Forrest and Laura Watch All 9 Best Picture Nominees in 24 Hours

All about the Academy Awards.
Feb. 24 2013 10:15 AM

Nine Movies. 24 Hours. 11,000 Calories of Popcorn.

Can two Slate writers survive AMC’s Best Picture megamarathon?

(Continued from Page 2)

Sunday, 5:02 a.m.

We_Are_All_Pi
Still of Forrest Wickman and L.V. Anderson.

Wickman: I am Pi. WE ARE ALL PI.

Sunday, 5:40 a.m.

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Wickman: Life of Pi just ended, and the breaks are getting shorter and shorter, so we should keep it simple: Laura, do you now believe in God?

Anderson: Ask me again when we reach the end of this. Life of Pi hit pretty close to home: alone in an enclosed space with someone you didn't know very well, not showering or brushing your teeth for what feels like eons, no contact with the outside world, with only the written word to keep you sane ... ring any bells, Richard, I mean Forrest?

Combined caffeinated beverages consumed: 13
Alcoholic beverages consumed: one
On-screen tears shed: 29
On-screen deaths: 339 (approximately 200 Confederate and Union soldiers, one U.S. president, one old French lady, one anonymous Iranian hung from a crane, 74 evil slaveowners/slave-traders/Klansmen, two Mandingo fighters, one Stephen, one French prostitute, one French cross-dresser, one adorable French urchin, one French mayor hiding his true identity until the very end, one rules-obsessed French inspector, approximately 20 revolutionaries, approximately 20 French soldiers, seven CIA agents, four terrorists, one terrorist's wife, three ship passengers), plus one hyena, one zebra, and one orangutan
On-screen musical numbers: eight (two piano sonatas, one rendition of "Sur le Pont d'Avignon," one opera aria, one Ben Affleck strut to Led Zeppelin, one jovial chanty about peanut butter in the Cleopatra Club, one 3 ½ hour sung-through musical, one Indian dance class)
Biggest laugh so far: the Klansmen's conversation about their masks' eyeholes 
On-screen hallucinated women: four

Sunday, 7:45 a.m.

Wickman: There are people audibly snoring. But if we stay positive, and we work hard, we have a shot at not totally being miserable through Beasts of the Southern Wild. Excelsior!

Laura, does this have a happy ending? Or is this about how, sometimes, life is hard? Also, is it starting to smell in here?

Anderson: Yes, it is kind of starting to smell in here. But we do have a shot at not being miserable through Beasts of the Southern Wild—Joe just announced they're serving us complimentary pastries, coffee, and orange juice in the lobby. Joe, I take back everything I said during trivia hour.

I liked Robert De Niro's performance better upon my second viewing, but it's not because I thought he gave an exceptional performance; it's because I realized the part was practically written for Robert De Niro qua Robert De Niro. I didn't like Silver Linings Playbook much better on the whole, though—I still think it's overrated. Then again, pretty much any film is bound to seem overrated when viewed after being awake for 24 hours.

Combined caffeinated beverages consumed: 13 (soon to be ameliorated)
Alcoholic beverages consumed: one
On-screen tears shed: 33
On-screen deaths: 339 (approximately 200 Confederate and Union soldiers, one U.S. president, one old French lady, one anonymous Iranian hung from a crane, 74 evil slaveowners/slave-traders/Klansmen, two Mandingo fighters, one Stephen, one French prostitute, one French cross-dresser, one adorable French urchin, one French mayor hiding his true identity until the very end, one rules-obsessed French inspector, approximately 20 revolutionaries, approximately 20 French soldiers, seven CIA agents, four terrorists, one terrorist's wife, three ship passengers), plus one hyena, one zebra, and one orangutan
On-screen musical numbers: 11 (two piano sonatas, one rendition of "Sur le Pont d'Avignon," one opera aria, one Ben Affleck strut to Led Zeppelin, one jovial chanty about peanut butter in the Cleopatra Club, one 3 ½ hour sung-through, one Indian dance class, and three pairs dance competition performances)
Biggest laugh so far: Pat and Tiffany's rejoicing at receiving a score of five on their dance 
On-screen hallucinated women: five
Combined minutes spent dozing off: 20

Sunday, 10:15 a.m.

Anderson: We made it! Like Hushpuppy, we are the man. Unlike Hushpuppy, however, I wasn't thrilled by Beasts of the Southern Wild's universe of the Bathtub. Of course, it's impossible to say how much of my dislike was due to the movie and how much to exhaustion. I will cop to liking the last three movies—Life of Pi, Silver Linings Playbook, and Beasts—the least of all the films. My goodwill toward Hollywood had simply expired by 4 a.m., I suppose.

And yet, like everyone else here, I applauded when Beasts ended. How are you feeling, Forrest? Same time, same place next year?

Wickman: I feel like a shipwreck, probably smell like an Aurochs, and I expect I look like Gollum. And I did not applaud when Beasts ended. 

Anderson: I found our count of hallucinated female characters a particularly enlightening metric. (They are: Anne in Amour, Broomhilda in Django Unchained, Fantine and Cosette in Les Misérables, Nikki in Silver Linings Playbook, and Hushpuppy's mom in Beasts of the Southern Wild.) Was this a particularly woman-unfriendly round of Oscar nominees, or is this pretty much par for the course?

Wickman: I found that striking, too. Many wispy Edenic women swishing their hips in our nominees this year. And how many men were hallucinated? I think zero. Right about now, though, I sympathize. If there's a Michael Jordan jersey nailed to a chair somewhere, I hope it greets me with open arms (or smothers me with a pillow). As for you, I imagine you'll hallucinate Eddie Redmayne.

Anderson: There are so many other things we could have counted that we didn't. I'm including both things on-screen (e.g., instances in which men save women by purchasing them, dead fish, prostitutes) and things you and I spilled on the floor. 

Wickman: Two ushers just came in through the door behind the last row, surveyed the scene, and said, "Wow." "Well, they did stay for 24 hours," the other said. #InTheEndEverybodyBreaksBro

Combined caffeinated beverages consumed: 15
Alcoholic beverages consumed: one
On-screen tears shed: 38
On-screen deaths: 340 (one old French lady, approximately 200 Confederate and Union soldiers, one U.S. president, one anonymous Iranian hung from a crane, 74 evil slaveowners/slave-traders/Klansmen, two Mandingo fighters, one Stephen, one French prostitute, one French cross-dresser, one adorable French urchin, one French mayor hiding his true identity until the very end, one rules-obsessed French inspector, approximately 20 French revolutionaries, approximately 20 French soldiers, seven CIA agents, four terrorists, one terrorist's wife, three ship passengers, and one neglectful yet loving father), plus one hyena, one zebra, one orangutan, and several farm animals
On-screen musical numbers: 11 (two piano sonatas, one rendition of "Sur le Pont d'Avignon," one opera aria, one Ben Affleck strut to Led Zeppelin, one jovial chanty about peanut butter in the Cleopatra Club, one 3 ½ hour sung-through musical, one Indian dance class, three pairs dance competition performances, one bluegrass band performance at a parade, and one nightclub singer's crooning)
Biggest laugh: Pat and Tiffany's rejoicing at receiving a score of five on their dance (followed by Lincoln's Ethan Allen anecdote, Emmanuelle Riva's motorized wheelchair hijinx, Forrest's laugh when the Iranian police car almost ran into the jet turbine, Jessica Chastain's "motherfucker," the opening credits of Life of Pi, and Javert leaping to his death)
On-screen hallucinated women: six
Massages received: one (by the traitor Laura Anderson)
Oatmeal chocolate-chip cookies consumed: 10, all during the entirety of Les Misérables
Combined minutes spent dozing off: 20
Blood clots currently lodged deep in Forrest’s circulatory system: dozens

CURRENTLY: SLEEPING

L.V. Anderson is a Slate assistant editor. She edits Slate's food and drink sections and writes Brow Beat's recipe column, You're Doing It Wrong. 

Forrest Wickman is a Slate staff writer. 

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