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I have to write Oscars film reviews for my journalism class

and here’s what I want to write:

The Artist

CRYING CRYING CRYING THIS MOVIE WAS MADE FOR ME I HAVE JEAN DUJARDIN’S FACE ON MY WALL WHY CAN’T ALL MOVIES BE THIS PERFECT. I CAN’T EVEN EXPLAIN TO YOU HOW THIS MOVIE MADE ME FEEL

Midnight in Paris

Wow. I really want to fuck Ernest Hemingway.

Tree of Life

What is going on? Is Sean Penn God? Oh he’s their son? Wait. Did that happen or was that just a metaphor? I LOVE THIS FILM! I think…

Hugo

Wait. Was that a Harold Lloyd refrence. HAROLD LLOYD MY BABY! Oh no. Don’t talk about film being destroyed. No no no you know what that does to me. Good thing I have 3D glasses on because film being destroyed=me sobbing. DID YOU KNOW THAT 80% OF AMERICAN FILMS FROM THE 1900s to 1930s HAVE BEEN LOST!? It’s a subject that hurts me deeply.

The Descendants

I don’t like Hawaii. I don’t like beaches. I don’t like the outdoors. I don’t think there is ever an appropriate reason to wear shorts and Hawaiian shorts [unless, of course, you are Hunter S. Thompson in which case you have done so many drugs you probably don’t even know what you’re wearing anymore]

Moneyball

My husband wrote this so naturally it’s perfect. Also. Can Nate Silver get his own film someday?

War Horse

Okay I’m watching that tonight. Benedict Cumberbatch has a mustache.

Incredibly Depressing and Extremeley Unwatchable

Ha, I’m not watching that.

Sadly, I think I have to be a bit more coherent and eloquent than that….