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And the Oscar Goes to....

 I'm thrilled about Anthony Hopkins's second Oscar--I thought he was really a genius in "The Father"--but the news does mean that my guy, Christopher Plummer, is no longer the Oldest Actor-Win in history.

I can accept this, but....coming so soon after Plummer's death.....it's a lot.....

To tip a hat one more time, to Mr. Plummer, I just re-watched one of his last performances, in "Knives Out." This is among the best movies in recent years. 

Christopher Plummer gets one big scene, and it's the realization that his beloved nurse has accidentally (maybe) given him a wrong injection. Plummer knows that he has just a few minutes to live. The nurse--the saintly Marta--flips her shit. But Plummer's character--Harlan Thrombey--is old and subversive and wise, and he knows that the important thing is to make intelligent use of the little time he has. Thrombey is a writer of brilliant crime novels, so he has many ideas for ensuring that Marta won't get in trouble for her mistake. ("We'll just stage my suicide!") As Harlan dreams up the best-possible faux-suicide, he takes obvious pleasure in the logistical challenges; this is the pleasure of an artist at his easel. The writing is so funny, because of course the man experiencing this fiendish pleasure is maybe three minutes away from his own death.

I actually think all of "Knives Out" is as fun as this setup; it's a movie that starts strong and then just grows and grows and grows in its inventiveness. The retractable knife at the climax, the dogs in the mud, the little exchange about Marta's sister's TV-watching, the vomit, the majesty of Toni Collette....If you were to imagine my platonic ideal for a movie, the answer is pretty close to "Knives Out."

That's all. I'll keep renting this title. Again--goodbye and thanks to a gifted comic and script-reader and student of the mind and heart--Christopher P.
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