Today, the Academy unveiled this year’s Oscar nominees. And it got us thinking... about how Robert Redford totally got snubbed. And about how we’d do it, if we got to run the show...
First: we’d change the name to something like “The Kempties.”
Then we’d throw out all the categories and start anew, focusing solely on the menswear. So we collected our collective memories of the past year’s worth of handsomeness on film and tried to nail down what exactly made each film stylish—much like the actual Oscars, we’re breaking down the movies by individual garment performance, not just handing out awards willy-nilly.
For his latest film, our favorite downtown rock-and-roll hepcat, Jim Jarmusch, is doing... a vampire movie.
Yes, it’s true: Jimbo has jumped on the Edward-and-Bella bandwagon. Except, of course, the bloodsuckers in Only Lovers Left Alive—played by Tilda Swinton and Tom Hiddleston—are anything but teenage hornballs. Rather, they spend their days driving around aimlessly, languishing on settees, smoking cigarettes and otherwise marinating in their own hyper-cultured ennui.
In other words, it’s a Jim Jarmusch movie—with fangs.
Then again, every iconic character in Jarmusch’s 30-year oeuvre has been a study in laconic cool, including the director himself.
With the announcement of a hard release date of Christmas Day 2013 for Wolf of Wall Street, the powers that be have also unveiled an all-new theatrical trailer today. Apparently, the original mid-November date caught a minor snag when Scorsese turned in a reel pushing three hours—and the NC-17 envelope—but what remains looks just as exciting: a fever dream of pinstripes, fun shirts, dad jeans, power ties, money bikinis and just about everything else great about ’90s excess.
Have we mentioned recently that it’s hot out? Because it is. Hot. And is there really any better way to sidestep that sweat than going to see a movie in a perfectly 74-degree cinema?
The plot and popcorn are pretty sweet perks, too.
We want to make sure you get the most out of the viewing experience, so we took a moment to cut through the noise on your behalf. Filtered out the truly cringe-worthy reels (we thought so much better of you, Elba). Handpicked the coolest theaters. Secured your accoutrements. And put it all together in this handy guide, covering all the bases of this summer’s film-ing.
Before the advent of the 24-hour news cycle and Twitter, a movie star’s biggest offscreen stage was an awards show podium.
And there was none grander than the Oscars. So if a celebrity wanted to unequivocally take their stance on the current state of government, war, immigration, gay rights or what have you, they’d have to win first—then decide whether it was more important to thank the list of people who got them there or go off-book on some rant that would surely ruffle a few feathers. (Or, in the case of Marlon Brando, send up a Native American woman to decline accepting the award on his behalf.)
It made for the sort of incredibly surreal moment that we’ve been seeing less and less of lately. And that’s a shame. So, in honor of those sometimes patronizing, sometimes endearing and always overly passionate moments of stardom, we’d like to look back at a few of the finer exhibitions of celebrity political grandstanding.