“I really wish I was awesome” is a pretty lame excuse for a factoid, yet it’s a good reason to show you some really good stuff I’ve been finding online recently. (I used the same excuse 100 days ago in Random Factoid #392.) But nonetheless, it’s entertaining, and I’m in a particularly large time crunch at the moment.
Courtesy of /Film: “Many people sincerely hate the new layout for the Internet Movie Database. We understand. It certainly takes some getting used to. One perfect addition, however, is on their page for ‘This is Spinal Tap‘. Referencing the famous quote from the film, the possible rating doesn’t only go up to 10 like every other film. It goes to 11. Which is one louder. Very cool stuff, IMDb.”
Courtesy of Cinematical: “Call it ‘Your Cheatin’ Queue.’ The disgruntled boyfriend posted a screen shot from his girlfriend’s Netflix account with the caption “My girlfriend cheated on me, so I rated movies in her netflix account until I reached the desired result.” As a result, Netflix now tells this woman that they think she’ll love watching ‘The Scarlet Letter,’ ‘Unfaithful,’ ‘Indecent Proposal,’ ‘Whore’ and ‘Slutty Summer.'”
So there you have it, two totally different uses of the internet for awesomeness: one for good, one for morally shaky revenge. So while I think I’m creative typing with a purpose over my keyboard blogging, there are people making things go to 11 and give a cheating girlfriend what she deserves with the same tools. Sometimes the Internet can make us feel so small and so big at the same time.
Sometimes, when thinking about factoids, I have to go search for influence from outside sources. Today, my inspiration comes from old faithful, IMDb.
I remember that when I first started using the Internet to get information about movies way back in early 1999, the site that I became the most enamored with is one that I still look at today: the Internet Movie Database (IMDb).
For those of you not familiar with the movie industry, several high-profile film festivals (Toronto, Telluride, Venice) have occurred over the past week, inciting much talk about the upcoming onslaught of movies that will be highly considered for Academy Awards. For those who read the factoids, it is hardly a secret that this season also brings a rush of euphoria for me. I will keep you posted with trailers and buzz, and I will also soon be posting early predictions for nominees. But as kind of a warm-up for what is to come, I wanted to give my answer to the question an age-old question: how do you define “Best Picture”? What you will read below is an English paper that I wrote last year for a compare and contrast essay, mainly what critics think and what audiences think about the best movie of the year.
One Sunday in February or March every year, all the focus of popular culture turns to the Kodak Theater in Los Angeles, California, for the Academy Awards. The glitz and glamour dominates the red carpet, yet the two most important people glide down the red carpet almost inconspicuously. Cameras do not flash in their face; people do not ogle at their outfits or speculate about whether or not they will end up in the tabloids; Ryan Seacrest from E! might interview them just for kicks. Although just accountants, these two people hold a briefcase filled with twenty-four envelopes that will change the lives of many people. Millions of moviegoers across the world watch the ceremony to find out the names inside the envelopes, but they stay tuned in to hear the presenter call out a movie, not a name. They want to see what over 5,810 people working in the movie industry voted as the Best Picture. However, for many moviegoers across America, their opinions do not match the Academy’s. Many of them have never heard of some of the nominated movies; some of the movies might not have played in their town. With each passing year, a divide between what the general public perceives as Best Picture and what the Academy chooses as its Best Picture has grown wider and wider.
The Oscar voters also like to play it safe, rarely awarding controversial or provocative films. In 1993, they awarded Best Picture to “Schindler’s List,” a film about the Holocaust. Although many acclaimed movies were produced about the subject in the 50 years since the horrific genocide, “Schindler’s List” marked the first nomination for Best Picture for a film about the Holocaust. The Academy generally receives movies set in the past more favorably than movies set in the present or future. In 2008, “Slumdog Millionaire” was the only movie set in the present day.
So why can’t the mainstream moviegoer and the Academy voter find harmony in a pick for Best Picture? Perhaps the Academy has forgotten what Best Picture really means. David Carr of The New York Times said, “It should be the kind of movie that is so good that it brings both civilians and the critical vanguard together.” Ideally, a mixture of box office success and critical praise would result in a Best Picture win (or at the very least a nomination). But if the Academy believed in such a formula, “The Dark Knight,” the film with the highest critical praise and box office gross, would have won Best Picture in 2008. And while that year’s Best Picture winner, “Slumdog Millionaire,” was a box office sensation, the film relied on the awards season to fuel its box office. According to Boxofficemojo.com, over 65% of its gross was accumulated after it received the nomination for Best Picture.
Marshall and the Movies 
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