Strike A Pose, Anne, Anne, Anne

Ole!

So, Anne Hathaway paved her image on the latest cover of Vogue as part of her run up to her Runner-up Oscar Crowning ceremony early next year (read: supporting not lead).  In case, you haven't gotten the memo, she is going to win the demoted Oscar for playing the shorn, emaciated whore who gets the best song in the musical.  Some people say you can't predict such things until the movie Les Misérables actually comes out.  I say, fools, the writing is on the wall and we don't need an interpreter.  And, if I'm wrong (which I'm not), you can come back and point your finger at me.  Just for the record, my relationship with Anne is very ambivalent.  I love her and I hate her, as detailed here, here, here, and here.  Mostly love.  She's a true entertainer with talent, willing to take chances and send herself up in the process.  She's made some decent films.  She can be quite funny (as her third time hosting SNL proved this last weekend, especially her opening monologue, Katie Holmes impression, and falling in love with the Sloppy Swish), and surprisingly dramatically good (i.e. I thought her and her overly thick eyeliner in Rachel Getting Married were going to be a disaster, only to be proven wrong).  The girl has got game, and you can't say that about many Hollywood actors.  Even in bad films, I sometimes can't take my eyes off her (i.e. that awful Havoc, where her Pacific Palisades hoe-ass decides to go all gangsta; and I thought her brief cameo in Alice in Wonderland was about the only watchable thing about that eyesore).  There are also times, where I can't stand her onscreen (i.e. Love & Other Drugs), but mostly whatever disdain I harbor towards her is usually reserved for her offscreen interviews where she plays the role of "serious actor."  She becomes this pretentious monster that makes me want to plug her pie hole with Glade plugins to hide the stench coming out of her mouth, while shouting, "Get over yourself!"  So, as a rule now, I try to avoid such circumstances.

Splendor with the Grass

However, I couldn't escape her talking about herself today on the internets thanks to the Vogue interview, as she continues her slow red carpet walk to the Dolby Theatre.  There were also some annoying pictures to accompany the article.  In one picture she's auditioning for Carmen Miranda on Quaaludes, dressed down as a toreador.  In another, she's going out for the part of Helen Keller (also on Quaaludes).  Girl's got range and yes, I know I'm going to Hell for that last comment.  I guess if Hollywood has to give Oscars out, and the ingenues have the edge in this game, Hathaway is due by now compared to her contemporaries (Natalie Portman has an Oscar; who's left?).  The process of getting there is just so desperate and unbecoming.  I don't recall if Cate Blanchett or Rachel Weisz subverted themselves to get their first Oscars, but the next time someone of their caliber comes along, I'm going to pay more attention!

Chances are also that both female acting Oscars will go to youngins'.  Hathaway just turned 30 and the frontrunner for lead is early-twentysomething Jennifer Lawrence.  The last comparable year was 1999 with Hilary Swank and Angelina Jolie, both in their early-to-mid-20s.  While Swank is regrouping after some cinematic failures and a PR meltdown, she did go on to win a second Oscar and, Jolie, well, is still technically one of the most bankable movie stars out there.  Hathaway isn't that bankable (on her name alone), and I doubt she'll be satisfied with just one (supporting, at that) Oscar.

Anyway, I'm still excited about the movie and can't wait to see Les Misérables, so I can sob like a bitch.