[via FckYeahDementia]

I would’ve liked to get an Oscar reaction post up last night, but as it turns out, drinking games and brilliant analysis aren’t a likely combination (though I did have an elaborate dream about going to a winery with Jennifer Lawrence last night, true story). In the meantime, I’ve got your full list of winners below, and this Joaquin Phoenix reaction shot, possibly the strangest moment of the night. He hasn’t looked this confused and out of it since he was doing it on purpose for that movie where he got pooped on. I do feel bad for him though. They should really have a separate acting award, for Daniel Day-Lewis and everyone else. That way actors with performances like Joaquin’s in The Master could get some recognition.

As for his reaction, there is the distinct possibility that he was trying to give them the worst reaction shot possible. This considering he’s been open about hating awards season, calling it “total, utter bullshit, and I don’t want to be a part of it. [...] I don’t believe in it. It’s totally subjective. Pitting people against each other … It’s the stupidest thing in the whole world.”

Earlier that night, Roger Friedman, asked Joaquin if he was going to the ceremony:

“People keep asking me that,” said the star of The Master, “I didn’t know I had a choice.”

So basically, Joaquin Phoenix looked like a guy who hates the Oscars, but had to show up anyway so that Harvey Weinstein would let him see his kids again. That’s what I took from this.

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Joaquin Phoenix played a gas-huffing, window-licking, pervert in The Master, the kind of performance Academy voters love – kinda, but not totally retarded, exactly the way blackface Robert Downey described it. Plus, you can’t fake that harelip and weird shoulder. But Joaquin let it be known in a recent interview with Interview magazine that he don’t need no steenkeen awards, ése.

Phoenix, the star of the Weinstein Co. awards contender The Master, responded to a question by Elvis Mitchell by saying that the awards circuit is “total, utter bullshit, and I don’t want to be a part of it.”

“I don’t believe in it,” Phoenix continued. “It’s a carrot, but it’s the worst-tasting carrot I’ve ever tasted in my whole life.”

“…And take it from ol’ J-Walk, I’ve put some pretty stinky carrots in my mouth over the years, I don’t have to tell you ha ha ha, HEY! Who likes pussy?”

I don’t want this carrot.

— Joaquin Phoenix (@jrphoenix) October 18, 2012

“…I don’t want this carrot. It’s totally subjective. Pitting people against each other … It’s the stupidest thing in the whole world.”
“It was one of the most uncomfortable periods of my life when Walk the Line was going through all the awards stuff and all that,” said Phoenix, who did take home a Golden Globe for Best Actor for his performance in the biopic.
“I never want to have that experience again. I don’t know how to explain it — and it’s not like I’m in this place where I think I’m just above it — but I just don’t ever want to get comfortable with that part of things.” [hollywoodreporter]

The Oscars has basically become a parody of itself, awarding the movies that look like parodies of Oscar movies – The King’s Speech, The Iron Lady, Precious – and you don’t win any money for it (or else Cuba Gooding wouldn’t be hanging out with snow dogs), so why should Joaquin give a sh*t? The studio has an incentive to campaign for Oscars, but for the individual actor who’s already secure in his/her talent, there isn’t much of one. I don’t know if this will affect his chances one way or another, but if the Academy continues down this path of awarding unintentional parody, Joaquin seems like the perfect choice. Check out the Tropic Thunder speech and tell me it doesn’t describe Freddy Quell in The Master perfectly.

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The Master is the latest film from Paul Thomas Anderson, critically-beloved auteur of Boogie Nights, Magnolia, Punch Drunk Love, and There Will Be Blood, a roman á clef about Scientology starring Joaquin Phoenix as a drifter named Freddy Quell that’s sure to be debated for years to come. For instance, is Quell more of a gas-huffing pussy lover or a pussy-loving gas huffer? It’s a rift that will tear apart families, pit brother against brother.

The Master is polarizing, because like Drive, it’s largely an atmospheric movie. There’s no real political or religious message that you’re supposed to take away from it, and it’s not a thrilling tale of plot-driven intrigue – you mean Xenu was really dead the whole time? Whoooaaaaoooaaa. There’s no scene where Phoenix’s character accidentally kills a townie and Philip Seymour Hoffman plugs him in the back of the head on a riverbank while telling him stories about all the tits and pussies on the planet Kolob – red ones and blue ones and green ones! – as an angry mob approaches. A writing teacher once told me that the heart of every story is people and place, and that’s what The Master is. It’s nothing so much as a meditative, rotating series of historical portraits – who are these people and what do they do? – mostly straightforward and matter of fact, without the fart-sniffing pop-psychology you get with most indie films. It’s more concerned with enjoying who Joaquin’s character is than trying to figure out what’s his problem. It’s beautiful to look at, and Joaquin’s snarl-lipped, sex-obsessed simpleton is endlessly entertaining. When I’m enjoying what I’m watching this much,  BUT WHAT’S THE ARTIST TRYING TO SAY!??! never much enters the equation.

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