As I'm sure
none of my many readers are aware (for once again, it is I that carries
the filmic wisdom), the master of the lens Ingmar Bergman, upon discovering
that his 1957 masterwork Wild Strawberries was nominated for the Academy
Award for Best Screenplay that year, wrote a letter to the Academy Awards
ordering them to take their dirty fingerprints off of his piece of pure cinema,
calling the Oscars a "humiliating institution."
Which, of
course, they are!! It is commonly suggested that all directors dream
of earning an Oscar, but to the upper
echelons of the cinematic hierarchical system (e.g. Bergman, Kubrick and
moi), getting an Oscar is the filmic equivalent of being given a second-hand lollipop
by Michael Bay's dumb children and a two-disc mint-condition copy of Transformers!!!!
Quite simply, Bergman's magnificent
achievements in cinema are far beyond the league of the types of films the
Oscars consider award-worthy. Why, *heh heh*, as I have quipped many a time, I
bet the Academy knows not even what indeed a strawberry is, let alone a wild
one. Next you'll be telling me Andrei Tarkovsky never won an award. Oh wait.
Oh, what's this? Bridge on the
River Kwai won Best Picture that year? Ha! Joke's on you, ignorantians. The
director's not even foreign. David Lean? Pfft. Might as well have directed Transformers
3. And I'd wager many a penny that you've never even heard of Jean-Luc
Godard. I suppose you think it's some sort of brand of skin care, hm?
You may believe you had redeemed
yourselves by giving four of your awards to Woody Allen, almost certainly
because you think he is the master of satire. And while Allen's works
are indeed satirically charged, and the man is a master of the film
reel, he is not the master of satire. That right belongs to Kubrick -
who you never gave a single Best Film or Best Director award to.
This is beyond inexcusable,
considering Kubrick is such a connosseur he deserves to win the Academy itself.
He is above the "Oscar" in every conceivable department, a man who
doesn't make films - he makes visual poetry. He makes lunches for the eyeballs,
dinners for the retinas - feasts for light itself. Kubrick's flawless
flow of visceral and visual versification can only be described of a concerto
of the lens itself, a Mozartian deity of the film cell, a Beethovenesque celebration
of mise-en-scene. The man leads the select few who carry the Kubrick eye; a
cult, a power, that can only be carried by those who truly understand pure
cinema.
Do you carry the Kubrick eye?
*scoff*, of course not. I bet you
carry the MICHAEL BAY eye, which (needless to say) is barely
anything in comparison to the godly Kubrick eye. Transformers is so
unspeakably horrible that it cannot even be categorized as a satire - that's
just how bad it is. In fact, calling it rape would be a compliment - it is the polar
opposite of film.
To those at the top of the corporate
film ladder such as myself, Michael Bay is only allowed to be referred to as
Satan, an unerathly evil come to spread it's spew all over cinema today. For
anyone without the intellect to carry the Kubrick, Bergman, or Trakovsky eye, go
back to your pit of destruction, death, and Transformers!!!!
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