Sunday night’s Golden Globes left me with a few conclusions.
First, the obvious. Yes, Na’vi sex is hilarious. And wearing technologically outdated 3D glasses for 2.5 hours is fun and painless, of course. But really, James Cameron, REALLY, AVATAR, did you REALLY deserve Golden Globes? Disgraceful. Kathryn Bigelow–unless the esteemed Academy is on crack-cocaine, you will see vengeance at the Oscars for The Hurt Locker. At least John Lithgow and Michael C. Hall got the credit they deserved for Dexter.
But I digress. These observations pale so far in comparison to my most important epiphany. It came, you see, right around here:
I’m referring not to Robert De Niro’s or Leo DiCaprio’s surprisingly hilarious and insightful speeches, but instead what transpired thereafter. As I heard those first few drumbeats and watched images of Scorsese films fade in and out, I had only one thought:
MONTAGES. ARE. AWESOME. Montages pump me up!
The Scorsese montage wasn’t the best I’ve seen. But as I sat and watched De Niro and DiCaprio tower over Scorsese while he made his speech, I realized that Scorsese yet was the manliest and furthermore the most legit of the trifecta. For unlike the other two, Martin Scorsese had a montage dedicated to him and his repertoire. Every atom of Scorsese’s (I’d say, no more than) 5’3″, 67-year-old frame is comprised of sheer, immortal swagger… sheer glory… sheer, unadulterated, montage-worthy talent. The Martin Scorsese montage made me feel like an accomplished director. Cheers, Marty Scorsese, you are the man.
Know what I mean? It doesn’t matter what a montage is about. There is something irrevocably badass about a really good montage. Something that always makes you want to see/know more, whether or not you were interested in the content beforehand. Something that makes you think about how life would be so much more exciting if it could be viewed in montage form. Whether it’s a National Guard recruitment montage, the picture of greatness “Where the Hell is Matt?” montage (thanks, Kayla), an In Memoriam montage of mostly obscure dead composers and casting directors at the Academy Awards, or this montage of some girl dancing at apple stores around the nation,
everything and everyone looks cooler in montage form. If you can’t tell by the brunette that crosses her arms in an act of ashamed and uncomfortable resistance next to her companion, dancing Apple Store girl probably isn’t that awesome. Somehow, though, her “DANCING CHICKS AT APPLE STORE” montage beckons to every viewer, giving us a false promise of coolness that can’t possibly exist outside of said montage… thus why this young lady takes to the ‘Tube to fulfill her otherwise vacant need for attention.
In addition to vodka, mail-order brides and years of political unrest, I thank the Soviets for montage editing:
Here’s a classic example. 1920s badassery.
Without filmmakers like Eisenstein, haphazardly assorted images would be neither as adrenaline-pumping nor as inspirational. I can only hope that I can do something awesome with my life, or at least die as a moderately prominent member of the entertainment industry, or at the very least buy a webcam and learn to dance, so that I too can someday be in a montage.
Oh, P.S.–that Scorsese montage got me all hot and bothered for Shutter Island. There might need to be another tribute montage after that sure-to-be gem comes out.