My knowledge of American politics is as thorough as my knowledge of 12th century porridge mining, but on this evidence I'd totally vote for Daniel Day-Lewis.
It shouldn't be this hard. It shouldn't be a chore to watch a film critics have described as "phenomenal", "indelible" and "masterly". The Lincoln awards screener disc - 'For Your Consideration in all categories', in case you hadn't guessed – has been sitting on a pile of DVDs this big for about a week now, and I've been avoiding it for just as long. The other day, I literally chose to watch Lockout* over Lincoln. That's the extent of my disinterest. However, circumstances conspired to make it today's sole viewing option – one snow-storm and one Netflix outage later, and Steven Spielberg's latest made its way onto the TV by default. Clearly the members of the Academy didn't share my apathy.
I'm sure by now you've already heard the news, but as the internet's second most enthusiastic Jurassic Park fan (go extinct already, Gary) I feel I should clarify my official statement regarding the announcement of a June 2014 release date for Jurassic Park 4. My statement is as follows: (*faints theatrically*)
Earlier this week I went to the IMAX to see Raiders Of The Lost Ark, officially one of the best films ever made on the biggest screen in the UK. Did you know it's really good? Because it is. What's more, the MAMMOTH screen makes even the most innocuous elements of the film seem gigantic. Let me try and visualise what I mean.
This new batch of images for Steven Spielberg's upcoming biopic Lincoln gives us the chance to be incredibly puerile. We jump at that chance. With gusto.
The trailer for Steven Spielberg's Lincoln has finally dropped, so join us as we dissect every frame in detail, searching desperately for jokes to make about vampires and hats.
The first poster for Steven Spielberg's inevitably weighty Honest Abe biopic Lincoln has surfaced, and it already has a lot of American websites saluting a sunset and wiping away their tears with golden eagle feathers.
At the screening of War Horse I attended, there were people in floods of tears. Floods. Not just quiet, reflective sobbing, but that godless, wretched honking that's usually accompanied by snot and friends who wish they were somewhere else. Me? I didn't shed a single tear – I walked out of there like Moses parting a salty sea. Bear in mind I once got a bit teary because I thought one of my cats was upset with me, and that should tell you a little about me, but everything about War Horse. It's about as manipulative a film has Steven Spielberg has ever made – a movie that's been custom-designed from the ground up to play a sad harp solo on the heartstrings; a story cynically told to invoke as many tears as possible. You'd swear it was bankrolled by Kleenex.