Weinstein Co.

Weinstein Co.

We just feel bad for the big studio winners of last year, when The Artist swept with five Oscars—including Best Picture—for an entirely silent movie made by French people. But unfortunately karma is a bitch: despite having some incredible features this year—The Intouchables was supposed to be the duo’s hot ticket back into the good graces of France, but despite its excellence, it never got off the ground here in America; Lawless was dismissed because we liked Tom Hardy better as Bane; and who the hell knows what happened to Sean Penn as a drag queen in This Must Be the Place—they all fell majorly short of critical expectations. (Except for Bully, which people loved but wasn’t nominated for anything.) So much potential in those films for a Best Actor, and yet it was The Master that was begrudgingly given two nods for its leading and supporting men and one for Amy Adams. And yes, Harvey Weinstein likes to refer to his company as “the house that Quentin built,” but unless Waltz can produce another Best Supporting for what was essentially a nicer, less interesting version of Col. Hans Landa, the best the brothers can hope for is Best Original Song (except that it’s going to Adele and Skyfall) or that it somehow winds up with the Best Original Screenplay because the n-word.

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