Today Oscar season begins.
I am so mirthful. The National Board of Review releases it's list of winner's for the Best Films of 2005, thus, beginning what we in the Americas have come to know as the "Oscar Race" or "For Your Consideration" season. Personally, I am endorsing Steven Spielberg's Munich. Not just because I'm in it, but because it's brilliant! I play Eric Bana's lover. They cut some of that out because I was "stealing to much focus", but I definitely steal some scenes and "some heart's" from what I've read from the reviews. Plus I own three discotheque's in downtown Munich. It would be dynamite for business, no pun intended.
I'm not sure about this new "Donkey" Kong movie. I'm not an ape man -plus Naomi Watts gave me Herpes. Branded for life. I call it "The Ring". Don't laugh - one in four people have it. Which means I would have got it anyway, right? So, all the cool people have it, or at least I thought so until my testicle fell off.
But this cold winter's hotly anticipated Broke(Bare)back Mountain is going to be a surprise hit! Mostly, because it seems that everyone wants to see these two fuck! Men and woman! Even my Dakota Fanning wants to see it - but I don't think she should. She needs more time to develop, or she'll become one of those "Jodie Foster's". I think Brokeback Mountain it's going to make a splash in the red states! This fucker's on fire, baby. It's My Own Private Idaho meets RamJet Amateur's: Big Boys 3. I was at at a screening in Toronto last week, and I swear to god, you needed rain boots to get out of that theatre - and it wasn't tears soaking the concrete, ladies and gentlemen. Heath and Jake do it all. Full frontal. Backwards, forwards. Top to bottom. You'll LOVE it! It's like watching Bambi without the Mother dying at the end. You leave the theatre weeping, singing all the songs and want a time share in Billings. Which reminds me...
Before I sold my Montana cattle range to Harrison and Calista Ford (ooops, did I disclose that they are married?). Anyway, Harrison was checking out the property and doing his "jew" thing and trying to talk me down. I said, "Take it or leave it. If you don't buy it I'll just keep it. You'll still have "Random Hearts" on your resume." Incidentally, he threw a sucker punch at me. I ducked (having mastered Ninja skills by age 2) and side-kicked him his his abdomen. Then the funniest thing happened. He started bleeding from his mouth. I told him I knew a great dentist, and walked away. Calista vociferated at me, but her voice was so tiny all I heard was "watermelon". He said, "I need a phone! I have to call an ambulance!" Calista then began singing "Somewhere" from West Side Story (out of pitch, I might add) and Harrison wet his knickers. I felt cool 'cause I had a match hangin' from my lips like Sylvester Stallone in Cobra. Just then a gas tanker drove by. I pulled out my 9mm Beretta 92F and shot three holes in the side of the gas tank. It passed the Hollywood has-beens and sprayed two gallons of V-Power Shell gas all over their well- manicured coifs. I scratched the match against a statute of Lewis and Clark and flicked it at the powerless couple who than lit up - like Snoop Dogg at a High Times Magazine Xmas Party. I got a marvelous tan from that fire. Suffice to say, my attorney Johnny Cochran (r.i.p.) "worked" things out - props to Irv Gotti and the Murder Inc. crew. Needless to say, Harrrison is working on Indiana Jones 4, and Calista is still getting weekly skin-grafting. Looking better each day. We still send seasonal cards to each other, and I walk the red carpet at his charity events. There's no hard feelings between us anymore. But back to Oscar Season!
There's talk that I'm the Jaime Foxx of this season, but we'll see. I can't tell whether that is admiring my talent or some racist smug remark. There's racism, sexism and nepotism everywhere in this business. Do you know how many producers I had to sleep with to get my first guest spot on Who's the Boss? It was also the moment of my most embarrasing regret: camping alone with Danny Pintauro. Let's just say we only had one sleeping bag, oversized black Sharpies pens and three copies of Bop Magazine. This business is so ass backwards, literally, you have to have your ass backwards to get anywhere.
I have my Oscar, Golden Globe, Independent Spirit, Grammy, Nobel Peace Prize, Olivier, Clio, Blockbuster. Ultimately, one doesn't need such excess - but theres' nothing like doing "a line" on an Oscar. The important things is that great storytelling is being told, and the work continues. But let's all pray I get a nomination.
Well, I must stop droning out gossip and inspiration via my Sony VAIO 550-TV PC in Cyprus basking in the hot Greek sun while my "companion" James Franco and I get pedicures.
Stay Warm Amerika. Golden Globes Nominations are next Tuesday! God bless.
Beckett Boo, esquire.
Cat Blogger Extraordinaire!