Sod The Big Five, These Are The Oscars The Academy Should Hand Out

Forget best actor, what we want to know is who wins the Nicky Butt awards for the film that sounds most like a rectum...
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Forget best actor, what we want to know is who wins the Nicky Butt awards for the film that sounds most like a rectum...

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Celebrating the best of the wonderful world of cinema is all well and good, but The Oscars are renowned for regularly and spectacularly missing the point. Take, for instance, the insipid and hock-handed Crash beating Brokeback Mountain and Capote to the Best Picture Oscar in 2006, or the technically impressive but narratively vacant Avatar being nominated for Best Picture in 2010 as two recent examples. The Oscars, then, clearly doesn’t know its arse from a crude drawing of an arse, with ‘ARSE’ written on it, that’s placed over a hole in the ground that looks almost nothing like an arse.

This probably has something to do with the members of The Academy – the body which selects the nominees and winners – being of similar ages and magnitudes of dry-rot infestation to most listed buildings. This same gaggle of Viagra-crazed dullards also selects winners by who they like, rather than troubling themselves with who is actually ‘best’ - a result of which, this year, is the lauding of the god-awful and almost offensively manipulative Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close.

Then there’s the corrupt nature of the whole shebang: Hollywood heavyweights like Harvey Weinstein often influence results by lobbying (often successfully) for their own films to win, making a wee bit of spot-fixing seem like a bit of excellent sportsmanship by comparison. The Oscars are also as apocalyptically boring and as self-congratulatory as something can possibly be without inflicting horrific second-degree burns onto anyone unfortunate enough to witness it - like a nuclear fusion reactor, only instead of being full of enriched plutonium, it’s chock-full of back-slapping thundercunts.

So Cage, as flames spew forth from his demonic johnson, wins this award for perhaps the most effective depiction of the dangers of the clap we’ve ever seen in a film.

This is why Sabotage Times has taken it upon itself to bestow its own awards, in its own categories, to celebrate things we actually give a reluctant, fumbly fuck about.

The first two awards actually go to films released too late to be considered for actual Oscars, but reckless rule-breaking of this nature is just how hard bastards like us roll.

Anyway, there’s a lot to get through, so without further ado we move onto the first category:

The M. Night Shyamalan Award For The Most Distressing Movie Cameo

And the award goes to... Al Pacino – Jack and Jill

This award is presented to the actor whose appearance in a film represents them at their lowest ebb: they have fallen into a piss-filled trough, floundered in its contents, and – like with Labyrinth’s Bog of Eternal Stench – will carry around its festering reek of crotch-pop for years to come.

Quite why Pacino thought it would be a good idea to parody his own greatness in a film about a cross-dressing Adam Sandler (i.e. one which, we imagine, didn’t exactly look great on the page) is anyone’s guess, and it’s hard to imagine how the great man can sink any lower - besides possibly becoming a vocal spokesman for the pleasures of animal husbandry. Before practicing what he preaches, live on international TV. While grunting anti-Semitic remarks. While wearing a Manchester United shirt. While... oh, you get the point.

The Paris Hilton Award For The Most Heavy-Handed STD Metaphor

And the award goes to... Nicolas Cage – Ghost Rider 2: Spirit of Vengeance

Nic Cage’s character is called Johnny Blaze – ‘Johnny’ – and he rides a motorbike, for which he should wear a helmet – ‘helmet’ – and, in one scene he pisses fire – actual ‘fire’. Come on, there’s subtext, and there’s!!!SUBTEXT!!!!

We understand the important message that Ghost Rider 2: Spirit of Vengeance is trying to get across, even if all other critics – missing the point, the fuckwits – just think it’s shit.

So Cage, as flames spew forth from his demonic johnson, wins this award for perhaps the most effective depiction of the dangers of the clap we’ve ever seen in a film. Congrats, Nic. Now take three of these a day for the next two weeks, and lay off the booze. And stay the fuck away from my sister.

The Jerry Lee Lewis Award For The Most Uncomfortably Incestuous Nude Scene

And the award goes to... Michael Fassbender and Carey Mulligan – Shame

Whether you’re a boy or girl - gay, straight or open to offers either way - there should have been something for you in this scene; Michael Fassbender’s pert bottom and whopper of a tallywhacker, or Carey Mulligan’s quiffed quim and lovely shirt cushions.

The problem was, in the film, they are brother and sister, and in said scene they’re both just... naked, and, like, talking to each other and stuff, for an extended period of time. It’s... weird, and is the most un-erotic naked scene in a film largely comprised of un-erotic naked scenes. Eurgh.

It’s all bollocks of the highest order, and completely undoes all the hard work the film has done up to that point. Fucking hooves, honestly.

The Nicky Butt Award For The Film With The Name That Sounds Most Like a Rectum

And the award goes to... Coriolanus

Little explanation needed here, really.

The Fanny Cradock Award For The Film With The Title That Sounds Most Like a Vagina

And the award goes to... The Beaver

Likewise.

The Jedward Award For The Two Most Similar Films

And the award goes to... No Strings Attached and Friends with Benefits

There was one with Mila Kunis, and she was boffing Ashton Kutcher. No, wait, it was Timberlake boffing Kunis wasn’t it. Wasn’t it? And Kutcher boffing Timberlake? Was Natalie Portman boffing Kunis then? But wasn’t that Black Swan? What does ‘boffing’ mean? What year is it?

Above all else, though, the thing these two films shared most was their mediocrity. Well, that, and this entirely fictional award. Congratulations to them.

The Lost Series 6 Award For The Film Which Dropped The Ball The Most In Its Final Act

And the award goes to... Insidious

It all starts so well: A creepy house, a creepy kid, some brilliantly unnerving sound design, genuinely unsettling moments and well executed set-piece jumps, and then... [SPOILERS ALERT! Skip to the next award if you don’t want to know what happens]... hooves.

Fucking hooves. And a place called ‘The Further’. And some comic relief-y Ghostbusters. And shitloads of dry ice. And a demonic mansion that looks like the set of a mid-budget porno with delusions of S&M grandeur, only without the class. And a stupid monster crawling about on the walls.

It’s all bollocks of the highest order, and completely undoes all the hard work the film has done up to that point. Fucking hooves, honestly.

The Kingdom of The Crystal Skull Award For The Worst Belated Sequel

And the award goes to... Scream 4

Seeing Neve Campbell and the gang back together was great. Not quite Blur at Glastonbury, but...good.

It’s just a shame then, that the film around them was such tediously outdated knob-bollocks. It wasn’t particularly scary, or particularly funny, it just gave you an idea of what it would have been like if Dawson’s Creek had ‘done a Hollyoaks’ and had late-night episodes where people swore amateurishly and got bummed.

It didn’t do particularly well at the box office, either, hopefully making this the end of the Scream series.

The Fiver in the Recently Washed Jeans Pocket Award For The Most Pleasant Surprise

And the award goes to... Rise of the Planet of the Apes

Tim Burton’s 2001 Planet of the Apes wasn’t quite the thrown turd some critics would have you believe, yet it was unforgivably mediocre, and is probably best remembered as a noble misfire.

News of a reboot was greeted like news of an impending budget (you know you should pay attention, but the results will certainly be bad, so you just don’t), so when Rise of the Planet of the Apes actually turned out to be one of the best blockbusters of the year - the soft, crunching sound echoing across the country was that of millions of hats being simultaneously eaten.

It was a mature, intelligent film, bringing believable characters and motivations into a fantastical premise. It boasted superbly staged action and excellent, nuanced performances from James Franco, John Lithgow and the motion-captured Andy Serkis, and no-one saw it coming, which made it even better.

The problem was, in the film, they are brother and sister, and in said scene they’re both just... naked, and, like, talking to each other and stuff, for an extended period of time. It’s... weird

The Andriy Shevchenko Award For The Most Expensive Critical or Commercial Dud

This is the biggie. It has nominations and everything.

A film can be considered for this award in two ways: either the film cost a twatload of money to make and subsequently flopped financially, or it did well at the box office despite being utter, irredeemable plank.

And... the esteemed nominees are:

Cowboys and Aliens - Made its $160m budget back, but – once distribution and advertising costs are taken into account - this simply isn’t enough. A muddled, oddly po-faced mess from Iron Man director John Favreau.

Pirates of the Caribbean 4: On Stranger Tides – boring, over-egged, too long, plotless, pointless, wank. Utter wank. That... errr... made shitloads of cash.

Conan the Barbarian – Made back just over half of its $90m budget. Clearly, without Arnie, no-one gives a toss about the teachings of Crom.

Sucker Punch – Just about scraped back its $80m-or-so budget, but was a crushing critical disappointment for Zach Snyder, who was on a roll after the excellent trio of Dawn of the Dead, 300 and Watchmen.

Transformers 3: Dark of the Moon – Extremely profitable, but like ramming your head through a precession of TV screens for two and a half hours, before being sick, getting confused, and then wishing you were dead.

Mars Needs Moms – Us neither. Nevertheless, it cost around $150m (?!) to make, and recouped around $40m. Ouch.

And the winner is:

Pirates of the Caribbean 4: On Stranger Tides.

Just... terrible, and made so much worse by the fact that people went to see it in their droves.

‘If that many people went to see it then it must be doing something right,’ perhaps? No, and shut up. Nazism was popular in Germany once, and Mrs Brown’s Boys is popular now; ‘popularity’ means dick all – probably less.

Transformers can, to some extent, hide behind the excuse that it’s aimed at kids (despite the frequent close-ups of ladies’ bottoms) while On Stranger Tides was aimed at everyone, and everyone includes you. That’s right – they aimed this stack of shit at you, right at your face, on purpose. They knew it was shit, and they aimed it at you anyway, to see what you’d do. And what have you done? Are you going to let them get away with it? No. Of course you’re not. Nor should any of us.

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