And at this point in my life, I honestly hate the term too. I feel deeply weird, if not downright ashamed, at having created a cliche that has been trotted out again and again in an infinite internet feedback loop. I understand how someone could read The A.V. Club list of Manic Pixie Dream Girls and be offended by the assertion that a character they deeply love and have an enduring affection for, whether it’s Diane Keaton’s Annie Hall or Katherine Hepburn in “Bringing Up Baby,” is nothing more than a representation of a sexist trope or some sad dude’s regressive fantasy.

So I’d like to take this opportunity to apologize to pop culture: I’m sorry for creating this unstoppable monster. Seven years after I typed that fateful phrase, I’d like to join Kazan and Green in calling for the death of the “Patriarchal Lie” of the Manic Pixie Dream Girl trope. I would welcome its erasure from public discourse. I’d applaud an end to articles about its countless different permutations. Let’s all try to write better, more nuanced and multi-dimensional female characters: women with rich inner lives and complicated emotions and total autonomy, who might strum ukuleles or dance in the rain even when there are no men around to marvel at their free-spiritedness. But in the meantime, Manic Pixies, it’s time to put you to rest.

– Nathan Rabin: “I’m sorry for coining the phrase ‘Manic Pixie Dream Girl’" | Salon (via popculturebrain)

But even though there were many satisfying nominations, and even though I expect many of the winners to be the right ones — then again, consider Jeff Daniels’ win a year ago — the snubs rankle more this year than recently, because there are so many potentially great choices and the voters still made so many bad and/or lazy ones. If Norris got nominated and not Wright (or vice versa), or if Rhys had been edged out by Michael Sheen or Mads Mikkelsen, I would be disappointed, but I would recognize the impossible task at hand. But when Norris and Wright aren’t there because of Jim Carter (who had very little to do this year on “Downton”), or Rhys and Sheen aren’t there because of Daniels (not doing much to salvage a terribly-written character) and Spacey (coasting more often than not on a smirk and a bad South Carolina drawl), then it just feels like the voters aren’t trying hard enough. Ditto when “The Americans” can’t get anything but the most cursory, easy nomination. And when Rian Johnson can’t get nominated for an episode that is going to be analyzed in college classrooms for the next 50 years, then… I give up.

The system is broken. The categories don’t make sense any more (and the ridiculous “Shamless” switch to comedy only paid off with William H. Macy being nominated, but not Emmy Rossum), and there’s more television to watch then a voter — or, really, any human — has time for. Maybe come August, when I expect to be seeing Vince Gilligan, Julia Louis-Dreyfus, one of Bryan Cranston or Matthew McConaughey, and some other deserving winners walking to the podium, today’s irritation will fade somewhat. But even in a year when the voters got so many things right, the many things that are wrong, or just illogical, stand out all the more.

The theaters of the future will be bigger and more beautiful than ever before. They will employ expensive presentation formats that cannot be accessed or reproduced in the home (such as, ironically, film prints). And they will still enjoy exclusivity, as studios relearn the tremendous economic value of the staggered release of their products.

The projects that most obviously lend themselves to such distinctions are spectacles. But if history is any guide, all genres, all budgets will follow. Because the cinema of the future will depend not just on grander presentation, but on the emergence of filmmakers inventive enough to command the focused attention of a crowd for hours.

These new voices will emerge just as we despair that there is nothing left to be discovered. As in the early ’90s, when years of bad multiplexing had soured the public on movies, and a young director named Quentin Tarantino ripped through theaters with a profound sense of cinema’s past and an instinct for reclaiming cinema’s rightful place at the head of popular culture.

Never before has a system so willingly embraced the radical teardown of its own formal standards. But no standards means no rules. Whether photochemical or video-based, a film can now look or sound like anything.

It’s unthinkable that extraordinary new work won’t emerge from such an open structure. That’s the part I can’t wait for.

thecommonraven: Is good ole' Chuck Norris in the Expendables 3? Maybe that's why it's sooooooo tame?

He was in the last one and it was rated R. One of the best things about The Expendable movie is how batshit crazy violent they are, and this PG-13 rating means thing are going to be watered down. I guess they are trying to expand it to a wider audience to get more money as the last film failed to reach $100mil.