
Last year’s awards ceremony for the New York Film Critics Circle (or as we like to call it, The Golden Seal Bull Moose Moving Picture Appreciation Society of the 1934 World’s Fair) were hosted by our favorite thesaurifinous curmudgel, Armond White, who took the occasion to repeatedly diss The Social Network and almost make Annette Bening cry. This year’s ceremony took place last night, and while Armond didn’t host this time, he still managed to leave his mark. The chairman’s seat was always better suited to bourgeois, plutofascicrats than verbidinous revolutionary ramblificators like Armond anyway, who prefer to shout their criticisms from the back row. Which Armond did, frequently, according to witnesses.
This year, White didn’t have the hosting gig to make his opinions known, but he shouted out his opinions and non sequiturs from the crowd nevertheless, yelling “The Good Shepherd!” while Robert De Niro was speaking and shouting the name of the second black actress to be nominated for an Oscar — “Ethel Waters!” — twice while Viola Davis was on the stage.
God I love that man. From now on, instead of booing, we should all just shout “The Good Shepherd!” Of course Armond White heckles in esoteric non-sequitirs, that’s just his way. If he were able to epethize less obfuscatorily, it would only serve to burnish the patina of the au-courant anti-intellectualism like that daffy twat Schwarzbaum. Meanwhile, the guy’s not made of stone, he does still get starstruck:
After Brad Pitt went to take a smoke break accompanied by Sorkin, Angelina Jolie, and a big security detail, Armond White ran up to the group to introduce himself to the Moneyball actor. [Vulture]
“I loved you in Troy. It made Gladiator look like a craven paean to imperialist hegemony. Seriously, inspiring work. Almost as good as Ocean’s 12.”
And Armond wouldn’t be Armond if he wasn’t taking every opportunity to crap on recently laid-off Village Voice critic J. Hoberman:
[reports Movieline's Lawrence Levi] At NY Film Critics Circle awards dinner, I overheard Albert Brooks ask Armond White, “Is J. Hoberman here?” White replied, “That jackass.”
That’s what’s so lovely about Armond White. Hate him and call him a troll all you want, he’s still frequently going to be the only guy willing to call a guy who’s probably a jackass a jackass. Agree or disagree, you have to respect his lustrificent gangstranimity.
And just to wrap up this week in Armond White, I thought I’d quote briefly from his “better than” list.
Paul> Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives
Greg Mottola and Simon Pegg and Nick Frost grasp the depth of American pop culture while Apitchapong Weerasethakul peddles Asian obscurantism. Joyous vs. Spurious.Colombiana>The Help
Winnie the Pooh>Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close
The Iron Lady>J. Edgar, My Week with Marilyn
Jack and Jill>The Descendants
Adam Sandler’s affectionate, very broad, ethnic satire defies Alexander Payne’s smug denial of America’s ethnic history. Humility vs. SanctimonyWhat’s Your Number?, Kaboom>Bridesmaids
Rejoice and Shout>Cave of Our Forgotten Ancestors [Editor's Note: That's not even the right title.]
Your Highness, The Sitter>Midnight in Paris
Real Steel>Moneyball
Shawn Levy explores fatherhood and masculinity in professional competition while Bennett Miller and Brad Pitt take the fun out of baseball. Entertainment vs. Sophistry.
Oh, and here was his response to the Kim Novak/The Artist rape kerfuffle:
Bravo Kim Novak! Great blast at “movie” The Artist. Kim has the heart of cinephilia–and a lioness!
I’m convinced EVERYTHING Armond White writes ends with him screaming “F*CK YOU I WON’T DO WHATCHA TELL ME!” dropping his keyboard and walking away from his computer. Not even a shirt with two motorcycles on it could do justice to a man this rebellious.
[banner pic source = DeathandTaxes]



Shawn Levy explores fatherhood and masculinity in professional competition…
IT WAS A FUCKING OVER THE TOP RIPOFF!
Beef 25 years too late: Why didn’t they have Motörhead’s “Over the Top” anywhere in that soundtrack? Were they afraid that having Rocky, Robert Loggia and Lemmy attached to the same project would bring on a glorious nationwide sex party?
Which is why Shawn Levy explores fatherhood and masculinity in professional competition.
Ha! Jack & Jill > The Descendants! Good one, Vince!
*clicks on link*
….the fuck?!?!
Jack and Jill>The Descendants
While a man in drag sitting on a horse whose legs break should be funny, Clooney peeking over that hedge fires up my ROFLCOPTER every time. Writing to a generation of internet meme-obsessed dandies, you think A-Dubs would pander a little more to that
Since I’ve always read Armond’s work as a direct parody of J Hobes, I’m starting to worry about Hobe’s health. Maybe White’s non sequiturs and crazy bleatings are a window into Hobe’s deteriorating mental state or an onset of dementia we’re not privy to.
And yes, I still want to rape everyone involved.
Is Armond White just Joaquin Phoenix in black-face and this is all part of “I’m Still Here 2?”
See? Now THIS photo says “Yeah, that’s right, I farted. So what’cha gonna do abou’tit?”
Actually, for some reason it reminds me of the old episodes of The Cosby Show when grandpa would come over with his friends and talk about the good ol’ days of jazz.
J. Hobes ain’t seen a brown skin man since his grandparents bought one.
A-Dubz can’t waste a day when the night brings a hearse.
God, he’s like a kid who acts out for attention. I bet he “accidentally” knocked over people’s drinks as he walked by their tables, too.
There was no accidentally about it. Any time he heard someone say that Alexander Payne was a talented director, he would walk up and delicately dip his cock in their drink. He would then remark “Your beverage overfloweth sir.”
Then he would knock their drink over.
Armond White’s career is the unpublished sequel to “A Confederacy of Dunces.” Turns out, Ignatius got hisself a pigment graft a la RDJ in “Tropic Thunder.”
According to this picture, A Dubs is *not* Rappaport.
Why is this man smiling? He’s sitting on a homeless dude because HE AIN’T CARE.
That event needed Brendan to regulate all hecklers.
True fact: When Armand White farts the only sound is his butthole screaming “uncultivated methane expulsion!”
Real Steel>Moneyball
While “Moneyball” was a plebeian retread of an oft represented gaiety, “Real Steel” was a nigh Biblical tale of redemption and a metaphorical exploration on the near mechanized state of modernity’s all but inhuman athletes. Unlike Asimov’s overwritten and trite meditation on robotics, “Real Steel” forgoes a multitudinous set of rules and behavioral regulations in favor of one rule expressed with an utter simplicity and elegance sorely lacking in today’s wasteland of quality cinema: “Get in there and kick ass.”
I’m going to make a movie about Armond White. I’m gonna call it “Honeybadger”. And he’s going to rip it to shreds in an epic act of metasuicidal iconoclasm.
Holy shit, the watch on his left arm looks like it has never even grazed the top of his wrist. That’s how the plebs and sophists wear em, you see.
I don’t think that those are motorcycles. That’s actually what his nipples look like when he’s been fully aroused by the thought of his own genius.
Nipple Wheelies!!
I wouldn’t doubt Columbiana actually is better than The Help.