|Will Clint Eastwood finally have his day?|
So I see it probably going like this.
Amidst rubble-and by rubble I mean actors taking selfies-two figures lie flat on the ground, barely moving. Barely moving to avoid being seen, as they most remain hidden and unknown at all costs, but also barely moving because they are old white dudes and can’t move very much. Members of the Academy. They’re dressed in camo, one of them has his sunglasses resting on his cap, which he is wearing backwards. He looks like a bit of a dickhead. He’s holding his most dangerous weapon, his powerful weapon, the weapon with which he has dashed the hopes of so many. His ballot. It’s all rolled up, he looks through it like a telescope. He sees other members of his squad, kicking in a door to cast their Oscar votes. Suddenly, some movement in the distance catches his attention.
It’s David Oyelowo, the actor. He is a different colour to our Academy man, which means he is suspicious. He’s not even American! He is wearing a t-shirt that says “I can’t breathe”, which makes our ballot-wielder snarl. So offensive! Do people like this want to be known for making the best movie of the year of for stirring up shit? He only wished he had snubbed more.
“I got a male in a movie about black people with no art to it, over” our Academy man says through his radio to his boss, probably one of the Weinsteins.
“If you think he’s lookin’ to get a nomination, you have a green light. Your call, over.”
“Maybe he just wants a BAFTA” his companion replies.
Suddenly, Oyelowo moves. Through his rolled-up paper scope, he follows, but instead sees Patricia Arquette and a young boy walking. Again, the Academy member is neither a woman nor young, so he’s not into this. She hasn’t had any work done for crying out loud. She’s a savage.
“Hold on, I got a woman and an uneven story about a boy growing up 200 yards out moving towards an award ceremony.”
While surveying this tense, serious situation, the Academy member thinks about things that make him sympathetic. His beautiful wife. His plastic baby. He’s doing this for them, I guess.
“Her arms aren’t swinging, she’s carrying something.”
“She’s got an Oscar, she’s handing it to the kid!”
“You say a woman and a kid? Is it Meryl Streep? Cos if it’s Meryl Streep then it’s okay.”
The boy starts running, as the Academy member watches him he ages into a dork spouting lame philosophy. The Academy members watch nervously, unsure of whether or not to snub this display, which is ambitious and well directed, but which is also kind of boring and isn’t about war. This is the biggest threat to the Academy Awards since that business with the portal last year.
“You got eyes on this, can you confirm?”
“They fry you if you’re wrong. People on Twitter I mean.” his comrade says.
He keeps thinking about his wife and plastic baby. He must be nice if he has a wife and plastic baby. Is he going to snub Arquette and the boy? He looks really conflicted, much more conflicted than he is in real life. Probably. He is a hero, he is sympathetic. He doesn’t like the song from the Lego movie for some reason. He is…