been considered a serious contender behind One Battle After Another and Sinners. I don't have it at the top either (see my rankings below), but I'm shocked that it's not a popular choice with pundits. Is it just being dismissed as pain porn? Maybe. But the payoff is extraordinary -- it has probably the best final 10 minutes of any movie this year (with all due respect to the rad Baja dune buggies in F1:The Movie.) Regardless, I can't wait for the sequel about Shakespeare's other dead children, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.

Maybe it's just a case of bad timing. In theory, Frankenstein should be a movie that dominates the Oscars, as Guillermo del Toro's crowning achievement. By all accounts (especially his own), Frankenstein is the movie he was born to make. The original Frankenstein story is the urtext in understanding his creative mind; he's said that seeing the 1931 film at age seven was a religious experience, and the Mary Shelley novel was the book he always wanted to adapt. So why isn't Frankenstein a heavy favorite across the board? A few reasons: 1) He was already feted by the Academy in 2018 with The Shape of Water, winning Picture and Director. 2) The Frankenstein story has been done to death (or undeath, as it were). The monster has been portrayed in feature films literally hundreds of times, from a version that predates James Whale's classic, to the more modern adaptation starring Robert De Niro. (And that's not even counting the Tim Burton stop-motion movies or fare like The Munsters and Hotel Transylvania. Even as you read this, there is a new Frankenstein movie in theaters called The Bride!) What does del Toro offer that we haven't already seen? 3. del Toro has effectively made (better?) versions of this story before -- I mean, he just made the animated Pinocchio three years ago (for which he also won an Oscar). Cronos, Mimic, Hellboy, Blade II, even The Shape of Water all mined similar themes. Ultimately, if del Toro had made this movie earlier in his pre-Oscar career (like in 2008, when he initially attempted to adapt Frankenstein), or if he made it at the end of his career (as a grand statement on his life), I think we'd be talking about how Frankenstein would run away with all the awards. If the Academy allowed take-backs (nothing would surprise me when the show moves to YouTube in a few years), and given The Shape of Water's somewhat tepid legacy with film scholars and internet loudmouths, I think most people would gladly award del Toro's 'career achievement' Oscar to Frankenstein instead. (Actually, the correct choice would be Pan's Labyrinth.)

Sentimental Value should come with a trigger warning. In a movie with suicide, marital strife, depression, familial rifts, alcoholism, hospitalization, Nazi persecution, unjust imprisonment, torture, abandonment, and IKEA furniture, the single most upsetting thing is what they do to that poor house. They take a gorgeous, old, colorful, ornate house, and prepare to sell it by giving it a horrific bleached white makeover -- homogenized, anesthetized, completely devoid of life, with all the personality of a dentist's office. So tragic. So putrid. I had an actual physical reaction. If that's how the characters treat the family house, how do you think they treat each other?

Yorgos Lanthimos is back with his wildest and timeliest movie yet, and people are… indifferent? His latest foray in the weird and unexpected, Bugonia, is maybe not so weird and unexpected, given his body of work. Not as sharp or inspired or fun as The Favourite or Poor Things, but a helluva lot better than the aimless Kinds of Kindness, his latest Emma Stone collaboration is amusing but not riveting. Never one for subtlety, Lanthimos takes some really dark turns in this truther parable, where even a sicko like me has a hard time laughing at the audacity. I kept wanting to be invested, but ultimately the premise isn't quite enough to sustain a full movie. It's a diverting oddity for the Oscars in general, but it's middle-of-the-pack for me. (Though I have to say, without divulging too much, logging this movie on Letterboxd was the most fun I've had in a long time. I just wish I had the same experience watching the film.)

The Secret Agent is, for better and worse, not what you want it to be. It knows what you want from a movie -- answers, catharsis, finality, justice -- and dangles these things in front of you, just out of reach, and then withholds them. It does this by employing a different 'classical' genre for each act of the story, then toying with genre conventions -- both paying them off and subverting them. That withholding is very much the point of the film. The success of that approach varies wildly with each viewer, and is somewhat dependent on the viewer's relationship to the subject matter: oppression under the military dictatorship of Brazil in the 1970s. I, unfortunately, know next to nothing about that segment of history. (You'll forgive my ignorance -- but you probably shouldn't -- as my only real reference is the Brazilian Best Picture nominee from last year, I'm Still Here, a very similar tale under the same regime.) The final stretch of The Secret Agent takes the shape of a 70s action thriller, and the film (and its title) hint that it might become one of the slick, pulpy, ultimately harmless movies that it obsesses over (like Jaws or The Omen). But it never does. It doesn't pay off. For the viewer -- and for the researcher in the film -- the trail goes cold. The film makes a salient point, but I'm not sure that's the most effective way to tell the story. (I mean, damn, can you imagine Sidney Lumet, Alan Pakula, or Sydney Pollack taking a crack at this story in their heyday?) The Secret Agent is captivating, but I'm embarrassed to say, I just wish it was a bit more conventional. In other words: Please dumb it down for me.

A year ago, there was a prevailing (and bewildering) notion, based on the runaway success of the first Wicked movie ($750 million box office and 10 Oscar nods), that Wicked: For Good was being primed for Best Picture victory, as the Academy would save their votes for the finale. I'm happy to report, that was wildly off base: It got no nominations whatsoever. Turns out, I'm not the only one who thinks the movie sucks this time around. What should have been momentum leading up to the sequel quickly turned into fatigue (I still don't understand the whole helicopters-during-interviews hubbub or whatever it means that "Ariana Grande needs physical touch to channel energy"), and by the time balloting rolled around, voters said, unironically, "We're good." It's hard to pinpoint why the movie is so bad, when there are so many reasons to choose from: complete and utterly-irrational leaps in logic; over-reliance on (and blatant contradiction of) the original characters from The Wizard of Oz; every conflict hinging on a gross misunderstanding that could be cleared up with a simple conversation; seismic tonal shifts from the first movie leaving us unsure if it's supposed to be funny; or suggesting that all our beloved Oz characters are actually getting busy with each other (prompting us to wonder if the Tin Man and the Scarecrow are anatomically correct). In honor of its dramatic fall from grace, I bestow my Gloriously Omitted honor upon it -- a more-than-worthy consolation prize. In a film overflowing with tragedies, what's the biggest tragedy of all? Since it got no nominations, I watched this stupid thing for no reason.

This feels unnecessary, but I'm going to do it anyway… I'm giving an honorable mention to Avatar: Fire and Ash. This movie is not good. Worse than that, it's indistinguishable from the second film; if the theater had mistakenly showed The Way of Water, I wouldn't have noticed. I don't know how James Cameron had planned for five movies, when he clearly doesn't have enough ideas for three. Some of the 3D action is legitimately thrilling, but most of it feels like a soulless promo for a Disney World ride. (Actually, that's probably not far from the truth.) And the theme is baffling: The lessons of the first two movies were 'Protect nature' and 'Protect family'; the lesson for this movie is apparently 'Violence wins'. (The girl literally prays to the god Eywa to "Kill them all!") It's a rough ride… even for an amusement park roller coaster. (Additional points off for a truly atrocious Miley Cyrus song during the end credits.)

What is the limit of your compassion? Could you be compassionate under the most extreme of circumstances? Could you show compassion to someone who you suspect may be the devil incarnate? Conversely, to what limits would you go for justice against someone who has harmed you in unspeakable ways? What does justice mean to you? Retribution? Retaliation? Contrition? Escalation? Eradication? And what if you have doubts -- could you still act? If you were actually in the situation, would you -- could you? should you? -- take an eye for an eye? These are just some of the (many) thorny questions posed in the Iranian film It Was Just an Accident, my clear pick for Snubbed this year. It's a film many (including myself) expected to secure a Best Picture nomination -- which would have made three foreign-language films in the field (and that's not even including whatever the unintelligible accents are in Hamnet). Accident is an interesting film to compare to One Battle After Another, which broadly deals with some similar themes: under extreme duress, what do people stand for, what do people fight for, and what are people willing to die for? Critically, it's a more nuanced film than One Battle, and to me that makes all the difference. Nuance is in short supply these days, indeed. I have no use for nuance myself, mind you -- 25 years of hyperbolic movie commentary and bull-headed opinions should tell you that. (And they're not opinions if I'm clearly right, by the way.) While It Was Just an Accident did not make the cut in Best Picture, it has an outside chance to scoop up the International prize.

Here's my personal ranking of the nominees from best to worst (which is basically the opposite of any sane Academy voter):

1. Train Dreams
2. Sinners
3. F1: The Movie
4. Hamnet
5. Sentimental Value
6. Frankenstein
7. Bugonia
8. The Secret Agent
9. Marty Supreme
10. One Battle After Another

BEST ACTOR:

SHOULD WIN: Ethan Hawke (Blue Moon)

WILL WIN: Timothée Chalamet (Marty Supreme)

GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Robert Pattinson (Mickey 17)

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Joel Edgerton (Train Dreams)

The Best Actor race is a total mess… in a good way. Timothée Chalamet has been poised to win for most of the season; the only thing standing in his way are Michael B. Jordan and some irritated opera fans. After his Screen Actors Guild win (and a less annoying press tour), Jordan has become the popular pick, but I'm sticking with Chalamet -- I think the tidal change is too little too late. But I believe the race overall will be closer than anyone suspects, with all five nominees getting significant votes. In a year with such parity, Wagner Moura could easily sneak in and steal it. (For my personal vote, it's between Ethan Hawke, Jordan, and Maura. I might endorse Maura if I was more familiar with his previous work. And Jordan is a strong second. But I'm going to zag and pick Hawke; while the other actors bring a lot of themselves, Hawke creates a wholly new character.)

They found the only sport where Timothée Chalamet could plausibly play an athlete: ping pong. In Marty Supreme, he's a conniving, wormy shyster one step (or less) ahead of his comeuppance. It seems like someone probably screwed Marty over once, and he's been taking it out on the world… but now the world is pushing back. (The phrase 'you mess with the bull, you get the horns' could have been invented just for him.) I don't really see what all the fuss is about with Chalamet's performance. The movie wants us to believe that he's a force that can't be ignored, and as fun as it is, I don't totally buy it. He fast-talks his way into situations that aren't very credible -- in real life, people get blown off and ignored for being a lot less annoying. (You'd expect him to get punched in the face -- or spanked -- more often.) Will this kind of performance win him the Oscar? We almost have to give it to him so he stops pretending to leak fake cringy Zoom meetings with his publicists. I don't find him insufferable like a lot of people do… but I don't find him particularly sufferable either.

Michael B. Jordan has gotten a lot of critical attention for being the face (or more accurately, faces) of Sinners, playing twins Smoke and Stack. The roles have a high level of difficulty, and Jordan makes the most of it. But it's on a second watch that the achievement is more evident -- nuances and distinct personalities emerge that are not initially obvious. Then there is the technical aspect, having to film each scene twice, switching costumes and personas, and having to 'play off' yourself when yourself is not actually there. It would be interesting to see a longer version of the film (or a prequel, which seems like a real possibility), to see the history of the twins, to learn if they are truly the "sinners" of the title or not. They are criminals, and they talk about their father being evil, so the question lingers about whether that evil filtered down to them. On the day of the vampire attack, are they are paying for their sins or are they guardian angels protecting Sammie? Or, are they sent to test Sammie -- one by God and one by the devil? Jordan's performance makes it all possible.

At what point will people start saying that Ethan Hawke is due? His role in Blue Moon, as famed Broadway lyricist Lorenz Hart, earned him his fifth nomination (three for acting, two for writing). The 'it's his time' chatter never really got cooking, even though this is one of his career best performances. (His finest is still First Reformed.) Hawke, who is tall, convincingly plays a short man who appears to be shrinking but is always trying to make himself look taller. (As director Richard Linklater describes him, he's "forgotten but not gone.") To play Hart, Hawke transforms himself into a little toad of a man (a horny toad, you might say) -- I can't say if it's accurate, but it works for the story. He's a schmoozer who wears out his welcome quickly; by the time we meet his former creative partner Richard Rogers, we have a good sense of why Rogers doesn't want to work with him anymore. It's a sad, almost tragic role (Oscar Hammerstein, his replacement, talks to him like's he's already dead), but Hawke plays him with compassion, and gives us a sense of the man's former brilliance. Hart describes himself as omnisexual, in part to be playfully enigmatic, but also because as a lyricist, his gift is to find beauty (and of course, heartbreak) everywhere. We get the sense that he always adores someone; it used to be Rogers, but now without his muse, he forces that adoration onto Margaret Qualley's character, which is ultimately in vain. In the course of one evening, Hawke leads us from the man he was to the man he's become: an unrequited observer, relegated to experiencing happiness solely through other people.

It was either John Keats or Dr. Evil who once said, "There’s nothing more pathetic than an aging hipster." Can the same be said for an aging revolutionary? As played by Leonardo DiCaprio at the outset of One Battle After Another, the resounding answer is yes. And for his character, it's even worse, because he's a single parent of a teenage girl. How do you be an agent of chaos and a responsible parent at the same time? It's an intriguing enough premise, but it ultimately falls flat for me. (I know, I know. I've already apologized. See the Best Picture section.) Perhaps my biggest gripe is that I wasn't moved by DiCaprio's performance, I wasn't connected in any sort of meaningful way. And while I'll spread the movie's overall blame around (more to come on that), I'll happily place the blame for that particular shortcoming on DiCaprio himself. He started the awards race in pole position, but has been blanked at every event, and now sits firmly back at fourth or fifth. (Which is just fine with me. If it was up to me, he'd be off the board altogether.) If I can draw one positive thing from his performance: Kids, this is why you listen to your dad!

Wagner Moura is a revelation, as a man on the run in The Secret Agent -- seemingly the only role that Pedro Pascal (and his mustache) has missed out on the past couple years. Maura (and his sad, contemplative eyes) is our guide, trying to maintain a semblance of normal life while the fear of a brutal regime infects every aspect of society. He's the one thing we can trust (even if his 'name' isn't) as we face surreal images and subplots, further confusing the everyday violence and dread. (If you've seen the movie, you know what I'm talking about: a two-faced cat, a severed leg out for vengeance, a masked roadside dancer. Different people look similar, events and locations blur together, all the cars are nearly-indistinguishable VW Beetles. Even the backdrop of Carnival adds a dreamlike, anachronistic feel to the film.) Some of the things are real, some are imagined, and some are ambiguous. We, the viewers, think, "How are you not reacting to this insane stuff?" But it's all treated matter-of-factly by the protagonist -- it's become everyday life. The film suggests that these things are no less credible than the real, astonishing things that are happening everywhere. For Moura's character, it's all normal… until it becomes a nightmare.

Robert Pattinson more than deserves my Gloriously Omitted prize for Mickey 17, getting extra credit for playing two roles (well, 18 roles, technically). He gives one of the most annoying performances in recent memory. This is even harder to watch in a year when Michael B. Jordan plays dual roles so well. (A note to director Bong Joon Ho: Why not cast David Dastalmachian instead? He would have been perfect.) Oscar Isaac gets an honorable mention for Frankenstein -- in a movie full of too-big performances, he works extra hard to stand out. Bravo, I guess.

My Snubbed pick is Joel Edgerton, who gives a powerfully quiet, haunted performance in Train Dreams. The movie simply doesn't work if he's not note-perfect. (Dwayne Johnson is also nice surprise in The Smashing Machine -- believe it or not, there's an actor in there somewhere.)

BEST ACTRESS:

SHOULD WIN: Rose Byrne (If I Had Legs I'd Kick You)

WILL WIN: Jessie Buckley (Hamnet)

GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Cate Blanchett (Black Bag)

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Chase Infiniti (One Battle After Another)

Jessie Buckley is going to win the Oscar for Hamnet, by a landslide. But should she? It's hard to argue against her: She gives an extremely emotional, grounded performance, in a film that a lot of people have seen and loved. I have no real criticism. She's up against Rose Byrne in If I Had Legs I'd Kick You, who's equally strong and devastating, but whose film is not nearly as popular or beloved (and is, if you can believe it, more upsetting than Hamnet, if you ask me). Both films are about the brutality of motherhood (and the annoyance of husbands who travel for work). It's splitting hairs, but the way I see it, Buckley gives a more complete performance, while Byrne gives a more sustained performance. Byrne's struggles are relentless, while Buckley gets respites and time to breathe. Without giving anything away, there's a wonderful scene for the audience where we get to grieve and heal with Buckley; Byrne, however, suffers alone. And ultimately, Buckley gets more of an arc and -- crucially for voters -- catharsis. Byrne doesn't have that luxury. So for very understandable reasons, Buckley will win. But…

My personal pick is Rose Byrne, by the smallest of margins. Byrne's performance in If I Had Legs I'd Kick You is a revelation; the movie, however, is a waking nightmare. As a parent, it's completely unnerving, start to finish. Parenthood this is not. (Damned if it couldn't use some snarky humor from Steve Martin once in a while; funnyman Conan O'Brien is there, but he's just plain mean.) The title of the film (which I still don't really comprehend) suggests humor, and the film has been positioned as a 'comedy' (at least by the geniuses at the Golden Globes who blindly choose the categories), but I fail to see any humor at all, unless schadenfreude counts. It's more like Uncut Gems for moms -- especially in how things keep getting worse and spiraling beyond the point of being upsetting. So hilarious. (Aha! In the credits we see that Josh Safdie, writer/director of Uncut Gems and Marty Supreme, is a producer! Explains a lot.) Though I will say, the film feels truthful to parenting in a way that a lot of films (like say, Nightbitch, which treads similar territory) do not. A large part of the credit for that goes to Byrne -- I think any parent will recognize many of her frustrations in their own lives. Her concerns as a mother are either ignored (if she’s calm) or dismissed (if she’s hysterical). Nobody responds to her in a rational way -- at least until the ambiguous ending. Byrne could have been a caricature, but she nails it. (Her only shortcoming in the film: If you find a hole in your ceiling that turns out to be a metaphysical void, don't call a plumber, call the lady from Poltergeist.)

For her work on Bugonia, I hope Emma Stone was gifted a t-shirt: "I shaved my head and all I got was this lousy Oscar nomination." She plays a high-powered CEO who's kidnapped by a conspiracy theorist that believes she is an alien. Who knew that was Oscar bait? She's certainly filmed to look extraterrestrial: Aside from the bald head, the dingy lighting makes her eyes look black and her skin look scaly. In other films from Yorgos Lanthimos, Stone is particularly skilled at playing the comedy. But with Bugonia, I frankly have no idea if it's supposed to be funny or not -- Stone plays it fairly close to the vest, even when it's at its most absurd. Despite full marks for enthusiasm and commitment to the bit, in this crowded category, she will not be rewarded with her third career Oscar.

As the primary character in Sentimental Value, Renate Reinsve has the most to juggle, navigating fraught relationships with not just a sister, a father, a married boyfriend, and an actress playing her in a movie, but also with, of all things, a house. (Not to mention a few mid-life crises thrown in for good measure.) As the one that the audience latches onto, the tone of the film very much hinges on her portrayal. Her performance, as well as the film itself, is understated and offers very little catharsis. (The comparisons to Ingmar Bergman and Henrik Ibsen are warranted -- oh my, Scandinavian family trauma is in a class by itself.) Reinsve has the additional challenge of convincingly playing the daughter in such a way that we can see the father projecting his regrets onto her -- because they are so alike. Reinsve can safely be ruled out as a potential winner here, but expect to see more award-worthy performances from her on the international stage in the future.

Kate Hudson finally makes good on the promise of her first Oscar nomination for Almost Famous a quarter-century ago. (And no, I didn't forget about Fool's Gold.) She managed a nomination for Song Sung Blue, seemingly out of nowhere -- particularly surprising in such a strong field of actresses this year. She plays one half of a Neil Diamond tribute band, based a real couple in the Midwest. (I only mention this because I happened to see that band, Lightning & Thunder, perform at a wedding a couple decades ago. They were a trip. I can't say I predicted an A-List, Oscar-nominated, hit movie based on their career.) Hudson won't bring home the gold, but she will give false hope to cheesy cover bands everywhere for years to come. (Dread Zeppelin is still waiting for their Hollywood glam-up.)

Chase Infiniti is the obvious Snubbed choice in this category, for One Battle After Another. The only scenes that that I'm actually invested in are the ones that she is driving (figuratively and literally). I'll politely make no mention that she is clearly 10 years too old for this teenage part, but as a relative unknown, it's easy to look past. Her omission for a nomination was a legitimate shock (and a lucky break for Hudson). Should she have campaigned for Supporting Actress instead? Only her recently-fired Oscar strategists know for sure. I was strongly tempted to pick Tessa Thompson for Hedda -- she's equal parts charming and diabolical (and a Snubbed alumna for 2021's Passing). And you could have talked me into Eva Victor for Sorry, Baby -- apparently starring, writing, directing, and being Julia Roberts's hero aren't enough for a nomination.

BEST SUPPORTING ACTOR:

SHOULD WIN: Stellan Skarsgård (Sentimental Value)

WILL WIN: Stellan Skarsgård (Sentimental Value)

GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Mark Ruffalo (Mickey 17)

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: William H. Macy (Train Dreams)

Stellan Skarsgård scored his first career nomination (really? How is that possible?) for Sentimental Value, as a crotchety, recalcitrant film director who seems to be able to communicate with everyone except his two adult daughters. His character is a classic answer to the question "Why don't filmmakers explain their films?". As he clearly demonstrates, filmmakers are better at communicating through film, not verbally. It's why they are filmmakers in the first place -- even when it's excruciating or fruitless or criticized. If they could express themselves through spoken words, most would gladly save themselves a lot of time and energy. Skarsgård conveys the pain and frustration that bubbles up when he tries to talk to his daughters, only to make things worse. But when he makes a film, when he writes a script, they finally begin to understand, in a way that feels earned and not corny to the audience. (He's equally bad at gift-giving: Presenting his young grandson with a DVD of the horrifically graphic film Irreversible may be the comedic moment of the year.) It's not a loud performance by Skarsgård; he leaves a lot of subtext merely hinted at. In a wide-open field, Skarsgård will be the, yes, sentimental favorite for many. He's shifted in and out of the lead with prognosticators over the past few months, and he's slipped back heading into the home stretch. But I'm going with my gut (which has failed me every time) and picking him. (He's also my personal pick.)

The Oscars have a long-standing tradition of nominating performers on reputation alone… which is the only logical way I can explain Sean Penn's nod for One Battle After Another. A two-time Lead Actor winner navigating a creative fallow period and gracefully transitioning to distinguished elder statesman (that's a polite way of saying a guy whose days of being a star -- or even appearing in great movies -- seem to be over), Penn's 'boisterous' (I'm sorry, extremely goofy) turn as the not-so-heavy heavy in the acclaimed film is apparently a perfect excuse to give him his first nomination in 16 years. I wouldn't be so harsh if I didn't feel that Penn completely deflates the film. As a villain, Penn is so cartoonish (in a horny Sir Mix-a-Lot song-lyric kind of way) that there's never a sense of any real danger for the protagonists; in other words, there's never anything at stake in the movie. Maybe it's a send-up of decades of hard-ass Sean Penn characters, but I think that would be giving him too much credit. Penn is making a mad dash at the finish, picking up some late awards (and not showing up to accept any of them). He's the most popular pick, but I don't think voters will give him a third Oscar for this performance. But more importantly, which character from One Battle best exemplifies your parenting style, Penn or DiCaprio? (Uh, I'd rather not say myself.)

At the other end of the intensity spectrum from Penn in One Battle After Another is Benicio del Toro. Maybe that's why he is one of the few things that I really like about this movie -- he's operating in a different register than everyone else. Usually when an actor seems like they're in a different movie, it's a bad thing, but here he's a breath of fresh air. (I actually wish del Toro and Penn would have shared a scene together -- their polarized energies could have made for an interesting dynamic.) If del Toro hadn't already won a Supporting Actor trophy (for Traffic), then he might be my pick here.

Seeing Delroy Lindo's name on nomination day was one of the most pleasant Oscar surprises in years, for me and for most moviegoing fans. He's made a career of small, impactful, memorable performances. While playing mostly supporting roles, he imbues his characters with richness and depth so fully that they deserve to be leading characters in their own movies. His nomination is a long time coming (I'm on record of predicting it 24 years ago when the right part came along), and I'm glad to see it come for a great film… even if it's not for one of his greatest roles. I don't mean to be dismissive, but he plays what is probably the least important role of the film -- but, as always, he grabs it by two hands and makes it jump off the screen. Functionally speaking, I think his character is primarily there to keep us guessing; but he's also a cautionary tale -- a ghost of Sammie's future -- who reclaims his own destiny, and allows Sammie to choose his own. In a category full of crafty old vets, Lindo was probably the last man nominated, but his reputation and body of work (and lack of hardware) make him primed for a potential upset.

You can probably rule out Jacob Elordi, playing The Creature in Frankenstein, despite having a (severed) leg up, because he's a co-lead in the film. (When I run the Oscars, one of my arbitrary rules will be: If you are second-billed in a movie, you cannot be nominated in a supporting category.) Working in Elordi's favor is that fact that the movie is better in the second half, when it becomes The Creature's story. And he's clearly the one that director Guillermo del Toro is interested in; he's the vessel for two of the filmmaker's favorite themes: finding beauty in the grotesque, and having sympathy for something that nobody else understands. Elordi (along with everyone else in the cast) is doing about 10% too much in his performance, but does create an interesting character, as he is at once Dr. Frankenstein's creation, son, and other half -- and yet is cast out for being exactly those things. The design of The Creature is novel, but a little silly: he looks like a space-jockey from Prometheus joined Cirque du Soleil. While Elordi will lose this race, the real loser here, unfortunately, is Doug Jones, del Toro's longtime lanky creature performer, who never got a nod for his memorable performances (The Shape of Water, Pan's Labyrinth, and Hellboy, among others) -- and was originally cast in Frankenstein back in 2008 when del Toro first attempted the project. (No word on whether Jones was also the first choice as Margot Robbie's boy toy in Wuthering Heights.)

Did I say Robert Pattinson gives one of the most annoying performances in recent memory? Is it too late to change my mind? His Mickey 17 castmate, Mark Ruffalo, gives him a serious run for his money. Either way, both score a Gloriously Omitted award from me. I would hate to leave Wicked: For Good's Jonathan Bailey out of this conversation though. (The Scarecrow could have been a little more honest with Glinda. Instead of asking for a brain he should have asked for a conscience.) And Sorry, Baby's Lucas Hedges continues to corner the market on playing absolute duds. (Why did Quentin Tarantino go so hard after Paul Dano and Owen Wilson, when Hedges is right there?)

In a crowded field, my choice for Ingloriously Snubbed is William H. Macy in Train Dreams. Understated, unfussy, and initially unrecognizable, he sheds some of the Macy baggage that he seems to carry from role to role, to put it indelicately. It's perhaps his best performance in decades. Other standouts include: Miles Caton in Sinners (I think he's better than Lindo, honestly, and seemed like a stronger contender for a nomination; he is integral to the movie -- it simply doesn't work without him); Michael Stuhlbarg in After the Hunt (quietly -- and sometimes loudly -- crackling, he's a bright spot in a disappointing movie); Josh O'Connor in Wake Up Dead Man (he's the best of all the Brits with funny American accents in the movie -- he sounds like the chef guy from Ratatouille); Tony Goldwyn in One Battle After Another (very grounded in a tiny role; he should have been the villain instead of Penn); Lars Mikkelsen in Frankenstein (what's not to love about a surly Danish sea captain?); and finally, Rolf Saxon in Mission: Impossible - The Final Reckoning (a great, unexpected callback to the first movie that almost made me cheer out loud in the theater).

BEST SUPPORTING ACTRESS:

SHOULD WIN: Inga Ibsdotter Lilleaas (Sentimental Value)

WILL WIN: Amy Madigan (Weapons)

GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Ariana Grande (Wicked: For Good)

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Regina Hall (One Battle After Another)

When Amy Madigan started getting Oscar buzz upon the debut of her unsettling horror film Weapons, I didn't believe it. Then when I finally saw the film, as mesmerizing as she is, I still didn't believe it. And here she is, with a real chance at winning, and I still don't believe it. But I'm down for it. She was one of my favorite things in movies last year, in a real humdinger of a performance. (If we're being honest, that wig is doing a lot of the work.) It's been a whopping 40 years since her previous nomination… I'll give you a nickel if you've actually seen the movie. (And no, it wasn't Uncle Buck, unfortunately. Twice in a Lifetime -- it's got a stacked cast led by Gene Hackman, and somehow it's been pretty much lost to time.) Respected veterans often sway the vote in this category, so if Madigan does pull it off (I think she will), I'll be curious to see if she mentions her very first theatrical director from her Chicago youth in her speech. (If you know, you know.)

For many, Teyana Taylor is the obvious choice for Best Supporting Actress in One Battle After Another, and for much of the season was the presumptive favorite. It makes sense: She's the catalyst for the entire plot, and it's her story for the first act. She's loud, brazen, showy, and gets the lion's share of the attention. Voters tend to respond to a surprise performance by actors that seemingly come out of nowhere. She's not my personal pick, however; in fact, if I was going to pick one supporting female performance from One Battle, it would be someone else. (See my Snubbed choice below.) Voting will come down to the wire -- she's fallen behind Madigan in the recent precursors, and I think Madigan is on too much of a roll for Taylor to catch her.

Inga Ibsdotter Lilleaas has a thankless task in Sentimental Value (as many second-born children do), which is to be the quiet neutral party while helping to repair familial relationships -- all the while, allowing the others to believe they fixed the problems themselves. As such, she seems to be treading water in the first half of the film, but she's ultimately the one that unlocks something critical for the sisters and their father (and in turn, for the audience). She also insinuates some subtext that gives the story added depth: Did the father write a script to help himself, or to repair his relationship with his eldest daughter, as it seems on the surface? Or did he actually write it to bring both daughters closer to each other, since he knows he won't be around forever? Lilleaas, a Norwegian actress with very little film experience, is my personal pick in this category, but not by a wide margin.

Elle Fanning, another supporting performer in Sentimental Value, playing a famous American actress who's clearly a second-rate talent, stands in sharp contrast to Lilleaas and Renate Reinsve, the two women portraying sisters in the film. I bristled at her performance initially, because she doesn't feel as strong or authentic as the other two women; but I came to realize, she's not supposed to -- she's intended to be a pale facsimile of a sister. She actually plays her part reasonably well as an instrument -- by being 'miscast' and giving an off-key reading of a speech in the father's film, she allows the father and daughter to truly connect. A bit of a surprise nominee, the biggest impact Fanning may have in this race is to pull away some votes for Lilleaas, unfortunately.

In Sinners, Wunmi Mosaku's character is in some ways the heart of the story (and is also the one that delivers helpful expository dialogue about the vampire threat, which she does very well). She may also provide some clues about the meaning behind the film's title. Near the end, she calls Smoke by his birth name Elijah, rebuffing his nickname. (Similarly, Stack's real name is Elias -- who is literally the same person as Elijah in the Bible.) Are Smoke and Stack their "sinner" names, while Elijah and Elias are their "saint" names? Did their father (who the twins consider evil) give them their nicknames? Mosaku's final scene holds the key to Smoke's redemption, and by invoking the name Elijah, recalls the Bible stories of Elijah raising a child from the dead, and ascending into heaven instead of 'dying'. (Stack doesn't 'die' either, but I wouldn't exactly say he goes to heaven.)

Wow, it's an absolute murderer's row of contenders for Gloriously Omitted in this category. So many big names and underwhelming performances. After being a heavy favorite to get a repeat nomination and then falling short, the clear winner is Ariana Grande in Wicked: For Good. (Whatever scant charm she possessed in part one is completely absent in part two.) The runners-up are all impressive: Toni Collette in Mickey 17. (Her now-infamous manic shtick really falls flat in this one.) Mia Goth in Frankenstein. (She takes me out of any movie quickly. Her improbable -- but real -- surname seems to define her genre choices and acting style.) Mila Kunis in Wake Up Dead Man. (I have literally no idea what she's doing in the movie, and evidently, neither does she.) Sigourney Weaver in Avatar: Fire and Ash. (I'm sure she's having fun, but she honest-to-god paraphrases her own iconic catchphrase from Aliens while mimicking a child's voice.) Margaret Qualley in Blue Moon. (There is almost no aspect of her performance that I find plausible.) Last but not least, Grande's Wicked: For Good co-star, Michelle Yeoh. (When you have two world-class singers, please don't pair them with someone who can't carry a tune. Looking at you too, Goldblum.)

It's an unassuming role, but for a supporting nomination from One Battle After Another, I would have swapped in Regina Hall for Teyana Taylor. My Snubbed choice, she has the film's steadiest hands, keeping this spinning top of a movie from toppling over. My honorable mentions: Glenn Close in Wake Up Dead Man (I thought she was deserving of a nod, but it would have been just plain rude to nominate her again with no chance of winning); Nina Hoss in Hedda (drunk or sober, her character commands the room and threatens to steal the show); and Brazilian amateur actress Tânia Maria in The Secret Agent (who wouldn't want to spent time with this landlady and her menagerie of characters -- even if you're wanted by hitmen?).

BEST DIRECTOR:

SHOULD WIN: Ryan Coogler (Sinners)

WILL WIN: Paul Thomas Anderson (One Battle After Another)

GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Bong Joon Ho (Mickey 17)

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Nia DaCosta (Hedda)

Maybe I should have saved my apology for this category, because now is when I'll really need it: I don't really get Paul Thomas Anderson. I've tried. I've watched all his films. Even the ones I like I'm a little baffled by. I don't hate any of them, I just find it nearly impossible to engage with them. I don't really understand what he's going for most of the time. I'm not on his frequency. I never seem to know when he's being funny (but then again, I'm a dope that appreciates a laugh track). I don't get his subtext, or even his text-text. I didn't understand that that Licorice Pizza was supposed to be fun; I didn't understand that Phantom Thread was a comedy; I didn't understand that The Master was a physical love story between the two men. (Maybe that last one should have been obvious.) One Battle After Another is no different: I don't understand… I guess I don't even know what I'm supposed to understand so I can understand what it is about it I didn't understand. So you know what? I don't apologize. I'm proud to say that I'm an idiot, and I would pick any other person in this category over Anderson for Best Director. (But relax, he's going to win, regardless of what I say. So leave me alone, okay? Jeesh.)

My personal pick here would be Ryan Coogler for Sinners. Quite simply, there's more happening visually in his movie than in the other nominated films. (If he knew ping pong would have been such a hit with voters, he probably would have had a scene where Michael B. Jordan plays against himself.) As with Black Panther and Creed, he takes a seemingly tired conceit and finds ways to reinvent it and mine it for fresh thematic material. But Sinners is in a class by itself. In it, Coogler is particularly skilled at making thematic and visual use of contradictions, dichotomy, and choices. While Smoke and Stack are the obvious physical representation of those ideas, Sammie is the true thematic vessel, carrying those things inside of him. And his way of communicating to the audience is through the blues, the music of both the devil and of salvation. (The final final scene -- all the way after the end credits -- is a particularly nice touch (Spoiler!): Young Sammie, before the events of the movie, plays his guitar in an empty church. When finished, he looks up, presumably at the crucifix, at God, and then we cut to black. A deceptively simple moment, it suggests that he reconciled his faith and his music before the vampire attacks. On the surface, it would seem like the horrific events would reinforce the idea of the guitar being evil -- after all, it's coveted by power-thirsty vampires, and it belonged to Smoke and Stack's father, who was a terrible man, a "sinner". But Sammie ends up using it as an instrument of salvation, to combat evil, and exorcise the demon of the twins' father. In that final scene in the church, it's like Sammie made a choice beforehand to trust the music that day, that it would guide him and save him.) Coogler has cited (perhaps jokingly) From Dusk Till Dawn as an influence. But I'm more struck by the likely influence of August Wilson's plays. Sinners is brimming with the themes of reckoning, sins, God, the past, and a touch of the supernatural. It calls to mind The Piano Lesson specifically, but echoes elements from Wilson's other plays as well. It's a lot to take in, and Coogler blends it all in an extremely entertaining, satisfying way.

During the emotional climax of Hamnet, is Chloé Zhao trying to conjure up a memorable Oscar moment, by having Jessie Buckley furiously rush to the stage and admonish the performer for disrespecting her family member? (Having Buckley say "Keep my son's name out your f*****g mouth!" seemed a little over the top, but hey, Will Smith would approve.) With the film, Zhao brings an earthy charm and her signature ethereal, instinctual style (while also goosing the sales of Kleenex). She's the only former winner in this group, so even if voters don't hold a grudge for making them ugly-cry in public, they will generally look past her this time around.

When a director makes a movie about a director, you can’t help but wonder how much of it is autobiographical. In some ways, every movie is about being a director or about the director's life (or least, it can be interpreted as such). Whether intentionally or subconsciously, did Joachim Trier, the man behind Sentimental Value, start making a movie about his father or grandfather (who both worked in filmmaking), and end up making a movie about himself for his kids? Despite my strong suspicions, Trier has insisted in interviews that it's not about his life or his young kids. Regardless, he's crafted a delicate and personal film about thorny family dynamics, that simultaneously makes you want to hug the characters and wring their necks. (Which you choose to do with your own family members when the credits roll is entirely up to you.) Trier may not win any Oscars, but at least he'll have a touching film capturing a father's apology to his children… just in case he needs it in the future.

Even if it struggles with story, director Josh Safdie certainly gives Marty Supreme style: He imbues a film about ping pong (sorry, table tennis) with a lot of kinetic energy -- Marty himself is constantly pinging and bouncing around in different directions, and the viewer feels it. An inevitable discussion point of the movie is the ending. What to make of it? (I won't spoil much specifically, but if you haven't seen it, you're probably better off skipping this paragraph. If you even made it this far.) Based on previous work from the director, I was really expecting this film to end in a horrible way, a message to the main character (and by extension, the viewer) that 'you don't deserve this'. But it doesn't. It's hopeful. It's clearly reflective of a guy who became a father after making Uncut Gems. As the credits roll, I'm still a little doubtful that 'everything will work out' (I mean, Marty's been banned from the championship tournament, has no income, and has no demonstrable way or intent to support a family). Is this the catalyst he needs to become responsible? The genuine smile on his face seems to say yes, but the cynic in me (and the 350-year old vampire) say probably not. But if I'm being optimistic, I think the messy ending is supposed to echo a theme from Uncut Gems, that is intended to cut through all the noise: "This is how I win."

I'll gladly give Gloriously Omitted to Bong Joon Ho for Mickey 17. This film honestly could have gotten a clean sweep for my Omitted awards -- but Wicked: For Good put up a strong fight, so I tried to divide the shame between them. This is a perplexingly lazy social satire, going for the basest targets and dullest gags. And it's plain old boring. It's hard to believe this guy made Okja, The Host, and Parasite (and won four Oscars for the latter). Even Snowpiercer, an outlandish sci-fi satire, is subtle by comparison. The movie plays out like he's trying to unironically tell the political story behind, of all things, Starship Troopers. Everything about this movie feels unnecessary.

I might as well mention Steven Soderbergh, who attempted to make Black Bag as a psychological thriller, but forgot to put in the thriller part. Wouldn't it be great if there was a fun, exciting version of this movie? If only they had gotten the director of Ocean's Eleven, or Out of Sight, or The Informant, or Logan Lucky…

I give my Ingloriously Snubbed spot to Nia DaCosta, for writing and directing the severely underrated Hedda. I'm shocked it wasn't in the Oscars conversation across many categories, but it seems it wasn't the horse that Amazon was backing this year. It was in theaters for about a minute, made only a few thousand dollars, then went to Prime where it was quickly forgotten. (Additionally, I would have been more than happy to give Anderson and Safdie's nominations to Clint Bentley for Train Dreams and Guillermo Del Toro for Frankenstein.)

I would be remiss if I didn't mention the late Rob Reiner. No, he was not in the awards hunt with Spinal Tap II: The End Continues, but his passing means he won't get a competitive Oscar in his lifetime. He never even got a Best Director nomination, despite making a slew of genre-defining classics, including This Is Spinal Tap (mockumentary), Stand by Me (coming of age), The Princess Bride (fantasy adventure), When Harry Met Sally… (romantic comedy), Misery (psychological horror), A Few Good Men (courtroom drama), and North (cardinal direction). (Uh, maybe not that last one.) His sole nomination came for A Few Good Men, in Best Picture. The least I can do is give him an official Gloriously Snubbed Honorable Mention, which is almost as good as an Academy Award.

BEST ORIGINAL SCREENPLAY:

SHOULD WIN: Ryan Coogler (Sinners)

WILL WIN: Ryan Coogler (Sinners)

GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Noah Oppenheim (A House of Dynamite)

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Zach Cregger (Weapons)

It's hard to argue against Sinners (written by Ryan Coogler) being the most original screenplay of the year. It will undoubtedly win, and it has my endorsement as well. It's probably the most complex (and crucially, not convoluted) movie I saw all year. But… we can also have some fun with the vampires' boneheaded decisions. (Spoilers!) I can't wait for Fog of War 2, where Robert McNamara has a field day outlining the vampires' tactical errors: Stack and Mary run out of the juke joint when they are turned, preventing them from entering again without permission. They could have just stayed inside, nearly invincible, and killed or bitten everyone before they formulated a plan. Instead, they give the survivors plenty of time to strategize and make weapons. And at dawn, the vampires stay outside and die in the sun, rather than taking cover and fighting another night, wiping out their entire group. They waste all night waiting for the humans. They know what time sunrise is coming, and they can see the sky getting lighter. They have every opportunity to survive, and they squander it. They bring their downfall on themselves. And as long as we're raising questions -- I'm not about to tell Coogler how to write his movie, but… When Sammie fights Remmick in the pond, as the son of a preacher, I thought for sure he would bless the water and turn it to holy water, to kill Remmick. They even say a prayer together, which I thought was Sammie's way of tricking Remmick into the blessing. Then, I thought Sammy would use his splintered guitar -- which looks a heck of a lot like a wooden stake, and was visually planted in the opening scene -- to stab Remmick through the heart. Thematically, I thought the combination of the two -- blessing the water and using his guitar -- would have allowed him to utilize both of his gifts together (faith and music), reconciling his inner conflict and setting everyone free by killing the lead vampire. (Maybe these were intentional mis-directions by Coogler. But they were set up perfectly.) And finally: I can believe vampires being able to read each other's minds and music creating the ability to time-travel, but I simply can't believe a couple dudes getting a fully-functioning nightclub (complete with food, drinks, music, signage, lights, and electricity -- even purchasing the building and procuring supplies) up and running in a single day. It takes me a week to plan a backyard barbecue for six people.

The Safdie Brothers went their separate ways this year (the more we find out why, the less we want to know), with Josh making Marty Supreme (with co-writer Ronald Bronstein), while Benny wrote and directed The Smashing Machine. As it turns out, they made strikingly similar films. Coincidence, or did they compare notes along the way? "Hey bro, I'm working on a period piece about a sports figure based on a real person, who's trying to earn a living in a nascent sport that is popular abroad but just starting to gain attention in the U.S. The main character fights personal demons and engages in psychological mind games with his girlfriend, often lying to cover up his poor decisions and to get his way. His best friend is his mentor and fellow competitor, and they're sometimes pitted head-to-head. There's a pivotal scene where the hero gets his butt whipped, and it all culminates with a big competition in Japan. His biggest victory won't be in the arena, but may be a more important one: a triumph of the spirit. So, what are you working on?" "Uhh… nothing much." The results, however, are not so similar. Marty Supreme has gone on to be a smash, with $275M at the box office and scooping up nine Oscar noms. The Smashing Machine has not exactly been supreme, only making back 40% of its budget and getting blanked by the Academy in all the major categories. I wonder which brother will be given an extra helping of dessert at Thanksgiving?

One of my favorite things about It Was Just an Accident is the structure of the screenplay, written by director Jafar Panahi (along with collaborators Mehdi Mahmoudian, Shadmehr Rastin, and Nader Saïvar). Ostensibly the story of the kidnapping of a suspected torturer working for the Iranian government, the abductor (a subject of said torture) joins up with other former victims, one by one, who try to decide the fate of their tormentor -- and that's when the real conflicts come to the fore. As the group gets larger, we gain new points of view, convictions, and moral compasses -- even though they all had seemingly the same traumatic experience at the hands of this man. It underscores how critical perspective is: Just as none of the kidnappers have all the information, we the viewers are restricted in what we see. It also illuminates the toll that the events continue to take on them -- achieving 'justice' should be cathartic, but the longer they hold the man hostage, the more pain they inflict on themselves and each other. There's also an unrelenting sense of being haunted -- by one's own actions, and by the actions of others -- essentially living in a mental purgatory. The ending is bracing: Will the character forever be waiting for the other shoe (or leg, for those who have seen the film) to drop? The film is an extraordinary display of humanity, in all its definitions.

Blue Moon is the kind of small, simple, talky movie that I tend to like more than other people. Written by Robert Kaplow (and not, notably -- thankfully? -- by its director Richard Linklater), it's a chamber piece, with a handful of colorful characters, that takes place over the course of an evening. It is -- I know it's a novel concept in the 2020s -- a character study. It seems like not much happens, but in fact a lot does happen to the characters. It's ostensibly the celebration of an opening night on Broadway, but is actually the story of a divorce -- the end of the famed relationship between Lorenz Hart and Richard Rogers. It cleverly feels like a stage play written by Hart himself: witty, sarcastic, satirical, and bittersweet. It's not hagiography, or overly sentimental or nostalgic. (Basically, the opposite of what Rogers would like.) The script is almost the inverse of Marty Supreme (which suits me just fine): Both are stories of a larger-than-life character, but while Marty Supreme is all kinetic energy, Blue Moon has no kinetic energy at all. (It perhaps gets a little cutesy and Forrest Gump-y with the before-they're-famous characters we meet, but that doesn't diminish the film's appeal for me.) Most importantly -- as Hart would have wanted -- the script finds the unvarnished humanity at the core. A fitting eulogy for a man I barely knew existed before the movie began.

The film is called Sentimental Value. Just how sentimental is it? Not very, if you ask me. I think the better questions are, What does "sentimental" mean, and What is the value of sentimentality? The only time the phrase "sentimental value" is actually spoken in the film, it's in reference to mementos in the family house that is being sold. (And yes, I realize the title is translated from Norwegian to English, and the native title doesn't exactly mean "sentimental". Don't ruin my train of thought here, okay?) The obvious (or I suppose metaphorical) reference is the house itself, which is a major, looming presence in the film. But the house doesn’t really hold sentimental value for the characters, it holds pain. However, it occurs to me that sentiment doesn't have to be positive, it can be a strong negative feeling -- it can in fact mean hurt. Director Joachim Trier (who wrote the screenplay with Eskil Vogt), has talked about the title and what it means to him: the subjectivity inherent the phrase "sentimental value" and how it can apply to people as well as objects. I'm not sure it's what he intended, but when the film ends, the message seems to be: What's important is not what you're sentimental about, but what you choose to hold on to. (Don’t get my wife started on my sweaters from the 1990s.)

For Gloriously Omitted, take your pick: Personally, I'll go with A House of Dynamite (written by Noah Oppenheim). This movie has probably the best first act of any movie this year. But then it turns out they only had one act. On the surface, the movie is a slam dunk: a nuclear missile is headed toward the United States, the government and military have no idea who launched it, and it will hit in 30 minutes. Nuclear paranoia is the best kind of movie paranoia (but it's not as good, you know, in real life). For those first 30 minutes, the movie is about as tense as any I've ever seen; director Kathryn Bigelow is firing on all cylinders. And then, without giving anything away, the narrative totally changes. It's like they were conducting an experiment: "What if we made a thriller with no payoff?" Among other nonsense, we get an unironic 'In the Air Tonight' needle drop, an inexplicable Angel Reese subplot, and a Nuke Book that is literally the list of Unthinkable Options from The Simpsons Movie. The movie starts off looking like a strong hand, but is really just a bluff.

Another worthy Omitted choice would be After the Hunt (written by Nora Garrett). Oh, director Luca Guadagnino is a button-pusher all right; but doing that for two hours does not a movie make. I've read the Wikipedia plot synopsis and I’m pretty confident that’s not the movie I watched. I’m sure the filmmakers knew what they wanted to say, but the audience sure doesn’t. I guess it's all subtext and no actual text? And the message is that the viewer is the real villain? There's not much of a thread to go on. I can tell none of these characters have kids because parents wouldn't have time for such shenanigans. If nothing else, it's a worthy addition to the subgenre of 'Idiots Making Bad Decisions'.

Or I could have easily picked Eddington (written and directed by Ari Aster) for Gloriously Omitted. So uncomfortable. It's like a horror movie for the villains of a horror movie. I've heard of 'virtue signaling'… would this be considered this 'virtue weaponizing'? This is why I don't like people.

It would have been fun to see Weapons (written and directed by Zach Cregger) get a nomination, and for a minute it looked possible. So instead I'll bestow my Ingloriously Snubbed honor on this insanely original movie (emphasis on "insane"). To the makers of A House of Dynamite: This is how to execute a repeating structure exceptionally well -- to augment the story and tension, not hide details.

BEST ADAPTED SCREENPLAY:

SHOULD WIN: Maggie O'Farrell, Chloé Zhao (Hamnet)

WILL WIN: Paul Thomas Anderson (One Battle After Another)

GLORIOUSLY OMITTED: Dana Fox, Winnie Holzman (Wicked: For Good)

INGLORIOUSLY SNUBBED: Mike Flanagan (The Life of Chuck)

Honestly, despite all my griping, I am trying to find a way into One Battle After Another (written by Paul Thomas Anderson). The best way I can do that is as a father, and interpret the entire movie as a metaphor for parenting -- particularly trying to relate to your kids as they get older. As they strive for independence and the generation gap gets wider, it's like you're dealing with a completely different person. You were once a competent and understanding person, and now you feel like you don't know anything (and I'm not just talking about Leonardo DiCaprio's inability to use a modern phone). In illustrating that, the film literalizes parents' worst fears: "I'm just going to the school dance, what's the worst that could happen?" Well, an army of psychotic lunatics could kidnap you and try to kill you, that's what! In the anarchic world of the father (played by DiCaprio), the reality is what legendary filmmaker William Friedkin would call Kafkaesque: He's paranoid, but he's also correct. What ultimately works best for me in the film is the back half, the race to get his daughter back. The father almost gets killed trying to reach her, but as kids often do, she finds a way to take care of herself. This category is probably the surest bet for One Battle to win an Oscar.

As much as I like Train Dreams, Screenplay is probably the hardest category to endorse for it, because it has such an unconventional, rambling structure. It almost works as a film despite the script. (I'm guessing an excerpt of the script goes something like this: "The man looks at some tall trees. Then he looks at some more trees. Later, he looks out on a river. Then he shifts his gaze to some other trees.")Actually, it sounds like the script (written by Clint Bentley and Greg Kwedar) is something of a minor miracle, as the book was generally considered unfilmable (it's apparently much less structured and more dreamlike than the movie). Personally, I'm endorsing a different film in this category. Regardless, the script for Train Dreams ended up as the blueprint for one of my favorite movies of the year.

It's a bold undertaking: After centuries of intense academic study by the rest of humanity, declaring that you personally have deciphered Hamlet and know exactly what it's really about. But that's what author/screenwriter Maggie O'Farrell (and filmmaker Chloé Zhao) have done with Hamnet. (I'm exaggerating of course… but maybe not by much.) And, it's worked. The pair have crafted a sensitive and touching (fictional) account of coping with grief and healing through art. The pièce de résistance is the ending: In what could have been trite or treacly or dragged out (and based on the first hundred minutes, it certainly seemed like it could go that way), they beautifully, powerfully, visually resolve the heart of the matter, and fade out. It's my personal pick, and in another year, this script could easily win… but not this year.

It's hard to do a new version of Frankenstein when most people younger than me were introduced to the concept by Star Wars III: Revenge of the Sith. (Poor Anakin, he thought he was Dr. Victor Frankenstein, when in fact he was Frankenstein's monster.) Guillermo del Toro takes on the familiar tome with predictably entertaining results, in the filmmaker's unmistakable foreboding-yet-alluring style. How faithful is his script to the original text? Well, right at the beginning, Dr. Frankenstein literally says, "Some of what I will tell you is fact. Some is not. But it is all true." Once you stop laughing, the message is clear: This is del Toro's own version. The foundational story is certainly rich and dense thematically -- fertile ground for del Toro's creative exploration. Having visited similar territory in the past (see the Best Picture section of this article), del Toro doesn't surprise anyone: He hates the man, loves the monster. But he also knows how to make a movie come alive (pun intended, I'm afraid) -- from the meticulously tactile production design to the relentless interpersonal dramatic conflict. And with no need to chase Oscar glory, it's clear he's having fun spending Netflix's money -- it's an amusing movie, if not a terribly serious one. It lays its metaphors bare and speaks the subtext often. (Why stop at Shelley when you can mix in Poe, Milton, Byron, the Bible, plus a dozen other literary references I probably missed, as well?) What's perhaps most interesting to me from a screenplay perspective is the exploration of the original book's oft-ignored subtitle: 'The Modern Prometheus'. Prometheus ostensibly refers to Dr. Frankenstein; but in del Toro's retelling, the creature is the one who is punished like the mythological Greek titan, repeatedly wounded and healing himself for eternity, unable to die. (The same will apply to the life of the film on streaming, if Ted Sarandos gets his wish.)

What's the easiest way to score an Oscar nomination? Write a screenplay for Yorgos Lanthimos, it seems. He's had four films with four different writers getting nods for their scripts (not including himself). Bugonia (written by Will Tracy) maintains Lanthimos's signature dry, absurdist humor and applies it to a kidnapping scenario. (You can guess whether it goes according to plan.) In fact, the plot is weirdly similar to fellow nominee It Was Just an Accident, as they both examine the intersection of conviction and doubt while keeping a suspected evil entity captive. (I have to assume Lanthimos and Tracy saw the celebrated Cannes debut of It Was Just an Accident, a superior story, and said, Oh darn.) Both screenplays got recognition, but both will go home empty-handed, I'm afraid.

Far be it from me (actually, very close be it to me) to question one of the most successful and beloved musicals of all time, but what perhaps annoyed me the most about Wicked and Wicked: For Good is how the story unfolds. For five (!) full hours, I was expecting a tale of why the Witch of the West became so Wicked, which seemed intriguing (and, based on the title, fairly reasonable). But instead, it's a meandering (if well-meaning) story of how she's the target of extremist propaganda. (And not for nothing, but characterizing Elphaba as an animal advocate seems a tad off-base, considering how The Wizard of Oz is literally all about her wanting to kill Dorothy's dog.)