With the Oscars so close, the Buffer editors love nothing more than to debate the outcomes of each category. Here are our predictions for the winners of some of the top categories for this year’s Academy Awards.
All posts by Kristi Yeung
The Neverending Apocalypse
Kristi Yeung and Zinan Zhang examine the surge in apocalyptic films: What is it that makes the global disaster genre so resilient and captivating?
Nebraska: Slow and Steady
I have mixed feelings about road trips. Who doesn’t love bonding with friends and family with a panorama of beautiful scenery extending as far as you can see? At the same time, road trips are always undercut by cramped space with limited mobility and nothing to do. For me, watching Nebraska, a two-hour film about a father-son trip from Montana to Nebraska, felt a lot like a road trip. I’m torn.
Re-Diagnosing the 80s with Dallas Buyers Club
When I picture the 80s, I see scrunched-up leg warmers, primary-colored tights, high-cut leotards, and chunky off-the-shoulder sweaters Tae-Bo-bouncing in unison to “Eye of the Tiger” on a television of microwave thickness. I imagine the smell of aerosolized hairspray in the dressing rooms of Broadway’s Dreamgirls and the taste of glorified teenage angst served in The Breakfast Club. I hear the beats of Madonna’s “Material Girl” and feel the onslaught of the dancing plague made viral by Michael Jackson’s “Thriller.”
But beneath the threat of environmentally unfriendly hair product dispensers and angry teenagers was a real danger, one so well known in present-day, first world, hygienic, retrovirus-aware America that we often forget how it horrified our country just thirty years ago. I’m not talking about dancing zombies. I’m talking about HIV.
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Don Jon: Porn, Sex, and Love
I gave my ticket to the movie theater employee expecting him to quickly rip off the stub and send me on my way to the theater showing Joseph Gordon-Levitt’s screenwriting and directorial debut, Don Jon. But the ticket collector didn’t let me through. He instead asked, “ID?” It took me a second to realize he doubted I was 17. A senior at Princeton University, I was offended I didn’t look mature enough to watch a rated R film.