The Academy announced the nominees for the 2006 Academy Awards this morning, so here’s the list, with my gut-reaction picks in bold red type:

Best Adapted Screenplay
Larry McMurtry and Diana Ossana, Brokeback Mountain
Dan Futterman, Capote
Jeffrey Caine, The Constant Gardener
Josh Olson, A History of Violence
Tony Kushner and Eric Roth, Munich

Best Original Screenplay
Paul Haggis and Bobby Moresco, Crash
George Clooney and Grant Heslov, Good Night, and Good Luck
Woody Allen, Match Point
Noah Baumbach, The Squid and the Whale
Stephen Gaghan, Syriana

Animated Feature
Howl’s Moving Castle
Tim Burton’s Corpse Bride
Wallace & Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit

Art Direction
Good Night, and Good Luck
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
King Kong
Memoirs of a Geisha
Pride & Prejudice

Make sure you click more below for the rest of the list.
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Now that a couple days have passed, I can hop on and let everyone know how I got home, as unlike the rest of our valiant writers, I did not fly. I drove out to PC and, obviously, had to drive back.

Friday morning, after everyone had left for the airport, and with about a hour and a half to spare before checkout, I went about final packing for the trip home. This meant emptying the cabinets and fridge of any food worth taking with me, disconnecting the internet cabling and network, taking apart the computer and then doing a couple checks through the condo to make sure nobody left anything (Eric, you left your swim trunks, but I got them, and I’m wearing them, and nothing else, right now). As I’d gotten word that snow was in the forecast, I wanted to make sure I was on my way out of PC and the Canyons before things got too “skiffy” (thank a Utah state trooper for that term and ask Dan Mirvish for an explanation). I still had some unfinished business in town, having to return some films to the press office, return the cable modem to Comcast and, ultimately, return a crappy internet hub to Staples (14 days, no questions asked refund on all electronics), so I couldn’t leave immediately. Instead, I took one last shuttle tour to the HQ, and then went to Main Street to shoot a little Sundance b-roll. During this Main Street adventure, I met a former girlfriend of Richard Kern (if you don’t know, well, that’s your business) and she and I decided to make our last Main Street trek together.

After parting ways at the bottom of Main Street, I made my way back to the condo parking garage and hopped in the car. The time was 2pm, and I expected to be home that evening by midnight, 2am if weather caused trouble. I’m telling you now, neither timetable was accurate.

Upon exiting Park City and getting through the Canyons, I came across snow showers that would be with me, in varying degrees of slippery-ness and visibility, throughout the drive through Utah. Nothing horrendous (nothing like “The Post-Slamdance Storm That Almost Killed Kim and I” in 2002), but driving was slow-going.

Once out of the stress of snow-driving, my eyes began to do their involuntary crossing thing, which is something that happens to me when I’m getting really tired. So, I decided to pull off to a rest area and take a nap. I did so in the driver’s seat, and only slept about a half hour. Upon getting back on the road, feeling refreshed, I noticed that my eyes were still doing the crossing thing. Meaning, I needed more sleep. 50 miles later, I found another rest area and immediately pulled over. This time, I climbed in the back seat and stretched out, facing the front of the car.

After two hours of that, I got back on the road and, I shit you not, 50 miles later had to pull over again and sleep. It was getting ridiculous but, at the same time, my eyes were not cooperating with me at all. This stretch was scarier because I tried to fight them, tried to force them to stay awake and all that did was lead to that moment when you hear the loud, repeated scrapes as your tires go over the side line and you realize, shit, I NEED to pull over NOW. So, this time I slept in the back seat, facing the back of the car, curled up fetus-style (as it was warmer). About 4 hours like that in a random rest area.

When I woke up, all was good. My eyes were no longer messing with me, and the drive was similar to the drive out. When all was said and done I was home and in my own bed by 10am Saturday morning, 21 hours (an hour difference between PC and LA) after I’d left Park City. I’ve been in self-imposed hibernation since.

But I’m awake now, and ready to face the short sprint to SXSW. In the meantime, all the reviews I wrote will finally be on the site and I’ve got a few more video pieces that will make their way online as well. To Pete, Don, Michael, Eric… great job! It was an unbelievable task that we assigned ourselves (okay, that Eric and I assigned everybody, but still) but we pulled it off and I couldn’t be happier. Next year we’ll figure out more party-time and/or downtime (because we ALL needed it), but thanks for rocking it with a smile this year.

Can’t wait for SXSW!

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As promised, a pictorial examination of my first trip to Sundance. Firstly, here is a picture of Chris Gore in the kitchen of our wonderful condo, wearing a T-shirt that supports all of Virginia… or am I getting confused with something else?

Next, here I am kicking it with director Tamra Davis (Billy Madison, Half Baked), who was there supporting her new short, Conversations with Basquiat. She may have also been there supporting her husband, Mike D of the Beastie Boys, who was there for his concert film, the brilliant Awesome: I Fuckin’ Shot That!

After that, I ran into Morgan Spurlock; one of the nicest people on the planet.

Director Sandhya Suri was there supporting her wonderful documentary, I For India.

Sadly, you can see the gum I was chewing creeping out the side of my mouth in that picture. My last night there, I headed to the Queer Lounge where I bumped into political firecracker Robert Baer. Wait, or is that Film Threat’s own firecracker, Pete Vonder Haar?

At this same party, Pete and I met up with some of the Rotten Tomatoes crew. I met with the sinister Senh Duong and rapped about film with Tim Ryan (Pictured). At the time the flash of the camera took hold, a snow flake fell in front of my nose, making it look like a tissue is needed. I also took a journey with the wonderful Jen Yamato (pictured) through a pink-lit room with slim guys dancing in “man-tees” with zippers to unleash their goods. I have no idea why Senh is missing from these pictures.

Now for the infamous Matt Dillon story. It was Monday night, Gore, Campos and I met up at the Cadillac lounge. We hung there for a bit, drank some brews, and chit chatted. Someone pointed out to me that Matt Dillon was in the room. Being the Over the Edge fan that I am (fuck The Outsiders, this is where it’s at), I decided to walk up to him and let him know how big a fan I was of him. He had other plans for me though.

I walk to his area and make sure he isn’t involved in any conversation. After a few seconds, he wasn’t, so I walked up to him and said, “Hey…”

He looked at me with his Crash face. He looked down to see my Sundance Press Pass, noticed that I was indeed with press, then looked back up into my eyes. He responded with a single monosyllabic word that will stay with me forever.

“….No,” said Matt Dillon.

He said, “No.” I started to chuckle and walked away. I guess I sort of understand his reasoning for turning me away so simply. There are a lot of tourist that run rampant in Park City looking for any celebrity they can find to take a picture of, just so they can show off these sitings to other passengers on the busses. I didn’t have a camera in my hand though. In fact, I had nothing with me whatsoever.

Mike Ferraro: Hey…

Matt Dillon: …No.

Other celebrity spottings: Roger Ebert was in attendance of the Eve and the Fire Horse screening I attended; Robert Redford stood next to me at the Yarrow while I drank a Coke, and I swear I think I may have rode a bus with Peter Sarsgaard, but I am not positive.

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Me and planes.

To start with, the schedule at this year’s festival was pretty grueling. I saw 21 movies and a shorts festival over the course of six days, most of the reviews are currently up (I haven’t been able to will myself to sit down in front of a computer to bang out the last two yet). Combine that with having to actually try and come up with something remotely interesting and unique to say about all of them in a timely manner, and you come up with little time to blog or do much of anything else.

This applies to everyone, by the way. Don and Mike shared equivalent burdens, while Eric and Mark not only saw movies but conducted interviews and edited the site to keep the coverage lively. We would’ve loved to have partied more, believe me, but we just plain ran out of time.

Which brings me to Friday. My flight left SLC at 10:30, taking me to Phoenix to pick up my eventual connection back to Houston. A good idea in theory, except for some reason my Houston flight was cancelled, apparently while I was in the air. Not that anyone at America West bothered to tell me, of course, I had to hear it from The Wife after landing. Sure enough, the 1:15 to IAH was scuttled, leaving me to scramble to get on the next available flight, which left at 7:15. This was, of course, delayed until 8 PM.

Sky Harbor isn’t a bad place to spend 7 or so hours. There are several bars, and ample places to plug in a laptop with a DVD player to watch movies (Return of the Living Dead and several Season 5 Simpsons episodes). You also get to meet interesting people, like the guy going to Portland with his girlfriend to take a state trooper exam, or the German gentleman who timed his layover so he could watch the semifinals of the Australian Open. When you want to get home as badly as I did, however, it sucks ass.
Still, this was my best Sundance. Out of three, this is the first one in which I returned relatively healthy and hangover-free. Saw lots of celebrities, including the aforementioned Roger Ebert, Liz Phair (Don almost fainted when she brushed against him at the Sundance Lounge), Josh Rouse, Michael Rappaport (twice), and Jake Busey. Quite the A-list, I know, and I missed Corey fucking Feldman by a matter of minutes. Even so, I came home like I always do…drained as if Stormbringer had been inserted into my thorax and about two years older. Good times.

Less than two months until South by Southwest, which - compared to Sundance - is like three days in an opium den. Actually, it’s like that anyway. Plus I can drive and stay with a friend who lives near downtown.

Oh, and the title of this heading is hilarious if you know anything about Arizona’s MLB team. Honest.

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Ugh. I left the condo at 8:00am (Utah time) with Eric and Pete. We got to the airport at 9:00am (Utah time).

I didn’t get to my actual apartment here in Orlando till 11:00pm (8:00pm Utah time)

Today has been the longest day ever. Tomorrow, I will add more blog with pictures I took and celebrity stories I have (including the anticipated Matt Dillon story of Death).

To the boys that spent this incredibly busy week with me, I have a few words for you. You see, up until last Friday, the only person in the condo I met before was Chris Gore. Wait, I actually met Mark one time but that was only for like four seconds. I never met Eric or Pete, and Don and I once fought to the death on the message board about War of the Worlds and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Actually, there wasn’t any death involved since we are obviously both alive.

Pete Vonder Haar is a bad motherfucker. He’s the guy that gives the rest of the FT team the shitty movies to review, like Bad News Bears and The Island. Don knows what I’m talking about. He is also dedicated. For instance, last night at the Queer Lounge, he wasn’t leaving that mug until he got him some “man-tees.”

I’ll take a picture of what I am talking about in a future blog.

Which brings me to Don… in the now infamous Brokeback Bedroom, Don had the solo bed, while Pete and I shared the bunk bed like Weeblos in the boyscounts (que The Queers “Kicked out of the Weeblos”).

Mark and Eric were fucking workaholics. While Pete, Don and I were watching four movies a day, attempting to write reviews for each, they were kicking it at the condo updating the site like crazy and cutting together those awesome video interviews some of you may have seen.

It’s safe to say that all of us lived on three or four hours a sleep each night. It was the most busy I have ever been. We worked so hard, it was rare that we all had free time at the same time to hang out. And when we did, we just passed out (after drinking a couple cans of Coors Light, the beer of beers).

It was great meeting all of these guys finally, after reading their reviews and message board postings for years. They are the coolest bunch. Special thanks to Pete for letting me sleep on top.

Chris and Eric - thanks for bringing me along. I can’t tell you how much it meant to me and how much I appreciated the opportunity. I owe you a couple of roadies or something.

Seriously, thanks.

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Zero hour nine a.m.
And I’m gonna be high as a kite by then
I miss the earth so much I miss my wife
It’s lonely out in space
On such a timeless flight

And I think it’s gonna be a long long time
Till touch down brings me round again to find
I’m not the man they think I am at home
Oh no no no I’m a rocket man
Rocket man burning out his fuse up here alone

Mars ain’t the kind of place to raise your kids
In fact it’s cold as hell
And there’s no one there to raise them if you did
And all this science I don’t understand
It’s just my job five days a week
A rocket man, a rocket man

And I think it’s gonna be a long long time…

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All the guys are at a party at the Queer Lounge so I’m here all alone going through their stuff. I have a shuttle to SLC at 5 freeking) a.m. so there will be no queers and no lounging for me. I have to say, I saw alot of CRAP this year and it kind of sucks. You’ll be able to see what I’m talking about when my reviews show up. Then again, I saw A GUIDE TO RECOGNIZING YOUR SAINTS, HALF NELSON, OLD JOY and QUINACENERA and they made the trip all worthwhile.

I’ll tell you guys what, if you ever see Mark or Eric in the “real world,” thank them for busting ass on the site. I think we have the BEST Sundance coverage out there..and the most fun…and that’s all because Eric and Mark have been living on coors light, jelly bellies and 4-5 hours of sleep keeping this ship afloat. Myself, Michael, Pete and Sally worked hard to cover every film here and I know we’re damn close to it.

I’ll admit…I’m beat down, exhausted and tired of chafing from the dry air, but this was a great festival. I saw over 20 films (!) and Liz Phair touched my arm. I hope next year we can all get some time to party FILM THREAT style because we were just workin’ too hard for that this year. But thanks for reading us. I’m off to rifle through Eric’s bag…

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On Tuesday, I was treated to a private screening of Paul Rachman and Steve Blush’s American Hardcore, a doc which chronicles the hardcore punk scene in America from about 1980-1986. Also in attendence at the screening were the members of D.O.A. and the Circle Jerks (if you don’t know, stop reading). Since they are two of the bands that are profiled in the film, it was interesting to see how they took the screening. All in all, they seemed pleased.
The following night, the American Hardcore gang threw a party at the Star Bar (formerly Plan B) and performing were my friend Eddie Daniels’s band Maxitit, D.O.A. and, of course, the Circle Jerks. It was way fucking awesome! Here’s a few pics:

Showing off the temporary American Hardcore tattoo that, despite showering this morning and scrubbing it, is appearing to not be so temporary.

Eddie Daniels destroys with her band Maxitit.

D.O.A. doing what they do best.

Did somebody say mosh pit?

Bllack Flag / Circle Jerks Keith Morris, director Paul Rachman and writer Steven Blush introducing the Circle Jerks set.

Circle Jerks ripping it up. Check out the long-ass set list on the side of the stage.

The elevation would’ve killed a lesser man, but Morris survived…

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Got five hours of sleep last night and I feel great. No, really, I do.

Several hours of work ahead for me before I strike out and catch Art School Confidential. Also, there’s a possible midnight screening of the Sesame Street in my future. I do it all for the Muppets.

I’m going to go eat a tin can like Gobbles the Garbage Eating Goat.

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Not recommended. You’ll only slip and fall and everyone will laugh at you. I know this because…

Getting ready to leave for my 11:30pm screening of Wristcutters. For my second uber late night screening in a row, I’m hoping for wrists and cutting en masse.

Saw a press screening of a shorts program earlier this evening. I was one of like, maybe, five, in this big theater. So, I distanced myself from everyone else, took off my pants, and got comfortable. A man’s gotta do.

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